Flash Duck 2008

New Blog Address

2008-11-02T15:45:00.000+07:00

New Blog address

http://flashduck09.blogspot.com/

2008-10-10T15:03:00.002+07:00

After having been largely blocked from posting on Blogger while in Vietnam (on a government provided ISP), I have now been advised that my blog is somewhat wierd, unable to accept comments, and been difficult to post to.

So, with no small degree of trepedation, I attempt, yet again to enter the blogosphere.

I have run a few times now; at Customs on Friday, at the BBQ Stakes on Wednesday and Lake Tuggeranong 6k Stakes this last Tuesday. A 72 hour lurgy wiped me out on Thursday/Friday/Saturday last week, but I did recover to head over to the Jogalong course on Sunday morning. I was very surprised at how few people I knew there - there seemed to be an intake of older women, and younger women (all good to see), but realatively few familiar faces. It was a long weekend though. An attempted walk on Monday was quickly aborted as the weather turned nasty, although I dusted off the Scooter again on Tuesday, this time to take the 30km trip down the Tuggeranong Parkway to the Lake Stakes 6k. Just clicking over the 200kms on the odometre indicating a running in period I was able to open up the throttle a little bit and was able to sit on (or just under - it is the speed limit!) 100km/hr when heading south on the Parkway. There must have been a prevailing wind, as I was somewhat slower returning (or is it uphill?), but still having no problems in cutting it with the flow of the traffic.

The hideously strong winds did not make the run at Tuggeranong any easier, and on the back of a surprsingly sub-six-minute paced Jogalong on Sunday, I tried to keep myself honest by selecting a handicap that would be 'challenging'. It certainly was. Once a month, this weekly handicap runs a loop of the lake in the opposite direction, and the headwinds at the start were draining and slowed me down to a snails pace. Being a loop course, it was far easier on the last stretch back to the start, however I had done my dash and waddled in a disappointing, but understandable 36:48 (6:08 pace).

The BBQ Stakes the next day should have been a cakewalk. The winds hadn't picked up, the skies were blue and clear and all seemed well with the world. Again, something wasn't quite right, and some medical problems started around the farthest point from the start finish, slowing me down and needing to assess whether to attempt to keep running/shuffling or to start walking. It was clear that I needed to get home as quickly as possible, and my lame attempt at running was going to be quicker than walking. There were no shortcuts.

Overtaking a man walking his two dogs on a short downhill stretch I was breathing a death rattle, but was pleased to pass someone. I was not so impressed when the uphill section was about to flatten out and the dog walker strolled past me walking so much faster than my 170 bpm heartrate would indicate.

I made it to the finish - understandably last - and without checking in (Friar indicated that he would take care of theat for me sensing my discomfort), and went straight to the scooter parked at the finish, threw on my helmet, and jacket, ignoring my pants, and raced (safely) home. Not much else was happening that day.

No running on Thursday, but I did get over to Customs this Friday (today). I was somewhat nervous after my episode on Wednesday, but found a place to park the bike at Regatta Point and navigated my way through the Floriade display to the start of the run. Having run off 3 minutes last time, I felt reasonably comfortable that my handicap was now 5 minutes. If I was running like I did a week before. I kept my fingers crossed.

At five minutes I headed off, not too worried that I was going way too fast on the longish downhill section. It got my legs rolling over and the uphills were coming soon. Somehow, I kept going, on my own the whole way, waiting for the guys coming up the rear to overtake me. On both the Floriade and regular Customs course, the last kilometre is the toughest, even though the moderate inclines are nothing compared to most runs. I knew that my surprisingly fast (still (just) sub 6-minute pace) was going to take a battering on the last incline and tried to keep the pace as fast as possible so that I had a chance of sweaking in under 30 minutes with the inevitable slow down at the end.

It was hard, but I managed to make it in 29:44 seconds. Whew! Not great, in fact slower than the pace I pulled out of the box at the Jogalong, but I was delighted nevertheless.

So, in summary my 'progression' and 'regression' since I returned has been:

26 Sept Customs 5k 32:38 6:28 163bpm
01 Oct BBQ Stakes 6k 36:55 6:08 161bpm
05 Oct Jogalong 6k 35:36(?) 5:56 164bpm
07 Oct Lake Stakes 6k 36:48 6:08 155bpm
08 Oct BBQ Stakes 6k
10 Oct Customs 5k 29:44 5:57 159bpm

Not a lot of running since our return to Australia, but a little bit nevertheless.

Onward and upward!

Back in Canberra, Blogging Service (hopefully) Resumes

2008-10-03T09:08:00.004+07:00

It's been a hectic time.

Have I mentioned that I think that Jetstar sucks?

I must admit that we have been very fortunate with the weather since our return to Australia, although I miss the warmer Hanoi weather, the food and people.

After a 2 day course I am now legally able to ride a motorised two wheel vehicle on the roads, and to aid this Bob and I picked up our new family member on Wednesday morning, a cute little Italian whom I have nicknamed "Denny" or, to give him his full name, Tran Den Da (Den Da being the iced black coffee that we became so addicted to). 'Den' means 'Black' in Vietnamese, and to this end, Denny is predominantly Black (there were no options), with orange highlights and orange stitching on the saddle.

I have only run twice since our return - at Customs a week ago, going hard on the Floriade course and pleased with my 32:35 for the 5k - a slow 6 minute 30 per kilometre pace, but a start and an honest run. Mid way around the course I realised that it was the first time that I hadn't stopped to drink a half litre of water after 2 kilometres, and then at least every kilometre thereafter. I was a tad thirsty at the end, but then I hadn't drunk for four hours or so, and didn't until I return home.

Very different to Hanoi!

My next, and most recent run, was at the BBQ Stakes course on Wednesday. I was not prepared, or overly optimistic at getting up the hills without walking extensively. Hanoi might have been humid, but it was also very, very flat on the Red River Delta.

I wanted to test myself, and so chose to go off a handicap of 3 minutes, which would be challenging. Being more than 6 months since I had been to the 'Stakes I had dropped off the handicap list.

The first hill was testing, but I pushed myself, and managed to catch sight of the two runners in front of me who had left one minute earlier. I started to have problems with my breathing, cursing the cold, dry Canberra air, reminding myself that I had to return to carrying my inhaler with me in these conditions. I kept pushing though, and was overjoyed when I was able to finish in 36:55, way way faster than I was at Customs, on a longer and more difficult course. 6:10 pace mightn't be something to celebrate yet, but I feel overjoyed and over the moon.

Kama, Krama, Kramar Chameleon

2008-09-07T17:52:00.006+07:00

Apart from the amazing Champa and Angkor temples of Cambodia, and the spectacular food, Cambodia was remarkable for one other thing; one which is probably common knowledge and I should have known if I had done my research (or was fully briefed by 'my people'): the cool, use as everything, looks-a-little-like-a-teatowel scarf that is most associated with Kampuchia is called . . . .drumroll please . . . . a Krama! On the basis of this, I bought a couple from workshops where the women were making them.

Since returning to Hanoi, we have continued to eat a great deal of excellent food, including a couple of visits to "Cha Ca La Vong" - a one dish restaurant around the corner from home. Here, ordering is a breeze. Do you want something to drink? Then there are a couple of bottled beers and cans of soft drink available. Otherwise, the food is a set price of 90,000 dong, (now about $7 since the AUD dollar plummeted). Cha Ca is a Hanoi speciality, where a charcoal burner is brought to the table with a skillet of partly cooked fish fillet pieces. Each diner has a plate with Bun, thin white rice noodles, and bowls of dill greens, roasted peanuts, special fish sauce, mint and other herbs, chilli and so on are on the table to share.

The waiter fires up the charcoal to further cook the fish with the dill greens. A diner then places the bun, fresh herbs and further greens in their bowl, with hot fish and greens, which is then topped with sauces, spices and nuts to taste. The greens and accompaniments keep coming, more cooking and serving until one is stuffed and replete with delicious food.

Restaurant Review - Siem Reab

2008-08-27T21:44:00.002+07:00

Off the main tourist drag of Siem Reab, this funky cocktail bar / restaurant is hidden from the road.

Inside is a wonderland of inspired, innovative decor and a great vibe. Recently opened (June 2008), this truly is a family run place where brothers and cousins assist the most charming pair of English speaking sisters who also help with the cooking.

A couple of western style and height tables and chairs are in the main space, which also has a few well upholstered divans piled with cushions, and an inserted glass plate for dining and drinking. More comfortable cushions are adjacent to an internal fish pond, with gauzy curtains strung up Bedouin tent style and the most wonderful organic light fittings, some, it seems, made from the varnished slices of some fruit or vegetable.

After delighting in the decor, what about the food?

Ah, the food.

Admittedly, the menu is limited, but that shouldn't cause any difficulty. We were hungry on our visit and ordered a Khmer Lemon Soup(USD$1.50), Green Mango Salad ($2.50), Grilled Fish with Mango ($4) and Fireworks Beef ($3), all to share with steamed rice. The presentation of everything, from the soda with a sprig of mint and lime, to that of the dishes was exceptional and would tempt even the most jaded palate.

From the first mouthful, we savoured the complexity and the freshness of the flavour of each dish. Soon the next dish encouraged the same response, and we didn't know which one was better. The music was a terrific mix of world, blues standards and modern which perfectly suited the mood of the space and of us.

Complimentary fruit came with our modest bill and we were pleased to know that we would be back in Siem Reab for a couple of nights when we returned from Battambang.

Our next visit gave us the chance to try the Smoked Fish Salad ($3.50), Khmer Hot nd Sour Soup with Tofu ($2), Pork with Eggplant ($3)and the Seim Reab speciality, Amok Fish($4). Once again it seemed that each dish was the best we had ever eaten, and wanted to take this place home with us to eat at, always.

One more night, and one more meal, this time adding the Khmer style golden curry , Char Kheung Fish (stir fried with coconut milk) and some fresh spring rolls to a soup and salad. Since returning, we made a point of not eating lunch and cycling 60+ kilometres to ensure that we could have a great meal at night.

We weren't disappointed.

There are some interesting restaurants around Pub Street and the nearby laneways, but nothing can compare to the Silk Lounge and it's spectacular ambiance and food.

The GPS co-ordinates are 13.3611 North, 103.8535 East. The Street address is a little more complicated, on Taphul street next door to the Auberge Mont Royal D'Angkor Hotel. Just head one block east at the Central Market (past the service station) and then turn north and you will be there.

Make the effort, it's worth the trip.

Theme: Local
Comparison: less expensive than average
Prices: less than US$10 »
Address: Taphul Road, Siem Reab
Directions: The GPS co-ordinates are 13.3611 N, 103.8535 E. The Street address is a little more complicated, on Taphul street next door to the Auberge Mont Royal D'Angkor Hotel. Just head one block east at the Central Market (past the service station) then turn north

Back from Angkor Wat

2008-08-25T19:50:00.002+07:00

Bob and I flew down to Siem Reab in Cambodia last Sunday (17 August). We had a Free & Easy deal with Vietnam Airlines which included 2 nights accommodation. On arrival at the airport, we were not the only ones stunned with the beauty of the airport, and despite laughing at the Japanese and Korean tourists taking photos of airport, until Bob finally relinquished and took a shot too. We really were fortunate with the hotel, the Allson Angkor Paradise Hotel, a four star hotel with great amenities and the usual SE Asian surfeit of staff.

We hadn't expected the smiling bowing friendliness of the Khmer people, reminiscent of the Buddhist peacefulness of the Laotians. It wasn't early when we arrived, and after a bit of a wander around the township settled on a local hole in the wall which looked popular with the locals. We were handed a menu which included English which should have caused us some cause for concern . . . we settled on a plate of white noodles with vegetables and yellow vegetables with pork. It was pretty ordinary food, and we didn't hold out much hope for Cambodian food.

On Monday we headed a few hundred metres down the road to rent some bicycles for the day. Bob spent far too long looking for a couple of mountain bikes, finally settling on a couple of department store quality machines, many years old and worse for wear. Before we headed off the national route 6 to cycle to Angkor Wat, we soon found out that gears did not work and the brakes were a bit iffy at best.

After getting our passes for the whole week at a cost of USD$60 each, we parked our bikes opposite the entrance to Angkor Wat and ran the gauntlet of young teenage girls trying to sell us anything and ingratiate themselves with us. Escaping their clutches, we headed across the moat into the great temple compound. We weren't prepared for what confronted us in this mass of stone and bricks 800 years old.

Update

2008-08-15T19:50:00.002+07:00

Having had a few forays away from Hanoi, Bob and I are about to embark on our next journey on Sunday heading to Siem Riep and the temples in Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Leaving on Sunday, we carefully planned our departure to be after the Red River Runners 5k Time Trial on Saturday.

Now, I don't expect to breaking any records other than the slowest run in the history of the event, but I am really looking forward to having a hit out. It's at the United Nations International School, in "Ciputra International City" - a rather obscene enclave of expats and the rich, who live in the gated community of high rise buildings and sterilised boulevards.

Held at 5pm for a handicap start, Bob did one time trial in June, before the monthly event was suspended for the worst of the summer heat in July, and found it flat as flat, very hot and exposed and humid. If I can complete the event in 35 minutes, I'll be happy.

Notes from a Rainy Da Lat

2008-08-06T19:34:00.004+07:00

Bob and I flew down to the coastal town of Nha Trang, where the Miss Universe pageant was just held on Monday. After staying in a cheap motel ("The Perfume Grass Inn") overnight, we hired motor scooters and wandered up the mountains to Da Lat in the Highlands of Central South Viet Nam.

After travelling along the river flatlands for forty or 50 kilometres, we began to ascend sharply up the mountain on a brand spanking new road which was just a delight! With my backpack strapped on the back of the bike, and computer bag slung around the front between my legs, I must have looked quite a sight, and received lots of cheery greetings as we motored along through villages and past fields and paddies.

Once we travelled 50 kilometres the fun really started though, with the steep ascent from the coastal fringe giving way to a sharp incline on a new road which ate it's way into the mountain with spectacular views across the valleys which grew ever steeper as we climbed.

It was spectacular, virgin country, the road carved into impossible mountain sides and unfinished, it had still been subject to multiple landslides taking out huge swathes of road and barriers, proving that the retaining walls were not capable of retaining sufficiently.

It was frontier territory, even in this heavily populated and cultivated land, this are had proved too difficult. Now, once the pass had been crossed, shacks had been constructed of paperbark trunks and tarpaulins, or, further up the mountain in new frontier villages, planks of wood from local timber, swept dirt floors and shuttered, glass-less windows to keep the chilly mle-high mountain wind and rain out.

Overnight Scoot to Tam Dao Hill Station

2008-07-31T14:13:00.002+07:00

Bob and my most recent trip out of Hanoi was a 2 day trip on Monday/Tuesday to Tam Dao, a National Park in mountains 80km north, with a town of the same name. We rode there on our motor bikes through the river flats that extend for many kilometres in all directions, until we reached the mountains, with a 1,000m climb in the last 11km of the ride. The national park covers the entire mountain area and, apart from the area of the town, comprises luxuriant rain forest. With the mountains rising straight from the flood plains, you can imagine how much rain they receive. We trekked through the rain forest, on Tuesday morning, climbing a substantial way up the highest mountain before running out of time.

In addition to the fabulous food, hot weather and wonderful countryside that we're experiencing, three anecdotes from the past 2 days will help explain why we like the people so much. During our trekking in Tam Dao I cut my left leg. It kept bleeding, despite our best efforts. While motoring back to Hanoi we stopped for a coffee at a roadside café in a small village. A young man came in for a beer and noticed my bleeding leg, expressing concern. He went off into the rain forest and we saw him return chewing some tree leaves. He came over to us, called the woman who was serving us to help clean the leg and to bring a long piece of cloth as a bandage. He put the chewed leaves over the wound and wound the cloth around it to hold it in place, before returning to his beer. It was all without fanfare and solely for my benefit. Needless to say, the wound stopped bleeding and is healing nicely!

Today we headed to a local 'hole-in-the-wall' (literally!) street eatery, with 2 small tables, for lunch comprising a bowl of fish noodle soup. A local Vietnamese man was enjoying his lunch and a couple of beers with his mate. Delighted to see us, and without more than one word of English, he engaged me in a spirited and friendly conversation, excitedly announcing 'Kangaroo!' when discovering we were Australian. With much insistence, he fetched me a glass full of ice and proceeded to pour Bob a beer and me a soft drink. He kept refilling Bob's glass to overflowing throughout the lunch and his fraternal discourse, eventually insisting that he pay for our meals as well.

The third incident occurred this afternoon while I was enjoying a couple of beers at our local bia hoi (draft beer at a simple outdoor venue). An old fellow rode up on his motor-bike, with a pile of tennis rackets on the front. He ordered one beer which he downed while still sitting on the bike at the edge of the road. I spoke briefly to him indicating his fitness and strength, and he spoke to us (well Bob) in French. He had just finished playing tennis with friends and was having a beer on his way home. He was a professor of medicine at the Hanoi University and was 84 years old! He wanted to know where we were from and whether we played tennis – he wasn't impressed by our running and cycling!

Viet Nam Plans

2008-07-25T08:50:00.003+07:00

I love Ha Noi!

We have fitted in so easily to our life here, are part of the community and understand the ebb and flow of the street life with ease.

Nevertheless, we shall do some travelling while we are here, and have booked two flights to this end; first, to Nha Trang on the southern coast on Monday, 4 August, from where we plan to make our way to Da Lat in the hills for a few days.

The next journey booked is to Siem Riep (Xiem Riep in Vietnamese) in Cambodia a week or so later, leaving Ha Noi on Sunday, 17 August and returning the following Sunday. In the meantime we hope to jump on our zippy little Yamaha 'Nouvo' Motor scooters and do some further travel around the Ha Noi region.

To this end, we started travelling further afield earlier in the week, scooting the 65-odd kilometres down to the Perfume Pagoda (Chua Hu'o'ng) on the madness and joy of the Vietnamese road system. A very hot day, it was good to be moving in the open air, and I reluctantly replaced my spiffy little orange-flowered broad brimmed helmet hat with a sensible hulk-green head protector with a visor. I love my orange helmet, but unfortunately once one gets up to the dizzying speeds over 30 kilometres an hour, the brim acts as a parachute, both flinging my head back and slowing down my progress and attempting to act as an effective noose.

It was a good learning experience for us both, especially Bob, who became a little sunburnt on the arms and legs, and re-assessed his rather optimistic time frames for travel on the bikes to our proposed destinations. We found that a break for a drink and a stretch about every hour was necessary, as I had suggested having had spent some lengthy time in the saddle on my daily commutes and trips to the airports and so on.

Today we are attempting to book tickets for the Football Friendly between the Brazilian Olympic side and the Vietnam national team on the 1st of August. Without Vietnamese, finding information is tricky to say the least, however I seem to have a website for on-line bookings, however since it 'opened' for bookings at 9am, I have not been able to access it. I hope that we can go to the match, in this football mad country (there are at least three dedicated soccer channels on TV, with the sports channels and Vietnamese networks all having heavy coverage as well), it would be a wonderful cultural experience.

[To Be Continued . . . .]

Having too much fun to post . . . .

2008-07-16T09:49:00.009+07:00

It has been a hectic three weeks; a four night trip to Sa Pa with my big sister.

The day of our return saw the arrival of her youngest daughter, the incredibly gorgeous Ingrid on a break from her studies in her first year of Uni after a Gap year.

We had a lot of fun, although commuting between the cat's house in Chua Lang and our apartment in Quan Thanh was presenting something of a logistical and time challenge, as the approximately 6km journey was undertaken in invariably heavy traffic.

A few days later, the 'boys' arrived, Sam (10) and Paul (30-something) from Canberra. My motor scooter skills are improving no end as I pillioned Bob the 40-odd kms to the airport, and rode home in the dark along the speeding traffic of the freeway while Bob and the boys travelled to the apartment in a taxi.

The next few days were spent visiting the Water Puppets (surprisingly good!), eating a great deal of good food, and becoming extremely competant at ferrying around Ingrid, Sam and my sister (or combinations of two, but never three at a time) around the streets of Hanoi on the back of the bike.

with organised tours and have done very few - the treks Bob and I did in Thailand and Laos 2 years ago were personally guided, as was the trip my sister and I took. This, however had a cast of - many - and there was much waiting around and it confirmed why I don't do tours. Our arrival at the wharf at HalongWhile the 3 boys, Bob, Paul and Sam went to Sapa, Ingrid and I took an overnight trip down to Halong Bay, a justified World Heritage listed are of natural beauty. I am not good City was reminiscent of herding sheep, with thousands of tourists being shepherded off, and then on to the flotilla of almost identical faux wooden hulled junks built for the tourist trade.

Despite my gloom at the tour group funk, once we were underway and the other boats started to thin out into the open bay and casts of the rocks jutting from the water, it all seemed worthwhile. A pleasant afternoon was spent cruising around the islands to the mandatory stop at a large, but crowded, cave system. We then spent an hour kayaking around the area, before stopping for swimming and mooring for the night.

Adapting to Hanoi’s Summer

2008-07-15T20:22:00.000+07:00

Adapting to Hanoi’s Summer

From: VietnameseGod.Blogspot.com

Summer is well and truly here. You can hear the cicadas in the trees. Along most of the streets in Hanoi these days, you can see the beautiful Flamboyant flowers. The hand fans are waving and the storm clouds are threatening. The temperature is on the rise forcing Hanoians to the lakesides and the streets in the evenings trying to get some breeze. Young boys drive their motorbikes around to have a good look at girls. Ice cream and sugarcane juice outlets are doing a roaring trade.

It’s all about staying cool in the brutal Hanoi summer. While the red and purple flowers make Hanoi look beautiful and signal the beginning of the school holidays, it is also a sign that it’s time to adapt. There will be no more cool days until October. One of the most noticeable ways that Hanoians adapt is in the wardrobe department and that doesn’t mean they wear less clothes. They wear more! Avoiding the searing sunshine is a priority, especially for the local women. A range of uniquely designed shirts which tie around the head have been all the rage these past few summers. Long gloves and the newly invented helmet rings complete the look.

Driving habits change, too. Motorcyclists do not stop at the traffic lights but instead 25 or 50 metres back from them – under the shade of a tree. It seems that half a minute stopped still in the open sun is too much to bear. At other times, motorbikers compete to pull up in the shade of a truck or bus. Motorbike parking attendants, in some locations, cover the seats of the bikes to protect them from the sun and their owners from a nasty burn.

Finding a breeze on a hot still night requires inside knowledge or an observant eye. Between Truc Bach and West Lake is an all too obvious one, with hundreds of couples getting in their good night kiss in the subtle wind. The breeze from the Red River can be experienced by hanging in the stop zones on Long Bien bridge. The bases of tall buildings like the Sofitel Plaza and by the waterworks on the dyke road are two other favourites.

A tumbler or two of bia hoi (draught beer) or mia da (sugar cane juice with ice) will give an instantaneous chill.

If all else fails, seek air-conditioned comfort!

