Waltzing Matilda around the world

The adventures continue in a New Blog !!

2008-02-15T18:57:00.000-08:00

This is my last post on this Blog.

The adventures will continue with a New Blog!

As fond as I am of “Waltzing Matilda Around the World”, I am moving my next stories to a new Blog. There are so many stories have not yet been told. The 4 months of my life in Calgary from the Stampede to New Orleans in November has not even been documented!

Here are just some of the highlights to look forward to;

- friendly bets on the Chuck Wagon races at the Stampede
- Three Thanksgivings, “Aussie”, Canadian, and in Texas
- a day pretending to be an Olympic skater with Marc
- dressing up as a giant spoon for Halloween and going two- stepping at a country bar
- buying and carving my first giant jack-o’lantern with Marc
- my first CFL (Canadian gridiron) game, explained by former Canadian college football champion Courtney (Go Stampeders!)
- surprising Marc with Aussie pink champagne and Bison risotto at the Rocky Mountains Food and Wine Festival

- Steph and Tauri, my Seoul-based Aussie mates’ stay with me in Calgary and the smashing Greek plate restaurant

- Winning $250 tickets apiece to see the Calgary Flames play in the NHL

- Laura’s farewell to Calgary
- My farewell at the “Aussie Rules” piano bar in Calgary
- My work farewell, a giant chocolate cake and a fond goodbye to my floor 47 workmates
- My last hockey game and singing the Canadian anthem in tears with Karen, Marc and Victoria

- My wonderful Canadian girlfriends, Karen, Victoria, Ashley, Trish, Melissa, Kelty, both Lisas, Chelsa and other gorgeous people.
- My last snowy November weekend in Lake Louise

And this is all before I even got to New Orleans! I have only given patchy coverage to the recent travels about the world. I will be going back over in more colour and detail with photos. There are so many questions that may remain unanswered if you do not have the new Blog address.

How many pounds weight of Texan Thanksgiving Turkey (TTT) can Laura fit in an oven?

Did Robert (aka “Rent a Pom”) get scared on the New Orleans ghost tour?

What IS in a Hurricane (New Orleans cocktail)?

Complete this joke, “A Texan, and Aussie and a Pom walk into a New Orleans bar…”

Which Louisiana plantation did I see that was used in the filming of “Interview with a Vampire”?

How long does gastro last after 4 straight days of eating beignets, gumbo and jumbalaya?

Where did I have a “Forrest Gump” moment in Washington DC?

How small is the White House?

How many bongo drums can you fit on a New York subway car?

Can you see up the skirt of the Statue of Liberty?

Did Broadway reopen in time for me to see Kevin Kline play Cyrano de Bergerac?

Why are icewine grapes harvested in the dead of night near Niagara Falls?

Has Niagara Falls ever completely frozen over and stopped in winter?

Are Frankfurts really better in Frankfurt? Is it possible to find a hamburger in Frankfurt?

Did I introduce Alistair to Hip hop or to tango dancing at a Eurotrash club in Venice?

Did I row my own boat in Venice?

Did I get robbed in Prague?

Which opera did I get a box seat to see the Prague State Opera perform, during which I weepied myself completely out of tissues?

Does consumption of Guinness in Dublin make you more attractive than any other beer would?

Complete this joke, “A Sth African, a German, a Canadian and an Aussie walk into an Irish pub…”

Did I have to dodge sheep to get to a New Years’ party in the wilds of Scotland?

Did I escape the Haggis?

Which famous politician did I walk past in London?

Who decisively conquered fear of heights to go on the London Eye?

Which incarnation of James Bond (immortalized as a Madame Tussauds’ waxwork) did I try to snuggle up to in London?

How DOES Mary Poppins slide up banisters in London?

Does consumption of Kimjie (pickled cabbage) by Seoul residents at every meal contribute to the curious smell in parts of the city coined by Tauri as “poo corner”?

To whom did I dedicate my bad karaoke (Koreans call karaoke “norebang”) love song offerings to, on my last night in Seoul in front of diplomatic representatives from at least 3 different Western countries?

Was I personally attacked by a space-age remote-controlled toilet in Seoul?

So, if you are interested in reading on, I will be telling all these stories and more in detail to do them justice.

For now I must thank my Calgary work colleagues, and Canadian girlfriends who have been very kind and sent me emails to say they miss me. Laura has been loyally Skyping me over the past few months and Marc, who is still my no.1 favourite Canadian and sweetheart, is looking forward to his own future Australian adventures.

Most of all, I’ve been overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of my friends and family around the world in the past few months. They have put a roof over my head, given me keys to their homes, fed me, given me local travel advice, helped with my technological problems, taken me or kept me company during entertainments, included me in their invitations to events and even offered extra clothing when I’ve been caught short and cold. My journey would not be possible without the goodness of their hearts. They are;

- Marc (Calgary)
- Laura and Robert (Louisiana and Texas)
- Giles (New York)
- Tim and Hannah (Toronto and Niagara Falls)
- Alistair (Venice and London)
- Rachel, Iain and Adam (Aberdeen)
- Gordon and Russell (Aberdeenshire)
- Duncan and Elaine (Aberdeenshire)
- Barbara, Charlie, Linda, Nancy and “the Clan” (A'shire)
- Susanna and Henry (London)
- Dorothy, Tom, Michael and Kezia (Hampshire)
- Steph and Tauri (Seoul)

So, if you’d like to continue with me, you’ll need to email myself or Laura. If you know us personally you should already have our addresses. Please send a blank email with “Blog me!” in the subject title of the email and the link to the new (and improved) Blog will be forwarded to you.

“Waltzing Matilda, waltzing matilda,
You’ll come a’ waltzing matilda with me…”

Returning to tomorrow

2008-01-13T01:50:00.000-08:00

G'day from Korea. At the beginning of 2007 when I first went to Canada, I stole half a day of time. To the Americas and Europe, Australia is in the land of tomorrow, between 10 to 18 hrs ahead. I lived all of 2007 from my perspective, in the land of yesterday.

On Friday I had to give my stolen hours back.

I grudgingly left the UK on Thursday, though I was looking forward to seeing Steph and Tauri, who I had the pleasure of hosting in Calgary towards the end of the Canadian summer. I was met by Steph in downtown Seoul and am now enjoying their 220 degree views of the city from their downtown apartment as well as the "Australian network" on cable TV with mostly ABC news, sport and arts programming.

I pushed through the jet lag to have a Korean BBQ dinner in the neighbourhood, deftly handled by Steph. I am hugely impressed by her competence with the language. Of course this she finds funny, after 10 months intensive training in Australia and 18 months being immersed in Korean culture I suppose it would be alarming if she couldn't call for a taxi or order dinner. I'm still impressed though, and grateful to have such handy friends.

Tauri is also ploughing ahead with language school and is giving presentations to his class in Korean in the next week or two. His chosen topic? Australian animals. His mission? To inform and entertain his class in Korean that wombats do poo in cubic squares. It's true. It's how they mark their territory and it can't roll off a rock. Fantastic stuff. I love my country.

Check out cubical poo at http://www.pbase.com/gehyra/image/38902120

With Korean BBQ you cook at your table and eat the meat and rice wrapped in salad lettuce and sesame seed leaves. It is tasty, healthy, fresh and extremely cheap. It is also social, with everyone sharing all the dishes.

It snowed all day. It was the first snow I'd really seen since Canada and that was a comfort. I've given my time back but not reversed the seasons. Not yet, not yet.

Happy Birthday Laura !!

2008-01-11T01:09:00.000-08:00

Here's to a Texan who is young at heart :-)

To my dear friend Laura, who has laughed with me, cried with me, challenged me to climb mountains, eat reindeer, drive on the wrong side of the road, pretend to be a giant gingerbread, and shown me the best of Quebec, Alberta and Texas: a very happy birthday.

You are beautiful.

Mind the Gap

2008-01-08T12:18:00.001-08:00

Since my last posting I have been to Dublin, Prague, Aberdeen (and shire) and London. Now to dedicated readers of 'Waltzing Matilda around the World', never fear. I have plans and plots for a new improved blog after my arrival back in Oz to go back over, publish photos and tell the stories that I don't have time to tell right now. I am living the adventure and it has been , truly, the time of my life.

