Tag: travel blogger

Moments

New York

My posts and photos have mostly been about the fun time we’ve been having while on this trip. The cocktails, the shopping, the eating, the tourist sites and experiences.

However we’ve also seen things that have stirred us. Had quieter moments when we’ve been moved. Seen things that have left us inspired. Read about events that have outraged us.

In Washington DC and Philadelphia, museums and galleries detail the fights for civil and women’s rights, assassinations, marches and protests, wars and the history of slavery. Memorials and statues have inspiring and thoughtful quotes from leaders, writers, activists and everyday people. The memorials in DC were particularly powerful – the platoon of soldiers in the Korean War Veterans Memorial frozen in another time, Arlington Cemetery, the Martin Luther King Jr Memorial.

And then today in New York we visited the 9/11 Memorial and Museum. It would be impossible not to be moved at this site; and being something that occurred in our lifetimes made it all the more powerful. Two huge fountain pools representing the footprints of the towers, the museum with heartbreaking photos and remnants of the tragedy. We both had tears when we left the gallery where pictures of the victims covered the walls.

Our trip so far has had us amazed, happy, inspired, angry and sad. I think that’s all part of seeing the world.

All that plus a marching band

Philadelphia

We didn’t really know much about Philadelphia, so on our first full day we chose to wander our way to the art gallery and back and just see what we could find along the way. And this is how Philadelphia proved to us that sometimes you just happen to be in the right place at the right time.

Let me present the evidence.

Exhibit A: The Discoveries

On our walk we stumbled upon: the murals of Philadelphia, the Amor statue, the Rodin Museum, ‘create your own monument’ pedestals, a pop-up dance exhibition by Philadelphia’s premier ballet company, the quirky ‘Your Move’ sculpture of giant board game pieces, a dancing fountain, Philadelphia’s city hall (the largest in the world), and the impressive Washington Monument Fountain.

Exhibit B: The Weather

It was the most beautiful, beautiful day. The colour of the sky was a clear, bright blue, not one cloud anywhere. It wasn’t humid, it wasn’t hot, it was bright and sparkling and beautiful. People were out and about and happy; I like to think because the weather was perfect.

Exhibit C: The Food

A cute little organic bakery with (real) coffee, spicy Cajun at the Reading Terminal markets, sneaky handmade chocolate truffles and a sensational local Greek restaurant.

Exhibit D: The Parade

And the pièce de résistance? As we walked back down Benjamin Franklin Parkway, we saw a marching band. A big, bold, red and white, loud, feathers in their caps, brass blaring, marching band. We stood in the sunshine bouncing along as they marched past. They were followed by a whole parade, including flag twirling rainbow girls, vintage cars, dancers, streetcars and a six banjo double accordion band. Turns out it was Pulaski Day – the annual parade honouring the Polish patriot known as the ‘father of the American Cavalry’.

Philadelphia – right place, right time.

Sheila’s footsteps

Washington DC

Everywhere we go in Washington I think of my grandmother. She lived here for 17 years, working at the Australian Embassy, so I can’t help but be aware that I’m walking down the streets she walked along and seeing all of the places she saw.

Of course, we’re focussed on the tourist parts of the city, whereas Nanny lived the city. The streets and suburbs are familiar to me because of her stories – DuPont Circle, Georgetown, Foggy Bottom and “Mass Ave”. Nanny arrived just after JFK was assassinated, and was here for the celebration when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon, through Vietnam War protests and during the Washington riots following Martin Luther King Jr’s assassination. She attended the theatre, ballet and opera, and had many stories of outrageous parties – with Embassy staff, naval officers and “the guys from the FBI”.

On our first day here we walked past the former Australian Embassy, now the Embassy of Peru. When Nanny arrived in Washington DC with no money to get home to Australia, they gave her a job. She was still there when they built the new Embassy on Scott Circle – that’s her fooling around during the ground-breaking ceremony. She worked in this new building for over ten years; until it was time to come home to Australia.

I can see Nanny here in DC – it’s her style of place. All classy Victorian and Tudor style homes, and the elegance of Embassy Row. Yesterday I caught the Metro to Arlington and found the first house Nanny lived in. It hasn’t changed a bit. Tomorrow I’m going to find the other house she lived in – it’s only up the road from where we’re staying. On Mass Ave!

I can’t go into any of these places – the Embassies or the homes – but I can stand on the sidewalk and imagine her with her fancy high heels, designer handbag and a big smile on her face.

She was quite a woman.

Three visit the Air and Space Museum

Washington DC

Our friend Gab has joined us in DC; she too is an aeroplane geek. So it was always going to be a big day when two aviation geeks and a space science nerd went to the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum.

