I came across quite a confronting scene this morning soon after I had left the apartment. In fact, I not only came across the confronting scene, but I somehow managed to become a part of it.
It was 9.10am and I had planned to firstly head to Zum Guten Glueck (the Good Luck Cafe) for a latte and a quick re-read of what I had written yesterday, before continuing to venture further into the industrial area of Zurich, where dilapidated buildings, smoke-stacks and unused railway tracks hide a particularly cool little cafe where it is perfectly acceptable to sip one coffee for three hours with notebooks strewn across the table in front of you. My backpack was laden with a variety of material to keep me both occupied and inspired for a day of writing: my laptop, my bulging A4 notebook, my bulging little moleskin notebook, my storyboarding cards (in a variety of colours: grey for the central plot, yellow for subplot, green for setting, blue for imagery, symbolism and motifs, and pink for characterisation), the novel I am currently reading (Special Topics in Calamity Physics, by Marisha Pessl) and, in case of a complete lack of enthusiasm, a chunky book entitled Living and Working in Switzerland. Throw in a variety of pens (black felt tip, blue roller ball, black biro... believe it or not these make an enormous difference to the style of my writing), some earphones, my ipod and a few cables, and I'm good to go. I jumped on my bike and headed out the gate, wincing as the bumps jarred my poor elbow (stupid snowboarding) and took the back streets for the one kilometre journey to cafe number one.
So what was the confronting sight? I rounded the first corner, jumped into the bike lane and then rounded the second corner onto a thin suburban street. From a distance I saw the flashing lights of the three police cars, though I initially thought it was just more roadworks. As I came closer, I noticed the six policemen that had strategically positioned themselves on the street, dressed fully in black with large white POLIZEI written across the front. Each of them held what appeared to be, to the untrained eye, a machine gun. Slung across their shoulders, the enormous machine hung at a forty-five degree angle across their bodies, and while they weren't pointing it at anything, each of them had one hand on the barrel and another on the trigger.
Now, what is an innocent little passer-by such as myself to do? The only guns I had ever seen up until six months ago were starter pistols, and since then I can now add the gun of the occasional army recruit as he stands on a train platform (though even this has been known to make me incredibly uncomfortable). I suppose I have seen guns sitting in the holsters of Australian police before, but that's just it - they have always been in the holster. They are small enough to be able to fit in a holster!
So I've slowed down, trying to decide what to do. To my left, two big scary policemen with even bigger scarier guns, one standing on the footpath, the other standing ontop of the wall and a few metres down. To my right, two big scary policemen with even bigger scarier guns, one standing ontop of the wall , the other standing on the footpath a few metres down. Directly in front of me... well, you get the idea. Big. Scary. Two of them.
I get off my bike. I prepare to turn around, aware that something big is going down. But then one of them yelled at me. I'm not sure which one, as I had already half turned around by that point. I turned back to face them, suddenly aware of all the possible infringements I might have committed: I haven't gotten my bike registered yet = illegal. Maybe on this street I should be riding on the footpath instead of the road (the rules seem a bit hit and miss when there is no bike path) = illegal. We probably brought in too much alcohol (though I don't really remember) over the border from Germany = illegal. They probably want to throw me out of the country for consuming too much of their beloved cheese. But no, the big scary policeman that is standing in the middle of the road with the even bigger scarier gun is beckoning for me to come forwards. So I do. With piercing eye contact, he speaks a few words of SuisseDeutsch (incomprehensible) and beckons for me to continue down the road. His big scary friend who is positioned around fifteen metres behind him turns around and also beckons for me to continue towards him. So of course I do. And the entire time I am aware that, firstly, these guys are here for a reason. They look like they are surrounding some area for some reason, and now I am smack in the middle of it. Secondly, as a result, I am now entirely surrounded by armed policemen. And to make matters worse, I can no longer hide the fact my bike doesn't have a registration sticker on the back. But I don't think anyone has gotten shot for that before.
I walked quickly between them all, suddenly aware that they are not looking at me at all, but not wanting to stick around to find out what it is that they are looking at. I pass the final policeman and, in my hurry to jump on my bike and get out of there, proceed to instead drop my bike with an enormous clatter. Red faced, heart pounding, I jump on and pedal like a maniac to my Good Luck Cafe, whip out my computer and start writing this.
Today's realisation: I sure am a lucky bugger to have lived such a sheltered life.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Life in the Big Smoke
Well, folks, the contracts have been signed – Dunc starts work at Google on Feb 7. In the meantime, we have been offered a ‘relocation package’ which includes: 
- one month in a temporary apartment in Zurich;
- someone to assist us with finding a more permanent place of residence, to help with bank accounts, to demystify health insurance and generally assist with all those ugly things;
- free shipping of all our possessions from Australia, if we so choose (but not free shipping of it all BACK... so not sure what possessions we will choose to relocate...);
- a nice big fat lump sum to ‘assist with the particulars of relocation’, which apparently includes such things as registering with the municipal office, connecting telephones, new seasonal wardrobes, etc. But, no dosh will come our way until March, so until then I’m still following around the lady with the ‘50% Off’ stickers at the supermarket...
Hence, we have now moved (via bicycle, I might add) from our little mountain view studio to a fandangled modern apartment in the very centre of Zurich, temporarily. The little balcony and our view makes me feel a little like we are living in Paris, and I’m loving it.
The view from our dining table out onto the balcony
There are great little cafes everywhere, I’ve signed up for six months of yoga, have an audition for the Female Funk Project Choir on Wednesday and have sent a bunch of emails to other singing groups in the area. Also, shock of all shocks, they have a Zurich Netball Association that I’m hoping to get my teeth into! And an indoor beach volleyball centre! I have a new book to read (Room by Emma Donoghue – it is brilliant so far!), am getting back into the writing groove and have dyed my hair back to ‘dark blonde’. There is the Uetliberg (a mighty mammoth hill) right behind us, but other than that there are no hills whatsoever, so I am riding my bike everywhere, ensuring I wear gloves and tuck my ears into my beanie, as it is freaking freezing! Ah, life in the big smoke.
My little local cafe
Dunc, however, has taken a bit longer to warm up to the move. He was going for 40-50km rides around every second day back in Boll, climbing mountains and adventuring. As soon as we arrived here and realised we could very easily spy on dozens of people across the road in their office blocks and apartments (and we assume vice-versa) he felt a little ‘claustrophobic’. Also, he thought the apartment was trying to kill him – within an hour he had bashed into every possible corner that his shin could reach and had stripped the skin off his toes in some debacle with the wardrobe. Poor chicken!
