Tag: world

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.