A sign on Royal Parade, after careful adjustment, now proudly proclaims the way to the:
State Hotball & Neckey Centre
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Sunday, May 21, 2006
I just got a phone call from France.
I've got ones from London before, and have made lots from various places, including a Christmas call from a hot Zambian hospital and surveilled (?) sat phone ones from rural Burma, code name Rio de Janeiro. But to get my friend's french accent on the phone is excitingly cool.
If only I'd been home.
I've got ones from London before, and have made lots from various places, including a Christmas call from a hot Zambian hospital and surveilled (?) sat phone ones from rural Burma, code name Rio de Janeiro. But to get my friend's french accent on the phone is excitingly cool.
If only I'd been home.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Riding the waves
I've been experiencing the world in a slightly new way for the last couple of weeks.
You know what it's like to step off a boat, and still feel the ground swaying?
Or to be slightly tipsy, where you know which way is up, but can't quite stay that way?
Welcome to my world. I've been rolling along for about 12 days now. I did spend 4 days out on boats, so for those evenings I wasn't too concerned. But one of those days involved yet another example of hurting myself in a ridiculous manner.
Now, we all know how clumsy I am. What I have only just discovered is how bouyant I am. So bouyant that my dive instructor had to keep swimming up and adding weights to my jacket to prevent me bobbing away. So bouyant that I am able to float in a vertical position in salty water with my entire head out, without even moving. This is no doubt something that will serve me well should I ever be shipwrecked, however combined with the clumsiness it's a little dangerous.
Picture being out on a boat, lovely sunshine, turquoise water, searching for whale sharks. Picture thick wetsuit (= further bouyancy) and no weight belt, given that we're snorkelling today. Picture Mel stepping off the back of the boat, thinking to herself, "Step out a LONG way" and perhaps not quite taking as big a step as she should have.
Picture Mel bouncing right back up into the bottom of the (very solid metal) boat, skull to hull contact with a juddering crunch, being towed back in by muscly Divemaster and spending the next hour crouched on the deck, whimpering quietly.
Step Away From the Boat.
Since then, I've been all at sea. I can't seem to walk up or down stairs, down a straight hallway or even stand up in a reliable manner. And patient's parents are a little taken aback by the sight of an apparently drunken doctor approaching their precious child. And so, when that rolling sensation still had me holding onto walls a week after the fact, the Professional Paranoia kicked in.
Good news is, the pictures show my brain exactly where it should be. But we're still not quite sure what's going on. And as much as I love the ocean, do wish it would bugger off out of my head.
You know what it's like to step off a boat, and still feel the ground swaying?
Or to be slightly tipsy, where you know which way is up, but can't quite stay that way?
Welcome to my world. I've been rolling along for about 12 days now. I did spend 4 days out on boats, so for those evenings I wasn't too concerned. But one of those days involved yet another example of hurting myself in a ridiculous manner.
Now, we all know how clumsy I am. What I have only just discovered is how bouyant I am. So bouyant that my dive instructor had to keep swimming up and adding weights to my jacket to prevent me bobbing away. So bouyant that I am able to float in a vertical position in salty water with my entire head out, without even moving. This is no doubt something that will serve me well should I ever be shipwrecked, however combined with the clumsiness it's a little dangerous.
Picture being out on a boat, lovely sunshine, turquoise water, searching for whale sharks. Picture thick wetsuit (= further bouyancy) and no weight belt, given that we're snorkelling today. Picture Mel stepping off the back of the boat, thinking to herself, "Step out a LONG way" and perhaps not quite taking as big a step as she should have.
Picture Mel bouncing right back up into the bottom of the (very solid metal) boat, skull to hull contact with a juddering crunch, being towed back in by muscly Divemaster and spending the next hour crouched on the deck, whimpering quietly.
Step Away From the Boat.
Since then, I've been all at sea. I can't seem to walk up or down stairs, down a straight hallway or even stand up in a reliable manner. And patient's parents are a little taken aback by the sight of an apparently drunken doctor approaching their precious child. And so, when that rolling sensation still had me holding onto walls a week after the fact, the Professional Paranoia kicked in.
Good news is, the pictures show my brain exactly where it should be. But we're still not quite sure what's going on. And as much as I love the ocean, do wish it would bugger off out of my head.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Backpacker breakfast
It's a bleary Sunday morning. The heat is winding up, the cockatoos are shreiking. We sit around the table with our borrowed mugs, gearing up for a day at the beach.
The Japanese girl eats rice, fried eggs, tinned tuna.
My German friend has jam with her rye toast.
The Americans slather their pancakes with peanut butter and "jelly".
And me, well, I'm a Weetbix kid.
The Japanese girl eats rice, fried eggs, tinned tuna.
My German friend has jam with her rye toast.
The Americans slather their pancakes with peanut butter and "jelly".
And me, well, I'm a Weetbix kid.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)