I Heart Faces: Collages

As winter draws to a close back home and starts to migrate over here to Melbourne (much to my dismay), I am reminded of all the times Curtis dragged me took me ice fishing in his hometown of Flinton, Ontario. This week at I Heart Faces, the challenge is Collages, so I put together a few pics that made me just a teensy bit homesick for Flinton in the wintertime.

(Wait a minute. Did I just say I missed the snot-freezing tundra weather of Middle of Nowheresville, Canada? That can't be right...)

Anyway, here it is!

I hope you like it! For more pretty collages, head to the I Heart Faces page.

ts...

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An Update... and a New Section!

1.  I got a job. (Yay!)

2.  I hate my job because the owner/manager of the restaurant makes me feel incompetent and small. (Not yay.)

But I’m not a quitter. At least, not sometimes. Leaving after only a week seems impulsive, and would only serve to prove him right. So I’ve decided to tough it out for a while (at least until payday).

In the meantime, I’m going to do the number one thing you’re not supposed to do as a blogger: write about your job.

The way I see it, since the servers are not allowed to talk to each other without being barked at to get back to work, there’s little chance I’m going to make any friends, and therefore no real danger of my rants being read by the wrong people (aka. the owner and his family). 

And hey—if I’ve decided to put myself through all the crap (both the belittling at work and the dread and distress at home) that comes with hating your job, I figure I might as well entertain someone along the way!

So here’s the part where YOU come in (complete with some Uncle Sam-style pointing): I need a fun title for my new section that will chronicle stories from my sometimes (but not always) nightmarish shifts. So far I’ve come up with “Banter at the Bar” or “Tales from the Restaurant,” but neither of those really seem to fit.

If anything comes to mind, please let me know! And get excited. Because serving at this restaurant is quite literally the most upsetting job I have ever held, and is going to require some serious catharsis (i.e. plenty of stories to come).

Whoo. I feel better already!

Love,

the traveling (and working) stahr…

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Springing into Fall... Reluctantly

I am wearing a jumper (the Australian term for sweatshirt… not a suicidal person on a tall building) and Curtis’ plaid pajama pants as I write.

Why? Because it’s cold. In Australia.

As in 13 °C (55 °F) cold. In Australia.

I don’t know why, but I sort of thought that maybe, since we’d come ALL the way from the other side of the planet, this whole “winter” thing might re-evaluate it’s desire to inhabit Southern Australia in the coming months. You know, out of kindness.

I thought we were pals, Old Man Winter and me. But since we’re already halfway through fall, I’m going to guess he didn’t get my memo.

Some of the leaves have begun turning that beautiful blood red.

And many others have already leaped from the now-bare branches to which they used to cling so desperately.

Crunch, crinkle, crunch.

But do you know what is weird? That I keep posting questions and then answering them, making my English teacher turn in her proverbial grave? Yes, but also, at the same time that the signs of fall are floating their way throughout the city of Melbourne, flowers are fighting the chilly air to bloom… everywhere!

Even the rosemary is budding.

Fall and Spring seem to be intertwined, weaving and dancing together to welcome winter.

But I’m not prepared to bid farewell to my bikini. I’m not ready to say goodbye to short skirts and thongs (the Aussie term for flip flops… not g-strings – last time I checked, those were an all-seasons underthing).

But, try as I might to will away winter, the brisk weather (which is really quite mild compared to the arctic atmosphere of Montreal in February, so I should probably quit complaining) is right on the horizon.

In other time-moving-forward-without-my-permission-related news, my little sister turns 20 in one week! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? Because last time I looked she was this big:

ts...

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"...When I'm Sixty-Four"

On the tram home the other night, Curtis and I sat near an older couple, probably in their fifties or sixties, and likely traveling, judging from a map protruding from the woman's purse. They weren't overly affectionate, sitting side by side yet occupying their own space, and their faces and bodies showed signs of a long and tiring day, an exhausting and fulfilling life.