Meanwhile, it has a bath and an oven and a coffee machine and a dishwasher and two pillows, so it’s quite an upgrade. We keep laughing about how dysfunctional it is, though, with small things like not being able to access the bin while the dishwasher is open, and having the towel rack inside the shower. Also, it actually feels very strange to be sleeping in a big bed after having to be either big or little spoon at all times in order to actually fit. And, true to European sleeping fashion, we each have our own single-sized doona. Many people rave about the brilliance of such a plan, but we are yet to really see the benefits. It makes it feel lonely. I suppose it’s all one step closer to spending the days apart once he starts work.
The kitchen/dining room. We also have a lounge and a separate bedroom and a separate bathroom and a separate toilet! They all have doors!
It is strange how we had become so used to the nuances of a small village. No-one says ‘Good Morning’ or ‘Hello’ when they pass you on the street here. There’s a wide choice of supermarkets – standard, Turkish, Asian, health food stores - all within 300m of our front door. There are groups of friends that all speak English to each other in different accents (Zurich is a bit of an expat hub)which I had never noticed in Bern, let alone boll. One of the television channels even has some shows in English in the evenings!
Today, Dunc has gone snow-boarding with one of our old friends from Perth (who is also here working for google) as well as a couple of other people. Yes, I should have gone too, but I chose instead to spend the day writing. The 5.45am alarm was just a final kicker. And also, to be honest, everyone here knows how to do it already, and if you speak to people about being a beginner, they pummel you with stories of broken bones, torn muscles, dislocations, joint replacements... and if you’re lucky to avoid all that, then just the intense pain you will be in for the first week or so. Sounds inviting. So I figure that until there is a time where we can actually go for a few consecutive days and I may actually get some skerrick of enjoyment out of it, I’ll pass. Bad, huh?
But it's been a day of writing for me, so I've been loving it anyhow :)
Wiedikon - our district - with the snowy Uetliberg in the background
Thursday, December 30, 2010
2010: A Year of Discoveries
It is the 31st of December and, if everything goes according to plan, there should be no major events between now and next year. God knows we have managed to cram enough into this year to take these last few hours off!
I have decided to attempt a grand summary of 2010 by selecting one photo from each month that encapsulated the events and the feeling of the chosen month. I couldn't believe how incredibly difficult this was, as we have thousands of photos from the past year - photos that are poignant, hilarious, beautiful, tragic... choosing one photo per day would have been a better reflection of our journey! But, being the stubborn lady that I am, I must stick with my original plan.
So, here it is, folks. The crazy crazy year that was 2010, where I officially changed my name and then proceeded to discover more about myself than I could ever have foretold before embarking on this journey.
After just three weeks of married life, I left my husband behind to begin work on the house renovations, and I headed off to Europe with my choir. Singing is my thing, and this tour simply fantastic. It pushed me beyond my comfort-zone with my singing (when Teresa, my beloved fellow First Alto, was ill for around half of our concerts, thus leaving me to sing our part solo!)and allowed me to create life-long friendships both amongst my fellow choir members and with the great people we met along the way. I must admit, though, that it did feel a little strange when I realised that I had been away from Dunc for longer than I had been with him as a married couple.
I chose this picture for a number of reasons: Firstly, it has one of my best friends, Reece, in the picture, reminding me of the beautiful friends I have back home; Secondly, I remember my awe at visiting such a beautiful medieval castle shrouded in snow (a 'Eurogasm', as Reece calls it), which is interesting for me to look back on now that such an image is almost commonplace; Thirdly, I just simply like the composition. Sure, it could have been more centred, but I'm a flawed human being. :)
February was a very stressful month, though you certainly wouldn't know it from the picture of my sister and I above! Major problems with our flights back to Australia resulted in me starting work on the same day as the kids (I'm a high-school English teacher), with no knowledge of the programmes I was to teach, which texts I needed to begin first, even the locations of my desk and my classroom. This put me behind the eight-ball from the start, and I never really felt like I caught up again. At the same time, Dunc and I had less than eight weeks to finish renovations, pack, rent out our apartment and do all those little things that must be done before you leave somewhere semi-indefinitely. February, therefore, was a month of juggling, arguments, paint-flecks, bruises and headaches. On the plus-side, I am now an expert in grouting, and my efficiency in marking essays has increased dramatically.
I chose this picture because throughout February I was really struggling with the idea of leaving home. I realised that everything was great - I had a great new husband, a lovely house, a job that I adored, friends that I wouldn't trade for the world, and family that were so fun and loving and supportive. I began to worry about all the things that might go wrong, and when you are planning to cycle through Europe for a year, there sure are a lot of things that can go wrong. As such, every moment (though they were few and far between) that I got to spend with my friends or my family was incredibly special. Like this day at the beach with my Mum and my sister (poor Dad was stuck at work), where we left all our worries behind on the sand.
March was a continuation of all the stresses of February, though multiplied ten-fold. I quit my choir, quit my netball and beach volleyball teams, greatly reduced all socialising and cancelled a number of sunday-night dinners with my family. It was all systems go. I had to learn to be assertive and to simultaneously swallow my pride in my workplace, where I had to ask my Head-of-Department for help on a number of occasions, particularly after a horrendously chaotic hail-storm hit Perth just one week before our departure, destroying my sister's new car that I had borrowed for the day, and causing some damage to our almost-ready house. Dunc left Perth on the 29th of March, and I was to follow a few days later, the day after the school term finished.
The photo above was taken on the drive to Toodyay, a country town 85km from Perth, where Dunc's Dad and his partner, Connie, have a farm. We were able to store most of our things (though there wasn't much left besides my books , our wedding presents and Dunc's motorbike) in their enormous shed. This photo is such a typical Western Australian setting, and one that we viewed many times throughout March.
I tearfully left Perth on April 2, with nothing but a bunch of bicycle panniers filled with nothing that remotely resembled a life of comfort. First stop was Melbourne for the wedding of some great friends of ours, and then onto Germany, where we hid out in Neustadt an der Weinstrasse for a week with Duncan's host family from when he was on student exchange. Here, we had time to actually prepare for our future trip, instead of preparing everything to be left behind. It was astonishing how little preparation we had actually done, and in the end we realised that we would never truly feel ready, so we waited for a day where the temperature soared above twelve degrees, and we hit the road, travelling north along Weinstrasse, the Rhine and into the Westerwald region, where we had enormous amounts of fun with some friends I had made there in January on my choir tour.
This picture was taken in Worms, our first night on the road. The first day was incredibly difficult for me, and I was well and truly asleep when Dunc took this photo at sunrise. This picture epitomises our trip: everything we own is in that picture. Also, I think this shot really shows not only the simplistic lifestyle, but the isolation that sometimes went along with it.