So as per that anonymous voiceover on the London Underground, please 'Mind the Gap', just know that I am safe and well for now.

I have arrived at a friends' house in the UK. On my bed they have put a copy of 'Paddington Abroad', which seems very appropriate, except that I am not a bear from Darkest Peru, although I do have difficulty reading maps and get rather tired of wearing trousers.

London was magical. Susanna and I went to a West-End production of Mary Poppins, I walked the stairs of St Paul's Cathedral and attended Evensong, I laughed through the Turner Prize Exhibition at the Tate Britain, twirled in a ballroom at the Victoria and Albert Museum and had nighttime walks on the Thames and through London that were the stuff of great literature.

Is Santa Italian?

2007-12-20T14:19:00.000-08:00

Venice has been one of the highlights of my trip so far. The winter weather was clear and lovely and since my trip there in the summer of 1994, I'd forgotten what difference no cars, trucks or motorbikes makes to a city.

Venice was lively, but peaceful.

I had excellent accomodations in Venice. A hostel more like a pensionne (guesthouse), my large room was quadruple-share with bathroom. It was a graceful, well maintained Venetian building ON the Grand Canal. It was aggressively cleaned by a team of Italian ladies each day. The only run-in I had was with one over the issue of an extra blanket I'd cleverly procured as the room was not as warm as it could have been. I thought I was going to hauled off to gaol for theft until the language barrier was cleared up.

Lession number one in Venice- never go drinking with Polish refrigerator salespeople after midnight. What, I hear you say? Of course, that's obvious, you say to me. Everyone knows that...

On my first night I decided to go out, have a meal and I found a small club afterwards and watched some live jazz. The set finished and I didn't like the look of the Italian blokes in the corner so set off back to my accomodation. One of them followed me. Having lacked the guts to talk to me in the bar, he thought a darkened bridge might improve his romantic chances. He caught up with me and asked me to have a drink with him in English....??? I pretended I didn't understand and took off like a shot.

Fortunately at the next turn there was a group of Polish refrigerator salespeople. Unlikely rescue but they were a mixed and large group. The ladies were all carrying roses they had been given during their corporate dinner and they were all well on their way to a cheerful hangover. I offered to take a photo for them and then they adopted me. "Australia?? We love Australian !!"

Great folks. I woke up the next day rather late to the sight of a Welshman optimistically boiling the kettle in the room. I say optimistically because I'd checked the night before... it was obvious there was no tea or coffee in the room. But bless him, he'd put on the kettle and waited for it to boil anyway. Was he hoping the tea fairy would materialise?

We had a chat. Alistair seemed excessively tall. I was still lying down though, having been hit by the vodka truck the night before.

We ended up becoming new chums though, and being likeminded in loving the city ended up being a highlight of the trip.

I spent the day alone, wandering the street and taking an autobus to (San Marco) St Mark's Square. It was a wonderful ride, and I was able to take this excellent photo of the Doges Palace from the water. Venice is full of coloured hand-blown glass shops and masks for the Carnivale. It was wonderful.

I met up with Al for dinner at a local pizzeria, where the pizzas were thin, excellent and served with pride. Venice, unlike New York is not built for individual diners, except for breakfast, which you eat standing up at an expresso bar.

There is no hassle in sitting in an American resturant with a newspaper or book anytime of day. But in Europe, dining is a social experience. Today in Prague I tried to make a reservation for one at a traditional Czech restaurant for tomorrow night. The staff were openly scathing of the concept of dining alone but took my booking. At the moment, I'm not looking forward to it.

The next day in Venice I took myself off alone again to explore the city. I spent a lot of time looking at the artistry in the glass shops and the masks. I also went to the art markets and spoke with the artists.

Venice is made to get lost in. It's a maze.

Although the staff at the hostel gave me a map, many of the streets aren't marked. And the ones that are marked on the map aren't marked on the buildings. To make it more fun, you will come across a square with 5 or 6 paths all purporting to lead to the same place. There is a very real risk it can get hours to days to get to your location.

Venice is wonderful... to be continued

Desperately Seeking Santa- Frankfurt

2007-12-20T13:59:00.000-08:00

Helloooooo folks !!! Yes, I may seem like I've dropped off the face of the earth. Well, if you believe the earth is FLAT, then you'd be right !

I am now in Prague, having a lovely time in the run-up until Christmas. Since my last posting, I've been to Frankfurt, Venice and Dublin.

My journey from Calgary started as a trip home. Well for the benefit of Vivien, my goddaughter, who turned a mighty 3 years old this week, my mission has changed.

I'm on the search for Santa around the world.

I went to New York and thought I was close. I saw quite a lot of Santas there, but none of them were the real one.

So it was time to go to Germany. The Germans celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve, it must be one of the first places he goes to. Besides, Europe is closer to the North Pole than other places.

So I went to Frankfurt. I had a Frankfurt sausage. It was excellent. I went to the Christmas markets in the old town. Here are photos of the gingerbread stand, which delighted me. In Germany it is a tradition to give gingerbread on Christmas to your loved ones. I had a gluwein (mulled wine).

But Santa wasn't there. So no time to waste, it was off to Italy. If the sleigh had broken down, maybe he traded it in for a boat in Venice.

Goodbye eh?

2007-12-10T07:25:00.000-08:00

Hi Folks. It's time to say my last hurrah to Canada (unintentional rhyme :-)

I have been in Niagara for the weekend, seeing the Falls and running around the wineries with two wonderful new friends, Tim and Hannah. You will see how cold it looks. It was that cold. The ice-wineries were fascinating. To meet the definition of icewine, the grapes must be picked and processed in the middle of the night at no warmer than -8 temperatures. The harvest is in January.

So it is time to say cheerio to Canada, it's been really, the time of my life. I will visit again but not for awhile and not on this trip.

Marc, Laura, Karen, Victoria, Kelty, Melissa, Ashley, Trish, Hiking and Work Lisas, Chelsa and John, Courtney, Chris and all the other wonderful family and friends you've let me beg, borrow and steal this year, you've made my year. I'll blog the farewell at the Aussie Rules club at the end of the Calgary stories.

It's off to the Europe now on a red-eye to a mysterious location which is also a famous food.

Start Spreading the News...

2007-12-03T19:14:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since I last blogged and as you will have noticed, I still haven't finished reporting on the July Calgary Stampede.

It seems as though rightly, living life has been busier than reporting on it, but will do my best to keep you all entertained now I'm the road again.

I'm in New York, New York now and since mid- November have been on the road, boomeranging from Calgary to New Orleans to Texas to Washington and now here. It's been a fantastic few weeks in the company of friends.

So now I have a blogging dilemma. In order to keep you all updated with what I'm doing now and also to tell my stores from Calgary I plan to do both which means stepping around a chronological storyline. So please be patient with me as I adopt the motto of my hometown radio station and report both the current "Hits and Memories".

Day 1 of Stampede

2007-11-07T10:43:00.001-08:00

After Laura's excellent Stampede breakfast she took off as planned with Hiking Lisa to Cowboys, the bar made more recently infamous by Prince Harry whilst he doing some military training in Alberta. This bar is huge, really a structure to which carpark-sized marquees are attached and completely furnished with rough-hewen bars, DJ equipment and a never-ending supply of Kolkanee, Molsens and Canadian lagers.

Apparently the first day of Stampede is the only day of the year where it is not only acceptable but expected that most of the business core of Calgary will start lining up at 9.30am for the biggest party in town, celebrating Albertan culture and the Redneck within. At a $50 covercharge just to get in the door, it was a party a little to oil-rich for my blood.

Marc, Jess and Michelle and I decided to head down to the Stampede grounds for a sunshiny day of... well, I didn't know what to expect.
The theme of the Stampede this year was "Tough Enough to Wear Pink", supporting breast cancer cure research. Wrangler made baby pink and check-pink cowboy shirts for the occasion and a lot of men wore the colour proudly.

