Fatty seals & lazy seal...
Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Not So Sunny, San Francisco...
Check-in, shower, wash face, brush teeth, fresh clothes, ready to walk the streets.
6.55pm, but not yet dark and I'm starving.
A mere hop, skip and a jump from my hotel I hear sirens, and lots of them. Sirens blaring from every corner of the street. Behind me, in front of me, to my left and to my right.
An antique style fire truck pulls up alongside me. Then another, and another. Antique is such a strange word to use, but I'm sure you get my drift.
By the time I get my footing and start focusing on the path ahead, I realise that the street has now been closed off, and no one else can enter. Let's hope I can get out. I continue walking ahead, and stop myself as I am met face to face with a fire fighter holding his hose on entry to the burning building.
"Sorry. You go. " I say.
"No, no, after you Mam!"
What on earth...I can't believe it. At this point, there are seven fire trucks and two police cars at the scene, and the first fire fighter to enter the building has apologised to me, telling me go in front of him! Confusion has met an all time high.
With a bounce to my step, knowing that I now have many sets of eyes watching me pass by, I hurry across the footpath. It is a big scene for everyone nearby, but no smoke or fire is in sight. I don't stop to see if anything is going to happen, because I would much rather see San Francisco, than stand underneath a possibly, burning down building.
First impressions of San Francisco are not all that. It is freezing, slightly overcast, with an eery, greyish tone in the sky. The streets are naked, and I am just a little scared for my safety. I walk fast and keep looking straight ahead. Crass comments come my way every step I take, and I begin to realise I may not be staying in the best part of town.
I see two amazing spectacles on my first night in San Fran; the longest dreadlocks I have ever seen and the most heavily tattooed person I've ever seen.
The dreadlocks reached the man's ankle. No exaggeration. He was fishing off Pier 2 and tried conversing with me.
I saw the tattooed man in the burger shack across from my hotel later that night. His head is shaven and covered in tattooed fish-like scales. The tattoos continue down his face, but they look more like spider legs stretching from the scales on his scalp, down to his chin and neck. His knuckles are tattooed in bolts, like that of a robot. Circular tattoos on his knuckles with adjoining screws along the ligaments of his fingers. His legs are covered in the same scales as his head, and his forearms are covered in lighting bolts. They take up the entire width of his arms. A large spider is coming from behind his ear and down to the back of his neck.
He is wearing spectacles, which strikes me as odd. He has that much art work on his body and face, and I would have thought he'd want to show everything off in all its glory, not having it covered by spectacles. And surely he has the money to get laser. His body would be worth tens of thousands of dollars at the very least in tattoos.
Will continue my adventures tomorrow...
6.55pm, but not yet dark and I'm starving.
A mere hop, skip and a jump from my hotel I hear sirens, and lots of them. Sirens blaring from every corner of the street. Behind me, in front of me, to my left and to my right.
An antique style fire truck pulls up alongside me. Then another, and another. Antique is such a strange word to use, but I'm sure you get my drift.
By the time I get my footing and start focusing on the path ahead, I realise that the street has now been closed off, and no one else can enter. Let's hope I can get out. I continue walking ahead, and stop myself as I am met face to face with a fire fighter holding his hose on entry to the burning building. "Sorry. You go. " I say.
"No, no, after you Mam!"
What on earth...I can't believe it. At this point, there are seven fire trucks and two police cars at the scene, and the first fire fighter to enter the building has apologised to me, telling me go in front of him! Confusion has met an all time high.
With a bounce to my step, knowing that I now have many sets of eyes watching me pass by, I hurry across the footpath. It is a big scene for everyone nearby, but no smoke or fire is in sight. I don't stop to see if anything is going to happen, because I would much rather see San Francisco, than stand underneath a possibly, burning down building.
First impressions of San Francisco are not all that. It is freezing, slightly overcast, with an eery, greyish tone in the sky. The streets are naked, and I am just a little scared for my safety. I walk fast and keep looking straight ahead. Crass comments come my way every step I take, and I begin to realise I may not be staying in the best part of town.
I see two amazing spectacles on my first night in San Fran; the longest dreadlocks I have ever seen and the most heavily tattooed person I've ever seen.
The dreadlocks reached the man's ankle. No exaggeration. He was fishing off Pier 2 and tried conversing with me.