May was a month where we really had to begin to get used to our new lifestyle. We learnt a lot about each other at this time, and I had to learn to feel comfortable with not knowing where I would lay my head that night. We continued to travel north and eventually ended up in Nuefeld, near Dusiburg, with the lovely Fischer family, who had hosted me twice before on choir tours, and who felt like real family to me. There, after making an appearance on the front page of the local paper (thanks to Oma, across the road, and her journalist contacts!), we celebrated Geunter's birthday with the family and lived a life of luxury for a week. The day before we were to leave, I became dreadfully sick and stayed much longer in order to recuperate. Recover was slow, though, and in order to stick to our schedule we ended up catching a train 180km north to the Netherlands, meeting up with another old friend there before he went overseas.
The photo above is of Dunc standing on the Waddensee (Mud Sea), a particular part of the North Sea that stretches along the coast of The Netherlands, Germany and Denmark. Once we hit the coast at the end of May, I definitely felt a sense of achievement, having cycled nearly 800km. My butt, however, was still getting used to the idea.
June saw us cycling along the never-ending dykes of the North Sea Coast, gaining the much admired skill of being able to unequivocally distinguish between the stench of sheep, cow, horse and human manure. While the riding was flat, the winds were a real soul-destroyer, and the scenery left a little to be desired after many days of monotonous hayfever inducing fields. In Schleswig, Northern Germany, I had my first real breakdown, where the prospect of packing up our tent in the rain, putting on damp clothes, eating five-day old bread with stolen jam sachets and no cup of coffee (our gas ran out), then cycling another 90km and doing exactly the same, was enough to send me into the pits of despair. Luckily, further North we hit Denmark and my very excited distant relatives, who welcomed us open-armed into their incredible home on the banks of Veijle Fjord. One week of bike repairs, tent waterproofing, blog updating and delving into the Bargmann (my maiden name) family history left us feeling refreshed and ready to hit the road.
The photo above was a strange one to choose, as it doesn't show any of the beautiful Danish scenery. Instead, I chose to show the gravestone of my Great-Great-Great Grandfather and Grandmother. Dunc and I spent a week on a family treasure hunt, uncovering family history and taking replica photos of places that were photographed in the late 1940s and again in the early 1980s. This was one of the most rewarding times of the whole trip.
The month began with my second (and my biggest) meltdown as we crossed over to Sweden. A number of times we had packed up the tent and started to ride out of town when I was hit with a wave of homesickness, anger, futility and desperation, finding myself cycling a few kilometers with tears streaming down my face before we turned back to stay another night. I was often ill, in pain, covered in bruises and sleeping badly, and Sweden marked the point in our journey where we had no bike routes anymore and had to make many more decisions on our own. Eventually, though, we managed to leave and decided to cross through the centre of the country, a place filled with untouched lakes and forests, where we could legally camp in the wild. Sweden remains our favourite country from our journeys, as each night we set up our tent next to a secluded lake, skinny-dipped in total solitude and explored the intense beauty of the country. Having successfully crossed from the west to the east coast (the photo above is of us having hit the east coast after two consecutive days of over 100km though highlands), we visited the holiday island of Gotland, only to discover that Australians shouldn't come to Europe in search for good beaches, and then fell in love with the beautiful Stockholm.
The photo above is not from Sweden at all, but is from our one week detour form our trip, where we flew from Stockholm to the Pyrenees for the Tour de France - another unforgettable experience. Here is a picture of me on Tourmalet, the highest peak of the tour, and a place we had never expected to be granted access to. Here we made great friends, found some Aussie flags in a rubbish bin and proceeded to have one of the most fun weeks of our lives - what the Tour is all about.
August saw us heading through the islands of Aaland and then onto Finland, where there are more lakes than land. Helsinki greeted us with open arms in the form of our first Couchsurfing experience with Jad and Mareka, two crazy travellers who were an immense amount of fun. We then jumped on a ferry and crossed the Baltic Sea to Tallinn, the picture-perfect capital of Estonia, where having the equivalent of a 20cent note in our wallets reminded us that we weren't in Scandinavia any more - eating and drinking galore! There we had our second of three Souchsurfing experiences in a great place where an American guy hosted six surfers at the one time, ensuring that we made some great friends while there. Estonia remains fixed forever in our minds because of the incredible hospitality of a family in a tiny tiny town (in fact, I think their house was the town), where we got terribly lost and, perhaps due to their exciement of actually meeting real Australians, we were invited to stay the weekend. What followed was a real insight to the Estonian history and way of life, and we know that this family, with their three little girls, will be friends with us forever.
The picture above is one of my favourites from the whole trip - taken the evening after we left our Estonian family. Here, we set up camp in a deserted campground, where the owner (again extremely excited to meet Australians) upgraded us from our dismal tent to the luxurious lake-side log cabin, complete with furs, taxidermy and wood-fired sauna. This picture (see if you can spot dunc) reminds me of the hospitality and open nature of these beautiful people.
September saw us continuing semi-blindly through the Baltic states, making plans only the day before or over breakfast. A couple of excessively dangerous moments (one where we saw our lives flash before our eyes four separate times in ten minutes) saw us take a couple of buses along windy, thin, high speed roads. We headed to Riga, in Latvia, and then almost immediately discovered that there was a weekend festival in Vilnius, Lithuania, that weekend. So we hot-footed it over and finally experienced a festival. From there, we continued south through Soviet parks and through forests filled with mushroom-pickers, where we clocked up 4000km of pedal power, all the while skirting the Belorussian border. Crossing the border to Poland, we soon found that, although we had left a bunch of very poor countries, the Baltic population seemed happy and proud, as opposed to the Polish people, who by nature seemed suspicious and distinctly unfriendly. As such, sadly, the last three weeks of our tour were probably our collective low point.
October: Six months and one day after I had left Perth, we had reached the end of our bike tour. Cycling under the Brandenburg gate at 4767km, I felt a great sense of both pride (seriously - ME! I did it! Who would've thunk it?) and relief (we didn't DIE!) and was thus incredibly happy to move on to the next phase of our journey. Dunc, however, was not so happy. This man loved every second of our journey (well, almost. All except when I was going too slow or whining about something or other) and wasn't ready to give it up, but knew that there had to be some compromise. Happy wife, happy life, right? As such, besides the three days where the Fischers drive the 600km over to spend the weekend with us, Berlin was not a happy place and we left early to head to Magdeburg, where I had my last choir contact. There, Basti and Franzi pulled my man out of his slump, reminded us what real fun is all about, and allowed us the time to figure out what to do next. We popped our bikes in their garage, bought backpacks and headed down to Dresden on the train. Dresden, Prague and Vienna followed, true backpacker/train style (except for Vienna where we were invited to stay with a friend from Perth) before we hit travel burnout and were desperate to start looking for a place to be for a while.