We did not have tickets to either the rodeo or the chuck wagon races that day so we wandered through the carnival grounds and markets. There were also stages playing various bands throughout the day and night, including the Coca Cola stage for pop and rock and the Nashville stage for country.

Later in the afternoon we said goodbye to Michelle and Jess and had to choose by 4pm where to settle for the evening. Calgary is amazing. The summer is so short and outdoor dining/ pub spaces so small around town that on a non-working day you really need to stake your claim on a table by 4pm. And once you have it, you don't move from it.

We were too late for the Nashville tent. Being in the shade and playing country music, I was all in favour of planting myself there and even getting a chance of some "two-stepping" dancing with my sweetheart. After all, we were both wearing western hats, and I was in cowboy boots and a denim miniskirt. However, not a table nor chair was free. Marc's suggestion that we both stand up for the next 8- 10 hours was not met with loving acquiescence.

So we found a table in the shade across from the Coca Cola stage and had to employ some of that Canadian passive-agressiveness to fend off table poachers. We were joined by Courtney, a mate of Marc's and had the hugest BBQ turkey legs for dinner I have ever seen. it was like something out of the Flintstones and in retrospect, tasted pretty awful. My attempts to eat it with a plastic knife and fork were laughed at.

Between that and Courtney's close-escape from a "Cougar", it was an entertaining night to some live rock music.

Parade Day

2007-10-16T16:01:00.000-07:00

The morning of Stampede I woke up confused and unrested. The streets were noisy the night before through my earplugs and the parade people had started arriving before 6.00 am in costume to get ready for their floats on the street below. I opened the curtain a crack and saw Darth Vader from Star Wars on the street below. Also some martial artists stretching and air-kicking at each other. I gave up poking at my foggy brain to register this as normal and retreated for the shower.

The morning got weirder. Upon stepping out of the bathroom I almost trod on a thin blonde lady in cowgirl gear at 7.00 am. This was my introduction to Hiking Lisa, one of the three Lisas in Calgary Laura is friends with. I am known as Aussie Lisa. Hiking Lisa drove in early to avoid the shutdown of the downtown core for the parade. Laura was already up and had set to work making pancake mix with real blueberries (she's wonderful) and as the guests started arriving I made mimosas.

Now in Oz we call them champagne and orange juice. For some inexplicable and daft reason the British call them "Bucks Fizz". I like the name mimosa. You can tell your kids you're drinking one for breakfast and they never need know there is alcohol in them. Clever.

That morning was the only time for the year Laura had her three Lisas together. "Work Lisa" arrived with her Kiwi fiance Dom, who kept Marc entertained with stories of his years working in Melbourne.

We had a first class view of the parade from Laura's balcony. Thousands of people lined the streets below and we were up on the 2nd floor watching it with pancakes and mimosas and ready access to a bathroom and chairs, both which became important as the parade lasted at least 2 hours. It was an international gathering of an American, Canadians, an Aussie, a Kiwi a Scot, a Belgian, his Flemish parents (who didn't speak English but enjoyed the pagentry) and a Frenchwoman.

The parade was something out of this world. Apart from Darth Vader and a bunch of stormtroopers (not sure which group they belonged to) most of the floats were Canadian themed. The parade was led by a bunch of young guys in cowboy hats and sneakers on skateboards. Each year a person or group are picked to be "Parade Marshalls" to lead the parade. It is usually a sporting hero, political figure or celebrity. This year the theme of Stampede was, "Tough enough to wear Pink" supporting breast cancer research. The skateboarders picked were not celebrities or public figures. They had skated all the way across Canada on their boards to raise money and awareness for breast cancer research. Pretty impressive stuff and they led the giant floats, RCMP on their horses the Stampede Queen and the Indian Princess on their battered boards.

The army marched, to great cheering. It's not every day you see a tank following a horse down the street. Many people here do not support the war in Afghanistan. But they most definitely support the troops. Nearly every week a dead soldier is brought home to Ottawa with all solemnity, colours and ceremony.

Similarly, the RCMP have suffered a lot of casualties domestically over the past few years. They looked great on parade and the Canadian pride was out.

I will add a web album soon. Watch that space.

'Twas the Night Before Stampede....

2007-10-16T14:08:00.001-07:00

When I first came to Canada I never expected to be in Calgary for Stampede. I thought I would be working in Winnipeg and make a trip to Montreal for the Jazz festival or the Comedy festival during the summer at best. Both of which would have been terrific. But Stampede is billed as the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth. That's a big claim. I wanted to see if it was true.

I wanted to find out if I did have an inner redneck and what she might be like. The idea was exciting and a little scary. Would I start shouting "Yee-haw and Ya-hoo"? Would I put a poster of Keith Urban (without Nicole) on my bedroom wall and start singin' love songs about yellow roses and diamonds? Would my hair develop an un-natural lift?

Stampede begins with a parade downtown on the opening day Friday. It is an unofficial public holiday for all businesses downtown, including my work and Laura's which gave us a paid holiday. Marc arranged to take the day off his work to join me for the parade festivities.

The Stampede parade is the biggest in North America, 2nd only to the Macy's Thanksgiving day Parade in New York City. This was so exciting ! Laura lived on 10th street in an apartment building with a 2nd storey balcony on the parade route. The parade was due to start about 8.30 am on the Friday morning.

I live within walking distance of Laura's house. However, Laura had invited a group of her friends to her house for a Stampede breakfast and to watch the parade and I'd offered to help. So we had a sleepover at her place the night before. I brought my packed western clothes, my Alberta Boot company boots and my pyjamas straight from work and I was set. We had take out chinese for dinner. The Chinese restaurant across the road had a banner up when I first arrived in March which said it was "Comming soon !!" It had opened and was excellent food.

After eating we watched a little TV and mostly talked about the upcoming Stampede. Laura had the idea of photographing our cowgirl boots sitting together by her fireplace. To me it reminded me of hanging stockings up at Christmas. And so the Legend of the Stampede Fairy was told for the first ever time.

The Stampede Fairy is a mystical cowboy. He is young, (20's-30's) wears a Stetson, Alberta Boot Company Boots and jeans. He lost his shirt in The Great Rodeo, so unfortunately he has to go shirtless. The night before Stampede, he travels from house to house in Calgary on his silent horse. Where he finds a house with cowboy boots by the fireplace, he leaves Big Rock (Alberta brand) beer.

Nobody knows why. It's just what he does.

When I woke up the next morning, there was beer in my boots. It was better than 20c for a tooth for sure !

Greek Festival- Calgary

2007-10-16T11:49:00.000-07:00

This one's for Auntie Vicky...

Calgary, like many small cities, had a Greek Festival in the Spring. Karen, by then had become my "woman in the know" of all the cultural goings-ons in Calgary, myself having gone with her and Victoria to the Lilac Festival the month before.

The Lilac Festival had not turned out to be a Calgarian version of elegant Floriade. It was a outdoor all day grunge street party near downtown with open pubs, rock bands and local merchandise stalls of all sorts. I was curious about what the Greek Festival would be like.

A bunch of Karen's girlfriends met us at the festival grounds, who all shared a common love of roast lamb. I liked them already. I had not eaten lamb since leaving Australia and I know from living 5 years as part of an extended Greek family that it is lamb that can join great nations together across cultural divides. It's just good eating.

The Greek festival was what you'd expect from a Greek festival. A large set of white marquees for food and drink, buy your roast lamb, souvlaki style by the pound, salad, bread and with baklava for dessert and sit on the long tables set up near the dance floor. There were demonstrations of traditional dancing by these kids in costume. It is always hard to take photos of children in public these days, I think some of the organisers assumed I was a parent and gave me the ok.

Later on, after a full belly of good Greek food a few of us had to have a go at the "freeforall" time of day on the dance floor. It's harder than it looks at first but so rhythmic that once you pick it up, it's kind of hard to stop.