I saw the tattooed man in the burger shack across from my hotel later that night. His head is shaven and covered in tattooed fish-like scales. The tattoos continue down his face, but they look more like spider legs stretching from the scales on his scalp, down to his chin and neck. His knuckles are tattooed in bolts, like that of a robot. Circular tattoos on his knuckles with adjoining screws along the ligaments of his fingers. His legs are covered in the same scales as his head, and his forearms are covered in lighting bolts. They take up the entire width of his arms. A large spider is coming from behind his ear and down to the back of his neck.
He is wearing spectacles, which strikes me as odd. He has that much art work on his body and face, and I would have thought he'd want to show everything off in all its glory, not having it covered by spectacles. And surely he has the money to get laser. His body would be worth tens of thousands of dollars at the very least in tattoos.
Will continue my adventures tomorrow...
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
6th Street "Ghetto"
Once again, I wanted to tell you all about my amazing past couple of days in San Fran, however I have another funny story to tell.
I was going to get some dinner tonight and thought I should do some research first. I'm constantly walking into places that look decent from the outside, but turn out to be horrible on the inside; good from the outside = horrible on the inside! (Note to self.) This was definitely the case tonight, but in reverse.
One of the reviews which had looked promising, led me to a place near my hotel. Only one street away in fact. The review warned readers that it was a "tad dingy", but was recommended by so many people, so I thought, why not.
I started walking towards the restaurant, and realised it was on 6th street; the ghetto street. The guy at the front desk of my hotel had told me to keep away from this street, and to keep walking if I was going past it.
For one reason or another, I thought I'd give it a shot anyway. So I took the left turn on the corner of 6th street, and in the process, bumped in to a fairly large group of homeless men. They instantaneously started calling things at me, "damn you're beautiful", "nice legs", "hellllllllll ohhhhhh, (whistling)", she is a woman right there, gorgeous". The name calling had already become second nature to me walking down the streets of LA & San Fran, as it had been happening all week long. But this time, it was scary.
I quickly back stepped and got the hell out of there quick smart!
In my attempt to pretend I knew where I was walking, and not look so 'tourist like', I walked to the next block hoping to find another restaurant to run in to and hide. Then I had an idea. The restaurant was number eight, which I figured out would be at the other end of 6th street, and close to the corner. So the plan was to go around the block and sneak into 6th street from the other direction, hopefully arriving in one piece.
I could see the restaurant out the corner of my eye as I walked by, 'Tu Lan', a Vietnamese restaurant. It was far worse than I had imagined it would be. I contemplated not turning on to 6th street, but something about those reviews made me determined.
Two bums were sitting alongside the footpath out the front. The metal looking venetian blinds in the front window were bent, rusting, and on a slant, and from the front, it looked as if I had arrived in the slums of Vietnam. I saw a young couple entering the restaurant, so took the opportunity to run in behind them.
The menu was in my hand within seconds, and a minute after that, the waiter (well I'm not sure if I would go as far to call him that, but the man who worked there) pulled up a chair beside me to take my order.
My wine was plonked on the table in front of me immediately. I'm still trying to figure out how he had time to pour a glass of wine in the time he left the table & returned with the glass. It was the size of at least two standard drinks, and was surprisingly nice for the $2.50 (+ tax) I paid for it. Then, before I had a chance to pick up my glass of wine, my meal was placed over my head and smacked down in front of me.
Unbelievable! My estimate would say it took about 3 minutes from the time I ordered, until my wine & meal had appeared before me. I was definitely getting worried about the quality of this food.
I ordered a rice noodle salad with the most incredible Imperial Rolls in the world. I have never tasted anything quite this amazing! Vermicelli noodles with some sort of ground meat and deep fried in the tastiest but naughtiest way. I had read they were good, and they certainly lived up to the hype. The only negative thing I have to say about the meal, is that I couldn't get through it. I only got half way through the bowl. The servings were huge.
In the hope that my food would settle in a little while, I retreated back to sipping on my wine. Little did I realise that all I was doing was filling myself up on wine, and feeling quite tipsy at the end of my double standard glass.
Throughout my meal, the phone was off the hook. Take-away orders no doubt. The door was constantly swinging open, with many locals choosing 'Tu Lan' as an obvious favourite cheap, quick meal.