Sitting on the edge of my chair

2008-07-12T19:43:00.007+07:00

I feel terrible.

Terribly responsible that is. I arranged for my gorgeous niece Ingrid to catch the 3:00pm shuttle to the airport (too much luggage for me to carry on the bike for that distance), having been assured that it would allow ample time to check in for her flight.

We made the bus in plenty of time, and waited, and waited, and . . .

It finally got underway at about 3:21pm and I was concerned and nervous at the prospects for an easy check-in.

Check-in closed and she missed the flight. Damn you JetStar! (OK, technically it was not JetStar's fault, but they suck and the website refused to allow access to her booking all day, so they are the kicking post du jour).

I attempt to call JetStar in Hanoi and after being on hold forever, get cut off. Text message to Ingrid. Attempt to call JetStar Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) on the number on their website, and find that it is not connected. Doh!

Try Hanoi office again. Eventually get through without being cut-off. English skills of operator marginal. He is very helpful, although the attempt to spell everything ("I" for Iceland; "N" for Netherlands; "G" for Germany - his descriptors, not mine) is extremely slow and laborious). He can't access the booking reference on his computer either. More searching. He starts to talk - and - the phone call is cut off. 25 minutes of phone call. No news.

Call Ingrid. Her battery has no charge. Explain quickly what was happening. She is wait listed for a 6:30pm flight.

Mr JetStar calls back. We try to sort it out again. he assumes that I am Ingrid. Tells me I missed the flight from Hanoi. Getting somewhere now. Attempt to explain the predicament again and see if the flight can be caught. Mr JetStar goes away to find out. In the meantime I am googling like crazy to find other flights to Australia. Ingrid had to have such a short visit, because flights were booked out - this is confirmed by my extensive google-fu. Try other alternatives, such as Hanoi to Bangkok and then to Sydney. Not looking good at all.

Feel despondent.

Mr JetStar calls me back after being cut off again. He is rally trying to help, although the language gulf is telling. Don't know about her being able to board the flight. Maybe yes, maybe No. However says that if she goes to the counter for a late check-in, for a payment of USD $75 she will be confirmed on the next flight (tomorrow night). Sounds the best that one could hope for, but I have no reference, nor name to confirm this. Hope for the best. Mr JetStar effusive about being pleased to be able to help.

Call Ingrid. She is boarding flight and is hopeful. I say goodbye quickly, and look for hotels in HCMC on-line. Am happy with selection, however they need vouchers printed out first. Attempt to call Ingrid's mama. No answer. Leave message.

So, here I sit feeling frightfully impotent, refreshing the screen for flight arrivals in HCMC to access the little information possible.

And I wait, and hope that I don't hear from Ingrid, although don't hold up much hope for the successful connection. Only a day or two ago we were basking in the sun of the World Heritage listed Ha Long Bay on the northern coast of Vietnam. It was gorgeous. However, after a too-long bout of Delhi-belly (we're blaming the cheese and crackers from her JetStar flight!), and a lot of hanging around, it seems a shame to prolong the trip in this inauspicious manner.

Bad Aunty Carolyne!

POST SCRIPT: Just received a text from Ingrid. She made the flight to Sydney. Yay. Now I can relax (a bit).

Bad Aunty!

Hanoi Duck

2008-07-07T21:07:00.003+07:00

I don't even want to look to see how long it is since I've blogged - I fear that I won't recognise the date in this century.

After recovering from a bout of gastritis that laid me very low for too long, my big sister arrived for a short break en route home to Sydney from Hong Kong. She arrived late in the afternoon, and almost imeadiately we boarded a train to Lao Cai on the Chinese border for a three day tour of Sa Pa.

View Larger Map

We shared our overnight train carriage ('soft sleeper'), with two male polyglots, a Dane who spoke perfect English, was reading German and getting along in Viet; and (maybe) a French Canadian. His seemingly perfect French (too ignorant to really know for sure), and native mid American accent seemed to point to this. We both slept well, and were only disappointed that the call for coffee in the morning before we reached our destination was for an overpriced (10,000 dong) insipid paper thimble of nescafe.

We shared a minibus up the mountain to Sapa with various other tour groups, and after winding up the pass through a series of switchbacks and passing an increasing number of impossible terraces cut into the mountain sides to grow rice.

After showering and breakfast at the Golden Sea Hotel, we had time for a short walk through the markets before being met by our Guide ?Phin. Soon we were on our way, seeking to avoid the worst of the incessant cries of "Buy From Me" from the elaborately clad hill tribe women that lined the streets and accompanied any tourist who moved from the sanctuary of the guarded hotel or cafe.

Light rain started and stopped throughout the walk which was a pleasant stroll up the sealed road (Silver Waterfall Road) to begin with

The whirl of an authentic Hanoi lifestyle

2008-06-30T08:52:00.005+07:00

This belated post shall be far to brief, however I am about to head to Sapa for a few days with my sister who shall be joining us from Hong Kong this afternoon.

In the long period since my last meaningful post, we have experienced much of what Hanoi has to offer it's citizens. We love our flat, which we think of as in the Queens Park / Clovelly /Waverly section of Hanoi - not the Double Bay and Vaucluse ex-pat enclaves of Tay Ho (West Lake) that lies adjacent, but an interesting, vibrant part of inner sububia.

The typical Vietnamese-style house I am looking after is more in the not-yet-trendified Inner West. Still pleasant, but nevertheless a very different feel.

To travel between the two residences, I have become adept at whizzing in the controlled madness of Hanoi traffic (almost) like a local. I have learned to love the bikes and moto's riding 12 abreast on the two lane road, thinking that it is an organic being which ebbs into any available gap, miraculously dividing around three metre holes that have opened in the road due to monsoonal rains.

Although we were spared these in our first week or two, the almost nightly occurrence is a fascinating experience, as within minutes of the skies darkening, a tornado-like wind starts blowing and then the heavens open up to deluge the streets, creating fast flowing rivers and lakes of unknown depths on major thoroughfares, and tiny back streets.

We have been caught in these fairly often, and have made our choice of rain poncho from the huge array on offer. At the first drops of rain, scooters stop, ideally on the side of the street, and whip out their poncho from the clip on the fuselage, or under the seat. the rear of the poncho covers pillion passengers or luggage, the front is often used to shield the front of the bike, creating a kaleidoscope of red, blue and yellow headlights.

Somewhat sceptical, I have found that our upper-mid range poncho is extremely effective and comfortable. My head (despite a very good integrated hood) is drenched, and the bottom quarter of my legs, but the material breathes and keeps one very dry and comfortable. I'm a big fan!

The Vietnamese National Ballet was a solo for me, as Bob had a 24 hour bug and pulled out of our pax de deux. The following morning, on going downstairs it dawned on me that my wallet and camera had been taken from the kitchen table. With eternal gratitude, I saw a neat pile of credit cards and my drivers licence had been fanned out on the window sill by the sink next to a open window I didn't even know existed. What made this somewhat more of a mystery was the fact that there is a heavy grill of chequerboard bars across this window, large enough for an arm to get through, but nothing more. As the wallet was (uncharacteristically) left on a table at least three or 4 metres away this seemed an unlikely entry point.

The one-room wide, four storey house is, like all Vietnamese properties sealed like Fort Knox with a series of gates, grilles, barbed wire, and padlocks the size of soccer balls. Having come home quite late the night before, and drenched to the core in the still torrential rain, I must admit that I was a tad unsure whether I had locked the front door and didn't pay enough attention to be sure when I opened it to check. The huge padlock on the front gate was certainly locked though.

I felt rather philosophical about it all, and rather inept with my lack of language skills. What a curse to be mon0-lingual! It took some time, after the housekeeper (Miss Hu'o'ng) arrived that afternoon, and phone calls were made to the landlord, yet by Sunday morning the mystery was solved and my guilt assuaged for maybe leaving the door unlocked was appeased. As the landlord came to fit a heavy chicken-wire size grille to the outside of the kitchen window, the mode of robbery was discovered; strong bamboo poles had been taped together with duct tape forming a strong arm for a small pallet on the end which had been covered with a strong double sided tape. At over 5 metres long, this would have been fed through the window from the rear alley, to reach the objects on the table (my wallet and compact digital camera) which were then removed. I laughed long and hard at the ingenuity of this, and remain very grateful that my cards were returned. Replacing those would have been much more difficult that the replacement of a few hundred thousand dong (around $30 I think) and a camera.

Bob and I did purchase another camera on Saturday, not as easy a task as going to the local electrical precinct back home, back are happy with our purchase. I have been 'dinking' Bob around town a bit more these days, and we are greeted my enormous smiles as we rock up to our local cafe or street restaurant on the bike, and dismount leaving the parking boys to park it as we grab our daily Ca Phe Den Da (Black Vietnamese Coffee on Ice)or bowl of noodles. The parking issue is still something of a mystery, but most local places provide this service where you just stop on the street and they fix up the bike, returning it to you when you have finished.

During the camera search, we also experienced our first puncture, and this too was a revelation! We immediately dismounted, I took it to the nearest curb, where an old man (perhaps looking after the parking of bikes for a nearby business) signalled across the road, and before we could interept his gestures, the bike repair guy that is on almost every corner trundled his push bike across with a small kit of tools, and went to work straight away in removing the wheel, then the tyre and inner tube, finding a large slit and patching it. With a battered bicycle style track pump and a tool kit that included shoe polish for an emergency shoe shine if required, he was extremely skilful and put in a great deal of labour. The price? 20,000 dong (about $1.30) which we topped up with a small tip and lots of gratitude.

An excellent street side lunch around the corner under a hastily erected tarpaulin to protect from the light rain consisted of transparent bean thread noodles in a tasty chicken broth, with chunks of chicken, slices of fresh bamboo shoots, bean sprouts and green onions. Additional lime wedges and chilli were available for more piquancy and freshness. A wonderful dish, and 30,000 dong ($2) for the two of us.

The ballet was terrific - and got better as the program progressed, but that shall have to wait. Bob will get some more practice at the scooter while my sister and I head to Sapa this evening on the overnight train. Tomorrow (Tuesday) night we shall stay in a village after trekking during the day, in a hotel in Sapa overnight on Wednesday, before the overnight train back to Hanoi on Friday morning.

Alive. Mostly WEll. Very Busy.

2008-06-26T15:43:00.002+07:00

Commuting from the apartment in Ba Dinh to the Villa (with cat) in Dong Da, is a bit time consuming, but Bob and I are managing well. I think that my time with the cat, Bixby has irrefutably proved that madness is learned (from me) and not nature.

So much to say, but so little time . . . good, I suppose that one isn't tied to a computer keyboard! Tonight Bob and I are going to the Ballet, a spur of the moment decision when we walked past the Opera House after visiting the colonial splendour of the Museum of Vietnamese History.

Ha Noi House Notes

2008-06-23T20:09:00.002+07:00

N0te: This was posted a few days ago, "but Miss, the computer ate my homework".

Thankfully, now blogger has an autosave function, much as it could be recovered.

Apparently, the government run internet service providers block access to viewing Blogger, Wordpress and a few other blog sites which may be used by dissidents and other ducks. One can however post.

The last week or so has been a whirl - well, maybe I rephrase that, as Viet pace is a little different to the Western corporate lifestyle. There is always plenty of time for sitting and chatting with your friends over tea, or coffee, or Bia Hoi (fresh beer). There is always time for a snooze, and any place will do, but after (an early) lunch is almost mandatory. Lie down on your motorcycle seat with your feet on the handlebars if you can be so lucky, otherwise a patch of ground, under a counter, or on a plastic chair or three will always do.

Bob and I agreed to look after the house of a young American couple for the month that they are returning to the States during the summer holiday season here. The house doesn't need much looking after, as "Hu'o'ng", a local lady comes each afternoon five days a week to keep things going smoothly. They do however, have a five month cat - "Mister Bixby" - who does require some care and attention. The house will provide some overflow accommodation for our guests and us when everyone is around at the same time.

I moved in on Thursday, and was soon wrapped around the small, manipulative paw of the squirrel tailed Bixby. Although around four and a half kilometres as the crow flies from our apartment in Ba Dinh, roads which may be straight, have a definite kink in them along the way, making the shortest route around 6km, although this is far from the quickest.

Luckily, I have mastered the scooter around town, and weave through traffic like a local. Traffic is extraordinary, with 30 minutes a pretty good time for this trip (whatever route) on pushbike or motor cycle.

Bob is certainly becoming a local identity around the Truc Bac lake district near the apartment. As he does his morning exercise - a concept beloved by the locals, bless 'em - he is waved at and said hello to by an increasing number of people. Today was Bob's 61st Birthday, and he received gifts from no less than 3 locals who knew that it was his day today!!! We went out to dinner in the most glorious setting of an old French colonial villa on the southern edge of Hoan Kiem lake, run as a training ground for disadvantaged youth.

The setting was spectacular, the service warm and keen - one couldn't ask for more . . . other than more reliable food. The prices were quite reasonable given the surroundings and excellent service, the design and display of the food was well thought out and rather impressive. However, the food itself was quite frankly bland. Dumbed down for western palates in all probablity.

Not able to see blogger, but can post

2008-06-15T10:53:00.003+07:00

Since Bob and I have been in Vietnam, we are not able to view posts in Blogger, but are able to post (I hope), so I hope that these posts are getting through.

Reflections

2008-06-13T12:23:00.002+07:00

I sometimes wonder why I feel so comfortable here in Ha Noi, given that I don’t usually regard myself a big city person, jump at the slightest noise, like bush, cleanliness and all the things that Ha Noi is not.

It must be the people – isn’t travel usually about the people – the human scale and eye contact, the nature of being part of society which causes me to curse each and every four wheeled vehicle I see, which is, unless a taxi, almost certainly a Lexus, Toyota, or Mercedes, an impossibly large SUV, an, invariably, black.

Stepping around another pile of rubbish in the street where one is forced to walk by the gaggle of plastic stools and moto scooters parked on the inadequate footpaths; holding my nose as we walk past an open sewer or outlet into the lake, it’s banks and shallows littered with all manner of rubbish I worry that the relatives who are about to pay us a visit will recoil in horror at the lifestyle we are embracing so keenly.

Certainly, it is easy to have a sanitised view of life here choosing to stay in western-style hotels, eating in air conditioned comfort at tables with chairs and menus reliably translated and with few surprises such as ‘farmed turtle’ and who have prices listed in US dollars, which might seem reasonable compared to Western European or American prices, but are inflated by a factor of ten or more, for inferior tasting food, dumbed down for western palates.

My sister will be visiting first, flying in from a break between teaching schedules in Hong Kong. She has been here for conferences a number of times before, and reportedly enjoys the shopping, something we have little experience of apart from the more prosaic items for living.

Her youngest daughter, my 19 year old niece will join us during the university break after exams in Sydney, and, while she and some school friends had a European odyssey during a gap year in 2007, I’m concerned that this may be something of a culture shock. No house music, night clubs or cocktails are in our daily orbit.

Equally exciting is that Bobs’ number 2 nephew, Paul and his nephew, Sam will be joining us during the Sam’s school holidays in mid-July. It will be both Paul and Sam;s first overseas trip, and the strangeness of the food, chopsticks and general mobility around the place will be something of a challenge.

Now, each time as I calmly walk into a road, teeming with hundreds of moto scooters, push bikes pedalled by ancient men, women and school children, or piled high with baskets front and rear full of fruit, or cardboard, or with concrete cinder blocks weighing down the rear axle piled on either side, a thought bubble pops into my head about having to explain to Sam that one drives or rides on the right hand side of the road, unless of course it’s more convenient to ride on the left, or on the footpath.

Streets are often one way, but this doesn’t count if you want to go the other direction. Where there are traffic lights, red means stop if you want to, but don’t worry too much about it. So if there is a green pedestrian symbol, take just as much care crossing as if there is no light at all.

Just as I have refined my version of the ‘Vietnamese salute’, slightly flexing my wrist and raising my hand in an unambiguous, international symbol of “no” when my eye is caught by one of the Xe Taxi (Moto Scooter Taxi) or food vendors on the street, so too have I refined my road crossing skills to mimic that of those born here. I wade into the roadway seemingly oblivious to the traffic swirling around, however keeping a close eye to both sides of the road, and walk across keeping a predicable pace and route, adjusting to the speed of fast accelerating bikes weaving their way through and overtaking.

Ooh, What a Lovely Day!!!

2008-06-12T17:16:00.004+07:00

It started out perfectly ~ after far too long without running, I awoke feeling pretty good, and prepared to go out for a run (poetic licence in using the term, I admit) for the first time in far too long.

It took me a little while to find something to carry my key with me, and to get a satellite fix. I then did one lap of the little local lake (Truc Bac), delighting in the early morning activities of our fellow Ba Dinh neighbours. About half the way around the 2.5km lake, I ran into Bob running counter clockwise on the busy causeway between Truc Bac and the large Ho Tay (West Lake). We chatted for a while, pointing out the local 'cycling group' - old men, one with an old road bike with drop handle bars, each displaying a red pennant to indicate their group membership.

On starting again, it was a wonderful mix of humanity, and I got the biggest smile and wave from one of the ladies doing their morning exercises in a small compound on the peninsula in response to mine. Tempted as I was to continue, I reminded myself to hasten slowly at such things, and headed back to the apartment after one small lap. Don't do too much, too soon ducky!

A surprising and delightful phone call from Bob's sister preceded Bob and I wandering down to Pinochio cafe for our regular morning heart starter of Vietnamese coffee on ice, before he headed off around the southern shores of Ho Tay, witnessing a many local men fishing with great concentration on small platforms suspended on the water with bamboo poles and hand lines. We saw quite a few having much success, landing large fish (maybe 45cm long).

Threading our way through small lane ways swept spotlessly clean where people lived, worked and played on the street and overhead we soon made our way back to the ancient walls of the old village and the modern day cacophony of honking scooters and nasty cars. Soon enough we we nearing our intended destination, the Vietnamese Museum of Ethnography, built with assistance from the French government.

Guidebooks had indicated that it was good, but had not prepared us for how truly excellent it was to be. We spent a relatively brief time looking at the exhibits on the ground floor before retiring to the cafe - another set up to train disadvantaged youth - for much to drink (2 iced coffee and 2 large (1.5 litre) bottles of water), as well as a couple of lunchtime bowls of Bun Bo Hue, and an excellent Green Papaya Salad with small slices of dried beef.

We returned to the main exhibit, although did not progress far on the second floor before tiring. We aimed to have a 'quick look' at the outdoor exhibits, although did not realise how extensive, nor of what scale and quality, this was to be. We made only a cursory visit to the many houses and tombs, vowing to return properly next time - this time wearing sandals we could readily slip on and off to enter the exhibits.

Ba Dinh ramblings and wanderings

2008-06-11T11:10:00.004+07:00

Setting up the flat, resting (not enough!), and attempting to sort our technological challenges has been keeping me busy.

I really enjoy life here in Quan Thanh St in the Ba Đinh district of Hanoi, and haven’t been enjoying the forays down into the more touristy sections of the city nearly as much. We are becoming quite well known around here, after just over a week on floor 4, and the ladies selling flowers from their bikes on the roadside at the lake, the local eateries, and ‘our’ morning coffee spot (Pinocchio) all are coming to know us well and greet us in passing.

Most days we have seen some of the local sights – the 1,000 year old Temple of Literature, and Hoa Lo – the infamous ‘Hanoi Hilton’ established by the French colonialists to intern political prisoners, which was later used to detain US pilots, including John McCain, who were captured during bombing raids over North Vietnam.

Yesterday, I just failed to fire on enough cylinders to get a spark, and after our morning Ca Phe Đen Đa (Black Coffee, slightly sweetened and served cold on ice) at one of the dozens of café’s along the shore of the small lake – Truc Bac – adjacent to where we live, we wandered down a computer street in search of a new battery for my laptop, stopping at a friendly roadside barber for Bob to have a shave. The very friendly older guy – uncharacteristically wearing shorts – negotiated to a price of 25,000 đong ($1.80) for a close shave with a cut throat razor.

Although close to lunch time, I ended up turning on my heels and retracing my steps to head back to the flat for a rest. I had bought some instant noodles that morning at the local ‘FiviMart’ and made a small bowl before collapsing into a deep slumber for many hours. I have been surprised at the relative expense of instant noodles compared to street food; although small packets of local noodles may be bought for around 4,000 đong (28¢), many packets are over 12,000 đong (90¢) which is a similar price to a great big steaming bowl full of meat, vegetables and a fragrant broth. One packet of spicy noodles I know from Canberra sells in the local Coles supermarket for $1.18, and much less at the local Vietnamese grocer. Whilst these noodles are admittedly Thai, not Vietnamese, they sell for 14,000 đong (95¢) here.

Bob’s lunch was at our favourite little alley near the city’s main dry markets, where we have had a variety of “Com” (dishes with rice) & Pho (Noodle soup). On our last visit, we had a delicious Tomato Broth, and saw the lady making this as we left on our last visit. Bob really enjoyed his bowl and paid only 13,000 đong (90¢) for it. He finished this off with a drink of mixed fruits – lychees. Avocado, mango, dragon fruit, etc – with condensed milk and add your own shaved ice for 10,000 đong.

I wasn’t quite up to going out the dinner either, but Bob brought back some take-away Cuón – fresh rice paper rolls with warm beef and herbs with a dipping sauce.

It is my 44^th Birthday tomorrow, and we are going to KoTo, the restaurant set up to teach street and disadvantaged kids hospitality in Hanoi.

2008-06-07T09:33:00.002+07:00

Aaah, my life in Hanoi!

OK, so my poor language skills mean that I can only count to six, (although I have ordering "2 iced black coffees" = "hai ca phe den da" - down pat ). It is wonderful living in this block, with all the ladies, young and old around to say hello (and marvel at the size of my backside).

While we seem to be running through cash at the moment, having bought a number of things for the flat, such as vases, flowers, rental of a motor scooter, a helmet for me (surprising photo of helmet will follow shortly), and so on.

We are also getting known around the 'hood. There have been quite a few changes in the last two years since we were here. Inflation has been running at close to 25% annually, which must be affecting a lot of people here drastically when coupled with the global food insecurity and rise in the price of rice.

In the main roundabout near Hoan Kiem Lake, where there used to be a prominent coffee house, is now gulp) a "Ran Ga Kentucky" - yep, a big KFC. There were none of these apparent when I was here last, but now the red and white KFC signs are all over.

Apartment 4, 134 Quan Thanh, Ba Dinh, Ha Noi!

2008-06-04T17:07:00.002+07:00

We have been exceedingly busy the last few days, ringing around realtor's for an apartment in Hanoi, visiting a couple out near the zoo (about 5.5km away by foot) who were looking for a cat and house sitter for a month while they went back to the states, and moving hotels in the midst of it all.

I'd highly recommend the small hotel we moved to - only for one night as it turned out, and the manager and owner of the hotel were keen to show us properties they thought we might be interested in renting when they learned that we were in the hotel for an indeterminate period until we found a place to live for a couple of months.