November
We found a house! After hanging out with our good friends in Zurich, Dunc fell in love with Switzerland and we both agreed that this country was the place we wanted to stay. For a year. so we embarked on a property hunt and found a beautiful, small apartment in boll, a small village outside of Bern. The tiny studio apartment, with our own bed, bathroom and a real kitchen all to ourselves, is true luxury. Throw in a jaw-dropping view of the Alps out our window (above) and you have two very happy campers. Thus, November was filled with resting, recuperating, Dunc studying for interviews and me making a start on my novel. Heavenly. To make matters even better, my fantastic friend, Dave, came to visit for a week, which was great encouragement for us to get out there and experience the world around us again.
The last month has been a flurry of Christmas shopping, writing (me) and studying (dunc). We headed back up to my family in Denmark for Christmas and got to experience all the fun of a white Scandinavian Christmas. Singing Danish carols, eating pickled herring and drinking Aquavit, walks down to the frozen beach, learning how to make paper decorations for the tree... our Danish Christmas was everything we could have hoped for. As a special Christmas present, Santa telephoned and offered Dunc and incredibly good job offer, so that we spent a solid couple of days dancing around in disbelief, fantasising about all the possibilities this will open up for us.
And so, 2010 has obviously been one hell of a year, and there will never be another year like it. 2011 brings with it the opportunity to live in a country where we can truly integrate (or at least attempt to) and learn about another culture, where hopefully I will write a book and where, by this time next year, I can hopefully write this kind of an update in German! Here's hoping!
So, let me raise my glass (okay, it's a coffee mug...) to the year that was.
I have decided to attempt a grand summary of 2010 by selecting one photo from each month that encapsulated the events and the feeling of the chosen month. I couldn't believe how incredibly difficult this was, as we have thousands of photos from the past year - photos that are poignant, hilarious, beautiful, tragic... choosing one photo per day would have been a better reflection of our journey! But, being the stubborn lady that I am, I must stick with my original plan.
So, here it is, folks. The crazy crazy year that was 2010, where I officially changed my name and then proceeded to discover more about myself than I could ever have foretold before embarking on this journey.
January
After just three weeks of married life, I left my husband behind to begin work on the house renovations, and I headed off to Europe with my choir. Singing is my thing, and this tour simply fantastic. It pushed me beyond my comfort-zone with my singing (when Teresa, my beloved fellow First Alto, was ill for around half of our concerts, thus leaving me to sing our part solo!)and allowed me to create life-long friendships both amongst my fellow choir members and with the great people we met along the way. I must admit, though, that it did feel a little strange when I realised that I had been away from Dunc for longer than I had been with him as a married couple.I chose this picture for a number of reasons: Firstly, it has one of my best friends, Reece, in the picture, reminding me of the beautiful friends I have back home; Secondly, I remember my awe at visiting such a beautiful medieval castle shrouded in snow (a 'Eurogasm', as Reece calls it), which is interesting for me to look back on now that such an image is almost commonplace; Thirdly, I just simply like the composition. Sure, it could have been more centred, but I'm a flawed human being. :)
February
February was a very stressful month, though you certainly wouldn't know it from the picture of my sister and I above! Major problems with our flights back to Australia resulted in me starting work on the same day as the kids (I'm a high-school English teacher), with no knowledge of the programmes I was to teach, which texts I needed to begin first, even the locations of my desk and my classroom. This put me behind the eight-ball from the start, and I never really felt like I caught up again. At the same time, Dunc and I had less than eight weeks to finish renovations, pack, rent out our apartment and do all those little things that must be done before you leave somewhere semi-indefinitely. February, therefore, was a month of juggling, arguments, paint-flecks, bruises and headaches. On the plus-side, I am now an expert in grouting, and my efficiency in marking essays has increased dramatically.I chose this picture because throughout February I was really struggling with the idea of leaving home. I realised that everything was great - I had a great new husband, a lovely house, a job that I adored, friends that I wouldn't trade for the world, and family that were so fun and loving and supportive. I began to worry about all the things that might go wrong, and when you are planning to cycle through Europe for a year, there sure are a lot of things that can go wrong. As such, every moment (though they were few and far between) that I got to spend with my friends or my family was incredibly special. Like this day at the beach with my Mum and my sister (poor Dad was stuck at work), where we left all our worries behind on the sand.
March
March was a continuation of all the stresses of February, though multiplied ten-fold. I quit my choir, quit my netball and beach volleyball teams, greatly reduced all socialising and cancelled a number of sunday-night dinners with my family. It was all systems go. I had to learn to be assertive and to simultaneously swallow my pride in my workplace, where I had to ask my Head-of-Department for help on a number of occasions, particularly after a horrendously chaotic hail-storm hit Perth just one week before our departure, destroying my sister's new car that I had borrowed for the day, and causing some damage to our almost-ready house. Dunc left Perth on the 29th of March, and I was to follow a few days later, the day after the school term finished.The photo above was taken on the drive to Toodyay, a country town 85km from Perth, where Dunc's Dad and his partner, Connie, have a farm. We were able to store most of our things (though there wasn't much left besides my books , our wedding presents and Dunc's motorbike) in their enormous shed. This photo is such a typical Western Australian setting, and one that we viewed many times throughout March.
April
I tearfully left Perth on April 2, with nothing but a bunch of bicycle panniers filled with nothing that remotely resembled a life of comfort. First stop was Melbourne for the wedding of some great friends of ours, and then onto Germany, where we hid out in Neustadt an der Weinstrasse for a week with Duncan's host family from when he was on student exchange. Here, we had time to actually prepare for our future trip, instead of preparing everything to be left behind. It was astonishing how little preparation we had actually done, and in the end we realised that we would never truly feel ready, so we waited for a day where the temperature soared above twelve degrees, and we hit the road, travelling north along Weinstrasse, the Rhine and into the Westerwald region, where we had enormous amounts of fun with some friends I had made there in January on my choir tour.This picture was taken in Worms, our first night on the road. The first day was incredibly difficult for me, and I was well and truly asleep when Dunc took this photo at sunrise. This picture epitomises our trip: everything we own is in that picture. Also, I think this shot really shows not only the simplistic lifestyle, but the isolation that sometimes went along with it.