The decor was an absolute treat. It actually reminded me of my last trip to Vietnam. So ten points for capturing the pure essence of eating like a local Vietnamese. There were chow mein noodles stacked from the cook top bench to the ceiling; opened and un-cooked. There were hand held face fans masking taped to walls and shelves around the room. I went to cross my legs at one point, and as I removed one foot from the ground, it took more than a normal nudge to unstick it from the floor. Sydney health inspectors would have a field day here. It was however the busiest restaurant I had seen all day, and no ones complaining in San Fran.
Can't wait for dinner tomorrow night, 'Tu Lan' here I come...
I was going to get some dinner tonight and thought I should do some research first. I'm constantly walking into places that look decent from the outside, but turn out to be horrible on the inside; good from the outside = horrible on the inside! (Note to self.) This was definitely the case tonight, but in reverse.
One of the reviews which had looked promising, led me to a place near my hotel. Only one street away in fact. The review warned readers that it was a "tad dingy", but was recommended by so many people, so I thought, why not.
I started walking towards the restaurant, and realised it was on 6th street; the ghetto street. The guy at the front desk of my hotel had told me to keep away from this street, and to keep walking if I was going past it.
For one reason or another, I thought I'd give it a shot anyway. So I took the left turn on the corner of 6th street, and in the process, bumped in to a fairly large group of homeless men. They instantaneously started calling things at me, "damn you're beautiful", "nice legs", "hellllllllll ohhhhhh, (whistling)", she is a woman right there, gorgeous". The name calling had already become second nature to me walking down the streets of LA & San Fran, as it had been happening all week long. But this time, it was scary.
I quickly back stepped and got the hell out of there quick smart!
In my attempt to pretend I knew where I was walking, and not look so 'tourist like', I walked to the next block hoping to find another restaurant to run in to and hide. Then I had an idea. The restaurant was number eight, which I figured out would be at the other end of 6th street, and close to the corner. So the plan was to go around the block and sneak into 6th street from the other direction, hopefully arriving in one piece.
I could see the restaurant out the corner of my eye as I walked by, 'Tu Lan', a Vietnamese restaurant. It was far worse than I had imagined it would be. I contemplated not turning on to 6th street, but something about those reviews made me determined.
Two bums were sitting alongside the footpath out the front. The metal looking venetian blinds in the front window were bent, rusting, and on a slant, and from the front, it looked as if I had arrived in the slums of Vietnam. I saw a young couple entering the restaurant, so took the opportunity to run in behind them.
The menu was in my hand within seconds, and a minute after that, the waiter (well I'm not sure if I would go as far to call him that, but the man who worked there) pulled up a chair beside me to take my order.
My wine was plonked on the table in front of me immediately. I'm still trying to figure out how he had time to pour a glass of wine in the time he left the table & returned with the glass. It was the size of at least two standard drinks, and was surprisingly nice for the $2.50 (+ tax) I paid for it. Then, before I had a chance to pick up my glass of wine, my meal was placed over my head and smacked down in front of me.
Unbelievable! My estimate would say it took about 3 minutes from the time I ordered, until my wine & meal had appeared before me. I was definitely getting worried about the quality of this food.
I ordered a rice noodle salad with the most incredible Imperial Rolls in the world. I have never tasted anything quite this amazing! Vermicelli noodles with some sort of ground meat and deep fried in the tastiest but naughtiest way. I had read they were good, and they certainly lived up to the hype. The only negative thing I have to say about the meal, is that I couldn't get through it. I only got half way through the bowl. The servings were huge.
In the hope that my food would settle in a little while, I retreated back to sipping on my wine. Little did I realise that all I was doing was filling myself up on wine, and feeling quite tipsy at the end of my double standard glass.
Throughout my meal, the phone was off the hook. Take-away orders no doubt. The door was constantly swinging open, with many locals choosing 'Tu Lan' as an obvious favourite cheap, quick meal.
The decor was an absolute treat. It actually reminded me of my last trip to Vietnam. So ten points for capturing the pure essence of eating like a local Vietnamese. There were chow mein noodles stacked from the cook top bench to the ceiling; opened and un-cooked. There were hand held face fans masking taped to walls and shelves around the room. I went to cross my legs at one point, and as I removed one foot from the ground, it took more than a normal nudge to unstick it from the floor. Sydney health inspectors would have a field day here. It was however the busiest restaurant I had seen all day, and no ones complaining in San Fran.