Other fun stuff, there were promotional companies outside the main tents- Starbucks were having a hard time convincing anyone their coffee was better, and there was a new kind of exercise bike- pedel for your fruit smoothie, you've got to earn it !!! (I enjoyed watching this Dad being egged on by his kids). Also, one of Karen's friends and I had a go at Wii, a new computer game where we held portable "wands" and played tennis against each other on screen. It was great, I could pretend to play like Venus Williams, I could be Roger Federa, I could be Phillipousis with a bad knee/ankle/lovelife. I found playing Wii that Greek kids in Canada are the same as Greek kids around the world, many (not all) are overfed and spoilt.

There was one chubby girl who kept edging in on my friend, asking continuously, "CanIplay? CanIplay? CanIplay?" instead of waiting her turn. We handed the wands over, one step short of her throwing a 9 year old tantrum.

The Greeks have more culture than yoghurt. It's worth celebrating.

My friend is a Tool (e)

2007-10-15T15:42:00.001-07:00

It was a gorgeous sunny day to drive back to Calgary on the Canada Day public holiday Monday. Fortunately we did not have to rush back to town. Kelty was staying on holidays at her family's cabin by the lake. Specifically, Pigeon Lake. It's called the Toole Shed as it's owned by the Toole family.

The family cabins owned by her grandparents are shared equally and generously with all members of her extended family and sleep about 30 people. We drove to the nearby village where Kelty has arranged to meet us by the "fountain" which turned out to be a glorified upside-down tap (see picture if you think I'm exaggerating). The rest of the village was not overrated. It was a lovely cottage village with crafty clothing and furniture shops and cafes, in addition to hunting and fishing supplies. After a look around we went with Kelty out to the cabin and met some her cousins, Aunties and Grandparents, who warmly welcomed us and would have had us to stay the whole afternoon if we'd had the time.

Laura, Kelty and I went for a walk along the water's edge, Kelty alternatively delighting and horrifying me with stories of visits to the lake over the years. That day there were boats on the lake, people fishing and toddlers playing on the pebbly shore in the sunshine. In winter the lake freezes solid and you can cross-country ski, icefish (cut a hole in the ice) or drive a car on the lake. As a teenager, she'd played a game with her cousins during the icemelt that involved jumping from one block of broken ice to another on the lake. She fell through and sliced her leg open. Of course it's a good clean cut and you can't feel it because it's so cold, it's all ok... (what the ...???) (Again, reinforcing my conclusion that Canadians have an understated mental and physical toughness that lurks beneath all that niceness).

We said cheerio and went back to Calgary, another fantastic weekend over and more adventures to be told.

Canada day

2007-10-15T15:20:00.000-07:00

Canada day fell on a Sunday this year, meaning that the public holiday was scheduled for the Monday 2 July 2007. On Sunday Laura and I went to a traditional pancake breakfast to kick off our day. The pancake makers had tried to colour the mix a patrotic red, which resulted in pink pancakes. They tasted the same so maybe that will be an idea for future girls' birthday parties.

The West Edmonton Mall is the 2nd or 3rd largest mall in North America. I have never packed both my swimsuit and my iceskates for the same day's outing but I did that day. The mall has an open ice skating rink and the world's largest indoor waterpark. My idea that we could wear our swimmers whilst iceskating for a lark was not well-received by Laura. I think I need to get a grip that there are some silly things I am getting too old to do.

The Mall was pretty impressive, I immediately fell in love with H&M, the British clothing store that we don't have in Australia, where I picked up some nice deals. Then it was off to Boston Pizza for lunch, located unbelievably near Hooters (the survival of this franchise I still find offensive).

Off to the waterpark for the afternoon- a sub-tropical atmosphere, with a wave pool, a baby pool and about 13 different waterslides. I didn't know that Laura had never been to a waterpark of any sort and some of the slides were massive. Texans are odd. The idea of people carrying guns or climbing up a mountain did not faze her but going down a waterslide initially did. My summer childhood days at the Wagga Wagga Olympic pool served me well. By the end of the day we were both going down the 2nd-hardest tandem slide- neither of us were about to go down the giant red vertical slide. The waterpark is hideously expensive- approximately $40 entry each and then exorbitant locker charges. However the kids of Edmonton can pretend they are at the beach when it is minus 30 degrees outside in winter and there is snow on the clear glass ceiling. That is marketing gold.

At the end of the day it was time for our cultural adventure- Shakespeare in the Park to see A Winter's Tale. I had spotted a good-looking Thai restaurant on Whyte Ave the day before so we bought some take away and took it with us for dinner. We were the only people who took a picnic dinner that night and the organisers were fine with it, though we would forbidden to crack open our bottle of wine we'd brought with us. The drinkers were corraled by wire fence in another part of the grassed audience area near the licensed bar away from the families, like criminals. In silent protest against the injustice, we didn't join them.

The set was great for this outdoor performance, good use of space, the weather was lovely and the performances variable. A Winter's Tale to me is one of Shakespeare's practice works and needs strong acting. Overall, I was disappointed with the quality of the performances, especially those most highly-rated in the program.

After the performance we knew that the Canada Day fireworks would be shot over the river and the parliamentary buildings so we headed down to the river to watch them from the Whyte Ave side. Cars and people were lined up everywhere, so we found ourselves on a bluff on the banks of the river, peering between the gap in the thick brush with a few Muslim families waiting for the fireworks. The women were so heavily covered up, it was hard to spot them and not bump into them in the dark but everyone was nice about it.

The fireworks were worth waiting for. Edmonton put on it's national pride and then we went back to our digs for a good night's sleep.

The magic spot- not Whyte Ave

2007-10-08T15:33:00.000-07:00

The magic spot is an acoustic quirk of the Alberta legislative building. it is a spot on the floor of the 2nd floor inside circular balcony. When you stand on this spot and the fountain is turned on the ground floor, the sound of the water is exactly the same as if you were standing in a shower. It is bizarre and if you are not standing on the exact spot you will not hear it. It was first discovered by a technician who was changing a lightbulb.

We had a terrific time at the parliamentary buildings. The only problem was trying to leave. The roads leading to the parliament building are all circular and after spending 5 minutes driving away from the building towards the river, we found ourselves coming back !! This happened more than once and we determined that Edmonton has the Bermuda triangle of road systems.

We were both very tired so went back to the hostel to change for our Saturday night on Whyte Ave. I had been hearing about this famous street from my Canadian friends and it being a warm, early summer night we were looking forward to being cool on the cool street in Edmonton.

We soon found that Whyte Ave was a strange mix. A combination of trademens' pubs, grunge-artsy cafes and bars, and a few nightclubs. There was not a good restaurant to speak of. Laura and I settled into a corner pub right next to the major train line. We had the unique experience of watching a Canada-Pacific train pull into the intersection and, for inexplicable reasons, back up out of it. Very odd.

After an ordinary pub dinner we improved things markedly with a stop at the Italian Gellateria, where I got (and did not complete) a ginormous icecream in a waffle cone before we headed into an upstairs "hip" bar. We were surprised at the reception we got. The bar staff were indifferent and the general atmosphere was unwelcoming. We got the impression that Whyte Ave was too cool for itself and that we did not belong. It was a disappointing end to the evening, but at least we had Canada Day Sunday, the next day to look forward to.

Stopping for gophers on the road to Edmonton

2007-09-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

Canada Day is a public holiday Monday in early July. It also coincided with the Shakespeare Festival in Edmonton. At home in Calgary, I had my hand-tooled Alberta Boot Company cowboy boots and straw hat ready with my Sheriff's badge for the upcoming Stampede. I wanted to go uber-English with Shakespeare before launching myself into the Wild West for 10 days.

Edmonton is the provincial capital of Alberta. It is also a big university town. My friend Fran did a university exchange there from Canberra several years ago and had a terrific time (including meeting her now-husband Chris, a friendly Canadian and a good touch-footy player to boot).

Laura and I drove up on a Saturday morning and stopped in the village of Torrington, one of the most unusual places I have ever been. Torrington is home to the world famous gopher museum. Gophers are small animals who breed like rabbits, dig up holes in pastures, create havoc for farmers and cause broken legs in animals who tread into their holes. When given a government grant for putting together a town attraction for tourism they decided no one would stop in a little village for an ordinary museum. They set the local boys the task of trapping and killing a lot of gophers, and after they were preserved and stuffed, they were then arranged into the dioramas pictured in the web album attached.