May
May was a month where we really had to begin to get used to our new lifestyle. We learnt a lot about each other at this time, and I had to learn to feel comfortable with not knowing where I would lay my head that night. We continued to travel north and eventually ended up in Nuefeld, near Dusiburg, with the lovely Fischer family, who had hosted me twice before on choir tours, and who felt like real family to me. There, after making an appearance on the front page of the local paper (thanks to Oma, across the road, and her journalist contacts!), we celebrated Geunter's birthday with the family and lived a life of luxury for a week. The day before we were to leave, I became dreadfully sick and stayed much longer in order to recuperate. Recover was slow, though, and in order to stick to our schedule we ended up catching a train 180km north to the Netherlands, meeting up with another old friend there before he went overseas.The photo above is of Dunc standing on the Waddensee (Mud Sea), a particular part of the North Sea that stretches along the coast of The Netherlands, Germany and Denmark. Once we hit the coast at the end of May, I definitely felt a sense of achievement, having cycled nearly 800km. My butt, however, was still getting used to the idea.
June
June saw us cycling along the never-ending dykes of the North Sea Coast, gaining the much admired skill of being able to unequivocally distinguish between the stench of sheep, cow, horse and human manure. While the riding was flat, the winds were a real soul-destroyer, and the scenery left a little to be desired after many days of monotonous hayfever inducing fields. In Schleswig, Northern Germany, I had my first real breakdown, where the prospect of packing up our tent in the rain, putting on damp clothes, eating five-day old bread with stolen jam sachets and no cup of coffee (our gas ran out), then cycling another 90km and doing exactly the same, was enough to send me into the pits of despair. Luckily, further North we hit Denmark and my very excited distant relatives, who welcomed us open-armed into their incredible home on the banks of Veijle Fjord. One week of bike repairs, tent waterproofing, blog updating and delving into the Bargmann (my maiden name) family history left us feeling refreshed and ready to hit the road.The photo above was a strange one to choose, as it doesn't show any of the beautiful Danish scenery. Instead, I chose to show the gravestone of my Great-Great-Great Grandfather and Grandmother. Dunc and I spent a week on a family treasure hunt, uncovering family history and taking replica photos of places that were photographed in the late 1940s and again in the early 1980s. This was one of the most rewarding times of the whole trip.
July
July has been, without a doubt, the hardest month to choose only one photo. So stuff it, I'm doing two.
The month began with my second (and my biggest) meltdown as we crossed over to Sweden. A number of times we had packed up the tent and started to ride out of town when I was hit with a wave of homesickness, anger, futility and desperation, finding myself cycling a few kilometers with tears streaming down my face before we turned back to stay another night. I was often ill, in pain, covered in bruises and sleeping badly, and Sweden marked the point in our journey where we had no bike routes anymore and had to make many more decisions on our own. Eventually, though, we managed to leave and decided to cross through the centre of the country, a place filled with untouched lakes and forests, where we could legally camp in the wild. Sweden remains our favourite country from our journeys, as each night we set up our tent next to a secluded lake, skinny-dipped in total solitude and explored the intense beauty of the country. Having successfully crossed from the west to the east coast (the photo above is of us having hit the east coast after two consecutive days of over 100km though highlands), we visited the holiday island of Gotland, only to discover that Australians shouldn't come to Europe in search for good beaches, and then fell in love with the beautiful Stockholm.
The photo above is not from Sweden at all, but is from our one week detour form our trip, where we flew from Stockholm to the Pyrenees for the Tour de France - another unforgettable experience. Here is a picture of me on Tourmalet, the highest peak of the tour, and a place we had never expected to be granted access to. Here we made great friends, found some Aussie flags in a rubbish bin and proceeded to have one of the most fun weeks of our lives - what the Tour is all about.August
August saw us heading through the islands of Aaland and then onto Finland, where there are more lakes than land. Helsinki greeted us with open arms in the form of our first Couchsurfing experience with Jad and Mareka, two crazy travellers who were an immense amount of fun. We then jumped on a ferry and crossed the Baltic Sea to Tallinn, the picture-perfect capital of Estonia, where having the equivalent of a 20cent note in our wallets reminded us that we weren't in Scandinavia any more - eating and drinking galore! There we had our second of three Souchsurfing experiences in a great place where an American guy hosted six surfers at the one time, ensuring that we made some great friends while there. Estonia remains fixed forever in our minds because of the incredible hospitality of a family in a tiny tiny town (in fact, I think their house was the town), where we got terribly lost and, perhaps due to their exciement of actually meeting real Australians, we were invited to stay the weekend. What followed was a real insight to the Estonian history and way of life, and we know that this family, with their three little girls, will be friends with us forever.The picture above is one of my favourites from the whole trip - taken the evening after we left our Estonian family. Here, we set up camp in a deserted campground, where the owner (again extremely excited to meet Australians) upgraded us from our dismal tent to the luxurious lake-side log cabin, complete with furs, taxidermy and wood-fired sauna. This picture (see if you can spot dunc) reminds me of the hospitality and open nature of these beautiful people.
September
September saw us continuing semi-blindly through the Baltic states, making plans only the day before or over breakfast. A couple of excessively dangerous moments (one where we saw our lives flash before our eyes four separate times in ten minutes) saw us take a couple of buses along windy, thin, high speed roads. We headed to Riga, in Latvia, and then almost immediately discovered that there was a weekend festival in Vilnius, Lithuania, that weekend. So we hot-footed it over and finally experienced a festival. From there, we continued south through Soviet parks and through forests filled with mushroom-pickers, where we clocked up 4000km of pedal power, all the while skirting the Belorussian border. Crossing the border to Poland, we soon found that, although we had left a bunch of very poor countries, the Baltic population seemed happy and proud, as opposed to the Polish people, who by nature seemed suspicious and distinctly unfriendly. As such, sadly, the last three weeks of our tour were probably our collective low point.October
October: Six months and one day after I had left Perth, we had reached the end of our bike tour. Cycling under the Brandenburg gate at 4767km, I felt a great sense of both pride (seriously - ME! I did it! Who would've thunk it?) and relief (we didn't DIE!) and was thus incredibly happy to move on to the next phase of our journey. Dunc, however, was not so happy. This man loved every second of our journey (well, almost. All except when I was going too slow or whining about something or other) and wasn't ready to give it up, but knew that there had to be some compromise. Happy wife, happy life, right? As such, besides the three days where the Fischers drive the 600km over to spend the weekend with us, Berlin was not a happy place and we left early to head to Magdeburg, where I had my last choir contact. There, Basti and Franzi pulled my man out of his slump, reminded us what real fun is all about, and allowed us the time to figure out what to do next. We popped our bikes in their garage, bought backpacks and headed down to Dresden on the train. Dresden, Prague and Vienna followed, true backpacker/train style (except for Vienna where we were invited to stay with a friend from Perth) before we hit travel burnout and were desperate to start looking for a place to be for a while.