Can't wait for dinner tomorrow night, 'Tu Lan' here I come...
Monday, June 21, 2010
My oh my.......
What a morning!
I have lots to say about my 2nd day in LA, however for now, I have a much funnier story to tell...I know you will like it, (except maybe Mum - you will be angry).
Day 2 in LA & I decided I didn't want to spend the entire seven days here. Without a car it's just too hard. So I booked a flight to San Francisco. From what I've been told there is SO much more to do and it's easy to get places.
I booked my flight for 1.30pm so I could check out as normal at 11am and leisurely make my way by shuttle to LAX (I really wasn't keen on another $65 USD cab ride).
The morning of my flight...or should I say the afternoon...
I roll over in my bed and can immediately feel that I've over slept. Leaning across to read the time on the clock and my body has already taken off on a mind of it's own. My flight leaves LAX at 1.36pm. The time is now 12.01pm. Check in is at 12pm.
I am on the phone to concierge within seconds asking for a cab to be out the front in five minutes. "How long does it take to get to LAX?"
"30-40 minutes."
"Fantastic!"
Somehow I get my things together and find myself out the front within minutes.
A hire car turns up out front (not a generic cab) & I know I'm going to pay through the nose for this. "Get me to LAX ASAP. I am very late."
I'm not sure if it's just Sydney that stresses me out, or if it's me being on my own that doesn't stress me out? Because when I explained my story to the cabby, all he could say was "I'm sorry but I have to laugh about this", and I laughed with him. Not a normal Laura reaction at all!
"What airline are you flying with love?"
"Crap. I have no idea. I haven't even written down my flight details. No airline, no booking number; no nothing."
I pull my MacBook out of my bag and attempt to get wireless as i'm driving along the freeway. Wishful thinking I know, but after many sets of lights and about ten minutes down the road, success!
I got my booking up & everything was looking up. Well except for the fact that it was already 12.40pm.
We pulled up out the front at 1.03pm and I ran. Cab only cost $55 USD (plus tip mind you)
It is all self-service check in. I put in the booking details and it was all looking fine until it asked if I had any baggage to check in. Did I ever! Then the inevitable popped up on the screen. Check in for this flight has already closed.
Ok. So I'll get on the next flight. $50 USD to get a standby ticket, or $75 USD to get a guaranteed seat. Guaranteed seat for sure. Lucky I did too. We are just being called up now, and they have announced that the flight is full and no standby tickets will get on this flight. I'm silently laughing to myself.
Oh, and then it charged me another $60 USD to check my bags in. Unbelievable! I questioned this after I had paid, and the lovely man at self-service told me I could claim it back if I'd been on an international flight within the month!
Thank goodness for that...
I have lots to say about my 2nd day in LA, however for now, I have a much funnier story to tell...I know you will like it, (except maybe Mum - you will be angry).
Day 2 in LA & I decided I didn't want to spend the entire seven days here. Without a car it's just too hard. So I booked a flight to San Francisco. From what I've been told there is SO much more to do and it's easy to get places.
I booked my flight for 1.30pm so I could check out as normal at 11am and leisurely make my way by shuttle to LAX (I really wasn't keen on another $65 USD cab ride).
The morning of my flight...or should I say the afternoon...
I roll over in my bed and can immediately feel that I've over slept. Leaning across to read the time on the clock and my body has already taken off on a mind of it's own. My flight leaves LAX at 1.36pm. The time is now 12.01pm. Check in is at 12pm.
I am on the phone to concierge within seconds asking for a cab to be out the front in five minutes. "How long does it take to get to LAX?"
"30-40 minutes."
"Fantastic!"
Somehow I get my things together and find myself out the front within minutes.
A hire car turns up out front (not a generic cab) & I know I'm going to pay through the nose for this. "Get me to LAX ASAP. I am very late."
I'm not sure if it's just Sydney that stresses me out, or if it's me being on my own that doesn't stress me out? Because when I explained my story to the cabby, all he could say was "I'm sorry but I have to laugh about this", and I laughed with him. Not a normal Laura reaction at all!