Although there was WiFi in their new hotel, they hadn't quite got around the gist of configuring it yet, so things were rather slow, and I had no access for a couple of days which was rather frustrating.

Yet now we are ensconced in our 'new' Hanoi abode, the fourth floor of a 13 floor, narrow building, off a main drag just out of the Old Quarter near the large 'Tay Ho' (West Lake) and smaller Truc Bac. After going down a narrow alley way with a couple of residences along the route, an area with thre caged white rabbits, one comes to the block (painted blue if you crane your head up at an impossible angle), where iron gates may be or not. A small courtyard has a counter, a tiled room where all sorts of living and sleeping goes on, an older lady may be sitting in a wheelchair, there is a plastic swing somewhere between an all American Porch Swing and a piece of child's play equipment, a fishtank of reasonable height and width, although barely deeper than a goldfish after a good feed.

We were to discover that the pocket hankerchief sized court yard was also a meeting place of some repute, used to mix, roll, and fry strips of delicious smelling dough.

We have a living room with a suite of comfortable, overstuffed but heavily brocaded and tassled (not my style) furniture; a 3 seater sized couch, a large arm chair and a very comfortable day bed type thing. They do take up too much room but that's OK. The reasonably sized 'Sharp' Branded fridge sits in the living room, alongside the TV. Good, large terracotta tiles are on the floors throughout. A kitchen with a good sink, a two burner gas stove and good quality white crockery, noodle bowls, rice bowls etc are next to a glass topped table with six rather galactic shaped red upholstered chairs. A small balcony and bathroom with a bath tub and washing machine and small bedroom, just big enough for a large bed and wardrobe make up one side of the flat.

A bathroom with a Vietneamese/Thai style shower, sink and toilet is an ensuite to a bedroom with an attached study area with large windows all around (4th floor = looking into neighbours and across roofs, but it is amazing that we do have windows of some description of all four walls of the flat).

I'm sure that we shall be very comfortable here - the landlady comes tomorrow for us to sign the lease!

Ho Chi Minh City Street Life

2008-05-29T17:19:00.006+07:00

Ho Chi Minh Street Scenes

On our second day here we are really getting to know the lie of the land and are finding our feet.

After another excellent breakfast, we headed up to the main undercover markets where we had seen a good looking espresso place the day before. At Phuc Long tea and coffee house we ordered a couple of excellent espresso/espressi (15,000d/$1 each) and water, and enjoyed it so much we had the same again.

Wandering past the busy. busy, busy Saigon Bus station, we came across a great collection of people and the very sorry, very burnt remains of a scooter. A little further along was the tell tale signs of a street market in the making, and we diverted as rows of tarpaulin covered stalls set up their stands of fruit, vegetables, hunks of meat, baskets of pippies and shellfish and a dazzling away of miscellaneous dry goods. We were getting pretty excited.

As we came to the end of the street and made our way back, the start of street food stands were being set up in the narrow gap between the shop fronts and the back of the stalls, creating a labyrinthine alley of tiny plastic stools and battered tables for a range of noodle soups and other treats. We knew where we were going to have lunch!

Backtracking through the street market, we joined the main drag again and made our way down to the river. There was much construction work going on, so one could only walk along the riverfront for a short distance, but at a main junction we came to a small area of bonsai and heavily pruned potted trees.

{to be continued}

Good Evening, Vietnam

2008-05-28T14:19:00.006+07:00

OK, so I know that it's clichéd, but what else is a girl to do?

Sorry to post a truncated blog last night, but it was very late by the time we got in to the hotel, and finding I had WiFi access, I thought that I should post now, as tomorrow I may sleep. Bob did a magnificent job in getting our taxi to the city soon after clearing customs, and the hotel, although in a touristy area, is very good and central.

This morning, we woke relatively early and headed down to breakfast in the foyer where a crowd of locals and tourists were tucking in to their choice of bacon and eggs, omelettes in various guises, and beef or chicken noodle soup, with french bread and fresh fruit. I opted for the light soup (good choice, Carolyne), while Bob chose the Tomato Omelette.

This was included in our room rate.

We then headed off on foot to do some errands and exploring. The temperature was around 30 when we stepped outside before 9:00am, and while Bob's Gamin found the satellites readily, mine took somewhat longer. We found an excellent bookshop around 2 blocks away, and restricted ourselves on this occasion to a map of HCMC (8,500D/60c). We came across an office for Vietnam airlines which took us to the next item on our To Do list. We took a ticket and waited for our time to come up in air conditioned comfort, where we confirmed our onward flight to Ha Noi on Saturday, and that we only required the e-ticket. We also got some prices for some flights from Ha Noi to Dien Bien Phu (830,000D/AUD$55), Siem Riep (3,716,000/AUD$250) and Dalat (1,680,000D/AUD$112).

The search for espresso coffee and mobile phone cards was then on with some earnest intent. This led us to the markets, where we found a few 'fancy' looking places for espresso, however the 29,000 Dong ($2) price seemed excessive to us and we kept looking.

We went inside an interesting oasis ("The Blue Cafe") where one walked on stepping stones set in loose river pebbles across the floor in icy air conditioning. Service was attentive, although we were discover that they did not have espresso, and reluctantly did not stay for there was a table of two men smoking which upset the ambience. We did find a local place on another corner and ordered espresso (15,000D/$1), although are quite unsure of what we actually drank. It certainly had some sweetened condensed milk added to it (Ca Phe Da - Black Coffee - is what we must order in future), but it was a wonderfully vibrant and busy place with friendly service by a 13 year old (best estimate), endless iced tea and spirited games of checkers at nearby tables. We enjoyed the atmosphere and it picked us up before we searched a collection of holes in the wall selling phone cards for one by the Vina phone company.

We eventually found a seller, and set up our phones.

Bob's number is: +84 1234 98 15 62

and Carolyne's: +84 1234 98 15 60

This left us free to wander the smells and sights of the early lunchtime hubbub of the central markets where we found stall selling soda water (10,000D/75c). This picked us up, and we went in search of parks and alleys where we might find good local food.

We found both, and Bob had his cheeks pinched by an enthusiastic woman in the park to boot! We found a popular local place and had rice, spicy fish and chinese green vegetable. We had to convince the owner that despite being westerners we didn't want fried rice (everyone else was eating boiled). It was incrediably delicious, although we didn't leave our battered stainless steel table in anything like the condition that everyone else did.

I was starting to tire rapidly so we headed back to the hotel. In the words of someone famous (Robert Harlow, Port Macquarie Public School c.1955, "What I did on my holidays") - Tired, but Happy.

On Board JetStar JQ7 – Just off the northern coast of the Tiwi Islands.

2008-05-27T22:26:00.001+07:00

Well, we’ve made it this far, and so far, so good.

Everything went relatively smoothly this morning doing the airport shuffle – driving out and checking in with our overweight luggage in our Subaru, before driving home and tidying up the house a bit at the last minute while waiting for the wonderful Rad to come and take us out to the airport in his (littiler) car.

We weren’t charged for the extra luggage, and the only hassle was having to remove the contents of my daypack (ha! Daypack? It’s more than enough for an eight week trip on it’s own and weighs a ton – probably around 15kgs), when going through the screening as the various electronic and camera equipment were packed so closely the X_Ray machine couldn’t determine what bomb was what.

For some unknown reason, we had to check in again in Sydney, and by the time we were stuck at the end of the Customs line, tried to squash the cameras, lenses, radios, binoculars,multiple GPS devices and heart rate monitors, adaptor plugs, chargers, phone and computer accessories into a space that had definitely shrunk since it went through the scanner on each occasion.

We didn’t even have time to get up to Qantas Club at the international terminal this time, and managed to look strong and as though “our bags aren’t heavy, it’s just my handbag” as we smuggled on board three computers and enough electronica to power a Pacific Island nation for a year.

No problema. Phew!

Thankfully, the flight had an unusual number of vacant seats for today’s international flights, so whilst far from empty, we were each able to stretch out to have a couple of seats each.

This is (almost) my first time on a budget airline, and I must admit, I’m not impressed. While we did take a Thai Air Asia flight between Hanoi and Bangkok in 2006 ($25 buckeroonies each), it was great for the 2 hour flight, and food, drinks and ‘comfort’ items like blankets and pillows weren’t an issue. Even a short time into this journey, I am finding that I really miss the little things that make such a difference. It is an interesting experience, and the staff are helpful and distractingly beautiful, but I certainly wouldn’t rush to use them in future, certainly not for international travel (surely NZ doesn’t really count as international though does it? I digress).

We are both feeling more comfortable, although still have to negotiate the airport with the unwieldy bike box and diving bag, backpacks and computers to find a taxi big enough which won’t rip us off on the journey into Central Ho Chi Minh City. After Budapest I'm a tad weary for the first time in my life about such things.

This Blog shall resume shortly . . . .

2008-05-26T07:02:00.004+07:00

I have been slack, but I have also been quite unwell.

Despite this, Thunderbirds are Go! for the planned departure of Bob and Carolyne to Ha Noi tomorrow morning via Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) for a couple of days. We plan to get an apartment in Ha Noi for three months as soon as we arrive, and while I am a little nervous of how easy this will be for such a period, especially at a reasonable rental, in a non-ex pat building and in a central area of the old city, I'm sure that it will all work out in the end! (Or so Bob assures me).

Once settled in Ha Noi, I plan to get well ~ the delicious northern hemisphere heat and humidity will almost certainly help, as will a diet of spicy Pho and Vietnamese street food. It will be a bit stressful until we are on the plane from Sydney, as we had been counting on using our Qantas Club weight limit of 30kgs each. However, having made the silly mistake of booking through to HCMC on JetStar we are limited to 40kgs between us. This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the dual weighty items we are taking including Bob's Mountain Bike and accessories (around 21kgs boxed), and nearly four months supply of my medical requirements - whilst individually not especially heavy, the sheer volume is mind bogling, and certainly adds up to a fair weight.

Add in a few long trip essentials such as a shortwave radio, binoculars, DSLR and lenses, laptop computers and headsets for Skype (you've gotta love Skype), we are flying close to the wire and our hand luggage will be very weighed down.

So ~ Please check back from around Thursday (I'm not sure about internet access in HCMC and am still sleeping around 16 hours a day, and feeling pretty poorly) for the South East Asia Travel Blog (part ii). It should be rather interesting, and we plan to make trips into Southern China (maybe Tibet?), Cambodia and hopefully Burma while we are there, as well as exploring more fully the Northern Vietnamese regions.

Most of all, I want to be part of the Ha Noi streetscape, find excellent places for Coffee, and be a regular part of the milling throngs in their pyjamas, plimsoles and walking frames around Hoam Kiem Lake in the cool of the morning as the City to Surf size crowd walk, jog, do Tai Chi, Aerobics, play Badminton, lift weights and enjoy being active to whatever level of their capacity.

Bon Voyage!

News of my health were slightly exagerated.

2008-05-16T16:38:00.003+07:00

Countdown to Vietnam: 10 Days to go.

(Maybe)

So the sinus infection is continuing apace and yet another antibiotic regime is called for. There are good (half) days and bad days, but my GP, Bob and I all agree that the heat and humidity will only help.

I thought that it was already a bit excessive that I had been the the doctor twice this week and spent around $370 at the chemist for medications and vaccines. Aahh - vaccines, or the oral cholera vaccine Dukoral, in particular. Easy to take; add buffering solution to glass of water, add 3ml vial of guff, stir, drink. Not at all unpleasant.

Four hours later I found that I was really sore under my right arm. Ouch! This got worse and worse as the evning wore on, and I thought that I could feel a now not-inconsiderable lump.
[Must be just imagining it]
My glands under my jaw and groin also seemed tender, but I thought that I was really making a mountain out of a molehill and my imagination was starting to run away with me. When I went to bed at night though, it did seem that there was a long lump the size of a small fist under my right arm. It hurt - a lot - and I made sure that Bob checked it to confirm that I wasn't going completely gaga.

On this occasion I wasn't.

It took a while to sleep and with considerable discomfort; some stronger painkillers helped to calm the thoughts that I perhaps should have to go to the doctor tomorrow, and knowing what a hassle it is when something flairs up on the weekend.

In the morning, although still painful, the lump had greatly reduced in size. I had to decide whether to attempt to join the 8:30am lottery for a same day appointment with my doctor quickly - knowing that it would likely disappear by the time I saw him, with my complicated medical history saying that it happened three weeks later isn't of much value.

I got in at 2:30pm, and felt really shocking. I was later to discover that the Dukoral had most likely caused me a dramatic immune response (yay, an over active auto immune system comes into it own again), and that, while typically the lump was almost invisible to me by the time my appointment came around, general poking and prodding revealed significant systemic lymphatic system infection. We agreed on watchful waiting and see what happens when I take the second dose in a weeks time.

I slept most of the afternoon, feeling generally unwell with aches and pains and a huge headache and nausea.

So - no Customs today! Maybe, next week?

Has it really been that long?

2008-05-14T10:56:00.002+07:00

Yes, I'm slack.

But I am alive, and Bob has returned from the wilds of the Himalayas in one piece and without too much weight loss.

He developed a cold, and has kindly passed it on to me and a few others. Coupled with having to prepare dinner for a hungry yeti rather keen to eat something other than daahl and rice I have barley had the energy to do anything else.

I also had to discuss with Bob the prospects of me travelling with him to Hanoi on our planned three and a bit month trip to Vietnam. We have come down on the side of deciding that the hot, humid weather of a Vietnamese wet season will probably do me the world of good, and if I'm going to be lying around home not doing too much, I may as well do it over there.

So, the principle of the decision out of the way, all that is left is the rapidly approaching countdown, and the guilt inducing rush of getting things 'ready' in time. Guilt, as I find that I am still not able to do much at all.

Que Sera Sera. It will happen.

Words of the Wise Wombat

2008-04-26T07:02:00.002+07:00

Ewen must have been right - whinging can be therapeutic, as this morning I awoke (or rather was dragged out of bed by a starving cat who was going to DIE if he didn't have breakfast), with my eyes open enough to see the whites, a relatively clear head and feeling considerably better. Yay! (again).

Thanks Ewen. :)

Still nothing much . . .

2008-04-25T17:07:00.002+07:00

I am rather frustrated with this sinusitis-thingy. Using an inhaler and taking stronger pain killers with Codeine has certainly helped quite a bit, as has keeping tucked up in a warm room and trying to avoid the cold.

Having said that, I getting so frightfully fed up with it. I'm sort of OK and then, wham! The Earache ramps up a few notches, the glands become hard and more painful, and the throat raw and sore. I'm tired and sleeping a great deal, and despite the use of artificial tears my eyes are so dry and gritty it is getting difficult to see.

Whinge whinge whinge. Sorry.

Nothing much to report

2008-04-25T15:42:00.003+07:00

Bob seems to be happy a fabulous time, finding that his time spent travelling around Nepal outside of Kathmandu to be particularly satisfying:

On Tuesday morning Kamal and I visited the temple again at 6am, to see the early worshippers in a more subdued atmosphere before the crowds of pilgrims arrived (the cable car starts operating at 9am). After breakfast we headed from Manakamana towards Gorkha, a six hour trek through terraced farms, small villages and areas of forest. It was a delightful day's walk, with no sign of any tourists and the locals most friendly and interested in me. We stopped many times to eat small, rich-tasting yellow berries that grow in prickly bushes everywhere in the region. The track varied from an easy, wide, gravel path, to a narrow track through farmland, to steep, rocky trails. We said hullo ("Namaste") to all the locals, and many chatted to Kamal, asking where I was from and what I was doing there.

A bloke from a pretty, traditional farmhouse waved to us and invited us to have tea with him. We accepted, sitting on the ground that acted as his front porch, with chickens hopping over us and goats nudging our backs. There were only two men there, the 64 year old father and his son. The women were out working in the fields, as all women do during the day. We drank tea and then a couple of cups of roxy, a fermented millet drink. It was very pleasant, and the bloke allowed me to look inside the tiny, unlit house. Though electricity was connected, it operates for only limited periods, as everywhere in Nepal. The building was constructed of stone and rendered with clay and had a thatched roof. There was a fire going in the one room, with just a single, tiny window, so it was smoky and blackened with many cooking implements. The views from the "porch" were fabulous, looking over a deep gully of terraced green fields, dotted with orange and lime trees.

We continued with our trek, stopping in a small shop in a tiny village for lunch. We drank Cokes while the lady who ran the shop (most family run businesses are run by women) prepared the traditional, and by now, very familiar meal of daal baht (literally, "lentil soup with rice"). The husband just sat and did nothing (again, this seems to be the occupation of many Nepalese men while their wives work). Within a minute of us arriving and starting our Cokes a horde of primary school children surrrounded me, just staring and occasionally chatting to themselves. I don't think they'd ever been so close to a "gora" or white person before. We ate lunch around the back of the shop, seated on the dirt (swept and spotless), as we were served from pots on the clay fire. The food was very nice and the people could not have been friendlier.

After lunch the track descended several hundred metres through forest to a small river where a group of naked young boys were jumping and swimming. On the far side of the river the track became a rough road. As we started to climb a truck loaded with rocks came up and offered us a lift to the top. We hopped in the cabin, making eight men, plus the hapless driver, and several more on the rocks in the back. The truck was an Indian-made Tata, and must have been 40 years old. The driver appeared to be skilful but the truck was blowing oil and struggled up the steep, stony road. Eventually the driver decided to stop to make some running repairs, so Kamal and I continued on foot.

At the top of the hill we reached a sealed road, and we caught a small, crowded local bus for the last four kilometeres into the town of Gorkha, our destination for the night. I stayed in what appeared to be the best hotel in town, and had toilet and shower (could get only cold water) as well as a fan. It was very comfortable for the two nights we were in Gorkha. I noticed that there were other westerners there: the European Union Election Observer team with their large 4 wheel drives (the only ones I saw outside of Kathmandu). Kamal is from a village not far from Gorkha and knew the town well. He soon found a good restaurant where we ate dinner of mutton soup, tasha (fried, marinated mutton, with dry-fried rice, pickles etc) and chicken momo, washed down with a couple of bottles of Tuborg beer brewed in Gorkha.

At sunrise on Wednesday morning Kamal & I headed up the steep hill behind Gorkha to the former royal palace, built in the 17th century, that is also a Hindu temple and for which the town is famous. The palace was also a fort, and sits astride a narrow ridge on the mountain, a fabulous setting, and with striking architecture. No cameras were allowed inside, but there were worshippers there, as usual with their livestock for sacrifice. Stone steps have been constructed by a later king from the palace to the highest of the mountain. We continued to the top, with hardly anyone else around apart from a small army base, monkeys and wonderful bird life. The forest was thick, and reminded me of botanic gardens. We headed back down the mountain, stopping for a small breakfast of curried peas & lentils and tea at a small restaurant beside the stone steps. I was back at the hotel by 9:30am.

The remainder of the day was relaxed, having icecreams with Kamal and a friend (30R for the three) and walking around the town. Unfortunately it was Loktantra Day, the second anniversary of the restoration of democracy to the country, and a public holiday. As a result the Gorkha museum, housed in another former palace, 160 years old, was closed. I chatted to one of the European Union Election observers, a friendly pommie bloke, about the election. He confirmed my impression from reading the papers that the election was, in the main, as free and fair as could be expected under the circumstances. He also told me that there quite a few instances of violence, mainly instigated by the Young Communist League. However the re-polling that has been underway since, and which finished yesterday (Wednesday) had overcome the problems from election day. Kamal and I returned to the same restaurant as the night before for dinner for a similar, and similarly tasty, meal.

Bob: Gorkha Nepal

2008-04-23T17:58:00.000+07:00

Am continuing to have a wonderful time, though I won't be sorry to breathe clean, Canberra air and will not miss the filth that encroaches on every city and town. Only the countryside is relatively free of rubbish.

In my last email I forgot to mention that while in the canoe in the morning we saw a large stork, only metres from us, catch a substantial eel from the river, and try to kill it before eating it. I mentioned that I was to take an elephant ride on Sunday afternoon. I'd been told it would be about 2 hours, but I was on my elephant (unable to get off for a piddle!) for 3h 40m. It was also much more exciting than I'd expected, as most of the time we were in the national park, with all its wildlife. The elephant handler knew where particular creatures were likely to be, and the animals ignored the presence of the elephant despite there being myself and 3 Singaporeans on my elephant, a well as the handler. It was the same effect as being in a jeep on safari in the game parks of South Africa. We saw a total of nine rhinos - some only a couple of metres away - and including several very young ones. We came across several deer, wild boar, wild peacocks and an eagle at close quarters. By the end of the ride I was filthy from brushing against the leaves, cobwebs and so on at about 4 metres above ground.

On Monday morning I left Chitwan by local bus and travelled back to Privi Highway towards Kathmandu, along the mountain-sides with the river far below. This time I was on the side of the bus on the open side of the valley. It was hard to relax, travelling on such a narrow road, with no road-side barriers and heavy traffic with vehicles constantly overtaking each other.

I alighted at a cable-car, built by Austrians 12 years ago, where I met my guide, Kamal, who was to look after me for 4 days. The cable-car travelled 2.8km, climbing 1,000m, to Manakamana, a small village that exists because of the presence of a highly significant Hindu temple. Pilgrims travel from across Nepal, and from India, to give sacrifices and worship at the temple that I found surprisingly small and modest. When we arrived there was a long, very slow moving line of pilgrims with their offerings of food and flowers, and sacrificial animals - chooks and goats - ready to be slaughtered. The temple has many bells around it, and as the pilgrims arrive they ring the bells to announce their arrival to the gods. So the whole effect was quite electric, with bells ringing constantly, the animals bleating and squawking, people chatting, incense smoke filling the air and blood from slaughtered animals covering the stone grounds around he temple.

After a while marvelling at the scene, I headed off with Kamal to climb the hill behind the temple. (Kamal told me that 17% of Nepal is mountain i.e. more than 3,300m, 68% is hill country, and 17% low rain forest, as I had seen at Chitwan. So anything less than 3,300m is a "hill".) It took us most of the afternoon to climb past small, terraced farms and up through the forest to the peak, surmounted by several small temples. We returned to Manakamana, where we stayed in a small, basic hotel.

Sinusitis

2008-04-22T15:43:00.002+07:00

I have suffered from significant sinus pain for longer than I care to remember, and the last time I went to the surgeon he advised that so much bone was removed during the previous procedures (2? 3? I can't remember) that there not much else that can be done surgically.

It has probably been the cause, (or at least the exacerbation), of my malaise since Christmas, and despite the current courses (plural) of antibiotics, upon returning to the coldish house on Sunday after having the most glorious lunch with the most wonderful company of Rad at Lambert Vineyard in Womboin.

From then on, the pain in my face developed with a relentless intensity, worsening overnight and limiting my activities entirely throughout Monday and Tuesday. I forced myself to go down to the local shops and early this morning where I spent an hour and a half over a caffe doppio attempting to become somewhere near human, before hitting the pharmacy for the repeats of my antibiotic prescription and some pain relief and advice from the friendly Chemist, Luke.