They were hilarious. The townpeople have had the last laugh and it has brought a huge amount of tourism to the town. The museum even has it's own song (I settled for buying a fridge magnet and a bookmark). Also about the town, every fire hydrant had been repainted into a cartoon gopher. Fantastic stuff.

Onwards to Edmonton, we checked into our digs, only a few blocks from Whyte Ave, the cool and artsy street of Edmonton, with pubs, cafes, boutiques and nightspots. We had lunch on Whyte Ave and then it was off to the Provincial Legislature buildings to check out our adopted Provincial Capital.

I seem to have made a habit of taking the "political/legal" tour of wherever I land. I have now visited provincial legislatures in British Columbia (Victoria), Quebec (Quebec city- only saw the outside, which I regret now), Manitoba (Winnipeg), Saskatchewan (Regina) and Alberta (Edmonton). I also spent half a day at the National Parliament in Ottawa and went to "Question Time" in English and French. It's more than I have seen in my own country.

The Edmonton Parliament was a standout. It was the third time I'd been to a parliament building on a Saturday afternoon and yet again, there were wedding parties having their photos taken in and outside the buildings. Given the beautiful Victorian or Georgian archiecture of most of these buildings and the lack of good weather in Canada, they make a much more romantic setting than the bride shivering with cold and the groom red-nosed and runny.

There was a cool fountain and pool outside the Edmonton parliament buildings and families in the summer take their children to play in the shallow pool and the gardens nearby, which I thought was great symbol of being in a free country. Flat petalled pink roses were the showpiece of the gardens and I am convinced that I had found the elusive "Wild Alberta Rose" that features on the Alberta licence plate with the slogan "Wild Rose Country".

With my well-travelled plush Moose hidden in my daypack, Laura and I joined a group of Asian tourists on the legislative building tour. The history of the building is fascinating, one of the first great buildings in the early electricity period. As a result, the building had thousands of lights and all the original wiring. The portraits of Queen Mary and (mad) King George were supposed to be hung over the grand staircase but when we arrived, Mary's portrait was the only one there. We supposed that George had taken himself off out of his painting to the pub, if not to be cleaned.

Our tour group was lead by a young Quebecqois lady, who had only a trace of a Quebecer accent. When the Asian tourists found out her background, they congratulated her on her English. To her credit, she accepted it gracefully.

The legislative floor was much the same as the others from around the country, but the Edmonton building had a curious quirk of archiecture that was unimagined even by the archietects.

Skipping the border for a day

2007-09-25T11:04:00.000-07:00

Having already gone east with Laura and conquered Saskatchewan, it was time to pop west into British Columbia (BC) for a day. It was June and I had not been in the province since my first few days in Vancouver and Victoria when I arrived in Canada in January.

Marc the ski bus guy by then had become my boyfriend, and we piled into a car driven by his friend (also called Marc) Marc's girlfriend Jen and her friend Carmen. Both Marcs were boyhood friends from the east coast province of Nova Scotia, had done economics degrees and trained as accountants. Thankfully they don't style their hair the same way.

We were off to Radium in BC, which to me sounded like a nuclear power plant. In fact it was the location of a spa and hot springs, much like the one in Banff, which I had been to earlier in the year.

Nothing quite so bizarre as sitting in a large outdoor heated pool over 30 something degrees when it is cold outside with a bunch of strangers.

It was a cheerful 2-3 hr drive into the mountains on a misty day and upon arriving, Jen, Carmen and myself negotiated a fair number of old, naked, excessively wobbly Northern European women in the pre-spa shower and changerooms to join the boys in the pool.

It was a relaxing day. I like the spas. The difference between Banff and Radium is that Radium does have a "cold" pool and the very Scandinavian idea is that after being in the hot pool you take a dip in the cold. At least in Canada you wear your swimsuit. The other girls wouldn't go in for the cold but I committed to give it a go with the two Marcs and it turned out to be lukewarm. The test was that there were children in it and they weren't crying so I knew I would be ok.

So I had a chance to get out of downtown Calgary for a day and get to know some new people. Thanks to Jen's Marc who generously drove us all out there and back even after the sporific effects of the spa.

By the time we arrived back in Calgary it was pouring. My Marc had offered for all his mates to come over for a BBQ that evening and not to be deterred, we all shopped for BBQ groceries and drinks when we hit town. Marc lined up 2 BBQs outside and with his rainjacket on and beer in hand, cooked a BBQ for 8 which we ate indoors. I am now a fan of BBQ potatoes and marinated pork ribs. The only downside is that there is no ladylike way of eating them.

Morainne Lake and Lake Minniwanka

2007-09-19T15:38:00.000-07:00

Morian Lake and Lake Minniwanker were great places to visit for a day out and a half-day hike. I saw one of my first squirrels, very unafraid of people and curious for food. Laura and I spent most of the day amazed that the Morian Lake hiking trail only opened up days beforehand (it was mid June).

Even considering this, I ended up thigh-deep in snow in my shorts on the hiking trail. Amazing. It was warm enough to be wearing a T shirt and there was snow more than 2 foot deep in the side of the mountain.

Lake Minniwanker was fun. We encountered a British couple declaring it was their honeymoon by assembling 20 ft high driftwood log letters on the lakeshore and helped them take photos. I continued to be impressed by the magnificence of the pine trees and Laura kept a full pocket of trail snacks to keep me chasing her up the mountain. Canine comparisons aside, it was a good ploy to teach me to keep up and to pause rather than stop to take photos.

On the lakeshore, Laura taught me to skip stones on the water, which I'd always envied but never learned how to do. I can do it now, but need more practice.

Morian Lake was more beautiful than Minniwanker. The rock composition and formations were beautiful, wild and strange and the lake had that glacier green than is so well loved here. We hiked through the snow trails for about 2.5 kms up a steepish incline before being so logged in with snow that without hiking poles, the rest of the way was too difficult. Reluctantly we turned back.

My heroine moment had arrived.

As we trudged back down the trail, Laura slipped and started sliding off the side of the mountain down towards the river. She held onto the edge determinedly with both hands as I caught up.

"Give me your hand"
"No, I'm alright"
"Give me your hand, I've gotcha"
"No"
"Give me your hand, you stubborn arse"
"I can get up it"

She wouldn't let me help her. So, whilst she was still hanging on I said,

"Look, in the movies there is a moment when the sidekick gets to save the hero and have their big moment. This is my moment. Give me your hand".

So, she let me help her up. I didn't have the heart to tell her that being naturally curly-haired, the better hiker and a world travelled geologist did not make me her sidekick.

She learned that a woman is not an island. I learned that a small fib can save a person from a muddy, watery afternoon.

I stuck close to her all the way down the mountain. After all, she might have been carrying beef jerky (which attracts bears), but she was wearing a bear bell attached to her pack (the jingling which encourages them to stay away).

Camping with Bears

2007-09-19T11:39:00.001-07:00

I somehow managed to get through my whole life before Canada without ever actually camping. I've stayed in shacks at campsites, shared bunk rooms with numerous people, but never actually pitched a tent.

Camping is very popular in this part of the world. The moment that enough snow has melted to open up the hiking trails in the Rockies, most people start pitching tents. However, there are the die-hard enthusiasts who actually camp nearly all year round. In snow.

MEC (Mountain Equipment Co-Op) http://www.mec.ca/Main/home.jsp;jsessionid=GxtWGMdLRDb1v7R3YtrMV2jTLGSfVLDxwGfPyRJSbJxN9G4FZxZ7!1583577009?bmLocale=en&bmUID=1190227350557

...is Canada's must-shopping experience for anything you might need for spending time outdoors. Similar quality to Kathmandu but much cheaper and with a huge selection.

Laura's friend KC is a keen snowboarder. Despite looking 23 years old, she also works in some executive management role for a stockbroking company, actually does always look like she's stepped out of a salon, and her eyes and smile have a movie-star sparkle naturally. She is also one of the loveliest, most easygoing girls. She and her sister, who is a leggier, more Swedish backpacker version of KC, were organising a camping overnight trip at Banff, an hour away from Calgary in mid-June.