We found a house! After hanging out with our good friends in Zurich, Dunc fell in love with Switzerland and we both agreed that this country was the place we wanted to stay. For a year. so we embarked on a property hunt and found a beautiful, small apartment in boll, a small village outside of Bern. The tiny studio apartment, with our own bed, bathroom and a real kitchen all to ourselves, is true luxury. Throw in a jaw-dropping view of the Alps out our window (above) and you have two very happy campers. Thus, November was filled with resting, recuperating, Dunc studying for interviews and me making a start on my novel. Heavenly. To make matters even better, my fantastic friend, Dave, came to visit for a week, which was great encouragement for us to get out there and experience the world around us again.December
The last month has been a flurry of Christmas shopping, writing (me) and studying (dunc). We headed back up to my family in Denmark for Christmas and got to experience all the fun of a white Scandinavian Christmas. Singing Danish carols, eating pickled herring and drinking Aquavit, walks down to the frozen beach, learning how to make paper decorations for the tree... our Danish Christmas was everything we could have hoped for. As a special Christmas present, Santa telephoned and offered Dunc and incredibly good job offer, so that we spent a solid couple of days dancing around in disbelief, fantasising about all the possibilities this will open up for us.And so, 2010 has obviously been one hell of a year, and there will never be another year like it. 2011 brings with it the opportunity to live in a country where we can truly integrate (or at least attempt to) and learn about another culture, where hopefully I will write a book and where, by this time next year, I can hopefully write this kind of an update in German! Here's hoping!
So, let me raise my glass (okay, it's a coffee mug...) to the year that was.
Cheers! (Australia)
Prost! (Germany)
Proost! (The Netherlands)
Skål! (Denmark)
Skål! (Sweden)
Kippis! (Finland)
Terviseks! (Estonia)
Priekā! (Latvia)
į sveikatą!(Lithuania)
Na zdrowie(Poland)
Na zdravi! (Czech Republic)
Prost! (Austria)
Prost /Santé / Salute! (Switzerland)
Prost! (Germany)
Proost! (The Netherlands)
Skål! (Denmark)
Skål! (Sweden)
Kippis! (Finland)
Terviseks! (Estonia)
Priekā! (Latvia)
į sveikatą!(Lithuania)
Na zdrowie(Poland)
Na zdravi! (Czech Republic)
Prost! (Austria)
Prost /Santé / Salute! (Switzerland)
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Voyages onto the ice
At a time where many people are stranded throughout Europe and are facing the possibility of not being able to share Christmas with their loved ones, Duncan and I have braved the erratic sixteen hour train journey and made it up to Denmark. Without going into the details of the trip, it is suffice to say that at one point our train simply stopped and had no way of continuing and no information, so everyone simply got out and headed for the local service. At another point, we seriously considered sitting in an elevator for an hour's wait in the hopes that a small space would heat up a little with two bodies inside. At 11pm when we finally made it and my gorgeous happy relatives, Lisbeth and Torben, collected us from Fredericia, we felt somewhat vindicated to know that it was minus seventeen degrees. Woah!We are going to be staying here for one week and are reveling at the 99.9% chance of a white Christmas, according to the weather man. Already we are enjoying the festivities and the boundless love that these lovely people offer us in the lead up to Christmas.
Their house is situated on Vejle Fjord and has breathtaking views of the ice on the water. Dunc and I have now bravely ventured outside and down to the 'beach' two times (of course the general consensus is that we are loonies). Yesterday when the waters were quite calm, the sun was setting and the sky was clear. The ice seemed to go out forever, and the water undulated lazily underneath, slowly moved the ice sheets back onto the beach. The most incredible thing was the sound - a sound that I have read about when describing icebergs. It is as if the ice is alive: breathing, sighing and creaking, squeaking and crackling. The snow muffles all other sound, and it is just magical.
I have always been fascinated with ice. No, not the kind that comes from the freezer, but the kind that falls from the sky, forms over oceans and seas, breaks off the ends of glaciers and grows at the edges of window panes. I have dreamed of adventures to Antarctica, trips to the Arctic, searching for the infamous North-West Passage (though not so difficult to find nowadays, of course)... and not for the cultures and the fauna that survive in the most inhospitable environments, but simply for the ice.
My six-month exchange to Halifax, Canada, allowed me to explore this more, particularly when some friends took me to Prince Edward Island in Winter, where the sea was completely frozen as far as the eye could see. To stand at the tip of a peninsula and to feel completely surrounded by frozen waters - this was a dream come true for me.
Now, to be here and to see the pink sunset reflecting off cracked ice, to be surrounded by a kind of blue that is so unworldly, and to be able to then walk just a few minutes back to a warm fire, a cup of tea and a shower - this must be some kind of heaven. This is my Christmas present!
Today, the snow is billowing , the air is filled with flurries and the ground is covered in snow dunes, with crests and waves that remind me of images of the Sahara. The snow is so cold and dry that it is impossible to make snowballs or a snowman - it is a fine powder. The clouds were in today, and the winds have pushed all the ice on the fjord up to the coastline. When climbing the stairs down to the beach today, there was no telling where the ice-covered sand finished and the ice-covered sea began!
So, of course, a little adventure was in order. And you can imagine how such an adventure ended - with me, thigh deep in ice, water pouring into my boots, squealing like two year old.These sure are merry times!
Friday, December 17, 2010
Boll: Our One Month Anniversary
One month has passed since we stepped foot in our lovely little home. I thought that such an important milestone (serendipitously only two days before our first wedding anniversary) needs a retrospective in the form of a written montage... though I'm opting out of that impossible challenge. Instead, have another incredible photo of the mountains outside our (only) window. This was from two days ago, when the weather was really coming in, and now we are shrouded in snow again. An Aussie's heaven!
So surely after one month I should be a fair way into my writing, yes? Well, let's break this down for you:
Week 1: Writing bonanza!
Week 2: Dave's visiting bonanza!