I have another appointment with Dr John on Monday for a CT scan, but I am not very optimistic at having a successful outcome. I'm already irrigating with saline as often as I can (difficult when I'm at my worst), a steroid nasal spray, heated wheat packs for symptomatic relief, eucalyptus inhalation and pain killers. There are small, temporary improvements (which permits me to blog for example), but it is pretty bad.

On a lighter note, Bob rang me from the top of 'a mountain' yesterday, because he could! In the middle of essentially nowhere, He noticed that he had good coverage, as with the time zone permitting an easy call he rang to say Hi. Having a Great Time. (Wish you were here).

Bob: Heading West from Kathmandu

2008-04-21T09:23:00.003+07:00

After cooling my heels in Kathmandu since Monday, I'm heading west tomorrow. I'll catch a 7:30am bus to Chitwan National Park, 6 hours south-west, on the border with India. It's at the lowest altitude in Nepal, so it will be hot and humid. I will spend two nights there, going on a safari and paddling in a canoe along the river, among other activities. I expect it to be touristy, as the wild animals attract lots of foreigners. From there I will travel a short way north to Manakamana, a small village with a special Hindu temple. It is back at altitude, and there should be few tourists.

After a night there I'll trek five hours to the small town of Gorkha, site of a famous fort and reputedly a beautiful place. It should also be free of tourists. I'll spend two nights there before returning by bus to Kathmandu on Thursday afternoon. I've accepted an invitation to attend the Anzac Day service at the Australian Embassy on Friday morning. Plan to stay 3 nights again at the Hotel Thamel.

The weather in Kathmandu has been pleasant, with a usual daily range 12-31 degrees. On Wednesday night a spectacular electrial storm lit the sky with sheet lightning, but there was little rain.

I've enjoyed my few days here, at a slower pace than the hectic Everest trek. Prayas, the taxi driver who took me from the Shangri-La Hotel to the Hotel Thamel was a nice young bloke, with good English and a most careful driver (in contrast to most in Kathmandu).

Yesterday I engaged him to take me to Bhaktapur, another former royal capital about 25km east in the Kathmandu valley. It's superbly preserved, with the "55 window" palace, and many temples. Amazingly, the Nepali New Year festival, Bisket Batra, which is celebrated only in Bhaktapur, was in full swing. The schools were closed and the narrow streets filled with school children, women of all ages, and the men who were not working. The main attraction was an attempt to drag a huge, ponderous wooden chariot, maybe 8 metres high, along on its wooden wheels, with many young men pulling on large ropes. It was great entertainment, particularly when it rolled back down a small hill, nearly collecting a few people in its wake! The other entertainments were primarily games of dice played on a dusty rag on the ground (I lost my single bet!). Many people used the opportunity to make sacrifices to the gods at small Hindu shrines everywhere. Chickens were in great demand: after a brief warm-up ceremony with food offerings the participants would grab their chook, slit its throat and spray its blood over the other offerings. I was assured that the chooks would all be eaten for the evening meal.

It's pleasant escaping from the heavy air pollution of Kathmandu which was giving me quite a sore throat by the time I left. My hotel, Rhino Lodge, is in a small village across the river from Chitwan National Park, and is mercifully quiet, another contrast to Kathmandu.

My bus left Kathmandu at 7:30am yesterday, but after about 15 mins we were caught in terrible traffic jam that took an hour to penetrate. Once out of the city the countryside was striking as we wound along steep mountain sides between terraced farms growing rice and corn. The traffic was heavy - mainly trucks and buses, with much terrifying driving, but only one accident that I noticed.

[Have just been interrupted by the most horrendous noise outside: two elephants walking along the road appeared to have an argument. It took the handlers a couple of minutes to quieten them.] I changed buses after lunch and we drove south, away from the mountains into lowland tropical scenery. Arrived at Chitwan about 2pm. It's substantially hotter here, in the mid 30s with high humidity and quite a heavy smoke haze as we saw in Laos. The hotel is fairly basic but quite comfortable. My room is air conditioned, but the hotel doesn't have its own generator, so during the twice daily 4 hour power cuts, I just enjoy the heat! The only others staying there last night was a tour group from the Netherlands who left this morning.

My package deal at the hotel includes several activities in the National Park. For each I have my own guide. Yesterday in the late afternoon we visited the elephant breading centre several kilometres away. At my suggestion we cycled there, using old Indian, single-speed bikes along the rough, stony roads. The local people here are a different ethnic group from the majority Newari, being related to northern Indian groups. They speak Hindi rather than Nepali among themselves, though they are all fluent in Nepali. Their domestic architecture is different to that in the mountains and Kathmandu. Their homes are constructed of reeds bound with clay, and the rooves are thatched. The elephant breeding centre was fun, but not nearly as good as the one you & I visited north of Ayutthia in Thailand.

At 7am this morning my guide and I headed for a canoe ride down the river for several kilometres, then walked back though the rain forest for several hours. It was great fun. The guide pointed out numerous species of birds on the river, and he lent me his binoculars We also saw the two species of crocodile - freshwater and salt - that inhabit the river. The salt (why? there's no salt water here!) one we saw from the river bank, we were right above him.

The walk was even better, particularly when we saw an old rhino about 30m away. We had to be very quiet, as it is potentially deadly. The guide had advised me of escape plans if we were to come across a rhino, so I was prepared. As we moved away from it, the rhino started to move through the scrub in the same direction. We took off at full speed, stopping at a large tree that I started to climb. The rhino stopped moving, so we crept away, my heart beating at 100%. Later I found that several people a year are killed by rhinos here!

We saw deer and monkeys, and lots of evidence of a small native cat, sloth bears and others. We saw even more birds, including eagles and woodpeckers, and a close encounter with with a wild rooster, a fine, brightly coloured fellow that appeared to be the ancestor of our domestic chooks.

When we crossed the river to return to the village, the working elephants were being taken for their twice daily bath in the river. It was wonderful to watch, and several tourists joined in. I was tempted, but I was suspicious of the quality of the river water. The elephants splashed themselves and everyone nearby, and rolled and soaked up the cooling water. The handlers scrubbed them, which the creatures seemed to relish.

This afternoon at 3pm I'm to go for an elephant ride. I'll leave by bus tomorrow at 9am.

Last night was the first night I'd eaten by myself, as the last of my fellow Everest trekkers flew out during the day. I ate at a simple Nepalese restaurant, in contrast to the rather fancier ones at which we'd been dining since returning from the trek.

This morning I went for a short (7km) run along the Bishnumati River, which looks and smells like an open sewer, with a few dead animals tossed in for good measure. Prayas picked me up and took to two significant places in the Kathamndu valley: Swayambhunath Stupa on a hill behind the city, and Patan, another former royal capital a few miles away.

Woo Hoo!

2008-04-18T17:14:00.002+07:00

OK, so I went back to the doctor after my course of antibiotics to find that I was better, but far from best. My ears are certainly much clearer, however the sinuses are still considerably congested.

I have another course of the two antibiotics, with a third added for anaerobic bugs. Conventional wisdom indicates that this is unnecessary, however last year this combination finally sorted me out after a few months last year.

Whether just happen stance or the effects of the drugs, I felt pretty good this morning after a sluggish start. I had ~~intended~~ hoped to go along to Customs early and jog where I could and walk where I had to. Knowing that this would take forever, I wanted to start before everyone arrived. However the best laid plans of ducks and drakes . . . . I arrived after the watch had started, and was delighted to see Aki, Friar, Rad and Paul in attendance. Without too much ado, Aki decided to run with me after I'd cautioned her that I would be both very slow and may not finish.

We started at 6:00 minutes (I noticed my most recent handicap was 1:45) and Aki gleefully complained that I was sprinting too fast 'like a gazelle'. We settled into a comfortable (for me) steady rhythm, and I was delighted to chalk up the first kilometre, the second kilometre and the turnaround at the willow tree.

I am embarrassed to say here that it was a run, given the pace, but; I couldn't help grinning to myself, thinking and occasionally saying 'I ran 5k, I ran 5k'. The time? 37:08 and I am wrapt!

Email from Bob

2008-04-11T17:30:00.004+07:00

It has been a most eventful time for me: challenging and tough, but very exciting with stunning views of 3 of the world's highest peaks, plus many others over 6,000m, and extraordinary valleys, glaciers and lakes. I'm fine, with the only residual damage rather battered hands from the extreme cold and strong winds. I had a short bout of Delhi belly, with nausea and lassitude, but Tashi, the head guide, fixed me up from his medicine cabinet, as he did for the others who experienced the same problem.

Everest Base Camp, 3 high passes & 4 peaks conquered!! Not only was the natural environment overwhelmingly beautiful and monumental, but I feel a great sense of achievement. Only 7 of the original 12 finished the entire trip, but several of them didn't do all the peaks: only one other bloke - a very nice Pommie bloke from Manchester - did the 4 peaks with me.

We experienced 2 REALLY difficult days, crossing over the 2nd pass, Cho La. The weather deteriorated after we climbed Kala Pattar (at 5,545m, the highest point of the trek), heading back down the Khumbu Valley and climbing towards the pass. We were battered by winds of 50-60kph, and temperatures below freezing. We camped high, at about 5,000m. It was snowing the whole time, and we woke with our tents covered in 10cm, and about 30cm on the ground. Despite continuing snow, Tashi was confident we could get over the pass. It was the toughest experience of my life, with the snow at about 1m on the pass, and continuing to fall, occasionally blizzarding for 10-15 minutes at a time. We didn't have crampons, so on the large rocks on both sides of the very steep pass it was trecturous. I was in the first group of 5 to reach the village of Dragnag on the far side. What Tashi had expected would take us 4 hours took us 7:40. Three of the party of 10 (2 quit immediately prior to the first pass at Kongma La) quit the following morning.

The next morning the rest of us headed across the Ngozumpa Glacier (at 23km long, one of the word's largest) to Gokyo. Since then the trip has been fantastic and uneventful. Gokyo overlooks a beautiful lake, one of 5 along the glacier, surrounded by snow covered monster mountains. The next morning we climbed Gokyo Ri, a small mountain (5,360m) beside the village. We enjoyed 360 degree views from the top of the entire Himalayan range in the region, including terrific views of Everest, and 3 other 8,000m+ peaks.

The next day we attacked the final high pass - Renjo 5,345m - in beautiful conditions. It was tough and tiring, put with great views on both sides from the top. We descended into the Bhote Khoshi River valley, the most beautiful we'd seen. We followed the valley along to a tiny village of Marulung where we stayed in a basic (dirt floor, plywood walls, no toilet) but friendly lodge. The couple who ran the lodge had a single child, a 7 year old cute little girl, to whom I gave a yellow rubber ball. She played with it - and us - till she went to bed, and wa playing with it a again first thing the following morning. What a hit!

We left Marulung early yesterday, following the gorgeous valley as other valleys joined it. We stopped for lunch at the town of Thamo. It was the first town with a polling place for the national elections, so I went to have a good look. It was in the open air beside a primary school. Men and women entered in separate lines, and went to a table with 4 blokes who gave them 2 ballot papers, one for the constituent assembly and one for the presidency. One of our guides told me that all the people he spoke to - and he spoke to a lot as we were entering and leaving the town - had voted for the Maoist Party.

We continued along the valley. reaching Namche late in the day. Last night we celebrated with several bottles of Aussie red wine, and this morning lingered over breakfast. We're staying here tonight, before heading to Phakding tomorrow and Lukla on Sunday. We'll fly back to Kathmandu early Monday, weather permitting.

Bob: Day 18

2008-04-09T16:38:00.001+07:00

Day 18: Below Renjo La (5100m)
(Trekking: approx 4 hours)
As with our previous pass crossings we have the opportunity to take it easy this morning before setting off towards Renjo La. There is another opportunity to ascend Gokyo Peak again for the sunrise before breakfast. The rest of the morning is free and we depart after an early lunch and follow the trail that contours above the northern shore of the lake to the old moraines of the glacier below Renjo Pass. From here we climb steeply on a good trail up to the lip of an old glacier valley strewn with boulders and glacial debris. Keeping to the right of the valley we ascend less steeply to reach camp opposite the large glacial snowfield below two unnamed peaks (5625m and 5906m)

Bob: Day 17

2008-04-08T10:38:00.002+07:00

Day 17: Gokyo (4720m)
(Rest and Exploration Day) We rise early for an ascent of Gokyo Peak (5360m), a straight-forward but steep climb and tiring due to the altitude. The walk up will take just over two hours and the reward is one of the best panoramas in the Khumbu. From the rocky summit, four 8,000-metre peaks can be seen - Everest (8848m), Cho-Oyo (8153m), Lhotse (8511m) and Makalu (8481m). Countless other towering snow-capped peaks and rock spires fill the horizons including Gyachung Kang (7922m) to the east of Cho-Oyo, Cholatse (6440m), Taweche (6542m) and Kangchung (6103m). In addition, there’s a bird's eye view of the Gokyo lakes and the huge creaking Ngozumpa Glacier, now cutting halfway across the world and snaking its way down the valley far beneath. Time permitting, we may also follow the lateral moraines of Ngozumpa Glacier past Kangchung Peak to a point where Gyubanare Glacier joins in and from where climbing the ridge to the left of the small trail gives us excellent views of Everest’s north face.

Bob: Day 16

2008-04-07T16:48:00.002+07:00

Bob is well over half way through his organised trek now; and the plan for today is:

Day 16: Gokyo (4720m)
(Trekking: approx 6-7 hours) The day begins very early in order to reach the top of the pass in the best possible conditions. From camp we ascend steeply on a narrow trail passing large boulders and huge rock slabs and keeping to the left of the main glacier. There are a number of cairns lining the route to the snowfield and, while the trail is well-defined, it does involve a little scrambling. Once on the snowfield the angle eases off and we soon reach the top of the pass (5420m), where the views are spectacular and include Baruntse (7220m) and Ama Dablam, as well as a sea of lesser peaks. Do not wander around the snowfield as there are crevasses and we may need to rope up for the pass crossing! The descent from the pass is steep and care should be taken as we follow the narrow rocky trail down to the Nymagawa Valley, where we enjoy a packed lunch.
From the valley we cross rocky screes and boulders and ascend the short distance to a small saddle that leads downhill all the way on an easy trail to the huts and tea houses at Dragnag. After a welcome break we cross Ngozumpa Glacier to the lake at Gokyo, from where it is a short walk to our lodge.

This is an example of one of the days which required Bob to take out specialised mountaineering travel insurance. I wonder if there is an option of Vegemite sandwiches for the packed lunch? (I know that sandwiches won't cut it, but I have a real hankering for Vegemite when I am travelling overseas).

I wasn't quite so adventurous today; I went for a walk planning to have a coffee, and the knee was once again surprisingly good after the watermelon episode on Wednesday. I got down to Lake G not feeling as though it was time already for my morning espresso. I knew that circumnavigating the lake was a bit ambitious, but thought that I may as well give it a shot - I could always cut off the peninsula (although it's probably the nicest part). Despite being late morning, there were a lot of people around, and most responded with an equally cheery greeting.

I was thinking about the nearest water bubbler leading up to the first I knew of at the kids playground. I drank like a dying man. I was carefully working out how far it was to Black Pepper both for the short black and, even more importantly the bottle of water at hand.

I was a bit stiff when I had to stand up, and was much, much slower walking the 3kms home, tiring even more noticeably towards the end. I think I made a mistake going quite so far. When I arrived, I knew I had to bathe, brush teeth and change in preparation for my afternoon's medical appointment. I had a bath, but was absolutely wasted. I only made it up to my study where I lay down and crashed out. Completely. With a reasonable length of time between bath and my doctors appointment I eventually pulled myself out of bed to throw on some clothes and get to the waiting room in time.

Verdict: Chronic Gastritis, Peptic Ulcers, Sinusitus, Blocked Ears, and other stuff. A couple of courses of Antibiotics and see him again in 10 days. Woo Hoo.

Is it bedtime yet?

(I'll blog next when I wrest Rudi away from the computer).

Today I took a Capnap . . .

2008-04-07T15:06:00.004+07:00

Wouldn't you know it

2008-04-06T15:47:00.003+07:00

The PRB and I had a casual stroll down to Lake G on Saturday afternoon for a coffee, which was very enjoyable in stunning Canberra autumn weather. I was worn out on our return however, and chucked him out and lay down and fell into a deep sleep for my (now regular) afternoon lap.

When I woke up, I found that I had missed an entirely unexpected phone call from Bob from nearly five and a half thousand metres. Damn!

It did sound good though, and said everything was going well. He will try to call me from Namche or Kathmandu. From what he said, it sounds as though they are able to stick to the itinerary as it has been planned to date. He visited Everest Base Camp yesterday.

On that issue, the plan for Sunday is:

Day 15: Dzongla (4850m)
(Trekking: approx 4 hours)
After the tiring day to Kala Patar we take the opportunity to enjoy a lazy start. The walk to Dzongla is less than four hours and a morning spent rehydrating and relaxing before taking an early lunch. After lunch we follow the main Everest trail back down the valley before bearing right to contour round the hillside above Tshola Tso Lake and then descending to the valley floor and the small huts at Dzongla. Upon arrival we make camp and prepare for the crossing of the snowfields that lead to the top of the Cho La Pass.

Aah, snow. I'm sure the scenery is stunning, but I can live without the cold and the ice!

Bob: Day 14

2008-04-05T06:08:00.001+07:00

From the itinerary, Bob's plan for today:

Day 14: Lobuje (4930m)
(Excursion to Kala Patar (5545m) - trekking: approx 7 hours)

Today we leave Lobuje very early in the morning for the ascent of Kala Patar. Initially we follow the broad valley running parallel to Khumbu Glacier to the moraines of Changri Nup Glacier, where we make a series of small ascents and descents to Gorak Shep (5160m). After a short rest we ascend the slopes of Kala Patar (5545m), a small, rocky peak on the south-west ridge of Pumori. A slow, steady pace once again is the best form of attack. The climb is not easy but the view from the top surpasses the wildest imagination. We hear huge glaciers creaking as they move under pressure and will be undoubtedly awestruck at the sheer size and majesty of the surrounding peaks that include Pumori, Nuptse, Changtse, Ama Dablam, Taweche, Kantega and Everest - the highest mountain in the world. For many trekkers reaching Kala Patar is a very emotional experience and we have allowed plenty of time when on top to enjoy the experience. We return to Gorak Shep for a welcome cup of tea and a light lunch, before walking back to Lobuje in the early afternoon.

Such a welcome cup of tea, I bet.

Bob: Day 12

2008-04-03T17:08:00.002+07:00

If the snow or winds (sounds like Canberra at the moment!) isn't too bad, then this was the plan for today:

Day 12: Below Kongma La (5380m)
(Trekking: approx 4 hours)
In the morning we have the option of an early morning walk towards Island Peak (Imja Tse) Base Camp. On the other hand, those wishing to take it easy can sleep in and relax around the lodge until lunch. This is taken early before we set off towards the Kongma La Pass. The afternoon’s walk is a long and tiring climb up steep grassy slopes on a small, but well-defined trail. The angle of the slopes decreases as we near camp and the surrounding rocky peaks and small glacial lakes are a perfect setting for our first night of wilderness camping.

Mmmmm. Wilderness camping. I actually love wilderness camping, but the cold, wind and snow I hate. I hope that everything is OK. It's twice the altitude of Kosciuszko.

Carolyne on Wednesday

2008-04-03T09:24:00.003+07:00

I finally felt well enough to treat myself to the planned 'walk to a coffee shop', and with good weather promised, waited until the worst of the morning chill was out of the air before heading out the door.

I stayed on the flat footpath along Bandjalong Crescent through Aranda to begin with, as my knee was still very stiff and I sought to walk on a flatter surface to allow it to warm up.

Across into Black Mountain Nature Park and then on the trails across Belconnen Way at the back of O'Connor Ridge, one couldn't help but wonder at the joys of living in Canberra and the scope of access to such a great network of trails and nature reserves throughout the territory.

I hadn't gone far, but the knee should have warmed up and improved by now. I really enjoyed walking around O'Connor Ridge at the back of the AIS, and then headed down Wattle Street to treat myself to a short black at Tilley's. The service took ages, and although it was pleasant sitting outside in the sun, I wasn't feeling as great as I hoped to be, and realised that I should head back towards home, instead of heading further a field to do a giant loop via Mt Ainslie.

I was a little confused upon leaving the cafe, but eventually settled on getting back onto the trails at the back of Lyneham, and then along the bike paths through the AIS and onto the campus of Canberra Uni, before skirting the lake and heading home.

My knee remained stiff and was not at all happy, although it wasn't especially painful. I continued to be tired, and yawned incessantly. The last kilometre or three were fairly hard going and I succeeded in pulling the washing off the line before collapsing into bed and sleeping until the early evening.

My knee was swollen up to the size of a large watermelon, and I was struggling around like a little old lady.

So no walking for me today. And no Customs on Friday.

Bob: Day 11

2008-04-02T16:04:00.004+07:00

Bob Day 11:

Day 11: Chukhung (4780m)

(Trekking: approx 3 hours)
Today is another short day, in order to aid with acclimatisation. From the lodge in Dingboche we head up through the village, following the Imja Khola Valley. The ascent is gradual, crossing small streams and walking through open alpine pastures, with fine views of Island Peak at the head of the valley. We reach the Chukhung lodge in time for lunch, with the afternoon free to rest and acclimatise. Alternatively, you may feel energetic enough to head up valley towards the old moraines that flow down from Lhotse. The views of the massive Lhotse Wall and Ama Dablam are particularly impressive when seen from Chukhung.

I expect that Bob will feel energetic enough!

Bob: Day 10

2008-04-01T17:29:00.004+07:00

Much to my surprise, there was an email from Bob in the inbox this morning indicating that he was having a rest and acclimatisation day. From the guide:

Day 10: Dingboche (4360m)
(Rest and Acclimatisation Day)
Dingboche is a beautiful patchwork of small fields enclosed by stone walls protecting the crops of barley and potatoes from the cold winds. It is occupied mainly through the monsoon months, when large numbers of yaks are brought here to graze in the valley pastures. Behind our lodge the huge rock faces of Taweche seem to soar to the heavens. Our trek leader will advise us on activities for today, but the short excursion up the valley towards Chukung is a worthwhile option. The views are fantastic in this valley; the towering south face of Lhotse to the north, Island Peak in the centre of the valley and the fluted ice walls of unnamed peaks that line the southern end of the valley, all form a hauntingly beautiful sight. In the afternoon an optional hike up the hill behind our lodge will enable us to view the world's fifth highest mountain, Makalu (8481m), which is not visible from the valley floor.

Bob's assessment was as follows:

Am writing this from a satellite Internet under cover but open to the elements with light snow falling. Prices here are high by Australian standards and astronomical by local standards (20R per minute for Internet, 350R per minute to use a power point, 360R for a small box of tissues).