They asked me if they should go on a "big trip" of Australia and would they be made welcome by the people. I heard at least 8 million Australian men in my head shouting, "YES !!!" as I told them that they would have no problems at all.

The "snowboarding gang" showed up and Laura and I met a whole bunch of new people. I found out what snowboarders do on the off-season. They like being in the mountains but are not interested in hiking. They partied hard into the night with Jeremy, the shirtless teddy bear around a roaring open fire where we flamed hot dogs for dinner and marshmellows. I called it an early night sometime after midnight, to dire threats from the others that they would leave the real bears to get me for piking out early.

In actuality, I am scared of bears. Although our campsite was near Banff town, no matter how much you party into the night, all food scraps, rubbish and drinks have to be locked in your car or in bearproof bins at night, because bears can smell food in any container from a distance. The next morning, but for the tents and cars, it looked like no-one was there. The esky (cooler) with the sign was posted at the gate of the campground as a warning. The photographed cooler was one that had actually been mauled by a bear.

Laura's tent is small. Really small. You need to either be very comfortable in the other person's personal space, or carry a large bag of mints for both of you to get through the experience.

Laura is also not a hugger so once we were both in our sleeping bags, I gave her a wholly unwanted hug (spoon) as payback for leaving me up the dinosaur. I now have a reputation as an "aggressive spooner" for my around-the-waist-crocodile-wrestling-technique, which equally applies to Texans.

The next morning we had pancakes with real blueberries and maple syrup, cooked on a gas-fired frypan in the sunlight and shade of the towering pine trees. The picture-perfect peaceful scene was only broken by a few birds and one of the younger snowboarders losing last night's dinner and drinks not-too far in the distance. Her boyfriend was encouraging, calling, "Just get it all up honey" while he continued making our pancakes.

Laura and I packed up the tent and set out for hiking at Morainne Lake and Lake Miniwanka (which can, laughably be pronounced as it is written).

Joanne would like this....

2007-09-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

My work has three different types of hot chocolate constantly on tap, being Regular, "After 8", which might be mint and "Coffee Crisp" which I seriously don't understand. Is it a liquified chocolate bar that tastes like coffee? Is this a Canadian mocha? (Prenun: M-oh- ka as opposed to mokka)

I don't know. Just thought you'd like to know I still care about the little questions of Canadian culture.

I've tried Regular. It's too sweet.

One down, two to go.

Sunny Lake Louise

2007-09-17T15:24:00.000-07:00

My first few hours at Lake Louise with Laura were a profound experience. It was a perfect sunlit day in early Spring. The web album on the right has the whole set of photos from those few hours. It was literally impossible to take a bad photo.

To me, Lake Louise is the most beautiful place in the world. It shares the top honours only with the sunset over the beach between the palm trees of Great Keppel Is. Australia.

The Lake is one of the most famous in the world and home to the Fairmont Lake Louise hotel. Basically, the owners of this hotel chain in the early part of the 20th century had the foresight to buy Chateaus and Manor houses around the world in the most striking locations to turn into prestige hotels. In the case of Lake Louise, where there was nothing, they built a castle-themed hotel on the basis that if you build it, they will come.

These days, you can have high tea in winter before going iceskating on the Lake and then attend a wedding reception at night.

That's right. In winter, the Lake, which is shallow, freezes completely solid. To me, I can think of few things more magical or romantic than iceskating on the Lake, surrounded by the Rocky Mountains.

My work colleague Gillian, is getting married at Lake Louise and having her reception at the hotel in February 2008. The perfect place if you fancy being a snow bride.

Before I wax too lyrical, let it be said that Princess Louise, who the lake is named for, never had a clue as to how majestic a place she was named after.

Princess Louise, Queen Victoria's daughter married the first Governor of Alberta. Alberta, the province at that point hadn't been named. So the Governor named Alberta for his wife, Princess Louise Caroline Alberta. Just as well she did have a few names to spare because Louisiana and Carolina were already used up down in the USA.

Alberta being judged too western, too wild and too uncivilised to even visit, especially for a Princess, Louise spent their entire marriage living in Ottawa and never visited the Lake she was named for.

Swiss mountaineers were brought over from Europe in the early 20th century to map the mountains and help create routes and paths for both recreation and trade. Apparently this was not a problem because the hard-core Swiss mountain men were keen on a new challenge. The legacy is that much of the Rocky Mountain towns on the Albertan side were designed in the Swiss chalet style, with the intention of luring Europeans to Canada as a new health and resort destination.

I could go back a hundred times and never be bored with the sight. It is truly one of the great wonders of the world. And it's less than 2 hours drive from my house.

Where everything is called Wayne

2007-09-17T13:35:00.000-07:00

There is a town called Wayne in Alberta. If Wayne had a "sister city" in another country, it wouldn't. Sister cities are sissy. Wayne would have a brother town. It would be Barry, in Northern New South Wales, Australia. They would share a common vision of blokiness, beer, and trucks. All the male inhabitants would be called Wayne, or Barry.

The Last Chance Saloon seemed an appropiate place for a beer and a snack on the way back to Calgary from Drumheller. As background, I fully expect to be slapped straight onto a low salt, low fat, low cholestorol diet by my doctor upon returning to my homeland as pennance for a year's worth of pizza, chicken wings and burgers and unexplained weight loss.

With the recklessness of a person knowing her future will be full of avocado and tuna, we stepped into the Last Chance saloon and ordered pub food. The saloon was a throwback to another time. There were stuffed animals including a black bear's head over the bar. People were playing pool and smoking on a Sunday afternoon. There was a guy wearing a well-worn cowboy hat. Our barmaid was middleaged and tough-looking. There was the old interior of the 1900s Wayne post office at the other end of the pub, perfectly and unassumingly well-kept.

The barmaid took our order and, unbelievably, called out "Wayne!!" to the cook in the kitchen.

We had come to Wayne to be served by Wayne at the town pub. Fantastic.

Wayne is also home to the most number of road bridges in Southern Alberta. They are not covered, though it brings to mind scenes of the countryside from Bridges of Madison County. Laura and I also went for a walk over a suspension bridge which I wasn't too crazy about but it made for a good photo of her.

By the end of the day, I'd escaped from the jaws of the dinosaur to recover strange and beautiful gemstones, studied the mysteries of the natural world, swung on a bridge over a river and found the last authentic pub in Alberta.

Royal Tyrell Museum

2007-09-17T13:22:00.000-07:00

There is a really ordinary-looking building in Drumheller. It looks flat and small. It looks unimpressive. Like Dr Who's telephone box, this building is a complete understatement on the outside.

The Royal Tyrell Museum houses the biggest collection of intact dinosaur skeletons in the world. I was impressed, boggled, flummoxed and flabbergasted.

The people who run it must really like dinosaurs.

Laura and I had a terrific time. Firstly, she had to explain to me the history of the world with the use of handy maps etc in order to find out when the dinosaurs made their appearance. Next, we went through gallery after gallery of towering dinosaur skeletons. There were even mock-ups of giant beavers (as pictured).

All credit to the ingenuity and dedication of the curators of this museum. They have created a fascinating place that tourists want to visit, with special events catering to interest groups.

Boy scout troops can organise sleepovers in the museum. Now I have never been a 6 year old boy. But if I was one, I can't imagine anything cooler and spookier than sleeping in the shadow of a real, towering T-Rex with all my mates.

It was well worth the trip just to the museum. I highly recommend it to anyone who is visiting Alberta, especially to see the Albertasaurus.

In the Jaws of the Dinosaur

2007-09-17T13:20:00.001-07:00

Just in case you didn't know that Drumhellier was home to the largest number of intact dinosaur skeletons on earth, the good people of the town built a World's Largest Dinosaur to highlight it.

It was a bleak sort of Spring day when Laura and I took a day trip 1.5 hrs northeast of Calgary to Drumheller. We travelled through the "badlands" (they are actually called that) a desolate wasteland-looking region which was full of fossils, queer small canyons and where you felt anything could go wrong.