Her hair, mostly brown with a bit of peek-a-boo grey, nestled casually in a bun on the nape of her wrinkled neck. His collared t-shirt, blue with white horizontal stripes, hugged his stomach, slightly rounded from years of fine food, good drink, and great memories.

I gestured across the aisle, and whispered in Curtis' ear.

“When my arms are flabby, my waist is wide, and my face is aged and wrinkly, will you still love me?”

He looked over at the couple for a minute, tuned back to me, and smiled.

“When I have a beer belly I can rest things on, will you still love me?”

I laughed softly and turned back to watch the couple. They didn't look bored, though their faces stared blankly ahead. They knew this quiet time; they cherished the silence and used it to reflect on the happenings of the day, on the monuments of their lives.

I wanted to ask them so many questions, I wanted to know just how they managed to pull it off – a life together – and I wanted to be reassured that they hadn't just met last week on a blind date. But I didn't dare disturb their quiet contemplation with an overly personal interrogation. I rested my head against Curtis' shoulder and engaged with thoughts of my own life, as the tram sped South along St Kilda Road.

A beer belly? Yea, that's probably ok… as long as those freckles don't go anywhere.

ts...

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The Start of Something Good...

I get inspired easily—a bit of Alison Krauss music on my iPod, a Piet Mondrian painting at the Guggenheim, a modern dance piece on So You Think You Can Dance—and that’s it! I’ve discovered my life’s true calling. I take up singing, buy blank canvases, and browse Capezio for cute dance shoes.

But more often than not, with these big ideas, comes poor follow-through. The excitement fades, the planning stops, and I return to my norm (whatever that is) and declare to resume these various fantasies when I have more time.

At the inception of The Australia Plan (or lack thereof), I wondered if this too was going to be one of those things I wanted so desperately to do but just couldn’t fit together with my life. But for some reason or another, it wasn’t. And somehow, I’m here.

It was Allison who first inspired me to run a race, when she completed the CIBC Run for the Cure in Montreal in freshman year. A family friend, Dawn, had recently lost a fierce battle with breast cancer, and I thought it would be nice to inscribe her name on my number tag for the race. But my economics course was intent on kicking my butt—or at least that was the excuse I came up with at the time—and I said I would surely make time the following year. (I didn’t.)

Living here, in Australia, I have no norm to return to, no time constraints to consider, no excuses to place in my way.

So, when I found out the local Lululemon was starting a beginner run group to train for the 8k Mother's Day Classic in May, I was there that first Saturday morning at 9am. And when the tram cars were re-routed last weekend to attend to the Australian Grand Prix, and I had to walk the four kilometers to and from training, I hauled my tired butt up Fitzroy Street (and saw F1 driver Lewis Hamilton on the way!).

Although I have to fight a battery of excuses that cloud my head when I wake each Saturday morning (I could skip this week, just once… I didn’t get enough sleep last night, I shouldn’t over exert myself…), I look forward to seeing familiar faces, to jogging with a group of chatty girls almost entirely clad in Lulu gear (I’m a bit of a sore thumb with my Target tank top and Adidas track shorts, but what can you do…).

And on May 9^th, at six in the morning (gasp! that's early.) I will follow through. I will finally run a race for breast cancer research and for myself, in memory of Dawn.

UPDATE
After chatting with my mum this morning, I learned that another family friend, Alison, has just been released from the hospital after a double. mastectomy. These next few months are bound to be both physically and emotionally turbulent, but the doctors were able to remove all of the cancer, which is wonderful news. My thoughts are with her and her family, and I hope she makes a speedy recovery!

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The Great Ocean Road, L’Ultimo Capitolo (The Last Chapter)

The beautiful, breathtaking Twelve Apostles.

When they were first discovered, they were affectionately called “Sow and Piglets” (the big one – Loch Ard Gorge – was the sow, and the smaller stacks were the piglets), but their name was changed in the 1950s.

Not all twelve remain today. Time passes as time is known to do, and the constant battery of wind, water and rain cause the limestone pillars to fall.

But just as the violent ocean erosion brings these colossal columns to their knees, it continuously carves and crafts new Apostles out of the winding, ever-changing coastline.