Have caught a head-cold but am otherwise well. The scenery continues to be spectacular, but the cold weather (it's 2 degrees with a 40kph wind blowing up the valley) is testing. Food is still good (today's lunch was the first meat: tinned) but the lodges we are staying in a very basic. From Wednesday we'll be camping above 5,000m. We are surrounded by snow covered peaks. During the night we hear the yaks wandering around with their bells ringing. The yaks up here have very long fur and travel in trains carrying all forms of luggage.

Must go. Don't know when I'll have another chance.

An even more surprising one followed:

Dingboche is above the tree line but the locals grow potatoes in small fields divided by dry stone walls. They're planting at the moment. All the field work is done by women as all the men appear to act as guides and porters for trekkers. As one woman hoes another woman drops the seed potatoes in the ground. We've been eating the potatoes at least one meal per day, and they're terrific.

Last evening, for the fourth consecutive evening, it snowed. On the previous occasions there was just a light dusting, but this morning there was a heavy blanket of snow covering the countryside, including the yaks in the field behind our lodge. As usual we were brought tea at 6:30am by assistant guides, and ate breakfast at 7:30am. As today is an acclimatisation day whre we stay in the same lodge tonight, we headed off to climb Nagartsang Peak, the peak behind the lodge, and then return for lunch. The walk was only 5km, but we climbed 500m, to an altitude of over 5,000m. Five (including me) of the 12 in the group reached the summit as it was hard work at this altitude. Unfortunately the whole way up we were clouded in, but it cleared as we descended, for spectacular views of the nearby snow-covered mountains, and the valleys from where we've walked, and where we'll head tomorrow.

After lunch I indulged in a bucket shower in the open for 250R - it will be at least 4-5 days before the next opportunity.

For the conversion one Australian dollar is around 58 Nepalese Rupees at the moment. (That is: around $4.30 for the bucket shower, over $6.00 a minute to use a power point).

I think that it sounds like a great trip, but I know that I couldn't handle an open bucket shower in a howling icy wind!

Day 9 for Bob's Trek

2008-03-31T15:54:00.002+07:00

If all is going according to plan:

Day 9: Dingboche (4360m)
(Trekking: approx 6 hours)
From Thyangboche we descend through forest of birch, fir, juniper and rhododendron, to the nunnery at Debuche. Along the way we keep an eye open for blood and Danfe pheasant, musk deer and, high on the steep slopes of the valley, Himalayan tahr. After half an hour of fairly level walking we cross the Imja Khola River and gradually ascend to the village of Pangboche, where the peak of Ama Dablam dominates the skyline. We take lunch here and perhaps view the beautiful monastery that once housed a scalp reputedly belonging to the legendary yeti. In the afternoon our route ascends gradually high above the Imja Khola River and passing tea houses at Orsho before crossing river again and old glacial moraines, on the way to our lodge in the settlement of Dingboche. The scenery is spectacular and although Everest here disappears behind the Lhotse-Nuptse ridge, the huge peaks that tower above the eastern end of the valley are ample compensation. We are now almost completely above the tree line and, in clear conditions, can look out for spectacular sunsets here and on Ama Dablam. Today’s walk is quite tiring due to the altitude, so it is important to take notice of your trek leader’s advice and recommendations regarding rest and fluid intake.

Thanks for the link Speedy Geoff!

What an exhausting weekend!

2008-03-31T12:13:00.002+07:00

Very nice, mind you, but after the PRB took me out for a coffee at the Botanic Gardens after he had completed the 2nd 20k leg of the Canberra Two Day Walk, we then thought we would see what the Paul's Sports Warehouse at the Brand Depot was like having seen that they were having a sale.

I was going to say "Big Mistake", but that does not do it justice. This planning regulation side stepping monstrosity rose from the land beside the airport a year or two ago amid some controversy. Neither being a 'shopper', nor particularly a 'warehouse shopper' it has been easy to avoid this place until now. Having paid a visit, I now know to continue to do so in the future. Yuck.

We went in search of another late afternoon coffee, first to Deek's at Pearce (which was shut), then a bite to eat, Chifely (closed), and then the fag end of the day at Woden Plaza. Most places were shutting up, but we could grab a cup at Babar, but not until we snuck into the Dick Smith Powerhouse next door first to look at and fondle the HTC TyTN II Smart PDA / Phone / GPS thingy. It was heavier than it looks, although still a very compact unit. I hadn't been able to suss out from the web site where micro SD card went, and if it was easily hot swappable, so being able to caress and covert was good.

I was becoming increasingly tired, and couldn't stop yawning (coffee, looking at the shops so tiring!), and came home and collapsed into sleep without much tempting.

This morning I thought that I was well and truly ready for my planned 'take myself to coffee under my own steam' each day plan. I got up. I made breakfast. The ulcer, gut, whatever stuff then objected so stridently to breakie that I had to lie down. Before I knew it, I was just waking up and it was 3 in the afternoon. So much for the plan.

I've bathed and changed, and that is as far as I've got since then, I remain half dressed, bare footed and too tired to go out. It's all rather frustrating, this great fatigue, making it difficult to plan anything ahead of time. I have a dental check up on Wednesday, but I'm tempted to postpone it for the moment, I don't feel confident that I can get there in time and keep my mouth open.

2008-03-28T15:42:00.002+07:00

As I lay me down to sleep last night, my PDA pinged with an incoming email from the Boy Harlow in Namche Bazar.

The trip is superb: I'm very well, the weather is perfect and the scenery is spectacular. At Namche there are several Internet cafes, but nowhere else on the trek, so you won't be getting any more emails from me for a while after we leave here on Saturday morning.

Kathmandu was as I expected: full of life, good food and friendly locals, but poor infrastructure and dusty and very dirty. We had a trip to the main Hindu temple, with cremations proceeding and crowds of devoted praying and making offerings. We also visited a Buddhist stupa, which was in contrast to the rest of the city: peaceful and clean. It is surrounded by a Tibetan community, with several reasonable looking hotels and lots of restaurants, and appeals to me as an area to stay when I return.

The trek for the first 3 days has been fairly easy, but once we leave here it will get harder and harder. We've trekked along a river valley, surrounded by forest and immense mountains. The only means of transport from Lucla - the town into which we flew from Kathmandu - is the path along which we travelled. It is highway, with many trekkers - in groups and individually - and enderless streams of porters loaded down with huge packs resting on their backs by a strap across their foreheads, interspersed with caravans of yaks also loaded down. All the materials for construction and all the necessities of life for all the villages we visit come in this way. The mountain sides are covered with small pine forest, except where it has been cleared for cultivation.

The weather is crystal clear each morning, but cloud steadily increase during the day. The overnight temperatures so far have been about 5-6, and daytime about 13-15. I'm sure both figures will drop as we climb.

There are 12 in our group: 2 pommies, 2 South Africans and 8 Aussies. We have the main guide, Tisha, who is very competent and experienced, supported by 4 assistant guides and several porters. The guides ensure that we travel slowly, allowing us to acclimatise and keeping the group together. I'm sharing a room with Trent, a 59 year old from Adelaide and a good bloke.

Our room looks onto a large mountain, over which immense snow covered peaks tower straight up.

I have been sending emails in reply, but no response as yet.

Bob's plan for today is as follows:

Day 7: Thyangboche (3875m)
(Trekking: approx 6 hours)
From Namche Bazaar, we climb towards the park headquarters and follow a contouring trail high above the Dudh Kosi River. Above Namche the route to Thyangboche becomes visible with the monastery seen nestling below the summit of Everest and surrounded by other Himalayan peaks. On today’s walk there are opportunities to spot local wildlife including the beautiful Danfe pheasant, often seen among the birch and silver fir forest between Shanasa and Trashinga, and Himalayan Thar, on the high ground above the trail. After reaching the reforestation nursery at Trashinga, the trail drops steeply before crossing the Dudh Kosi River at Phunkitenga (3250m) where we take lunch. In the afternoon we pass water-driven prayer wheels and ascend, initially steeply, through pine, fir, black juniper and rhododendron forests towards Thyangboche. The monastery and our lodge are located in a beautiful meadow surrounded by towering Himalayan peaks in a truly peaceful and tranquil setting. The most notable peaks seen from here are Kantega, Ama Dablam (perhaps the most beautiful peak in the region) and, of course, Mount Everest.

From the internet (I expect a intellectual property copyright free version from the Nepalese tourist site), I have included a photo of Namche Bazar.

Not too shabby huh?

A non-day

2008-03-27T15:43:00.003+07:00

I'm not sure why ~ but after a slow, but positive day yesterday, today was cancelled to do lack of, well, pretty well everything. The headache is ameliorating, although there is still a thumping party going on in my ears, but the sharpish subcostal (under the ribcage) pain is back with a vengeance, reducing me to do nothing much today other than sleep.

Bob will however be up to doing something rather different! From the guide, the plan today is:

Day 6: Namche Bazaar (3446m)
(Acclimatisation Day)
We remain at Namche Bazaar for a second night to allow for proper acclimatisation to the altitude. Namche is a prosperous village situated in a large protected hollow. It gained its importance during the period when Tibetan salt was traded for the lowland grains of Nepal. Today a limited amount of trade still exists at Namche and Tibetans are often seen in the village trading rugs and Chinese-made goods, clothing, salt and dried meat.

It is recommended that you take the opportunity to see both the sunrise and sunset views from the national park headquarters above the village. The stunning vista includes a superb panorama of the Khumbu peaks and great views of Everest. After breakfast, a variety of options exists. Perhaps a walk towards Thami (3810m) above the beautiful Bhote Khola River Valley or a visit to the national park headquarters to see the interesting displays of Sherpa lifestyle and culture. There is also a mountaineering display and information on the park’s flora and fauna. Your guides are on hand to offer advice and escort you on walks.

2008-03-26T15:08:00.002+07:00

I'm sure Bob's plans to access telco services in the foothills of Mt Everest were rather over optimistic - he was able to give me a three minute telephone call from Kathmandu on Monday morning, however there has been no other contact, and I expect that the prospects will merely diminish over the next three weeks or so until he returns to Kathmandu.

According to the tour itinerary, this is what he is meant to be up to today:

Day 5: Namche Bazaar (3446m)
(Trekking: approx 4 hours)
Today the walking is a little tougher and includes a steep ascent to Namche Bazaar. From Monjo it is a short walk to the entrance of the national park, before we cross the Dudh Kosi River to Jorsale (2805m). The trek continues upstream on generally flat terrain, crossing back to the right bank to the confluence of the Bhote Kosi and Dudh Kosi Rivers, where we start the steep climb to Namche Bazaar. After crossing a large and stable suspension bridge high above the river, we slowly ascend at a steady pace. There are some fantastic photographic opportunities as the peaks of Everest, Lhotse, Nuptse, Ama Dablam and Taweche (6542m) come into view for the first time. After arriving in Namche Bazaar, we enjoy lunch with the afternoon is free to bargain in the shops for Tibetan artefacts or simply relax and marvel at the beautiful scenery.

Bob's not too good with suspension bridges, so that should be interesting.

My health hasn't been so great of late, although I was a fair bit better today. I have been wracked by headaches for a couple of weeks and that has eased. My vision is still very dark, so I'm doing the opposite of the earth hour programme - finding that I need lots of lights on to be able to see (and still wondering who put the lights out). The rain over the last couple of days, meant that I didn't get out for the exercise I so badly needed, with less guilt than I would have had if the weather was fine. I was able to walk down to the doc's office today and pick up a prescription this morning, but that wasn't so much.

With the rain clearing this afternoon, it turned into a pleasant day, despite the fairly strident wind, it was a warm westerly and quite refreshing.

A temporary change in blog content and focus

2008-03-23T17:19:00.002+07:00

Bob has winged his way to Kathmandu and while he is away he requested that I restrict emails to essentials, while noting down more newsy items in the blog. This way, while he is off in the High passes of Everest, in those villages which may have internet access so that he can keep things simple as the bandwidth may allow.

So ~ the plan is for the next six weeks that this blog shall include lots of boring bits for other readers (except that I know that you've all given up on me by now after a prolonged period of inactivity of blogging and inactivity of, well, activity. Hopefully the later shall improve over the next little while, while I attempt to get a few health problems sorted out.

It's hard to kid yourself that you're still young, when . . .

2008-03-01T14:53:00.002+07:00

The President of Russia was born after you. Sigh.

The good news is . . .

2008-02-29T16:22:00.002+07:00

I was able to go for a bike ride during the week and coped with it surprisingly well. The knee was no problem at all, and I was actually able to push it over the 30kms, which was a pleasant surprise.

Bob and I had intended to go away for a break (to coincide with the Orange running festival), however I had a small procedure yesterday which reinforced the diagnosis that I have a sick stomach (this time), riddled with ulcers, and the side effect of the sedation and, more importantly the fasting from water for an extended period, left me feeling rather sub-par today.

I did make it into Customs as an observer though, which gave me a chance to say a sad farewell to Rick, and an all too rare G'Day to Huxley the Wonder Dog, Suze and Jodie. I hope to get out for another decent cycle on the weekend and/or a good solid walk. I don't want to test the hammie too much yet and am doing my exercises to strengthen them.

After being all happy with my Gillyness earlier in the evening, another wicket (Hussey) has fallen and so has my mood. Oh well.

Wonderful Weather, things are looking up

2008-02-25T15:27:00.002+07:00

After chatting with Gordon at Customs (who had the same surgeon to 'do' his ACL reconstruction a couple of months after mine), it was apparent that the hamstring harvesting to reconstruct the cruciate would weaken what remained. Everything was going fine when I was returning to running in the States, but once I was stricken by the dreaded lurgy, things went south, weakening not merely my constitution, but also the recovery of my depleted hammies; resulting in the !PING-ing each of the last few weeks.

At least on Friday, pulling up lame after 20 metres brought me to an immediate stop, instead of 'walking through it' for too long. While hobbling on Saturday, an immensely pleasurable long lunch with fellow runners on Sunday ended rather late in the evening, after a neighbour rattling sing-song ("The Runners Lament") rounding out the evening by citronella candlelight and meticulously home printed copies of "Richard's Songbook". Good Fun.

I spent the 9-odd hours sitting down, only getting up occasionally and being a little stiff. After sleeping in for my sins (even when I'm going pretty well at the moment, I still need a good 13 hours + sleep a night according to Bob), coffee with Bob at the Botanic Gardens, and a visit to the library, I used the opportunity of a stunning early autumn/late summer afternoon, and walked a slow paced lap of Lake Ginninderra, then home. I was able to keep the hamstring and knee under control, and felt as though I was developing some. Early days yet, but I can can (and will) dream!

Tomorrow it will be three months before Bob and I depart for Vietnam for our winter 2008 journey. The plans are deliberately vague and flexible.

We arrive in Ho Chi Minh City, with our bikes and laptops and as few clothes as necessary. We'll stay for a couple of days before flying north to Ha Noi, where we shall look immediately for an apartment to rent for around three months. I'm a little nervous about this, however the one's we saw when we were there were terrific and a good price, so I am keeping my fingers crossed that it will not be too stressful.

Apart from our Great! Nephew Sam coming over in the July school holidays for 11 days, we have no firm plans, although we hope to travel in the area, both in the north of Vietnam, into Cambodia and, ideally into southern China through to Tibet (by train). Health and all things willing it will be wonderful, and whatever comes along, we'll just play it by ear.

Definately going around (and around) in circles!

2008-02-23T16:40:00.001+07:00

My thought that I had 'turned the corner' was a little premature.

Since my last post, I have had to reduce my running to walking, which then was restricted to walking on the flat and easy surfaces, as my knee was very unhappy. Two weeks ago I had to abort my Saturday 'long' coffee walk and call Bob to pick me up. My left shoulder and arm was also affected at the time, an uneasy reminder of my left sided weakness which so ailed me in years past. It was difficult to grip objects and there was a strong 'dead arm' feeling.

I was struggling walking up stairs and with any flexing of my knee for the next few days, making even basic walking around rather unpleasant. It had improved enough by the following Saturday that I attempted another walk. Unfortunately, attempt was as far as I got, with another abortion not too far into the walk, requiring a very slow and painful hobble home. I would have rung Bob again if I could, but I knew that he was sleeping off a very long and tiring running of the Cotter 20 (miler) that morning.

Another few days off then.

A visit to the doctor 10 days later, resulted in the ordering of a number of tests. By the end of the week, I thought that I could make an appearance at Customs, important as it was the farewell for Rick Hatcher, a Customs Jogger veteran who has been running the event most weeks since 1977, completing a mind boggling total of 1,177 events.

I was surprised that I felt pretty good, and started off my correct handicap of 7 minutes 15 seconds. I felt pretty bloody good when I started each footfall was slow, but very steady and I thought that this wasn't too bad afterall.

Then 20 metres down the path - PING - the hamstringy bit behind my knee went carthump. I pulled up in the dramatic fashion that sprinters do when they are tearing down the front straight at 9.8 sec/100m pace. The fact that I was doing around 8 min/km (or 48 sec/100m) pace left nothing to reduce the dramatic nature of pulling up.

Que Sera.

On the up side, I'm feeling much, much better than I was only a week ago. I wish that I was able to walk, although three or four days should be about to fix that, I hope. Otherwise I'm just keeping my head above water. I hope that I this recent improvement continues.

Turning the Corner (or just going around in circles?)

2008-02-01T15:58:00.000+07:00

I've been so much slower than I had been even on my early recovery runs/races in the States last year, than it has seemed that I have just been going backwards.

Hopefully, I have "turned the corner", having gone for a decent walk on Tuesday with Bob to the Botanic Gardens for Coffee, after he had gone to the Sports Med guy for acupuncture for his shoulder, and coming back with a cortisone injection and the advice not to do any 'vigorous' exercise for a couple of days, cycling and running included. This did not impress him!

Wednesday was the PM's XI Cricket Match at Manuka Oval ~ I only had time for a 'quick' one hour walk around the bush in the evening when I got home. Thursday was taken up largely with medical stuff and I didn't get out. On Friday, we were looking after our nephew Sam today; we started off with a cycle around Lake Ginninderra, which I was delighted didn't crank up my knee at all. It has been way too stiff the last few days and my last ride with the PRB made it very unhappy indeed. However, today it wasn't bad at all, a few niggles, but that was all.

We three stopped by our favourite coffee shop at Belconnen on the way home (Camille and Richard at Hansel and Gretel's), and at the markets for bananas. Then a quick trip home to get changed and into the Customs run at lunchtime. Sam was kind enough to ride along with me the whole way, and it seemed to pick my running up a bit over what has been a really hard slog over the last few weeks. I'm not exactly burning up the track at the moment, covering the 5kms in 31 minutes 30 seconds. This would have been an all time PW only a month or two ago (with the only exceptions being when I was required to walk after operations), but although winded, I felt good and inspired.

So to summarise Plu's blog, I can only go up in my totals for the month.

Combined Walking/Jogging/Running for January 158 km
Time 25 hours 25 minutes
Average Pace 9:42 m/km

February = more running and more endurance! Fingers (still crossed)

Why am I so tired?

2008-01-28T13:59:00.000+07:00

I didn't get to run Customs, although Aki did come around and took me out for a coffee afterwards.
I did improve by Saturday enough to walk (yes, walk) down to Lake Ginninderra with the PRB for another coffee.

The walk did me some good, and I felt increasingly energised and looked forward to heading off to the Vets Monthly Handicap the next day. The PRB arranged to pick me up the next morning, and I had a relatively early night to make sure that I was OK.

It seemed so simple, and I felt pretty good, but I realised that 6kms with a big hill near the end (I thought I remembered there would be a big hill heading up to Mt Majura/Mt Ainsile) I'd find it pretty hard going, and would have to walk a good portion of the way. My previous run/walks were averaging over 9 minutes a kilometre, so I thought that it would be pretty fair to estimate 8 minute a k pace. I didn't realise that this would put me off group 3, ahead of some of my favourite older ladies. I felt a bit embarrassed about going to early, and knew (or at least hoped) that I would be running to begin with and need to walk on the hills.

I did start off running, and pretty soon was trundling along the course. I did manage to keep running (in a fashion) the whole way, although a slowed down an awful lot on each of the rises. The turn around was much earlier than I had thought, and it was before the hill rose steeply. Just after the turnaround, those behind me started to appear. I hadn't realised how many people I knew as I came back, and within a kilometre and a half ,I think that I said G'Day to around 100 people by name. It was an amazing feeling, made a bit easier by the downhill section which made it easier for me to talk and breathe while maintaining an illusion of running.

All in all - I huffed and puffed my way to the finish in a distinctly pedestrian 46:35 ~ at a rate of 7:46! It was a brutally honest run too, and I couldn't have gone any faster. I don't know what has happened to me.

Today I slept in until 11:00am, and still feel tired and drained. I had forgotten about how much I enjoyed the Vets Handicaps, and look forward to doing some more in the future. I must remember to take it easy though.

I know I should have earlier, but . . .

2008-01-24T07:55:00.000+07:00

I've been waiting to feel better, or to be better. Although there have been moments when I think that I have turned the corner, it then has reverted to the general "blah-ness" (a technical term) that has been difficult to recover from.

Today (Thursday, 24th January!) I am sitting on the sofa, the cricket on the TV, having just extradited myself from my second shift in bed this morning where I had retired with hopelessly aching bones and muscles. It feels as though I have gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson for the fourth night running, suffering major body blows to my upper arms and all around my rib cage, especially around the flank. Ouch!

The only activity that could have contributed to this feeling is a walk - all walking, no jogging - on the bike paths around home on Tuesday afternoon. Needless to say, I have long accepted that the Canberra Marathon is going to be a non-starting event for me this year, and have just hoped to regain as much fitness as I can. I will certainly be there with bells on to cheer along the best of the Cool Runners such as Lucky Legs, Gronk, Speedy Geoff and Aki though!

Bob has been quite excited about his upcoming trip to Nepal and a trek with Peregrine on the Everest High Passes. However, his high mood of excitement suffered a minor funk on Tuesday when it he was advised that it possible that it may not go ahead unless they get another booking. He was really looking forward to this, and had been going to the gym to work on his upper body strength and core fitness in preparation. I was going to equally enjoy spending possibly the best month of April in Canberra. We should know a little better early next week.

So, despite the number of tasks crying out to be done around the house, I shall spend today trying to recover as best I can. Tomorrows Customs is a bit iffy - I would certainly like to go (if I can drag my body out of the house), although whether I will be able to walk it, walk / jog, or just cheer from the sidelines, I'm not sure.

ACT Cricket |- India vs ACT Invitational

2008-01-09T07:33:00.000+07:00

ACT Cricket |- India vs ACT Invitational

Guess where I'm going tomorrow?

If Aki doesn't come back soon . . . .

2008-01-08T16:23:00.000+07:00

I was scrolling through my list of blogs, a little disappointed that the updates were coming so slowly . . . when a thought came to me - I could update mine. What a novel idea!