There are two ways to approach the Air and Space Museum.

Gab and I were starstruck, and a little confused at first, starting at the wrong end of the space race and working our way backwards from the moon landing. We soon got our bearings and marvelled and admired every slick, gorgeous piece of aeronautic machinery that we approached. We were amazed and bedazzled as any true plane spotter would be, overwhelmed by rockets, planes and spacecraft. Gab said “Beautiful” a lot, I said “Wow” a lot.

And then there was Don.

We lost him immediately on entry, spotting him every now and then as he darted between rockets and satellites. But a pattern soon emerged. As Gab and I wound our way through the displays, looking up, looking down, Don would suddenly appear in front of us at random moments.

“Oh my God,” he exclaimed at one point, “it’s a V2! Do you know what that is?”

“A V2?” I suggested.

“It’s a V2! Let me tell you about the V2…” and then he was gone.

And then he was back.

“Is that what I think it is?” he bounded across to a spacey looking spherical object.

“The Death Star?” asked Gab, only half joking.

“It’s the Telstar! Let me tell you about the Telstar….” and then he was gone.

And then he was back.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to see the original 1903 Wright Flyer?”

“Ever since you were a…”

“Ever since I was a little boy…” and then he was gone.

Back and forth as though attached to us by an elastic band.

It was one of the best museums any of us had ever been to. So much to see that by the end of our visit, Gab and I had walked roughly 37km.

And Don had run 163.

Imagine my surprise

Chicago

Ambling is hard work. Although I suspect we’re not really very good at it yet. We have arisen every day so far on this ‘slow-paced’ holiday with a full day’s agenda, pausing only for food (which is hardly a pause). This week in Chicago we’ve been up buildings, inspected fountains, walked for miles in museums, criss-crossed parks, undertaken tours and indulged in cocktails.

So imagine my surprise when Don suggested we amble down Michigan Avenue – the Magnificent Mile – and look at the shops.

Yes, you read that correctly. The shops.

I agreed immediately and shoved him out the hotel door before he could change his mind. A world of retail awaited me.

There wasn’t much for me in Gap. I found myself loitering around the menswear section for ages while Don ducked in and out of the dressing room trying on clothes.

There wasn’t much for me in Nike. I found myself loitering around the menswear section for ages while Don inspected the hightops.

There wasn’t much for me in Zara. I found myself loitering around the menswear section for ages while Don ooh-ed and aah-ed over men’s accessories.

There wasn’t even much for me in Whole Foods. I found myself loitering with my lunch while Don inspected the snack aisles.

We were on Michigan Avenue for three and a half hours. Don bought himself two pairs of jeans, a nice blue scarf, a chocolate bar, a huge bottle of soda water and a hunk of cheese. I bought myself a coffee.

I’m ok with this, truly. My time will come.

Because when we hit our next city, I shall have a girlfriend!

For the love of Art

Chicago

It’s hard to put into words how much I love art galleries. I’ve always loved them. When we went to Florence on our first big trip, we had so little money I had a choice – the Uffizi or the Accademia Gallery. The Birth of Venus or the statue of David. One, not both. It was heartbreaking.

Not this time. For this trip I have tagged all of our potential gallery and museum visits, with time up our sleeves for the unexpected extras. I’ve been quietly excited since we left.

However I was unprepared for today’s visit to the Art Institute of Chicago.

When I walked into the first Impressionist gallery, I cried. I couldn’t help it. The sheer magic and colour of the room, paintings I’d studied in high school, all laid out in front of me.

I gasped out loud as I entered the next room, Georges Seurat’s A Sunday on La Grande Jatte – 1884 slowly revealed as we walked down the short corridor.

It went on, Monet, Matisse, Renoir. Degas, Van Gogh. Every gallery we entered another painting to take my breath away. We were being slammed from all angles. I was overwhelmed, even more than Bluesfest 2013, when there were so many sensational acts Disco Jen and I thought we might have to surrender on the first day.

After three hours of sitting, standing, staring, gasping, and perhaps more crying, we had to retreat to restore our energy.

Then back into battle. Picasso, Pollock, Warhol, Kandinsky. American Gothic and Nighthawks. To quote Don, every room was a winner.

We had other things planned for today, instead we’re back in the hotel, emotionally bruised and battered. We can’t go out again.

The only solution I can see is cocktails in the hotel lobby.

Retired hurt

San Francisco

We’ve been in San Francisco for three days now, and I’m yet to finish a meal.

Our first breakfast was at Sears Fine Food, where breakfast comes with hash browns. That’s at least three potatoes right there. Plus Southern corned beef hash, made with an additional two potatoes. Needless to say, I could not finish.