Our first stop along the Twelve Apostles was Port Campbell, and our tour guide Clancy announced that there would be a special tour discount price for helicopter rides, if anyone was interested.

I thought a helicopter ride sounded awfully decadent. I don’t need to spend money to buzz around these beautiful rocks – I can see them just fine from here!

Oh, how wrong was I…

Curtis, Becky and I finally decided to splurge because, hey, I might only get this one chance, right? Except, from the moment that wobbly copter floated off the ground and long after it had hovered back to safety 15 minutes later, I knew it would not be my last flight.

But I’m getting ahead of myself!

First let me introduce our handsome pilot.

Swoon… I have a thing for dimples. But for anyone who has ever seen Curtis, that’s old news.

But I snapped out of it, I had pictures to take! And miles of coastline to absorb and inhale. A sweet and stunning breath.

Curtis snapped a few beautiful close-ups from the front seat.

All too soon after we had drifted up, up, up and away, we descended through the clouds and floated back down to the landing pad. As we squeezed out of the tiny cab, my body was buzzing.

Here I am, apparently trying to swallow the sky.

I was jumping up and down with adrenaline, and struggling to speak over the roar of the chopper and the wave of my excitement. I yelled spastically back to Becky.

That was! One of the coolest things! I have ever done!

Our bodies still humming with happiness, we piled back into the van and headed to our two final tour stops, the Loch Ard Gorge and the London Bridge.

Alas, as the sun descended upon the horizon, we began our journey back to the city, salty and tired, but oh, so incredibly happy.

A few days later, we were forced to say goodbye to Dave, Nicola, Becky and Hinnerk. (I suppose that's what I get for bonding with backpackers!) But, at the risk of sounding cliché, we will always have the memories...

Lots of love,

the traveling stahr...

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The Great Ocean Road, Partie Deux

Now where was I…?

Oh yea! Before we knew it, the grey and orange clouds were upon us. [Jaws music, etc, etc…]

We were plunged into an orange fog, and I’m sorry to say I was far too intrigued to take any pictures… It was like flying amidst sepia-toned clouds, minus the altitude. Before we knew it, we were on the other side. And not ten minutes later? Was this:

The next stop was something I’d been looking forward to since Clancy announced it that morning – a koala park! Nice shades, Curtis the Koala... teehee...

Did you know koalas are one of the few species in Australia that has virtually ceased evolving due to a lack of predators? (Though, this is not to ignore the fact that they are very much endangered by diseases and urban expansion.) Koalas subsist on a diet entirely of eucalyptus leaves, which contain 70 percent water and virtually no nutritional value. That's why they are so lazy!

We were lucky to find a koala perched in a low tree, and I was able to get surprisingly close.

This is me with my koala friend. He needs to learn a thing or two about friendship, because last time I checked, friends didn’t let friends wear white bras under black dresses.

All throughout the koala park, beautiful, vibrantly colored parrots dotted the lush green and brown trees. And if you had food (I borrowed a handful off another tourist), they would swoop down and eat right off your hand! Not a good place to be if you were recently freaked out by the movie Birds.

After the koala park we piled back into the bus and headed to our next stop, a lovely beach town, for our picnic lunch.

Next stop: the rainforest! Now I’ve seen big trees before, at the Redwood Forests in San Francisco, but I’m telling you, this rainforest had BIG TREES. Exhibit A:

And keep in mind, by "regular size tree," I mean the kind you can barely wrap your arms around.

Having worked in the forest–or bush, as he calls it–for much of his life, Curtis has seen a lot of trees. But these big guys had him stumped. (Sorry for the terrible pun... it was too bad good to pass up.) Here are Curtis and I, being dwarfed by phenomenally huge trunks.

After the rainforest we headed to what had to be the most breathtaking, beautiful string of stops on the trip, the Twelve Apostles. I’m smiling just thinking about them (and the absolutely exhilarating, body-buzzing helicopter ride we took above them). Here’s a sneak preview:

Bye for now!

the traveling stahr… 

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