My recovery is proceeding, although slowly and not without some hiccups along the way. I have resumed some (gentle) exercise, going for a gentle preprandial walk with Bob on Saturday evening through Aranda Bushland on Sunday; a jog / walk to the Botanic Gardens and return on Monday; and a (oh-so-slow) jog into Black Mountain yesterday for 3.5kms, before I had to stop and walk /jog back.

The stomach bug is still hanging around, and causes problems whenever I exercise, hence the inability to keep 'running' for extended periods. This is a great nuisance, but it will work it's way out eventually, and is much easier to manage since the op in late 06. In the meantime, I think that doing some activity must be better than sitting on my ever increasing backside.

Of some more concern is my (recently reconstructed) left knee. It doesn't hurt (or I don't notice it) when I'm running, however walking (especially stairs) can hurt; and it is generally stiff. It hurts most of all when I'm lying in bed at night, so maybe I'm just being a wimp?

First Run for the Year

2008-01-04T10:49:00.000+07:00

I did manage to get out for a walk with the PRB (or should this be PWB?) on Tuesday, walking the lovely trails of Aranda and Black Mountain Bushland to have a coffee at the Botanic Gardens Cafe. (They have continued to supply 'free' jugs of water for patrons after their unfortunate hiccup earlier last year). It was extremely pleasant, especially sitting down under the sails over the lawns watching the lizards and water dragons sunning themselves.

As per usual, I felt better as I went along, and felt re-enthused to do the same the next day until I was up to running again. Unfortunately, it was not to be the next day, I was overly fatigued, and my attempt yesterday (Thursday, 3rd) was greatly aborted to a gingerly strolled 2km at a very slow pace, feeling extremely nauseous and, more worryingly, aware of considerable pain in my recently reconstructed left knee.

I did travel a more novel route for a change, which is always enjoyable, and gives me options for the future. However, I arrived home rather despondent, having moved very slowly over a very short distance, and the start to the year not auguring well.

Friday is Customs Day. My knee wasn't at all happy, hurting when walking, so my planned slow jog/walk of the course was in jeopardy. Arriving a little too close to the time for the start of the run, I was preparing to go off before the official scratch time, however by the time I lined up preparing to start my watch, it was time for the watch to start anyway.

With great joy, I saw that Peter D turned up, fresh from a vigorous round of chemotherapy to attack some vigilant cancer. He and I both started at the start of the watch, jogging slowly, preparing to walk as soon as we needed. the movement made me feel like throwing up, so I concentrated on keeping my head and upper body as steady and still as possible, while moving as comfortably as I could. The worst of the nausea passed within the first 800m, largely dissipating before the 2km mark. I fought the urge to stop and walk for this time, feeling that the farther I jogged, the sooner I would finish and be able to recover. Although not expecting to make it to the turnaround, I did in 17:38, just having been passed by Nick B.

In my usual form, I felt better as I went along, keeping my pace at a comfortable 7min/km and feeling much better at the end than the beginning. It was, all in all, a personal worst time for the course by a significant margin of over 2 minutes, yet I was delighted with the 'run' (I'm a little embarrassed by this term) and encouraged for more of the same tomorrow. I mightn't be 'good', but I am 'better' (take that however you wish!).

Been to the doctor

2007-12-31T15:29:00.000+07:00

Bob dragged me to the doctor this morning, a little against my wishes, as I figured that nothing much could be done, so why bother?

The good doctor John pretty well confirmed this (that there wasn't much aggressive treatment), that it was likely that a virus (don't you just love virrii?) might be causing both the gastritis (gut) and respiratory symptoms. Treat my sinus with over the counter drugs for a change to avoid my usual six month antibiotic overload, and see how things go.

My renal (kidney) function is still a bit iffy, but I will need to wait until I'm well until the blood tests are repeated. We talked some more at length about my (?sp) bradycardia or episodes of slow heartbeat with continues. With Bob there being dictated to, we shall try and get me to the hospital when it happens again. There was a fair bit of talk about a pace maker, and that he thought it would make me feel much better straight away, but, and it's a big but, it is a rather radical step.

I'm getting gradually stronger each day, and would dearly love to kick the new year (and 2008 is going to be a really great year) with some exercise, preferably running. That is no doubt too ambitious, but maybe a walk to the botanic gardens is on the cards!

I'm not well

2007-12-30T15:22:00.000+07:00

It's certainly not terminal! Nor particularly morbid, however a recurrence (self diagnosis here) of labyrinthitis / vertigo / something balance related I can't remember the exact name of has laid me rather low over the last week.

From the weekend before Christmas I was headachy and achey with great fatigue. By Christmas Eve the last thing I felt like doing was finalising Christmas lunch thingos and driving up to Sydney to spend the festive day with my sister and lovely nieces. However I was keen to do so, and between lying down cobbled together a few things and settled into the passenger seat for the journey.

It was a great, laid back and relaxing Christmas day, punctuated by naps and an afternoon postprandial walk around the foreshores of Lavender Bay and Kirribilli. A journey into the gardens established by Wendy Whitely.

A visit to a friends place on the Northern Beaches for Boxing Day lunch was a bit of an effort after my mid morning nap. I grew increasingly green during the journey, and after our welcomes, I tip a sip of water and promptly raced to the nearest unobtrusive bush. Retching had made my chest so sore that breathing anything other than shallow breaths sent me into deep spasms of agony.

I lay down and slept until we left and drove back to Canberra.

I think that I'm a bit better now, but still nauseas on movement although vomiting and retching less. No run with my favourite boys at the Cotter today which was a disappointment but most important nevertheless.

Study Shows Marathons Aren't Likely to Kill You

2007-12-21T16:38:00.000+07:00

From the New York Times:

Study Shows Marathons Aren’t Likely to Kill You

By GINA KOLATA

Published: December 21, 2007

Worried about dropping dead if you run a marathon? Researchers in Canada say you can put your mind at ease. The risk of dying on a marathon course is twice as high if you drive it than if you run it, they find.

In fact, they conclude, marathons may actually save lives: more people would die in traffic accidents if the race course had not been closed to vehicles on marathon day. (Nor was there any spillover of extra deaths on alternative routes.) Their paper is being published Friday in The British Medical Journal.

“For each death in a marathon, two motor-vehicle crash deaths were averted,” said Dr. Donald A. Redelmeier, a professor of medicine at the University of Toronto and the lead author of the new study. “It’s riskier if you decide to drive your car around on a Sunday morning than if you go out and run.”

As might be expected, marathon directors were pleased.

“That’s a very positive piece of news,” said Guy Morse, executive director of the Boston Athletic Association, which organizes the Boston Marathon. He hastens to add that there have been very few deaths in that marathon — just two, in fact, since the 1970s.

Dr. Paul Thompson, a marathon runner and a cardiologist at Hartford Hospital who has studied the risk of having a heart attack or dying in a marathon, called the new study “a unique perspective,” and added, “It looks at deaths from a societal point of view.”

The researchers admit that they cannot prove marathons saved lives. They were comparing actual deaths during marathons to expected deaths from motor-vehicle accidents based on statistics. But they add that their data certainly raise the question of whether the risk of dying in a marathon is exaggerated.

Dr. Redelmeier, who has run a marathon, said he began his study out of annoyance with the enormous attention given to each death in a marathon — often even greater, he added, than the attention paid to the winner. When someone died in the Toronto Marathon, he said, there were immediate calls to close it down.

“It has a chilling effect,” he said, “and becomes one more excuse not to exercise.”

So he and his colleagues decided to examine data from 26 American marathons over 30 years. They included results from 3,292,268 runners on 750 race days and 14 million hours of running. For comparison, they also examined national data on traffic fatalities, estimating how many would be expected to occur in the area on marathon day and comparing that with the number that did occur.

Fewer than 1 in 100,000 people died while running a marathon, Dr. Redelmeier and his colleagues reported. The chance that a middle-aged man — the typical marathon fatality — would die while running a marathon was about the same as the chance a middle-aged man would suddenly die anyway.

Dr. Thompson, the Hartford cardiologist, said there was another way of making the comparison. He noted that middle-aged men who run marathons are not typical of men their age. He said their risk of dying while running a marathon, while low, was nonetheless about seven times their risk of dying at other times.

Dr. Redelmeier also said his results did not depend on the marathon — some, like the one in Boston, have rigorous entry criteria for most runners and so tend to have a fitter group of athletes. Some are run in the heat, others in the cold. On some the course is flat, and on others it is hilly. The death rate, on average, was the same low number.

The study also found that half the people who died in a marathon did so while running the last mile and almost no deaths occurred in the first 13 miles.

Dr. Redelmeier says he took his own results very seriously. He is not a fast runner, but when he ran a marathon in Lake Placid, in 4 hours 17 minutes, he deliberately kept his speed down in the last mile.

“I kept cool,” he said. “That takes a lot of self-control. I have this fragile male ego.”

Destination: Canberra Marathon

2007-12-19T05:09:00.000+07:00

OK, So this is Christmas / and what have you done / . . . (apologies John Lennon)

The dreaded unspecified lurgy (head cold/sinusitis/hay fever) has finally abated, and I was able to get to the physio yesterday. This is significant for a number of reasons, not the least as I wanted to be sure that I had the go ahead to train for the Canberra Marathon in April before I publicly announced my intention.

Graeme expressed his professional caution about my need to continue strengthening exercises and work on my balance and tightness in my ITB, however was quite encouraging. I weigh the same (almost double my lightest, and a good 25kgs over what I should) as I did before leaving for America, and running, especially long, endurance running training hopefully will be the best way of dropping some of this off.

I erred on the side of caution yesterday and turned up to the start (albeit late) of the final Lake Ginninderra Handicap for the year, but did not attempt to run it. Instead, after ascertaining that they didn't need help with the start and finish activities, I jogged off (slowly) in the opposite direction, heading anti-clockwise around the lake, hoping to run into Rad and Friar.

It was amazing how dropping the pace maybe 30 seconds a kilometre below maximal effort can be so easy and seemingly effortless. I didn't expect to go far, however once across the bridge, thought that I would make it to the 5km mark and turn around for a round trip of 4km. Still, once there, with no sight of Rad and a path liberally littered with the carcases of large, fat black cicadas, I decided to make it around 5km, and rounded the peninsula. Although I was enjoying it, and considered continuing on around the course to make it a slow 7km, I realised that I was warned only a few minutes ago to hasten slowly and I reluctantly turned around and headed back.

I picked up the pace on the way back, and, heading into the wind, found the going much tougher! It was very satisfying though, and I was pleased to have reminded myself of the value, and enjoyment of running slow in relative terms. As my 'race pace' is slow pedestrian these days, I found that I forget how different it is to go slower again and enjoy it.

Once home, I collected my cycling gear together and went for a short ride to Scrivener Dam and back. It was a stop start affair for much of the outward journey, as I tried to adjust sensors to measure speed and cadence and attend to an annoying wheel revolution 'click' coming from the rear.

Despite taking close to an hour for the 15 kilometre ride, it was immensely satisfying and I am keen to get back in the saddle on a regular basis. So the plan is hatching; regular runs, not being too concerned about pace or distance, and concentrating on building up the time and enjoying it, added to cycling as much as as I can.

I still need to spend quite a bit of time on the mini tramp and working on my strength and balance as well, but I am excited at the prospect!

Back to the sinus sniffle

2007-12-18T05:39:00.000+07:00

After returning from the US, Bob and I suffered from jet / travel lag rather more than we would have expected. Nevertheless, after getting our long overdue haircuts (Thanks Angelo), medical supplies collected, legs defuzzed, visiting Bob's sister, and then attending the most important afternoon tea party for our (great) nephew Max's 2nd birthday.

Most of all, I was really looking forward to the Friday Customs Joggers 5k. It just happened to be the end of season celebration, which was icing on the cake, however catching up with friends and running the 5k course in the first time since early May was really what it was all about.

It was wonderful to see Rad, Friar, and all the other Customs runners. I hoped that I would be able to give 30 minutes a good shake given my recent 'races' in the USA, and so elected to go off a handicap of 6:30. This proved to be good call, although I never expected to find this easy, flat 5k so tough.

I raced away, OK, a little too fast, from Rad at the downhill start, and saw a few people in front of me whom I thought I had a good chance of catching. Before reaching the flagpole at Regatta Point however I noticed my heartrate climbing alarmingly, past 160 and well into the 170's. I had remembered to take my Ventolin inhaler behorehand this time, however the breathing was getting very laboured and it was hard going as I reached the 1km mark.

The warm day was a relief, however quite a shock for this little duck. I had been fighting off a developing cold since our return, and my hard run 30 minute 45 second run had me gasping for breath and taking a long, long time to recover. Pushing myself must have pushed the cold / hay fever / sinusitis over the edge, and I spent the next few days in bed, struggling for breath, only getting out to join Aki for a coffee at Hansel and Gretal in Belconnen on Saturday before returning to bed. I had hoped to do the short version of the Tour de Mountain on Sunday, however I'm pleased that I didn't as the the intemittant rain would have been a coffin nail.

I had to cancel my physio appointment on Monday, yet today (Tuesday), if not fully recovered, did wake up with a relatively clear head and was able to breathe (a bonus for sure).

Now, to bring on Christmas! Phew!

Back in Oz

2007-12-11T07:25:00.000+07:00

I'm pleased to be back, and will be really pleased to have unimpeded access to a computer of three without having to share with the Bobbette.

Our last day in the US far exceeded what one could have expected . . . although it was very tight, we decided to run a 10k in Central Park on the morning of our departure. Not being prepared to cough up the mega bucks to stay in Manhattan on our last nights, we were staying in the Borough of Queens in Flushing, near La Guardia airport for our last tow nights. It was pretty cool being in this area of NYC, it really was little Korea, and a very vibrant Chinatown. A meal on our first night at "The Happy Buddha", a vegetarian Chinese restaurant was typical - and certified Kosher. (Of course).

After returning the car (loved the car!) on Saturday, we travelled on the local train to Manhattan, which was pretty interesting all on its own. We registered at the New York Road Runners Club near Central Park on the east side of 92nd Street. It wasn't the ACT Cross Country Club! A large Brownstone, the stream of fit bods coming through the doors alerted us to the fact that this wasn't going to be just a little fun run (like in Chattanooga, Tennessee). Fantastic facilities abounded, and we paid our $30 bucks and collected our timing chips and the obligatory race T-shirt (long sleeve, white).

T-shirt score; Bob 10, Carolyne a mere 6.

We then wandered down Madison and Park Avenue among the very beautiful, very expensively dressed people, and were equally agog at the remarkable Christmas windows in stores such as Barney's or Ralph Lauren. They were amazing. A visit to the store at MOMA was a bit of a disappointment, I had been so excited when I was there a couple of weeks ago, I thought that I would wrap up (that is, start) all my Christmas Shopping. The crowds were truly horrendous though, and although we tried, I just couldn't see my way through the throng of people and gave up.

Sunday morning meant an early start and a late check0out to get to the run in time. Thousands poured into the Park at the 102nd Street entrance, and we joined the crowds for the Joe Kleinerman Memorial 10k.

It was a great, very cold run, with thousands of all standards running around the perimetre roads of Central Park, past frozen lakes with snow on the banks. I had decided that I had to be very restrained . . . it was at least an hour and a half of travelling back to Flushing, with around a 2 kilometre walk from the subway back to the hotel, and I had to attend to some medical matters which took around two hours before we checked out and left for the airport.

No matter how good I felt, I couldn't burn myself out and be too stuffed for the rest of the day. I started slow, stayed slow, and was relatively even, given the uneven nature of the terrain. I ended a bit disappointed with my elapsed time (around 63 minutes), but, then It was just what I was aiming for, and I was able to get through the rest of the day and the flight home. And, hey! I wasn't last either!

A great way to finish off our trip to the US, and a fitting finish. Central Park must be one of my favourite places, so uncommonly natural among city parks, it is a real treat.

2007-12-08T19:21:00.000+07:00

This is the first hotel without internet access, a basic little motel (“The Vesuvio) with a No Vacancy sign out the front. We are on the northern coastal tip of Delaware (the first state), spending the night before catching a car-ferry across to the Atlantic shore of (New) Jersey and then on to New York.

Despite the coastal location, as we neared we kept wondering what the white stuff was that was around the sides of the road. I’d decided that it must be salt to de0ice the roadway. I mentioned this to Bob, and initially he agreed, however the thick piles of white stuff on car hoods and rooves seemed to make this premise incorrect. Yep, it was late in the afternoon, and it was snow, snow, snow.

With the sun setting so early, the over the top Christmas Decorations in the front yards of houses along the route were lit up like, uh, a Christmas Tree, and with the snow resting on the trees and reflecting the lights it was rather special.

There were hotels along the coastal highway, Route 1, once again a testament to the American obsession with shopping, with the strip malls lining the highways form tens of kilometres, carparks full, however we were keen to get off the road if possible, and despite the dark and difficult driving conditions we headed towards the ferry at Lewes on the coast, and were shortly within another world.

Although right on the sea, there was a thick dusting of snow on most things, with large icicles hanging off vehicles and buildings. A glorious little street of shops and businesses was lit up for the season, and to my Antipodean eyes looked like a set from some impossible sugary sweet Christmas movie. It was magical. That there was a coffee roaster there (closed by this time, but showing the promise of opening up early in the morning for our pre-ferry espresso hit) added the icing to the cake.

The motel owner came out to serve Bob clad in her pyjamas (or lounge pants as they are commonly called here), and despite the No Vacancy (every where in this beachside resort were closed for the season, thick snow coating the Beach Shack and surfboard rental signs), offered us a basic, but clean room for the night. A very thick coated black cat welcomed us and was affectionate greeting.

A slightly treacherous walk on the crunching snow and ice led us next door to the Biting Slider, a seafood restaurant and bar. It was obviously popular and quite full on this Thursday evening, and although the prices were higher than we would have wished to have paid, the small menu of fish dishes looked good.

We both opted for the special of the day, blackened Rock Fish with rice and seasonal vegetables, and really enjoyed it having not stopped for lunch and only having a pretzel and muffin during the cause of the day.

It was a great day though, with our journey across the Chesapeake Bridge Tunnel linking Virginia’s Eastern Shore to the ? being a particular surprise. At over 17 miles (27 kms) on water to cross, and whilst maintaining shipping lanes for the significant commercial traffic, the bridge stretches for miles at a time, with two mile long tunnels along the route.

2007-12-04T05:51:00.001+07:00

2007 12 03 Blog Charleston, South Carolina to Morehead City, North Carolina

Bob and I are on the road again, this time leaving the grand old city of Charleston on the Atlantic Coast, reluctantly heading north to the colder weather in preparation for our departure on Sunday. A severe weather alert is on for the North East, with lots of snow and blizzards forecast. That might sound cute Aki, but we are so ill prepared for such things we would be tied to our hotel.

Our Sunday in Charleston was terrific, even though we were apart for most of the day, as Bob cycled off with his new best friends around the Savannah area, while I took it easy in the morning after my sore, stiff bones from the bridge run before walking off in the direction of the historic downtown, with no map and an adventurous heart. Having passed a seafood shack, Hardee’s, Arby’s, McDonald’s, Wendy’s, KFC, Taco Bell, Burger King and Pizza Hut within 230m of the hotel on my way to town, I didn’t worry about getting something to eat or drink straight away. And I didn’t want any of the fast food offerings either.

On my way down though glorious old streets with substantial houses, and tree lined streets, I soon came across an old college area with row upon row of frat houses, each of the same two storied frame (weatherboard) construction, with a sequence of oversized Greek letters on the front. It kept reminding me of the old National Lampoon move “Animal House”, and I thought that I saw the late John Belushi crawling out of the window more than once.

Following my nose, heading down to the north east, I was soon in the historic downtown area, where there were many shops lining the main street (King St), although being a Sunday. Most were shut, or only open after church in the afternoon. Heading further towards the waterfront park I had seen marked on the map, I moved through some rather uninspiring touristy market shops before finding myself on the waterfront where a small boardwalk led out into the bay over swampland, with ‘porch’ swings suspended along the length, all being well used by couples canoodling or not.

Out in the bay was the famous Fort Sumter, and a naval installation with an aircraft carrier and frigates across the bay. Along the waterfront, a good crushed gravel path provided a great surface for all the topless male joggers (it was a warm, humid day) to show themselves off, before the path changed to a standard concrete surface around the point of East Battery. A fine, small waterside park marked the end of the point, and the path continued around past many substantial four and five storied homes.

Bob rang to say that he was back from his ride, and we agreed to meet in town for a coffee. I only then remembered that I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink yet. About to meet Bob, I decided to hold on, although I was getting a bit thirsty as it was very humid.

The streets were being blocked off for the big Christmas parade to be be held early that afternoon. Lounge furniture and camping chairs were beginning to line the streets, and peanut sellers were hawking their wares along the roads where people were beginning to congregate. Bob had got caught in the

Oh Boy, Oh Boy, Oh Boy!

2007-12-02T21:07:00.000+07:00

Where do I begin?

Bob and I are very happy to have stayed in Savannah for the Bridge Run - I was (almost) last, but feel as though I am really running when I get ~~10 miles~~ 15 kms under my belt. Bob did blitz his opposition, and now we have the difficulty of deciding what to do with the glass framed poster of the run with a small plaque declaring him his age group winner (and, it should be noted by a proud wife, he would have also won the two age categories younger than him as well).

So, we packed the car and headed off to Charleston, South Carolina, further north along the Atlantic Coast. Checking into our hotel which we booked on the internet the night before, there was evidence of cyclists in the vicinity of the car park. At the elevators near our room, I asked two women wearing Cycle Georgia T-Shirts what it was all about; it turns out that we had landed smack bang near the end of the Festi-Velo (cool name), a three or four day Audex-style cycling event in Charleston.

We found our way to the JOE, a nearby baseball stadium and found the registration, meal tent and clusters of cyclists and masseurs. As Bob had his bike, which we shall need to pack soon, I encouraged him to see if he could join a ride for Sunday with others. I toyed with the idea of attempting to rent a bike, however I was extremely stiff after the run, and the knee propbably didn't appreciate my 55km cycle in Natchez as much as I did.

We ended up purchasing two wrist bands for late registration, which entitled us to meals (dinner that night, as well as breakfast and lunch), a tube of toothpaste (?), a toothbrush (??), a Christmas ornament (damn, more fragile glass stuff to carry and break), and (yet another) T-shirt. Twenty five bucks - a lot cheaper than our very ordinary plain tomato pasta dish last night in Savannah.

Savannah Georgia

2007-11-30T21:47:00.000+07:00

We are having so much fun, that there hasn’t been much time to blog. That the days are so short (longer now here in the southern city of Savannah, Georgia, however with the sun rising after 7:00 am and setting not long after 5:00 pm, I’m certainly looking forward to getting back to longer days at home), doesn’t help, as does the fact that I am sharing the laptop with Bob (For the last time!). Love him dearly, but as a two fingered typist, he is certainly a computer hog.

We had planned to leave Savannah by now and be in Charleston, South Carolina. We are enjoying the mild coastal weather, the great southern hospitality and having a chance to just hang around in this lovely small city.