Dinner, Tad’s steakhouse, and one magnificent steak the size of my face, plus a baked potato the size of my head. Needless to say, I could not finish.

My plan for yesterday’s breakfast at Pinecrest Diner was just oatmeal. “Or perhaps cereal,” I said to Don, “but no more potatoes.”

“Scrambled eggs,” I said to the waitress after Don had ordered.

“Do you want bacon as well?” she asked.

“Oh, go on then.” Wisely Don said nothing. And of course the whole lot was served on the biggest hash brown I’ve ever seen.

Needless to say, I didn’t even come close to finishing.

I must say though, a big breakfast certainly keeps you going for most of the day. Yesterday morning’s potato mountain held us through until 3pm, at which point we embarked on a walking food tour of North Beach with Avital tours.

Oh. My. God.

Four courses at four fabulous Italian restaurant institutions. Rich tomato seafood stew, arancini balls, woodfired pizza, fresh ricotta filled cannoli. Sourdough bread. Red wine. Thank goodness we were at the top of the hill at the last stop and could just roll back to the hotel. With the leftover pizza and cannoli.

Because we couldn’t finish it.

The Zombies of San Francisco

San Francisco

As most people are aware, it takes approximately 147 hours of flying time to travel from anywhere in Australia to anywhere at all in the northern hemisphere. This is compounded when your flight is delayed (ours was), you miss your connecting flight (we did), you wait patiently in LA International airport entertaining your husband by singing LA International Airport for 3 hours (I did), and your new connecting flight sits on the tarmac for over an hour before taking off (ours did).

And thus we arrived in San Francisco having been awake for all of Thursday and half of Friday.

“We need to stay awake until at least 6:30,” Don said to me.

“Ok.”

“What time is it now?”

“4:04.”

“Ok, good.”

We began trudging around downtown San Francisco.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes. No. Not really.”

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

“Do you want to go into that shop?”

“What?”

“Sorry?”

“Where?”

“That shop?”

“Not really.”

“Ok. What time is it?”

“4:13.”

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

“Are you hungry?”

“Who?”

“What?”

Trudge trudge trudge.

“Weather’s nice.”

“I can’t feel my face.”

“What time is it?”

“4:16.”

“Should we give up and go back to the hotel?”

“Oh God, yes.”

After almost 15 hours sleep, day two panned out much better. Hash browns, cable cars, Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco Bay cruise, crab chowder, extremely potent margaritas, Alcatraz tour and a steak the size of my face.

So far the 147 hours travel time has been well worth it!

Packing

Questions I have asked myself today, whilst packing, the day before we leave:

Will I be warm enough?
Will I be cool enough?
Where are my black cargo pants?
Do I need to buy a new dress?
What’s this secret pocket in my suitcase?
What can I fit into this secret pocket in my suitcase?
Where the hell are my black cargo pants?
How have I ended up with 17 tops, a pair of shorts and some leggings?
Will eleven books be enough?
How much do eleven books weigh?
Is there any chance I’ll exercise while I’m away?
Where the fuck are my black cargo pants?

Questions I have asked Don today, whilst packing, the day before we leave:

Why do you think you’ll need nine pairs of socks?
What do you mean I don’t need a new dress?
You bought men’s sandals??!
How are you packed already?
Could you please put the red wine down?
I know I seem unorganised, could you just give me a minute?
HAVE YOU SEEN MY FUCKING BLACK CARGO PANTS!?

An amble around the world

Forgive me the tights, it was the 90s.

This was the first time we ambled around the world. The great Australian adventure of carting a backpack ten thousand miles, picking up work in the UK and seeing as much of Europe as we possibly could with the meagre funds we hadn’t already spent in the pubs of London. We saved on accommodation by taking a tent – a tent! We saved on food by packing a trangier cooker and seeking out packet soups and baked beans. Over two years we drank a lot of cider, sangria and Irish coffees. We camped under olive groves, on French mountainsides, in convent grounds, at the very tip of Norway and on one memorable cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. We explored over twenty countries and it was sensational.

We’ve been many places since then, but this year we had the idea that we might revisit that idea of a proper amble around the world. Only this time we’d do it in a little more luxury. A hotel bed rather than a self-inflating mattress and sleeping bag. Real food. A suitcase instead of a backpack – for me at least.

So on Thursday we’re off. Last time I packed tie-dyed leggings and a fake international driver’s licence, Don took his guitar and we had almost two years. This time we have four devices, crush-free leisure wear and pre-purchased tickets to Hello Dolly. And 99 days.

I expect it will be just as sensational.