"What airline are you flying with love?"
"Crap. I have no idea. I haven't even written down my flight details. No airline, no booking number; no nothing."
I pull my MacBook out of my bag and attempt to get wireless as i'm driving along the freeway. Wishful thinking I know, but after many sets of lights and about ten minutes down the road, success!
I got my booking up & everything was looking up. Well except for the fact that it was already 12.40pm.
We pulled up out the front at 1.03pm and I ran. Cab only cost $55 USD (plus tip mind you)
It is all self-service check in. I put in the booking details and it was all looking fine until it asked if I had any baggage to check in. Did I ever! Then the inevitable popped up on the screen. Check in for this flight has already closed.
Ok. So I'll get on the next flight. $50 USD to get a standby ticket, or $75 USD to get a guaranteed seat. Guaranteed seat for sure. Lucky I did too. We are just being called up now, and they have announced that the flight is full and no standby tickets will get on this flight. I'm silently laughing to myself.
Oh, and then it charged me another $60 USD to check my bags in. Unbelievable! I questioned this after I had paid, and the lovely man at self-service told me I could claim it back if I'd been on an international flight within the month!
Thank goodness for that...
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The City of Angels
In the 100m walk from my hotel to the nearest metro, I had already been approached by a local attempting to harass me with his (tourist trap) 100 questions. Being the bitch that I am, I barely stopped to acknowledge him, let alone take part in his little flirtation game. Success; it worked!
First stop...FOOD! My last meal had been breakfast at 7am on the plane...it was now 6pm! I hopped off at Hollywood/Highland on the main strip, and with memories of the food I had eaten on my last trip to LA, opted for Maccas as a safe option. Yes you heard it here; Maccas IS a safe option in times like this!
"One small cheeseburger meal please."
A medium chips, medium coke & TWO cheeseburgers later...yes TWO cheeseburgers, because supposedly a small meal consists of TWO cheeseburgers! I left the 2nd one on the table when I left. I had seen a few homeless men walking through the tables looking for left overs, so I thought it was the right thing to do.
While sitting in Maccas I had my 2nd local encounter. A man parked his arse on the chair opposite me. I continued attacking my cheeseburger in an attempt to discretely ignore him, but he missed the point completely!
"What's you name? Where are you from? Do you mind if I sit & talk to you? I just want to know your story if that's fine."
No it is not fine! Honestly! "I'd rather be left alone."
"Seriously? Sitting with me is better than sitting alone, right???? Take a look at my CD, I'm a dj. I'm playing tonight" - & so it continued.
"I just want to sit on my own."
"For real?"
I already said for real. Get the point & move along buddy!
Too far do you think? I think not. Especially when he whipped out the CD. That guy had motive trying to talk to use his cd to get through to me! Was it money he wanted for it? Sex perhaps? I highly doubt it was a simple chat just because he didn't want me sitting alone?
I walked up the strip for a while, until it started to get dark. I'm not going to go in to detail about the strip, because I find it tragically boring. To put it in one sentence; Over-crowded, star studded, gum covered streets! I stepped in fresh gum three times.
Home time.
Waiting for the metro I had my third and final encounter of the male, local species for the day. Three in three hours isn't bad, however this time it was two guys, so that would make it four guys in three hours. They began serenading me. At first they were just singing, having a jam session of sorts underground or something. Then I started listening to the words. They were talking about me. Signing about the clothes I was wearing, about how tall I was and how beautiful I was. It was complete improvisation about me. I once again turned the bitch switch on, and pretended I was hearing impaired and couldn't hear a word of what they were signing. Awkward or what?
To say that i was a tad scared is a complete understatement. I was freaked out, and then a strange thing happened. They stopped and started talking about barbie. No joke. What they like & dislike about barbie.
I think they were gay...
First stop...FOOD! My last meal had been breakfast at 7am on the plane...it was now 6pm! I hopped off at Hollywood/Highland on the main strip, and with memories of the food I had eaten on my last trip to LA, opted for Maccas as a safe option. Yes you heard it here; Maccas IS a safe option in times like this!
"One small cheeseburger meal please."
A medium chips, medium coke & TWO cheeseburgers later...yes TWO cheeseburgers, because supposedly a small meal consists of TWO cheeseburgers! I left the 2nd one on the table when I left. I had seen a few homeless men walking through the tables looking for left overs, so I thought it was the right thing to do.