Of course, there are some compensating factors – many compensating factors! We had found a Reindeer Run 5k in Charleston on Saturday – but it seemed very expensive for a measly 5k. I then noticed the Savannah River Bridge Run on Saturday here in town – a 5k at 8:15 am (starting on the other side of the river in South Carolina), a 10k out over the bridge and back starting at 9:00 am, and the DOUBLE PUMP! (their emphasis), combining the two.

Described as the toughest bridge run in the south / or the country, the run takes us over the Talmadge Bridge. It's a 1.4 mile span at a 5.5% grade, 196 feet above the Savannah River. that's an average of a 5.5% gradient up and over and over and over for the 15k double pump. Maybe not too smart for me at the moment, but hell, you've just gotta do it, don't you?

So four weekends, four fun runs, four t-shirts. Pretty cool!

This whole journey has been remarkable for a couple of reasons, it seems as though we are stepping right into the set of Seinfeld (up north, or close to Florida); or are characters in every episode of the Simpsons that we have ever seen. Religious theme parks, a beer (not Duff) Theme Park, excessive Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas stuff everywhere. Decorated theme rooms, Bars like Moe's, and more.

Then there are the songs. Thank heavens that no one else has to suffer our voices in the car! Every location we visit, pass through or nearby has a song burned into our consciousness by popular culture. And out it spurts from our mouths. Sweet Home Alabama. A Rainy night in Georgia. Walking to New Orleans. Those Cotton Feiolds back home.

A River Blog from the Garden of Good and Evil

2007-11-29T08:53:00.000+07:00

Bob and I have reached Savannah, Georgia, travelling across the great states of Alabama and Georgia, via the Gulf Coast which was devastated by Hurricane Katrina with greater ferocity than New Orleans.

We are both political tragics, and had to make a visit to Plains, Georgia the boyhood and current home of Jimmy Carter. It was fascinating, still with considerable small town charm, although the thunderous night in Alabama turned into a heavily rainy day, afternoon and night in Georgia.

It was late when we arrived in Savannah and found a hotel in the historic downtown district.

2007-11-26T07:19:00.000+07:00

Just a quick note - I'm sitting in the car at the NASA base in Mississippi. No, I haven't been arrested for not supporting the re-election of (former Prime Minister) Howard. I am endeavouring NOT to freeze after running a 5km fun run. My knee was not entirely happy after the cycle the other day, so I ran well within myself. More-or-less even 6 minute kilometres should have made me ecstatic. However the course was around 80m long which made me finish in a time of 30 minutes and a couple of seconds. My lack of competititiveness (true, for today anyway) meant that I didn't kick into a finishing sprint. The woman in front of me was 42, the woman in front of her, 41. I thought nothing of this at the time, but after a post-race breakfast of Jambalaya and Beer (or Coca Cola), I was presented with a colourful medallion, complete with Astronauts floating around in space.

We are heading back to N'Awlins' in search of a coffee. Hell/, I'm so cold that American Hot Brown Liquid would do.

2007-11-26T07:12:00.000+07:00

We are heading back to N'Awlins' in search of a coffee. Hell/, I'm so cold that American Hot Brown Liquid would do.

Saturday 'round N'Awlin's

2007-11-25T09:22:00.000+07:00

Bob and I have just had the most wonderful Saturday around N'Awlin's today. We arose well before dawn to listen to the live stream of the election results and of John Howard conceding defeat. It was a good start to the day.

We then drove 45 miles or so across the most amazing, slightly hurricane damaged bridge which spanned about 4 miles (7 kms). The freeway then took us more or less directly to the NASA Space Station where a 5km, half and full marathon were to take place. The damaged and derelict houses en route to the run remain a testament to the damage of Katrina; although there is a fair amount of rebuilding going on, the skeletons of huge shopping centres still haunted the roadside, dangling big M's, piles of rubble and oceans of carparks sprouting more lawn than the MCG looking like a war zone.

The Gulf Coast Runners (The Gulf of Mexico, along lower Mississippi and Alabama) ran this annual event.

New Orleans

2007-11-23T09:13:00.000+07:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

Bob and I were completely enchanted by the village of Natchez on the Mississippi River. A high bluff protected the town from the flooding of the river and bayous surround the area.

It also has the great advantage of the recently opened Natchez Trace Parkway, a 440 mile road linking the town of Natchez to Nashville to the North-east. Following the route of an old Indian path that had been tracked by boatmen for a century or more after they carried their goods down the Mississippi, and, being unable to float the barges up river would walk this route back.

The town has a real small time feeling, which suited us just fine. Everyone waves and says the southern equivalent of "G'Day" when you see them, even if they are in a vee-hick-al on the other side of the road. We're staying in the most wonderful turn of the century B&B in town and couldn't be happier. I also was able to run on three consecutive mornings, not too far, but boy was it wonderful!

We hired (or rather sought to hire) a bike so that I could ride along the Trace Parkway with Bob. Having dropped him at the 40 mile mark on Monday, I knew that this road was too perfect not to ride, and we found that Western Auto on route 61 would rent me a bike. The bike guy, Tommy was a cyclist and fixed me up with a slightly too large Cannondale Road Bike. He undertook to pump up the tyres and put on flat pedals for me the next day.

We did cycle the Trace, Tommy refusing to accept any payment for the 3 or so hours that I had the bike. I was a little nervous, being my first cycle for a hell of a long time. The road was so beautiful to ride on though that the miles just floated past. Smooth, black top, wide and tree lined, with all commercial vehicles prohibited and a speed limit of 50. Cycling perfection really.

I reluctantly decided to turn around after about 25kms - which turned out to be the 15.5 mile mark where there was an old farmhouse, and water and restrooms. Despite a slight headwind, I was slightly faster on the way back and was over the moon. I would be keen to come back and cycle the whole route.

Armadillos were also along the way!

We had our voting papers sent from the consulate in New York to the Post Office in Natchez, and filled them in and sent them off in time to be counted. There was a slight problem with my senate paper - they sent me the 79 candidate NSW paper instead of the ACT election paper, however I hope that my vote will count in this most important of elections.

So much to Blog, So Little Computer Time

2007-11-20T09:49:00.000+07:00

So, Bob and I are now in down town Natchez on the Mississippi, in Mississippi.

After leaving the beautiful, if cold (very cold) Asheville in the mountains of North Carolina, (think Bluegrass), we moved on to Chattanooga in Tennessee. A diversion or two off the parkway were some of the most interesting parts of the journey (travel being the joy of getting there rather than the destination). Poor housing, winding country roads and an incredible experience all around.

Of course, the sight of the water dripping off the rocks in great sheets of ice, looked beautiful, but just made us feel a little bit colder again.

We arrived in Chattanooga in time to participate in a local fund raiser for the Mount Olive Church - the curiously named '10 Can 10k'.

We coughed up our entry fee of $10 a head - and 10 cans of food. As is usual for the States, this provided us with pre-race coffee (or a hot brown liquid that passes for that drink over most of the South), post-race bagels and rolls, and a T-Shirt. The field was small, only around 21, but there was a great attitude among the runners and helpers. After the knee op, Graeme the Physio had said that I may be up to running 5k non-stop by the time we return to Australia in mid December. I was confident about making the distance (although I was very stiff at the cold, early morning start), and expected to have to walk well maybe just a bit.

I started at the back and dropped further behind at the gun, as we run up a short hillock. After that I warmed up and settled into a comfortable, if slow pace. The rolling hills meant that splits were going to be very uneven, however it was an enjoyable run with me finishing it without stopping (Yay!) and feeling rather chuffed about that!

We met a fascinating guy at the start, socially and politically progressive, I really warmed to Ray and was delighted to see him leading the charge at the turn-around, ahead of Bob with a few others hot on their heels. They were able to maintain this, resulting in Ray's first winners bling, and a well deserved first M60 trophy for Bob (second overall). Despite the Garmin measuring the course a little short at 9.92km, I'm not complaining about my 62 minute time either.

Onward across the great state of Tennessee the slower way, skirting into Georgia and driving along the border of Alabama most of the way. Lunch (in search of an espresso . . . huh!) was at the Juke Box Junction, where we really did look out of place. Then a short diversion to DuckTown.

10 Can 10k

2007-11-17T08:21:00.000+07:00

Choo Choo

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Peaks of Otter Lodge

2007-11-14T02:39:00.000+07:00

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Peaks of Otter Lodge

My medical supplies eventually turned up on Monday morning, just in time for me to use them before we stopped by our favourite espresso bar (It was called the Fox Park Coffee Shop, by we thought of it as Nebraska Joe’s, after the origin of the owner) and a visit to Brodo’s Bagels. (Whole Wheat with BYO Vegemite on mine please). This served as both breakfast and lunch.

Soon after we were on our way, gunning along the interstate in our newest version of the PT Cruiser we had earlier in our trip – a Chevy HHR, a PT Cruiser look alike, although slightly bigger and boxier, and a bright fire engine red. Both Bob and I thought that it was ideal for this stage of our journey.

We joined the Blue Ridge Parkway, at the point where the Skyline Drive terminated, and had relatively clear skies as we began this part of the all-American scenic road trip, a 469 mile (785km) depression era construction through the Appalachian Mountains and the states of Virginia and North Carolina.

Despite it being late in the season, the fall season trees were still bright in their glory for the most part (locals blame global warming), although at the highest point of our afternoon’s travels the bare spindly sticks of the trunks and branches stood a testament on their own, devoid of leaves and steeling themselves for winters full onslaught.

We were planning to reach the town of Roanoke that afternoon, a mere 185 kms away, although a slow speed limited and gasping at every bend route – even without stopping. There were large tracts of road which were almost blinding in it’s intensity of luminous yellow foliage; others where evergreen conifers, red sugar maples and yellow elms competed with each other in a riotous patchwork that assailed the senses.

After stoping for a few minutes to consider whether to visit the ‘must see’ eight wonder of the world, Natural Bridge, at the Lynchburg (think Virginia Tech shooting) turnoff, we continued, gawping all the while before passing a rare structure at Peaks of Otter, alleging food and lodging. It took us a while to take this in, as I consulted the guide and a kilometre or two down the road jointly decided to do a U=turn and check it out.

Despite being out of season (it finishes at the end of October), accommodation was available 365 days a year. Rooms were described as basic, no tv or telephone, and seemed quite expensive for their age and the time of year. However the view over Abbott Lake from the picture window was intoxicating and it didn’t take long to decide to stay here for the night.

I soon changed into running gear – not over bundling this time, restricting myself to knee length tights, and a cool running tri top, and while I headed off for a run, Bob pulled on his new hiking boots bought for his Himalayan trek, and started off in the opposite direction.

Circumnavigating most of the picturesque lake in front of the Lodge (NO Swimming, NO Boating, NO Ice Skating), I then followed the map in my hand to do a loop named Johnson's Farm ~ and as I padded across the groomed nordic ski trails and paths thick with 10cms of leaves, a Stag deer was disturbed just to the right to me; I don't know who was more surprised, the deer with its huge long antlers, or me (having once again stripped off the CR Tri top and down to the CR crop top underneath). On reflection of that sentence, the poor stag had much more of a shock to cope with!

White tail and bum on display, we sauntered across the trail in front of me, barely a couple of arm lengths away. I fumbled for the camera in my waist pack, back he moved into the woods on the other side of the track by the time the battery was fired up. As tempted as I was, I knew that sunset was in about a quarter of an hour, and reluctantly packed up and continued on my way.

The trail climbed and became a little rocky, with many tree roots, but was a beautiful course. A note looked as though it was placed on a stump with a rock on top, however I was running and not about to disturb it. As the rough trail joined a wider 4wd track, another note appeared under a similarly smooth stone, however this time I saw that it was not handwritten, but had typeset printing on it.

Johnson Farm appeared, a wonderful old little collection of apple sheds and farm buildings. Beyond the clearing, I saw another note and had to stop this time to read it; an aproseletizing, 'find Jesus and be saved' note. Incredible!

More deer, squirrels, chipmunks and dozens of birds of prey overhead circled, as I made my way along the path and continued to the track on the other side of the lake, and around a picnic area alongside the river. It was very beautiful, and, while my run was slowed by the need to consult the map and working my way across country and on occasional bush bashing excursions, it was a very satisfying run nevertheless.

The knee gave me no trouble.

While I had a bath, Bob made his new best friend in the Bear Claw Bar over a Sam Adams or three (an American beer he actually can drink), before we joined the rest of the geriatric crowd in the restaurant for dinner. The waitress (server is the approved term) had the sweetest southern accent and it was a dlight just to listen to her, y'all hear. After a shared appetizer of Fried Green Tomatoes with a spicy home-made salsa, Bob and I had a 'measly' 6oz 'flatiron' steak (3 onces each was more than enough), and some broiled catfish with sides of vegetables (we opted for overcooked green beans and carrots, foregoing the more common, universally sweet offerings such as buttered apple slices, apple sauce etc). It was a great night, in a delightful setting.

The Odysessy Continues

2007-11-12T08:48:00.000+07:00

After a brilliant day yesterday in which we drove up to the estate of Thomas Jefferson at Monticello after the 5k run, and then finished with a surprisingly good, and enormous (18") pizza at which was also provided to us as a targeted barrel draw at the run. (For the record, A 'Long Island Pesto' Pizza - pesto, artichoke hearts, fresh tomato, garlic, light on the cheese).

The house and surrounding estate was amazing, smaller than many modern McMansions, although beautifully proportioned, elegant and light. A character of enormous contradiction, Jefferson was born on the hill across the valley, and died here at Monticello having never left the State of Virginia after he was President.

I had ordered some medical equipment from a firm in Knoxville Tennessee and it was guaranteed to arrive by 10:30 am on Saturday. Although tracked on-line to have arrived in the local courier's depot at 8:07 am, it hadn't turned up at the hotel by the time we returned. Much chasing up on the phone did not offer us any hope to have it before Monday, therefore ensuring that our decision about whether to leave on Sunday or Monday morning was made for us.

So on Sunday we popped into our favourite nearby cafe (owned by a Nebraskan native who fell in love with the progressive attitudes and great lifestyle of Charlottesville), for a heart starting espresso before heading back to the base of the Thomas Jeffeson Parkway to run the trail to the Historic site.

Only 2 miles long, it was a beautifully constructed trail of crushed gravel and extensive boardwalks through spindly tall forests. Deceptively, the trail rose steadily along it's length making my progress very slow. I thought that it must have been that yesterday's 5k had taken more out of me than I had felt it had, although I seemed to have no ill effects. Although much warmer than yesterday, it was still only a couple of degrees at the most by the time we started. I was wearing tights, and had light dri-fit type long sleeve top, and my favoured light polar fleece cycling top with its two rear zip pockets and extra long front zip. I also had a light weight pair of gloves.

I needed all of the gear for the first marked quarter mile or so. Then, slowly, the gloves came off and were shoved down my tights. Then, a well executed unzipping of the fleece to its full extent and wrapping the sleeves around my waist while it was still on. A good number of people were out walking already, some at a very leisurely pace, others pushing it along. A couple of joggers also passed in the other direction, but surprisingly few.

As I neared the end of the trail, I briefly contemplated continuing on the trail which led up to the house. Being the hopelesslessly law abiding citizen I am though, I noticed the sign indicating that a valid ticket must be carried for everyone travelling beyond this point. With a moments hesitation, I turned around and headed back to the car. I had expected Bob to came rocketing past me at any time, however he was no where to be seen. Not far into my return journey, I was incredibly hot, and remembered a seat set into the long boardwalk near the top. I pulled over and removed my tights (I did have Capri's on underneath. Now I was running in just a crop top on top as well which must have accounted for my heartrate dropping a good 8-10 bpm when I resumed running. It was all downhill from here and I knew it.

It was a pleasant 2k to the finish of the trail. It was interesting to look at my splits at the finish.

Lap Time Distance Maxk/hr (bpm) Max HR
1k 7:24 1.00 10.4 144 157
2 7:39 1.00 10.4 157 160
3 6:31 1.00 11.2 159 162
4 6:27 1.00 12.2 159 167
5 5:40 1.00 12.2 162 164
6 5:32 1.00 12.6 166 168
7 1:18 0.25 13.3 168 169

Or to put it another way, my average pace per kilometre was
1. 7:24 min/km
2. 7:38
3. 6:31
4. 6:27
5. 5:41
6. 5:33
7. 5:25

Maybe I wasn't so bad to begin with afterall! It was uphill!

UVA Veteran's 5km

2007-11-10T22:28:00.000+07:00

Now don't get upset Aki. The Veteran's in question refer to the fact that it is (Military) Veteran's Day on Monday, not that one needs to be 30, 35 or over to enter.

The fun run was organised with military efficiency by student members of the Navy, Marines and National Guard, most clad in camouflage or coloured matched gear. A 'gung ho' 'pull up' contest (chin ups) was also held with the burly Marine types arrogantly seeking to win by pulling themselves up in rapid succession. A great breakfast / brunch picnic feed was held afterwards on the grassy Amphitheatre, with millions of bagels, Starbucks coffee, and mini muffins and rather delicious wraps.

In addition to this extensive slap-up feed, for our $15 entry fee, we also obtained a very pleasant navy blue T-Shirt (the colours of the University of Virginia are blue and orange). Bob and I were also handed a gift card for a local pizza place, each for a large pizza with 2 toppings. Then we had the fun run as well!

Once again the military precision was revealed in the air horn sounding at a GPS measured time of 08:00:00. I was taken a little off-guard, but tried not to get carried away at the start on my first 'race' and third run since the operation. Starting the run around the landmark, Neo-Georgian buildings of this Thomas Jefferson-designed campus, the crowd around me thinned out considerably before it nearly looped back upon itself and started to leave the formal environment of C19th and began to wind its way through a forest of trees, all starting to display their fall colours. The promised hill eventually arrived, and while I found it rather difficult to breathe (having forgotten my asthma spray), I kept moving in a running sort of motion, whereas those around me were walking. They might have been moving as fast as me, but I did keep running.

Around the 3km mark, we reached the summit of the hill, where military-garbed marshals cheered us on, offered water and I was pleased to have a downhill stretch. Strangely my knee, which had been somewhat stiff and sore at the start of the day and the run (it was cold!), stopped hurting on the uphill stretch. I was delighted to have a downhill stretch and wasn't too bothered by the jarring of the knee on the hard surface. Expecting to loop back around the way we started, I was surprised when the finish appeared in front of me - short of the advertised 5km distance! Drat!

All in all, I measured 4.85km and finished with an official time of 31:19. Not too shabby, especially given the rather substantial climb. A great morning! And the duck is back.

The Story so far . . .

2007-11-09T20:39:00.000+07:00

Ironically, now that the boy wonder and I have left New York City and are heading into the land of Bluegrass music, Po' Boys and Fish Frys, we have much better internet access.

Go figure.

We are currently in the beautiful University town of Charlottesville, Virginia; good coffee and joggers everywhere! Very exciting.

Although I didn't get for a run in New York, I did get out for a little trot yesterday afternoon after we found 1. espresso; 2. a good vegie sandwich on pumpernickel; and 3. Accommodation in the University quarter (in that order). We had the most stunning drive down the Skyline Drive through the Autumnal colours and deer (more on that later).

It was late (4:50 pm) by the time we started, with Bob and I heading off in separate directions. I just went exploring on the city streets, arrogantly heading in the direction of other joggers that I saw pass on the cross streets in front of me. Even in my second proper run since surgery, I was able to catch and pass many of them. Whoa girl! I was slow, but they were slower. Don't be competitive, don't be competitive.

With sunset in these parts at 5:08pm (a good 25 minutes later than New York) it wasn't long before I had to loop around and return to the hotel . . . . possibly a good thing as I wanted to go on forever.

Bob returned a few minutes later, having covered only a little more distance (4.05 kms as opposed to my 3.68ish), and having had a far less satisfying experience. After showering we headed down to Ragged Mountain Running Shop, a place we popped into with David and Lisa a couple of weeks earlier, and one of the attractions of returning here. There was a Veterans 5k at the ?university on Saturday, and we went for information and to enter. Apart from the 8am start time, which should see the temperature right about freezing, I am really looking forward to it.

I forgot 6.

2007-11-07T04:49:00.000+07:00

6. Now I forgot what I forgot . . . .

Oh well, I've done no running here in NYC, time, a cold along with Bob (not nearly so bad though), sore feet, and unpleasant weather. Plan to hit the trails once we get out of a New York State of Mind and into a more laid back Virginian doze.

NTC Update

2007-11-07T04:33:00.000+07:00

1. We are in New York City
2. Bob has a cold and wasn't able to run the marathon

3. Tomorrow we leave on the second part of our road trip adventure to the Appalachians, the Mississippi and beyond (weather permitting)

4. It's cold. I wonder what Spring in Canberra is like?
5. I love Central Park. I could spend a month there and never get bored.

Our cheapish hotel doesn't have wireless internet, and it seems a shame to waste my first time in the Big Apple locked up inside blogging. Besides, Bob hogs the computer if it is ever on.

Tomorrow we head west to Virginia and begin the second part of our travel odyssey, if the weather holds out. It is cold, far colder than I had expected with the icy wind chill, and we feel rather under prepared.

Boy, Am I Excited!

2007-11-01T20:04:00.000+07:00

I would be anyway ~ today we head down from southern New England to the Big Apple; it will be my first time in New York City. I have a constant stream of NYC related songs going around my head, no matter how inappropriate ("We'll go to Yonkers / Where true love conquers, all").

But - as if New York City ("What a beautiful disease") wasn't enough . . . this morning I went for a run! OK, it was very slow, more of a casual jog, and quite short, but I'm counting it as a run. There is a Cliff Walk in Newport which is a right of way along the easements of 64 properties which skirt the sea. A beautiful path, it was perfect for my first hit out. I jogged into the breeze for the first 2.5 kms, exchanging good mornings with other walkers and joggers along the track. At the 2.5km mark I reluctantly turned around and walked for half a km, before breaking once more into a jog back to the hotel.

Wow, I loved it. Pretty slow, a tad over 7 minute pace, it nevertheless felt wonderful!

Vermont to Newport, Rhode Island

2007-10-31T20:31:00.000+07:00

20071031 Newport, Rhode Island

Aaahh – I wonder what the poor people are doing?

Bob and I headed off from our friends in Vermont yesterday morning, stopping by a neighbours house to pick up a couple of pints of Maple Syrup (have sugar maple tree; wait until Spring; place tap in trunk; voila! Maple Syrup!) on the way.

We headed up to Montpelier, the capital of the state with it’s miniature version of the White House for the State legislature (looks like it was borrowed from Cockington Green), and a gleaming gilded dome on top. We filled up with petrol and got our bearings before hitting the back roads across the breadth of the state east towards New Hampshire. This most rural of the US States was breadthtaking in its pastoral autumn beauty – although many of the colours had been lost over the past cold snap, the rolling green hills with fat lazy dairy cows were framed at impossible intervals by creeks, brooks and rivers that wound their way through the landscape over water smoothed stones and under a thick canopy.