The Badlands have been the backdrop for countless movies, especially westerns and I was fascinated by how quickly the landscape could change from flattish-prairie, covered with snow and mountains in the distance, to a lower, rockier are of greyish dust. The areas is also known for it's Hoodoos, a peculiar rock formation. I am learning. Before that day I just thought a "Hoodoo" was one-half of a rock band.

We also saw an odd truck which a farmer had seen fit to mount on a giant pole on his land. Why? Because he could.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drumheller,_Alberta

http://www.virtuallydrumheller.com/tour/hoodoos.htm

On the way to Drumheller, Laura, who really has an internal detector for "Big things" and weird monuments, found the Big Skunk, outside a small town in a snow- filled park. We dutifully trudged through knee-deep to get our photos, noticing that though the snow was still knee-deep, the warmer weather had made it much wetter and slushier. But, it had to be done.

Seeing the Big Dinosaur evoked a similar sensation to when I first saw the World's Biggest Rocking Horse in Adelaide or the Big Merino in Goulburn as a child. I had to climb it. We checked out the tourist shop downstairs where I beat Laura to discovering the "perfect" pair of dinosaur-print socks (you never know when you might want to wear them...)and we bought various other souvenirs. The amused clerk stowed our purchases for us behind the counter while we took turns going up the dinosaur and taking photos from the bottom.

Ever heard a dinosaur say something bad? Well, Laura waited until I was waving at her from the jaws while she stood in the parking lot with my camera. I waved at her. She waved at me and took a photo.

Then she waved her keys at me and made off in the direction of the car.

I had known that there would be payback for various times I'd teased her or one-upped her over the previous month. What I didn't know is that I would be stuck up a 50ft fake dinosaur at the time.

So, to a passer-by at that moment it would have looked like the dinosaur had said something mildly offensive in an Aussie accent.

Fortunately human nature was on my side... the clerk had our purchases and Laura was not going to leave without her shopping, by which time I'd caught up with her. Laughs all round and it was off to the wholesaler to look at fossils and ammolite, the local gemstone.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ammolite

The palentologist who ran the wholesaler's shop indicated that within perhaps 7 years the export of fossils from the badlands would be banned. In the meantime, she was running a good trade in beautiful coffee-table pieces due to the abundance of the materials in the area. I was more interested in the ammolite, a rare type of fossil given gemstone status by the international authorities and only found in Alberta and one or two remote parts of Europe. Shimmering predominantly green with other colours and more dramatic than an opal, I bought several pendants, including one for my sister's birthday.

Laura bought some beautiful large display pieces for her home, fitting for a travelling geologist.

It was then off to see the real dinosaurs at one of the most surprising museums I have ever been to.

A Housewarming

2007-09-17T11:00:00.000-07:00

In May, to celebrate my accumulation of three new friends made all by myself, a bunch of friends poached from them, 3 Rent-a-Poms (work-colleague Britons roped in by Laura) and a few Nova Scotian neighbours, I decided to throw my own housewarming party. It was really to celebrate the fact that I knew enough people to have a party and that if you feed them, they will come...

Australian wine and British Columbian salmon on baguettes with cream cheese, cheese and crackers were served, apart from this lovely cake I ordered and then "Australianized" with toothpicks and stickers.

It was a great night. My friend Karen cunningly matched her drinking cup all evening with her shirt, my friend Kelty was so taken by my Aussie flag temporary tattoo that she wore one too, and my Nova Scotian neighbours, Chelsa and John and their friend Crystal swung by for a few glasses.

Alison's birthday, computer hitches and "the office"

2007-08-24T10:54:00.000-07:00

Since starting work in March it has been an uphill battle to keep up with journal-ling all of my experiences and sorting the dozens of photos I keep taking of hockey matches, jagged mountains and pooping horses with Indian Chiefs riding on them down the main streets of Calgary during Stampede. My plans the past two weeks to significantly update the blog, whilst Laura was away and bombing around the Maritimes and Anne of Green Gables country (PEI) in a rented car were foiled.

My laptop, I think is menopausal. It consistently overheats and shuts off. It also, temperamentally refused the installation of a perfectly licenced program and took itself into early retirement by showing me a blue screen only when I tried to restart. A system restore and at the risk of losing all my photos and subsequent stress and grief, I have coaxed it back into regular working order with original photos and hopefully it will be more communicative. I am proud of this, my self-reliance has increased this year.

Importantly, I have received messages of encouragement and emails from friends over the past month, including even receiving a "Chris has thrown you a sheep" notification from Facebook (thanks Chris) that I haven't yet responded to. Not quite sure why I need an online sheep. Maybe I can knit myself a virtual wool jumper for the coming Autumn. General apologies to all, I have been also working overtime up to 9pm or 12 am (which is good for budget), doing all the gardening (sometimes by torchlight) and chores this summer at my place as my housemate has been away. I am thinking of you all and praying for you each day.

Other general news; work is going well, I am no longer such a curiosity but people here are driving me mad daily by asking when I am leaving (assuming that I am going any minute) or alternatively kindly harrasssing me as to why I don't stay. My response of "You can be blonde and a native English speaker and be deported if you overstay your visa" doesn't seem to have much of an impact. It's nice to be wanted but annoying to be constantly explaining myself. The again, Canadians are odd. They also say "Happy Friday" as the greeting on the last working day of the week and "have a great lunch" when I'm off to get a sandwich.

On the flipside I've noticed that from Australia out of you lot, only my ever-loving Mum has asked me when I'm coming home.... :-)

For the record, leaving Calgary mid-November, arriving Sydney late January.

Finally, my niece Alison turned 11 yrs old this week. Happy Birthday. I am very proud of being Auntie to such a bright and lovely girl and looking forward to becoming better and better friends too as time goes on. Have a great party and know that you never have to grow out of pink, sparkles, giggling and sugar.

Curling

2007-08-13T20:18:00.000-07:00

This post has nothing whatsoever to do with my hairstyle.

There are many rumours where the noble (and some would say gerriatric) sport of curling began. The story is that it started in Scotland, where a wife may have slid her husband an oversized Edam cheese along the driveway for a snack, after the kids had swept the ice. Here's a crash course.

(from Wikipedia, the free Encyclopedia)

Curling is a team sport with similarities to bowls and bocce, played on a rectangular sheet of carefully prepared ice by two teams of four players each. Teams alternate turns at sliding heavy, polished granite stones down the ice towards the target area called the house. Two sweepers with brooms accompany each rock and use timing equipment and their best judgement along with direction from their other teammates to help direct the stones to their resting place. The complex nature of stone placement and shot selection has led some to refer to curling as "chess on ice". [1]

My new friend Karen invited me to go curling in April with a group that included her brother. Their cousin worked a a local radio station and being a bit of a character, annually or biannually rented out a curling rink and held a mock competition for all his friends and associates. It was a great Saturday afternoon. We walked through Princes Island Park to the Calgary curling club. I was introduced to at least 20 strangers, handed a broom, ordered to wear a 40 year old cardigan and it was time to learn how to curl.

Curling is played in teams of four people. There is the person who "throws" the rock, a polished granite block which is pushed on it's handle and launched across the ice. Then there are another two players who sweep the ice in front of the oncoming rock to either slow down the rock's progress, or direct it's path right or left. This involves a shuffling run on ice. The sweepers must not touch the rock otherwise the rock is out. The last player stands at the other end, watching the rock and calling out instructions to the sweepers.

I get a queer sense of delight to know that curling is a winter Olympic sport and some of the best players are middle-aged to old. Technically you do not have to be fit to play, but it is incredibly skillful and I challenge anyone to line up arthritic, osteoporosis bones on a sheet of ice and tell them to keep ahead a 100 kg sliding block of granite.

Along with it's "vintage" age group comes curling "fashion". Upon arrival at the rink I was introduced to Chaz, my team captain, who was wearing joke bottle-thick glasses, a woolen hat with a pompom on it and a gigantic cardigan with cloth badges sewn on it from his grandfather's many curling wins. Curling is a game most played in the prairie parts of Canada. Basically in farming communities where there were no mountains to climb or ski off, the curling rink is like the community hall, centre of social and sporting activity for the winter. Quite a lot of people I met at the curling were from Saskatchewan, and proud of their grandparents, who were reportedly all outstanding curlers.