While sitting in Maccas I had my 2nd local encounter. A man parked his arse on the chair opposite me. I continued attacking my cheeseburger in an attempt to discretely ignore him, but he missed the point completely!
"What's you name? Where are you from? Do you mind if I sit & talk to you? I just want to know your story if that's fine."
No it is not fine! Honestly! "I'd rather be left alone."
"Seriously? Sitting with me is better than sitting alone, right???? Take a look at my CD, I'm a dj. I'm playing tonight" - & so it continued.
"I just want to sit on my own."
"For real?"
I already said for real. Get the point & move along buddy!
Too far do you think? I think not. Especially when he whipped out the CD. That guy had motive trying to talk to use his cd to get through to me! Was it money he wanted for it? Sex perhaps? I highly doubt it was a simple chat just because he didn't want me sitting alone?
I walked up the strip for a while, until it started to get dark. I'm not going to go in to detail about the strip, because I find it tragically boring. To put it in one sentence; Over-crowded, star studded, gum covered streets! I stepped in fresh gum three times.
Home time.
Waiting for the metro I had my third and final encounter of the male, local species for the day. Three in three hours isn't bad, however this time it was two guys, so that would make it four guys in three hours. They began serenading me. At first they were just singing, having a jam session of sorts underground or something. Then I started listening to the words. They were talking about me. Signing about the clothes I was wearing, about how tall I was and how beautiful I was. It was complete improvisation about me. I once again turned the bitch switch on, and pretended I was hearing impaired and couldn't hear a word of what they were signing. Awkward or what?
To say that i was a tad scared is a complete understatement. I was freaked out, and then a strange thing happened. They stopped and started talking about barbie. No joke. What they like & dislike about barbie.
I think they were gay...
And so it began...
With only 1 hour of sleep, a mad freak out as to whether or not I had packed everything, and a sudden isolation of all my limbs, (possibility that the move was beginning to affect me) I was on my way to the airport.
Let me introduce you to the first sibling to enter my blog - Mathew - AKA - Gumby!
In true fashion, Gumby had been left behind, so deep in sleep, one of my sisters prodded him (or for better choice of words - thrashed him) over the head with a broomstick to get a response, and still no movement. So we left without him. Of course, in my isolated limbs freak-out I was not aware of his absence until we were well on our way, and I was not sure if I'd get to bid him farewell or not.
Bags were checked easily enough, considering I had packed right up to the maximum of 23kg per bag! New camera was purchased through duty free (keep posted for some fab pics to pop up here over the next few days) and we (Mum, Kate, Bec, James, Dan, Vic, Will, Razo & Steph - but no Gumby) parked ourselves at a restaurant to say our final goodbyes over a few glasses of bubbly.
Mum was giving her final words of advice, "don't wait to say goodbye to Gumby, he won't get here in time & you need to utilise the free Qantas Club pass I gave you."
Gotta love my Mum. Always thinking about what's important, right before I leave my family for God knows how long. As it so happened, I did miss out on the Qantas club, which meant missing out on any food passing through my mouth at all that day.
My flight was boarding at 12.20pm; it was already 12.05pm and Gumby had called to say he was hopping out of the cab NOW! This gave me 15 minutes for final goodbyes, customs, bag search, picking up duty free purchases, and running to the gate!
I made it in perfect time. But no Qantas club = no food = STARVED!!!
With only 1 hour sleep from the night before (or should I say that morning at 5.30am) I was out like a light half an hour after take off. Only waking up at the smell of food a little while later. It was the best plane meal I had, and I'm still trying to work out if it was because I hadn't eaten in about 16 hours, or if it really was good plane food???
My usual consecutive movie marathon was far from that. I kept falling asleep through every movie I started, managing only to watch one full movie, I love You Too. So much better than I was expecting.
I had slept through so much of the 14 hour flight that my arrival in to LAX came very quickly.
$65 USD to get myself to the hotel. I managed to get an early check in at 12pm. I opened my computer to send word home that I was safe, however mid-email I had crashed and was out like a light, with sprawling limbs over my MacBook, and my neck propped in a horribly twisted position, (which I regretted later that day) and I did not awake until 4.30pm that afternoon.