Barns were in various state of repair, from freshly painted russet red, adorned with Barn Stars, pumpkins and other decorations, through to barely there structures of weather beaten planks. It was not a quick route, but very beautiful. Before too long though we had made it to the border of Vermont and New Hampshire, and travelled along the River which formed it’s border.

Lake Champlain Causeway Walk

2007-10-29T02:29:00.001+07:00

Our friends Mike and Alice took us on a local flat walk from Moffat Bay on Saturday. The weather was cool, but glorious, as we started our walk in a glade of thick trees rapidly losing their leaves.

A railroad had been built at the turn of the twentieth century from the mainland out to the Champlain islands that dot this impressive lake. It had fallen into disuse after a road bridge had been built further up. A 'Rail Trail' had been recently established on it however, usuing the causeway built of large marble and granite boulders to walk, cycle or jog along.

Out of season (and with the exposed position catching every breeze, it was certainly out of season) the gap in the causeway for the boats to use the full lake was not accomodated by a bike ferry, however we were able to walk 5 windy kilometres out into the middle of the lake before turning around.

A great day was had by all.

The Beautiful, less connected, Green Mountain State

2007-10-29T02:04:00.000+07:00

2007-10-26 Blog Williston, VT

Bob and I left David at the rail station at Syracuse, a large city (by our standards) in upstate New York, and once satisfied that he had a ticket for his train to Boston, we hit the road – Cruisin’ in our PT Cruiser.

With another spaghetti junction to negotiate, we headed north on Route 81 to Watertown, a distinctly un-Australian town on the edge of Lake Ontario, with rivers and smaller lakes everywhere around. We rang our friend just outside Burlington, Vermont to let them know our location and approximate ETA – they were surprised at our route, which would be slow across the Adirondack Mountains on the New York side of Lake Champlain.

Although we were keen for a coffee and lunch, Bob was particularly keen to get on the correct route out of town before we fuelled up. This led us out of town before we knew it, into a flat country of poor housing and sustenance agricultural farming. It was amazing to see the clutches of settlements of trailers and relocatable homes in this cold, cold climate with little or no effective insulation.

Soon we hit [insert town here] the gateway to the Adirondacks’, a glorious little town over running streams and rivers, sweet little Guesthouses next to the babbling brooks and a bakery. We took photos, but did not waste time investigating otherwise, hitting the road once more. The countryside grew increasingly interesting, although the options for food and coffee were non existent. We eventually stopped at a service station with an attached small supermarket, where we were so desperate we had a couple of Styrofoam (always Styrofoam) cups of vacuum pump coffee. The plainest version (the others were all flavoured), stil had an unpleasant sweetness and flavour to it as though a hazelnut blend was being used. This definitely was not what we were after! A loaf of very ordinary, too sweet ‘wholegrain’ bread was lunch spread with vegemite (yum) and some left over hoummous while we were driving.

We took a shortcut through an Army Base [Fort ?] to bypass the town of [insert name], which explained the plethora of ancient army trucks (WWII vintage from the looks of them) which passed us, and the bevy of camouflaged fatigue outfitted men that were congregating around the gas station.

The mountains grew increasingly beautiful, and the remnants of the Fall colours peppered the mountainside with rich burgundy, bright golds and the evergreen richness of pines. As the mountains climbed, the affluence of the district grew until we reached the winter playground of Lake Placid, were an annual Ironman Triathlon is held, and is the base of the US winter ski team. The GPS navigator had directed us onto secondary raods around the towns as a quicker route, and although twisting and turning, were completely quite and unimaginably beautiful. A small lake demanded that we stop alongside in an attempt to capture the beauty in a photo. [insert photo here] The picture cannot do it justice.

Soon, we were descending the mountain into the lakeside town of [insert name] where we were to decide whether to turn a little to the north and catch the car ferry across Lake Champlain into Vermont, or turn south to drive out of New York into Vegennes across a bridge. We calculated that we would just miss the ferry, so headed southwards along the edge of the lake as the most enormous hunter’s moon rose in the east. It was a gobsmacking sight.

Dusk fell as we rolled into Vegennes on the border, where we filled up with petrol at a small local gas station and were keen to hot foot it up the highway to our friends place. There was no mobile phone coverage, and keen to advise them of our delayed arrival time and for Bob to call his sister at the first available opportunity we kept our mobile phones at the ready and were checking constantly over the course of the journey. Turning from one monor road onto a major State and then Interstate road, and rolling through towns we were sure that it would pick up a signal somewhere; but no dice. I had checked on the mobile phone coverage with different carriers before I left Australia and remember that of those I looked at (Virgin,T-Mobile, Sprint, AT&T) all were poor at best in Vermont. I didn’t expect it to be non-existant.

A warm welcome and great meal of salad and crab cakes, baked salmon and apple pastry awaited us when we eventually arrived. The bright red tones of the maples had already gone from the district when we arrived, but the blanket of autumnal leaves and the forest was still very beautiful. We were to be somewhat technologically challenged however, especially having been spoilt to date with widespread Free WiFi access on the bulk of our journey thus far. A shared dial-up access with a business phone limited our internet access to nil. No cell phone coverage has prevented communication, and our search around the Burlington (the most populous city) on a heavily raining afternoon on Saturday resulted in no luck in seeking a wireless spot, apart from Starbucks which associated expenses for a days access.

The Road Trip Begins! (Stage 1)

2007-10-24T20:57:00.000+07:00

With some reluctance (mainly because we were all really tired!), we prepared to leave the surprising joy of Richmond, Virginia on Monday morning, having to leave behind Lisa who was flying home on Tuesday afternoon.

The only two Avis car rental outlets were at the airport, and out on West Broad St - on the map in Canberra, West Broad started really close to where we were staying . . . and the outlet had to be downtown, right? Wrong!! It was a good 20 minute taxi ride along the freeway (I checked the bus and it was going to take forever). After breakfasting together with Lisa, Bob, David and I headed off to Avis with a fascinating taxi driver who had lived in Sydney for a couple of years. Older and articulate, he was quite unlike the photos of the taxi licences stuck in the visor, a greater group of reprobates would be hard to imagine, their photos looking like mug shots taken after the prison riot.

We arrived at the location OK, and as our phone calls that morning to the outlet had gone un answered, Bob raced in to check that the car was there for us. The kindly cabbie refused to leave (and turned off his meter) until we were sure, as it "wasn't a good neighbourhood".

Inside was a woman at the counter who had just stepped out of character in some sitcom: an ole' biddy well into her eighties, made up to the nines with thick pancake make-up and the thickest southern accent. She kept returning seeking information of how things worked on the vee-hick-el and was most unhappy about having an auto with a hatch instead of a trunk. (For disposing dead bodies maybe?). She'd only ever driven ve-hick-els with a trunk.

Eventually our turn came, and our car was ready. I was delighted to find that it was a Chrysler PT Cruiser, as I thought that this would be more flexible for our travels. And it was! After returning to the hotel and checking out, we loaded our gear in the car, a little sceptical that David's bike would make the cut, along with all of our junk and three passengers. The flexible design and high rood line did the trick with room to spare - soon, we were heading out of Richmond and PT Cruising down Interstate 191 in search of decent coffee.

And we searched, and we searched.

Amid the heavy traffic on this six lane road were signs at each exit extolling the "full service food"; gas stations and fast food on enormous bill boards. After a while, our eyes were tuned to recognise the colours and shapes of the icons of not just McDonald's, but also Friendly's, Arby's, Wendy's, Burger King and a few dozen others. Occasionally an Italian Restaurant would be featured and we would quickly consider this as an espresso caffeine source before dismissing it.
As the hours ticked by and our fatigue grew, we knew that we had to find something before we reached the beltway around Washington DC. On the outskirts, we turned into what looked like a big shopping centre, although all was not as it seemed! A discount supermarket (in the Aldi mould) took over one section, rather unattractively named "Bottom Dollar". Next to this, with a large, roughly painted sign on the concrete building Moxie's Java was advertised. We made a beeline to this entrance.

We couldn't have been more surprised at what we found: A heavily secured entrance was guarded by an armed guard, and in the barn-like interior of must have been a former deportment store stood a number of small stalls, set up like that of an expo, or in the dry markets of Asia. Here, the lingua franca was spanish, and on asking the guard and some stall holders for the location of Moxie's Java, we were responded to in heavily accented Spanlish. The rest of stalls were predominantly Hispanic, although Muslims in Hijabs or with heavy beards seems to have the corner on electronic and cell phone concessions, and ethnic Chinese looked after the Gold and jewellery.

Past the signs selling shoes, lots of elaborate coloured frilly underwear and clothes (all in Spanish), we turned at the African Hair Braiding Stand (doing a good trade on African Americans) to find a bare interior dominated by the acoustic ceiling tiles and fluorescent strip lights. A couple of chairs and small tables were in front of Moxie's counter; there was an espresso machine, although there were also the ubiquitous large flasks of weak brewed coffee, the brew of choice of just about everyone. The ethnic Chinese woman was shocked at Bob's request for two double espresso's and David gave instructions on how to make a latte.

Richmond, Virginia to York Pennslyvania

2007-10-23T05:19:00.000+07:00

The World is just a great big freeway ("All the World's a Car Park / And we are merely Vehicles . . .") - and we are stuck in a traffic jam on it. Bob, David and I are on the Beltway circumnavigating Washington DC and it is bumper to bumper (?fender to fender) and not moving much at all.

We just had our first and only coffee of the day at the most extraordinary place: what appeared to be a former department store had been gutted and inside it's barn-like interior was a series of market stalls like one would find in the dry markets of Vientiane; only here it was extremely quiet with most spaces vacant. The stall holders were universally ethnic; primarily Hispanic, with all English heavily accented and most signs in Spanish. Ethnic Chinese held the gold and jewellery stalls, while Muslims in hijabs controlled the telephone and electronic concessions.

A sign painted on the concrete wall of the exterior had beckoned us in promising "Mozie's Java". At the end of the corridor, just past the African Hair Braiding was the java stop - operated by a chinese woman (of course). Bob had to explain about how we wanted our coffee, and it there was a bitter aftertaste, but, hell, it sure was better than the dishwater reasily available.

Mid-Walk Blog

2007-10-21T04:55:00.001+07:00

God I love widespread WiFi!

The 'gang' are all involved in their last minute race preparations,
briefings, rego & stuff, so I excused myself to do a bit of exploing.
I had thought that I would hit the Fine Arts Museum again - my first
attempt saw me huddling in the foyer of a Hospital, drenched, waiting
for a downpour to pass.

Just past the anti abortion canpaiger, picketing the Woman's Health
Centre was the Museum. Yay. Except that it was closed that day for
construction.

So today I have been exploing the Riverside paths, starting with the
less salubrious track along the top of the Flood Wall next to the
James River along to railyards and a paper factory.

I ended up walking alongside the tarted-up Canal District and onto the
fascinating Belle Island. Wow! Accessed by this amazing Pedestrian
Bridge suspended under the road deck of a squillion lane highway, its
concrete surface is entirely stable, and waves up and down along it's
length.

The island is fascinating, wooded trails & loads of amazing

--
Carolyne Kramar
carolyne.kramar@bigpond.com

Fwd: Mid-walk blog

2007-10-21T04:53:00.001+07:00

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: carolyne.kramar@bigpond.com
Date: Sun, 21 Oct 2007 03:49:04 +1000
Subject: Mid-walk blog
To: flashduck.2007@blogspot.com

God I love widespread WiFi!

Just past the anti abortion canpaiger, picketing the Woman's Health
Centre was the Museum. Yay. Except that it was closed that day for
construction.

So today I have been exploing the Riverside paths, starting with the
less salubrious track along the top of the Flood Wall next to the
James River along to railyards and a paper factory.

The island is fascinating, wooded trails & loads of amazing history:
it was used as a POW camp during the Civil War (1860-65) for around
50,000 Union (northern) prisoners.
I will finish the cold drink then head back to the hotel and dump some
stuff before heading back to the Island for some more exercise &
exploing in the son. Picasso & Degas sound good, but I'm enjoying
thesc last throughs of warm fall weather.

--
Carolyne Kramar
carolyne.kramar@bigpond.com

Richmond to The Blue Ridge Parkway

2007-10-20T08:12:00.000+07:00

Richmond to The Blue Ridge Parkway

There was meant to registration for the duathletes today, but it was in fact merely a sales pitch to sell gear. Bypassing the Parade of Nations, our motley crew rented a car, the smallest they had, and decided to have a day out of Richmond. At first we had thought that we would go to 'Colonial Williamsburg', and then lent towards the Pamplin Civil War Battlefields. A diversion before we departed Richmond to Relish, a deli & café- with great fresh food and seriously excellent coffee. Listed in the Athletes Handbook as one of 3 'Healthy Choice' options, this put it alongside McDonald's, so my expectations weren't enormous. More fresh food than seen in total in the rest of the City combined. We restricted ourselves to coffee and a couple of shared Pumpkin Muffins (huge, @ $1.50). Studying the map, we jointly made an executive decision to bypass the Theme Park Styled sites to drive to the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The GPS provided us with good advice about negotiating our way around Clover Leaf exits onto the westward bound I64. A typically boring road in most respects, the farther west we travelled, the more tall, thick and lush the Woods became, with the Fall trees displaying an increasingly brilliant display of Yellow, Cerise and Maroon autumnal colours.

Once we hit the edge of the mountains where we were looking to decide whether to drive north (on the Skyline Drive) or south (on the Blue Ridge Parkway) the fine rain which had accompanied us on the last half of the journey descended into a thick, southern gumbo of a fog which made any travelling - even a few metres almost impossible. We managed to pull into a clapped-out 1950's motel which now served as an information centre. A twang accented guy helped with advice, which was far from encouraging us to continue our journey. As usual, Bob's thoughts turned to lunch, and we headed into Waynesboro in search of some food other than the gleefully described KFC, Hardee's, Pizza Hut etc.

Another recommendation of "where the locals eat" was "Weasie's": Bob was particularly keen to try this. It would have been easy to miss, but we did find Weasie's and entered like a posie of aliens.

A whiteboard listed daily specials of Salmon Cakes with 2 vegetables and a Roast Beef Sandwich with mashed potato. Bob opted for the Salmon Cakes ($5.50), Lisa the Roast Beef Sandwich ($5.65), while David chose the typically American Tuna Salad on Rye (lots of Mayo is mandatory)($3.69), while I sought to have an authentic Diner experience by ordering a bowl of Chilli ($2.49 regular size), with Cornbread on the side ($0.50), and a Tossed Salad ($2.49) in an attempt to have something a little healthy.

Perhaps the bottles of ketchup, hot sauce and breakfast syrup on the table could have alerted us, but we were unprepared for what arrived. David's sandwich came accompanied by the obligatory potato crisps and pickle, Bob's Salmon Cakes were as expected, old style tinned-fish-with-breadcrumbs rissoles with 2 small dishes of the soggiest tiny anaemic Brussel sprouts and another of 'mixed greens' that seemed to be chopped Collard Greens.

I feel that my Chilli was the pick of the bunch. Not hot enough, it was a slightly soupy melange of red beans, beef, and a rich tomatoey sauce. The Cornbread failed to materialize, however the simple tossed salad came with l couple of tiny packets of salad crackers, while a few individually wrapped Saltines came with the Chilli.

For all the wonders of these dishes, Lisa's Sandwich left us all gobsmacked. A plate arrived swimming in dark gravy, a scoop of mashed potato standing like a grey dome to the side. If one looked carefully, slices of dark, fully cooked beef emerged from the sea of gravy. Underneath lay many more layers of beef, and, presumably, a slice of bread or two.

Weasie's Kitchen: Waynesboro VA

Tossed salad ($2.49)

Hot Roast Beef Sandwich w/ Mashed Potatoes ($5.65)

Tuna Salad on Rye ($3.69)

Salmon Cakes w/ 2 Vegetables ($5.50) Brussel Sprouts & Collard Greens

Chilli ($2.49)

Iced Tea ($1.10)

V8 ($1.89)

(Cornbread $0.50)

Richmond to The Blue Ridge Parkway

A Restaurnant Odyssy (Incomplete)

2007-10-19T21:40:00.000+07:00

Richmond, Virginia

Apart from the considerable frustration in not being able to access IE on the computer (Please! Anyone with suggestions please advise: running Vista Home Premium: 2 users set up for access), well after that glitch everything is Hunky Dory.

Last things first . . . Tonight's dinner at "Mamma-Zu's" had to be experienced to believe or comprehend. After surprisingly good American Thai at "The Thai Room" last night, a few doors from our hotel; and a cheap & cheerful buffet style meal at "Ma-Masu's Africanne" the night before, a real local neighbourhood place which fused local Southern cooking (Collard Greens, Cornbread, Black-eyed Peas) with Liberian African cooking. We had to go early, as the place Closed at 7:00pm. After one served oneself, the dish was weighed and the cost tallied at $5.99 per pound. Spiced Lemonade ($1.00 small cup) was to drink, and Sweet Potato Pie for dessert ($1.50).

It would be difficult to outdo our first night's choice though -"Bank" an initially daunting too-cool-by-half Bar/Nightclub/Restaurant in a converted uh - Bank. The décor was fabulous, service typically attentive, and the small menu well priced. Bob and I shared a Spinach Salad, Chesapeake Crab Cakes and the most divine Seared Tuna.

Lisa opted for a Roasted Chicken Breast, while David also had the barley seared, pink throughout Tuna. The prices were surprisingly reasonable, not only given the surroundings and the quality of the food, but fast food & 'cheap' places here are a similar price.

But onto Mamma Zu's. I had checked the address in the Yellow Pages, and knew the street wasn't too far away. Heading south on Pine to 501 ended in a dead end, and as darkness rapidly encroached the 4 of us were standing in a park with large signs proclaiming it shut at Sunset (Newsflash: 4 Aussies arrested in the USA cause Diplomatic meltdown), accented by the advice of a nearby motorist that this was a pretty dodgy neighbourhood.

With heavy cloud cover it took a while to fire up the GPS, but once hooked on to a satellite, it directed us along a parallel street of frame houses with countless candle-lit Halloween Pumpkins lighting up the windows, and life taking place on the stoops & sidewalks amid children's toys, dubious bicycles and wheelchairs. Crossing over the massive python of Interstate Highway 95 (I95), we could soon smell garlic in the air. Mamma Zu beckoned.

An unprepossessing building on the corner in a residential district, we wondered if it was open, with no windows to emit light or noise, and c heavy closed door with the hand painted sign 'Pull Hard'. We did, and after a few attempts were granted access to a small dark cavern full of people with a deafening buzz, a full blackboard with dishes described over the bar, and the promise that this was going to be good!

We found that it was likely to be a 30-40 minute wait for a table, so we clustered around the solitary stool and had drinks. With the background din and southern accents we couldn't understand the choices, only managing to hear Budweiser (blah) and Heineken. Poor Lisa once again found herself unable to drink as she didn't have I'D on her. With a drinking age of 21, and a strictly enforced "If you look younger than 40, You must present your ID", she has been thwarted & then grilled at every turn. Protestations that she is 26 cut no dice, Let alone our initial support and advice that she is a high-powered lawyer with 2 years of work in the UK, a World Champion and Elite athlete.

We asked the guy sitting next to us at the bar about his meal - a huge plate of broiled white fish with a big bowl of spaghetti on the side. (What a glutton I thought, ordering 2 mains concurrently when they were so big). He highly recommended his Rock Fish and side of Spaghetti con olio e' aglio (oil & garlic). The wait (it wasn't even 7pm when we arrived) did give us the opportunity to study the board. Those of you who know me may realise that my difficulty in restaurants is finding enough on the menu of interest that I am confident is as at least as good as I usually prepare myself. When you are used to eating well, one gets very discerning when presented with mediocre options.

There was no such dilemma here: in fact the options were so numerous, the difficulty was in limiting it to one. Before we were seated, we had all but decided to return the next night. But what to choose? All the fish looked good, and was something of a specialty here. The pasta would be undeniably excellent , and a good Italo-American dish such as Spaghetti & Meatballs was tempting. But then there were the Zuppa di Pesce (Fish Soup), Oxtail, Calves Liver, Veal Sweetbreads, Osso Bucco . . . It was heaven in chalkdust.

Our 'Server' was a sassy, Italian American woman, the efficiency and knowledge I have never yet seen. Only she and one other worked the room, in between filling water glasses, fetching drinks, explaining the menu and constantly racing off in the gloom to pick up and deliver orders when the call came. She was amazing and seemed genuinely friendly in this Southern manner where you are constantly asked "How Ya' Goin'?" as you walk down the street.

It was a tough choice, but we were hungry, and settled on Rock Fish for Bob & Lisa, Tuna (Tooona' Fysh) for me, and Orichette with Garlic & Italian Sausage for David. Despite my critical appraisal of the guy eating at the bar, the fish came with a side dish of pasta. We three all opted for the Spaghetti with Garlic. Good Bread helped us while we waited, and shared Arugula (Rocket) Salad with Parmesan ($9 for a huge single serve) provided our greens. Our mains (or entree' in the local vernacular) were even more spectacular than our high expectations had anticipated. My Tuna ($24), was crusted in black pepper, flash grilled and served in a shallow pool of an intense, garlicky jus. Only lightly coloured from the grill for a millimetre or two, the large chunk was pink and tender throughout . I was enraptured with every bite. Bob & Lisa were similarly enthusiastic about their Rock Fish ($21), and David's Orichette ($14) was as good a pasta dish as one has had anywhere, including Italy and home cooking there.

Emailing a Deep Southern Fried Duck Blog

2007-10-19T04:01:00.001+07:00

For some reason (yet to be determined), I can't open Internet Explorer on our laptop once a link is followed. So I can open (insert application here)(Blogger), but then when I can to post IE shuts down and restarts. More than a little frustrating, especially as there is wireless access most everywhere.

So, plan B is in action. Luckily from my previously aborted attempt to post from my PDA I have the email address stored in my PDA. I can't access the settings in blogger (because IE keeps terminating) so I'm really pleased that I had access to it. If this goes through of course!

Hopefully I can then update things in retrospect a little more often - I have been having a wonderful time,
--
Carolyne Kramar
carolyne.kramar@bigpond.com

Deep Southern Fried Duck

2007-10-17T04:28:00.000+07:00

Hmmm. Housten, we have some fine tuning to do

2007-10-12T16:56:00.000+07:00

Good Plan. Well, sort of.

Wrote (in labourious longhand) a couple of much needed blogs on my PDA and remembered last night in bed. No problem, bright spark. I had wireless access and remembered that I could email posts.

Good plan, but I know know that I can't just 'send' the word file as an attachment to post (makes sense really), but copying and pasting should work. Hypothesis anyway. I'll attempt to get it down pat before I become my next incarnation - A Deep Southern Fried Duck.

Plan is as going well, the packing is not. No coffee today, and I had to even run away from Aki in my last minute preparations. (sob).

2007-10-12T05:01:00.001+07:00