Week 3: Sick --> More sick
Week 4: More sick --> gradual recovery
Today, however, I went on my second mission (much more successful than the first) to rediscover my mojo in the big smoke of Bern, and I had a number of writing breakthroughs in just two hours. I already have a great plot, some possible subplots, great setting, great characters, strong conflict and tension... but I have really struggled with my point of view. I have tried writing sections in first person, then third, both sympathetic and omniscient, and then from the perspective of a variety of characters, but I knew something was missing. Today:
Onto the business side of things, Dunc's interviews are in full swing - he has finally completed the entire interview process for Google and has kicked butt with it all, so we're hoping for an offer (oh dear, I've become one of those 'we' people) in the next week. You never really know though, and from the masses of online blogs dedicated to people analysing the grueling Google interview process, even the most seemingly intelligent and positive people are refused and advised to apply again in a year. So, here's hoping! We bought and ate a 'lucky marzipan pig' on the eve of his big interview though, so surely that means everything will work out just fine!
If that falls through, there are a multitude of other options - he had another big interview in Zurich today, and has another even bigger one on Monday. So it's all stations go before we leave on our 13 hour train ride up to Denmark to visit my rellies for Christmas.
So this is all very newsy and not particularly interesting... what can I do to step it up a bit? I know! Create a list!
Things I Want (when we have an income again! or... when I become famous?)
I have been playing guitar since I was ten years old and miss it. I brought a ukelele with us on our cycle tour, strapped to the back of my bike, but it just isn't the same.
A good whiskey. I discovered some great smoked whiskeys and I'd love to be able to afford to get my hands on a bottle. My Mum calls cognac her 'truth serum'; whiskey, apparently, is mine.
I am so so over my hideous (yet warm, I will admit) jacket. It's time for a jacket that is equally as warm, but actually fits me and looks semi-reasonable.
Even looking at this picture takes away muscle pain... ahh, one day.
So that's it for now, folks. I have a secret little plan organised for our wedding anniversary on Sunday... let's hope it all works out!
So surely after one month I should be a fair way into my writing, yes? Well, let's break this down for you:
Week 1: Writing bonanza!
Week 2: Dave's visiting bonanza!
Week 3: Sick --> More sick
Week 4: More sick --> gradual recovery
Today, however, I went on my second mission (much more successful than the first) to rediscover my mojo in the big smoke of Bern, and I had a number of writing breakthroughs in just two hours. I already have a great plot, some possible subplots, great setting, great characters, strong conflict and tension... but I have really struggled with my point of view. I have tried writing sections in first person, then third, both sympathetic and omniscient, and then from the perspective of a variety of characters, but I knew something was missing. Today:
EUREKA!
I finally figured out who was going to tell the story, and more importantly, why they are telling the story in the first place. Yippee for direction! And then I spewed out 2500 words in a remarkably short space of time. So, my mojo is found and I'm back on the straight and narrow. ish.Onto the business side of things, Dunc's interviews are in full swing - he has finally completed the entire interview process for Google and has kicked butt with it all, so we're hoping for an offer (oh dear, I've become one of those 'we' people) in the next week. You never really know though, and from the masses of online blogs dedicated to people analysing the grueling Google interview process, even the most seemingly intelligent and positive people are refused and advised to apply again in a year. So, here's hoping! We bought and ate a 'lucky marzipan pig' on the eve of his big interview though, so surely that means everything will work out just fine!
If that falls through, there are a multitude of other options - he had another big interview in Zurich today, and has another even bigger one on Monday. So it's all stations go before we leave on our 13 hour train ride up to Denmark to visit my rellies for Christmas.
So this is all very newsy and not particularly interesting... what can I do to step it up a bit? I know! Create a list!
Things I Want (when we have an income again! or... when I become famous?)
I have been playing guitar since I was ten years old and miss it. I brought a ukelele with us on our cycle tour, strapped to the back of my bike, but it just isn't the same.
A good whiskey. I discovered some great smoked whiskeys and I'd love to be able to afford to get my hands on a bottle. My Mum calls cognac her 'truth serum'; whiskey, apparently, is mine.
I am so so over my hideous (yet warm, I will admit) jacket. It's time for a jacket that is equally as warm, but actually fits me and looks semi-reasonable.
Even looking at this picture takes away muscle pain... ahh, one day.
So that's it for now, folks. I have a secret little plan organised for our wedding anniversary on Sunday... let's hope it all works out!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
"Detox"
The worst thing about having a blocked ear for three days straight? Being so in tune with all my body's teeny tiny functions - those functions that no one, not even the perpetrator themselves, should be privy to. I mean, do you know how much of a racket a normal stomach makes? It's a freaking couldren of bubbling activity in there! And don't even get me started on what happens when I scratch my head/neck/face/upper extremities!
Revelatory. And tangential.
DETOX
So we have been on a detox the last week or so, though to be honest, calling what we are doing a 'detox' is really a bit of an insult to the process. Things we have managed to achieve, though, are:
The results thus far? Well, difficult to accurately assess, as I am a sick lump of phlegm cowering in the darkest corner of the room. Whether this in itself is significant, I'm not sure. I was definitely starting to get sick before we even started, so the detox itself definitely didn't bring it on. I haven't really noticed any difference in my digestion, but my skin is MUCH better. It was becoming incredibly dry and my nails were in pieces, but perhaps this change is simply due to me taking cod-liver-oil tablets, thanks to the advice of my ever-knowledgeable sister.
As the main cook of the household, it is really darn hard, as we have a very small and very limited pantry, and the knowledge that we will only be here for a few more weeks before perhaps moving somewhere more permanent means that I won't be stocking it up. So I have no spices, no stock, nothing except fruit, veg, legumes, meat and rice. Oh, and dark chocolate. So, in that way, it has been incredibly uninspiring in the food department for the past week. One great thing about this country, though, is the massive range of organic products that are available - the options are endless, the prices not extortionate and the quality excellent.
Yes, this is the pantry. In another small cupboard hides a few more tins of tomatoes and kidney beans, a tin of corn, a tin of tuna, onions, potatoes, garlic, a few leftover minties from a survival pack sent from home, and... the dark chocolate. Hiding.
The most significant change to routine that will hopefully transform into a lifestyle change, is the porridge in the mornings (though I mentioned this in an earlier post), with grated apple, sunflower seeds, walnuts, cinnamon and natural yoghurt. This is a huge improvement for me in the breakfast world, as breaky has always been a world of pain and trouble for me. This was a constant struggle for us on our cycle trip, as Dunc is a spritely morning person who can quickly wolf down the cheapest bulk-buy cardboard-resembling muesli with powdered milk and get on the road. I however, could not. Cereal has never been my thing, and I am too much of a foodie to happily accept crap. Those days where I had no option but to eat horrible muesli or five-day-old rock-hard rolls with jam-sachets stolen from a cafe we visited somewhere along the line - these were horror days for me. My mood would not budge from nearing-distraught and there would inevitably be times during the day where I would cry and want to throw my bicycle into a tree. Thus, breakfast was always a struggle. So the fact that I am now happy and satisfied with a healthy, filling, cheap and easy breakfast verges on dumbfounding!