1st day in LA...gone...
Let me introduce you to the first sibling to enter my blog - Mathew - AKA - Gumby!
In true fashion, Gumby had been left behind, so deep in sleep, one of my sisters prodded him (or for better choice of words - thrashed him) over the head with a broomstick to get a response, and still no movement. So we left without him. Of course, in my isolated limbs freak-out I was not aware of his absence until we were well on our way, and I was not sure if I'd get to bid him farewell or not.
Bags were checked easily enough, considering I had packed right up to the maximum of 23kg per bag! New camera was purchased through duty free (keep posted for some fab pics to pop up here over the next few days) and we (Mum, Kate, Bec, James, Dan, Vic, Will, Razo & Steph - but no Gumby) parked ourselves at a restaurant to say our final goodbyes over a few glasses of bubbly.
Mum was giving her final words of advice, "don't wait to say goodbye to Gumby, he won't get here in time & you need to utilise the free Qantas Club pass I gave you."
Gotta love my Mum. Always thinking about what's important, right before I leave my family for God knows how long. As it so happened, I did miss out on the Qantas club, which meant missing out on any food passing through my mouth at all that day.
My flight was boarding at 12.20pm; it was already 12.05pm and Gumby had called to say he was hopping out of the cab NOW! This gave me 15 minutes for final goodbyes, customs, bag search, picking up duty free purchases, and running to the gate!
I made it in perfect time. But no Qantas club = no food = STARVED!!!
With only 1 hour sleep from the night before (or should I say that morning at 5.30am) I was out like a light half an hour after take off. Only waking up at the smell of food a little while later. It was the best plane meal I had, and I'm still trying to work out if it was because I hadn't eaten in about 16 hours, or if it really was good plane food???
My usual consecutive movie marathon was far from that. I kept falling asleep through every movie I started, managing only to watch one full movie, I love You Too. So much better than I was expecting.
I had slept through so much of the 14 hour flight that my arrival in to LAX came very quickly.
$65 USD to get myself to the hotel. I managed to get an early check in at 12pm. I opened my computer to send word home that I was safe, however mid-email I had crashed and was out like a light, with sprawling limbs over my MacBook, and my neck propped in a horribly twisted position, (which I regretted later that day) and I did not awake until 4.30pm that afternoon.
1st day in LA...gone...
LG in NYC
Hi one and all & welcome to my blog LG in NYC!
I am about to embark on probably the biggest adventure of my life to date, and needed an outlet to share it with the world; or anyone who cares enough about my adventure to follow. So here it is.
I am moving to NYC indefinitely on a one year work/travel visa. I have a return flight to come home in three months time, but I do not intend to be on that flight!
Who knows where the next year, or perhaps ten or twenty or thirty years will take me in NYC.
So let the journey begin...
Friday, June 18, 2010
A big pit of nothing.......
Only one thing is scaring me in the wee hours of 3.30am on the morning of my flight to LA. Why do I feel nothing? I am about to embark on the biggest move of my life, and I feel nothing.
There are no nerves, no excitement, no tears, no nothing! Nothing!
I sat watching the minutes click over, and before I knew it it was 5.30am. Still no sleep. My bags were finally packed at least.
Until an hour ago, I didn't even have my hotel booked for tonight. I have no idea why I am so unaffected by what is about to happen, but I keep telling myself that it can only be a positive thing. At least I'm not about to wet myself and intentionally miss my flight due to the fear and realisation of what I am about to do.
I am sitting on the lounge with my brother making a check-list. A check-list that probably should have been made weeks ago;
Toiletries? "You can buy that stuff in America, so what's the use in taking up valuable packing space. I have the bare essentials of course."
Passport? "Check."
Visa? "Check."
Do you have something comfy to wear on the plane? "Shit. No!" Note to self to run up to Westfield as soon as the shops open in the morning for leggings & top!
Adaptor? "Shit. No!" Once again, note to self; buy at Westfield in the morning.
Travel itinerary? "I don't really have one; so NO. But yes to my hotel booking for tonight."
Bedtime at last. I have to wake up in an hour and a half, and I don't sleep on planes. There's always too many good movies to watch, and I'm flying on the A380. So many movies to choose from.
Is that excitement in my voice??? I think not.....
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