Return to Oz

(image via newsdesk.si.edu)

Sadly, no ruby slippers were involved but I am writing this from Melbourne where the sun is shining and it is a balmy 20 degrees.

I am completely spaced and feeling very much like I'm having a dream where I'm back in Australia, rather than feeling like I'm actually here.  I have also had three flat whites already today and am contemplating number four.

I suspect that the above paragraphs sound very much like the work of someone both jetlagged and over-caffeinated so I won't attempt to wax lyrical any further on my current whereabouts.

Still, I think that when I wake up I'll be glad to be here.

In Praise of Post/Thoughts on Distance

I just spoke to my mama who told me that the big box I had shipped home from Australia had arrived.

I would like, therefore, to take the opportunity to salute the postal workers of the world.  To send 10kg 17,000km took six working days and cost much less than any courier company quoted me.

The only thing is, that, knowing the box is at home, but I'm still here, is making me a little bit homesick.  Still, not much longer before I'm shipping myself (weighing in at slightly more than 10kg) in the same direction.  You really have to look at the map to appreciate what a long way it is: all the way from the bottom right corner to the top left.

In fact, it's so far that Google doesn't know what to do about it.

Once Upon a Time...

... I lived in EAST Melbourne.  And then I moved to SOUTH Melbourne.  But (since yesterday) now I live in NORTH Melbourne.  My new (non red riding) hood is North Fitzroy and it's very hip 'n' happening.  Lots of promising-looking cafés to try out and blog about, interesting shops and pretty, leafy streets.  Fun times ahead!  THE END

Gone Abroad

A gentle reminder that this Lady Traveller is dusting off her suitcase in preparation for venturing once more to Foreign Parts.

If I can, I'll post along the way, but it may be a few days before you hear from me. So, as Gregory would say, oh vwah!

There is a voice...

24 hours ago I left South Africa and now I’m writing this at home in Dublin.

I was more than a little bit tearful when I left – it was very hard to say goodbye to all my friends, old and new, in Cape Town. I even got emotional when the guy in Johannesburg stamped my passport. But then, I was also tearful when I arrived in Dublin – to sunshine of all things. I mean it was freezing, but the sun was shining. So perhaps I’ve brought a little bit of South Africa back with me.

I will be in Dublin for a few weeks, planning the next leg of my trip. My adventures are far from over! As my dear friends Mary and Andy (who came over from London to help me say goodbye to Cape Town) know, I’ve been singing the theme tune for the Littlest Hobo a lot recently:

There's a voice that keeps on calling me

Down the road, that's where I'll always be.

Every stop I make, I make a new friend,

Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again

Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down,

Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.

Most poignant tv theme tune EVER.

And I swear, the man checking my bag in Cape Town was humming it.

But unlike the Littlest Hobo, who never seemed to bother with tickets, visas, passports and suchlike, I need time to organise myself and to catch up with my loved ones here. While I do all of that, I will still be posting about Zimbabwe, about South Africa, about France and about Dublin.

I leave you with a picture of my toes: they are encased in two pairs of socks and trying to meld themselves with the radiator. (I’m also wearing two woolie jumpers. And a scarf. And thinking about gloves. And this is all with the central heating ON.)

Sunday Miscellany

I’m writing this on the TGV to Paris. The train journey takes three hours and will bring me from the sunny, warm South to the colder, greyer North and a complete change of landscape. On the one hand, yay! Paris. On the other, I am very sad to be leaving Roisin, George and Gregory behind. Selected Hints for Aix will follow – but the Tip-Toppest Hint is go!

It should be pretty clear by now that I really liked Marseille. So instead of writing at length about the train (though I am on the top deck which I’ll admit is quite cool) I thought I’d revisit a Sunday we spent in Marseille two weeks ago.

At the recommendation of a colleague of R & G’s we drove into Marseille and followed the main road along the coast, along the corniche, with stunning views over the sea and the islands. We went almost as far as we could go, to Pointe Rouge, where the city suddenly gives way to a little fishing village.

The restaurant that we’d been told to go to was shut and the only other one had just one table left - inside. Lucky for us, the second restaurant (called ‘Au Bord de L’Eau) was excellent.

We shared a big plate of antipasti and then Roisin and I both had cod roasted in the pizza oven, with aioli on the side. By dessert time, the crowd had cleared a little and our waitress invited us to move to a table outside, by the beach. Profiteroles taste better with a tang of sea air.

We had our hair whipped by the wind afterwards when we went for a walk and Gregory did his best to fall off the rocks (don’t worry, George is too fast for him). I hadn’t been feeling that well from a mixture of a cold plus the medicine I took to counteract it, but the sun, sea and salt made me feel ready for anything. I could have stayed there for hours. I remembered the lines e. e. cummings wrote (from a poem I never much liked but this part has stayed in my head): For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.