Another great discovery I have made this past week is that of POPCORN! None of this chemical-laden-microwave business, though. Just the good old fashioned type, where a few drops of oil and a few shakes of a saucepan result in wheat-free, chemical-free, almost-fat-free fun times. On those days where the early sunset fools us into eating a too-early dinner, we have been resorting to a bowl of popcorn with a tiny sprinkling of salt around 8pm.
My Mum is a detox guru, and I wish I had easy access to her brain at the moment for ideas and recipes! But the supermarket here is just a little bit strange... so no doubt many of her suggestions are simply impossible.
Actually, I just paused for dinner and Dunc and I had a very complex conversation about the differences between supermarkets here and in Oz, but that is for a different post.
Revelatory. And tangential.
DETOX
So we have been on a detox the last week or so, though to be honest, calling what we are doing a 'detox' is really a bit of an insult to the process. Things we have managed to achieve, though, are:
- Wheat free
- Dairy free (excluding yoghurt)
- Alcohol free
- Caffeine free
The results thus far? Well, difficult to accurately assess, as I am a sick lump of phlegm cowering in the darkest corner of the room. Whether this in itself is significant, I'm not sure. I was definitely starting to get sick before we even started, so the detox itself definitely didn't bring it on. I haven't really noticed any difference in my digestion, but my skin is MUCH better. It was becoming incredibly dry and my nails were in pieces, but perhaps this change is simply due to me taking cod-liver-oil tablets, thanks to the advice of my ever-knowledgeable sister.
As the main cook of the household, it is really darn hard, as we have a very small and very limited pantry, and the knowledge that we will only be here for a few more weeks before perhaps moving somewhere more permanent means that I won't be stocking it up. So I have no spices, no stock, nothing except fruit, veg, legumes, meat and rice. Oh, and dark chocolate. So, in that way, it has been incredibly uninspiring in the food department for the past week. One great thing about this country, though, is the massive range of organic products that are available - the options are endless, the prices not extortionate and the quality excellent.
Yes, this is the pantry. In another small cupboard hides a few more tins of tomatoes and kidney beans, a tin of corn, a tin of tuna, onions, potatoes, garlic, a few leftover minties from a survival pack sent from home, and... the dark chocolate. Hiding.
The most significant change to routine that will hopefully transform into a lifestyle change, is the porridge in the mornings (though I mentioned this in an earlier post), with grated apple, sunflower seeds, walnuts, cinnamon and natural yoghurt. This is a huge improvement for me in the breakfast world, as breaky has always been a world of pain and trouble for me. This was a constant struggle for us on our cycle trip, as Dunc is a spritely morning person who can quickly wolf down the cheapest bulk-buy cardboard-resembling muesli with powdered milk and get on the road. I however, could not. Cereal has never been my thing, and I am too much of a foodie to happily accept crap. Those days where I had no option but to eat horrible muesli or five-day-old rock-hard rolls with jam-sachets stolen from a cafe we visited somewhere along the line - these were horror days for me. My mood would not budge from nearing-distraught and there would inevitably be times during the day where I would cry and want to throw my bicycle into a tree. Thus, breakfast was always a struggle. So the fact that I am now happy and satisfied with a healthy, filling, cheap and easy breakfast verges on dumbfounding!
Another great discovery I have made this past week is that of POPCORN! None of this chemical-laden-microwave business, though. Just the good old fashioned type, where a few drops of oil and a few shakes of a saucepan result in wheat-free, chemical-free, almost-fat-free fun times. On those days where the early sunset fools us into eating a too-early dinner, we have been resorting to a bowl of popcorn with a tiny sprinkling of salt around 8pm.
My Mum is a detox guru, and I wish I had easy access to her brain at the moment for ideas and recipes! But the supermarket here is just a little bit strange... so no doubt many of her suggestions are simply impossible.
Actually, I just paused for dinner and Dunc and I had a very complex conversation about the differences between supermarkets here and in Oz, but that is for a different post.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Wanted: Mojo
The walk from our apartment to the train station One of my oldest and best friends came to visit last week, and of course the Weather Gods knew of his impending arrival, so they threw in a heap of snow for good measure. It was great to have someone around with an intense enthusiasm to explore and discover, when we have become happy little home-bodies.
Our little town had become a wonderland, where we made snow angels, built snowwomen, took our $5 toboggans to the local hill (which is really just for those under five years old... and Australians...), we made mulled wine, went for a disastrous adventure into the mountains (where visibility meant we might as well have been standing in the middle of wheat field in a white-out), went on a proper audio-tour of Bern, and the crazy boys even went snow-camping.
Dave's visit was a breath of fresh air into our little place.
My writing, however, was put on a temporary hold.
Since then, I have managed to nab myself a head-cold (remember my last post where I said how my physical and mental self can finally relax? Well that has come around to bite me) and, as such, my writing mojo is Missing in Action.
Usual Sick-Bunny Acts when at home:
- Lie on the couch and watch terrible midday movies. Though... it is Christmas movie time, so they can't be that terrible... right?
- Lie on the couch and re-watch the three DVDs that we own: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Enduring Love and The Sound of Music.
- Surf the net for fun things that may be useful teaching aids, such as emotive images, intelligent song lyrics, subversive advertisements, etc.
- Read Marian Keyes
Sick-Bunny Acts when in Boll:
- Lie on the couch and complain that, of the forty television channels at our disposal, there are none in English. (Recent discovery worth noting: MTV very occasionally screens a show in English, but it tends to be shows such as 'Pranked' or 'Your Worst Date' or other such stimulating material.)
- Lie on the couch and try to find ways to watch television via the internet, on my teeny weeny computer, without blowing out our unknown downloading limit (I feel a distinct lack of correct terminology here).
- Sit on Facebook and get annoyed that everyone in Australia is asleep.
- Look at my deeply intellectual literary classics with disdain, wishing that I had a back-up no-brainer novel at my disposal.
And then I came home, flopped breathlessly back onto the couch and progressively worsened as the evening set in. And, of course, today I have taken three steps back and am sitting here on the lazy chair, a blanket draped over me, my jumper tucked into my track pants, my track pants tucked into my socks, my terrible hair hiding under a beanie, wondering how much money I will have to spend to get my mojo back again.
I know, I just have to patiently sit it out, wait to get well again, and then channel all that impatience and frustration into a supremely believable character of mythically cynical proportions.
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