My toque (hat) I was wearing with a tassel, was deemed sufficiently quirky, but I was loaned another grandpa cardigan and I joined my team.

I think our team won our little game. It doesn't matter. I managed to stay upright and ahead of our rocks and do a bit of sweeping too. My throws with the rock lacked any technique but got the rocks close enough to the "button" (the bullseye to aim for). I did better than other first-time curlers who had told me their stories. My friend Tauri apparently slipped and split his chin on his rock whilst throwing the first time he went and Laura was complaining of tailbone pain 3 months after a fall on the ice on her first time.

Drinks and sushi to celebrate at the Sakana grill in Chinatown, which serves outstanding butter-soft BC salmon at reasonable prices.

I have been curling. I will be cheering when I see the Canadian team on TV in the Winter Olympics in 2010, bless their grey hairs and amazing balance. To curl at that standard, you must be one with the ice.

A Movable Feast

2007-08-13T19:47:00.000-07:00

Indulge me for a second as I jump from May/ June (trip to Saskatchewan) back to March/April and the Easter weekend. If you remember, I tried my feet at both skiing and snowboarding at Sunshine over the Good Friday and Easter Saturday. My weekend kept improving with Easter Sunday and the arrival of Giles, which I neglected to report on earlier.

Giles, you will remember being one of the brilliant people, one of my best friends from university with an equally brilliant girlfriend Kirsten, who I visited with in Montreal early this year. Giles had a conference in Banff to attend the week after Easter so on Easter Sunday it was quite the treat to spend the afternoon together. I met him at the airport with a little chocolate from Bernard Callebaut http://www.bernardcallebaut.com/users/folder.asp. This is some of the finer Canadian chocolate, bringing to mind a small nearsighted Belgian man in a white coat. You can always rely on Calgary airport to flog the finest Canadian products to departing Americans eager to part with the last of their colourful Canadian money.

On Easter this year, Bernards were making chocolate cowboy hats for Calgary rather than eggs, which I thought was very clever. I gave one to Giles and told him he could go tell his New Yorker friends he had come to Calgary and indeed, had eaten his hat.

We went into town by bus/train and I took Giles for lunch at Chinatown. Due to my 8 years on a gluten- free diet I had never tried Yum Cha, known as Dim Sum here. It was quite good, but for the lack of vegetables. Though I ate some mystery meat, I did have to pass on the chicken feet, which were quite obviously... chicken feet.

We went for a walk around town and a sneaky peek at the view of the city from a particularly tall building before heading down to the Eau Clair market area. Eau Clair being French for "Clear Water" is right by the riverfront of the Bow, where the old Barley Mill and the Lumbar Mill still stand and are now a pub and a tea shop respectively. After a pint at the Barley Mill and a hello telephone call to Kirsten in Montreal, we went on for afternoon tea at the River Cafe http://www.river-cafe.com/index.php

The River Cafe deserves it's reputation. We split two perfectly lovely desserts at a window table at this charming place, half-hidden by trees in Princes Island Park, in the middle of the Bow river. Though it is outside my price range for dinner, it is my favourite restaurant in Calgary and I would happily go back for a weekend afternoon tea or special occasion brunch.

Basically, it was an afternoon that was very "Hemingway", a Movable Feast of chatter, eating and catching up. Also, I bullied Giles into appearing in some photos for me as an excuse to take a few about Calgary. Coming soon...

An unlikely hero

2007-08-08T16:32:00.000-07:00

Saturday night in Regina. It doesn't quite have the same ring as "Saturday night in New York/ Montreal/ Paris/ Cairo (insert favourite city here)". However, it was not only Saturday night but Cinco de Mayo day. Now most folk think this is the Mexican Independence Day. It isn't, but it is a big Mexican celebration day and being Texan, apparently Laura is justified in celebrating it. Not quite sure how that works but a common love of tequilla with the Mexicans is not to be argued with.

My vote for the Bushwakker's Pub as reviewed by the Lonely Planet for dinner was determined a winner as we both fancied steaks and beer. It was the oddest thing though when we walked in to the pub. The decor was the closest I'd seen to an Aussie pub since leaving home, the beer was 100% Canadian and they were having a Mexican-themed tequilla tasting night. I wasn't sure whether to look for an Akubra, fire a gun into the air with joy or to order a buffalo burger for dinner.

The table consisted of long, rough hewn log benches and seats and we scored a nice spot close to the beer fridge.

Soon after arriving, two blokes were seated near us, one, quiet, tall skinny and dark haired, the other, blonde, short and cheerful looking. We got chatting and Charlie, the blonde one was particularly interested in our story. Both guys were originally from Calgary and had moved to Regina in search of a better, quieter life. I also noticed that though they were happy to tuck into a decent steak, neither were drinking. Mormans? Actually no. Partway through the meal Laura capitulated and signed up for the tequilla tasting part of the evening.

Now, apparently I am a barbarian. Reason? Because to me tequilla is something that happens after you lick salt off your wrist and before the only time you would suck a lemon. Also, when pushed, you can clean flesh wounds or your bathroom with it. I was proved ignorant on this score. Although I didn't do any official tasting, I did listen to the MC on the microphone as he took the tasters through the distilling process and history of tequilla. There were approximately 5 types tried throughout the evening.

This of course presented Laura with a "letting go" challenge. After a beer and 5 shots of tequilla she would not be driving anywhere. It would fall to me on my cardboard, Wagga Wagga issued International Driver's Licence to be the designated driver. Our new friend Charlie, as it turned out, owned a taxi and he offered to follow me back to our digs if I wanted to drop off the car and join in the tastings. However, being a new friend and not an old one, we declined. So, I found myself for the first time in years, sitting on a single drink for the evening and watching my best friend become more talkative (if that is possible) than usual.

The joke is that this was all just after my first successful day of driving on the other side of the car (and road) on the highway by day. The challenge was to negotiate Regina on a rainy Saturday night. Ever the map-reader, Laura refused to sign up for the tasting and hand over her keys until she'd worked out a way back to our digs that involved nothing except 3 right turns (I have trouble making left hand turns, I always want to drive then on the left side of the road).

It turned out to be a great night. You can keep your Montreals and Vancouvers. We love Regina. The food was good, there was live music and traditional Mexican dancing and I learnt that there was as much to the process of an aged tequilla as there was to a proper scotch.

It is rare that a person engages in an act of true generosity, without expecting anything in return. Charlie and his friend left partway through the evening, exchanging numbers and promising to look us up if he ever came back to Calgary before saying goodbye. When an hour later we requested our bill, we found the guys had paid for our steaks, without saying anything or expecting anything in return.

We were both completely floored.

Of course we called Charlie and thanked him. He said simply, that he enjoyed our company and it was nice to chat with some "nice girls" on a Saturday night.

I successfully drove us back to the hostel with a rousing chorus of "Pirates of Saskatchewan" from post-tequilla Laura, who is much the same as pre-tequilla. I was hoping she would lose enough smarts to not tease me about my driving. Not so.

Revenge is sweet and the next morning Charlie texted us to ask us out to breakfast before we headed out of town. We jumped at the opportunity to see him again and repay his kindness. He came to the hostel in his taxi as we were packing up. Laura was all packed and her stuff in her car so I sent her out to talk to him while I dawdled upstairs over my packing, watching them from the window. I had a strong suspicion that Charlie was a little intrigued by Laura. I was trying to calculate exactly how much time to give them to talk without annoying the hungry hangover.

Well, Charlie was impressed. Some guys don't like independent women, for some, it's a "wow" factor. Laura carries a small-looking handbag. However, she has everything possible in it and true to Texan, she is a quick draw. It started to rain outside and as he tells the story, he offered for her to sit in the cab with him out of the rain. She replied, "No thanks" and before he could blink she'd produced a pop-up umbrella from her small hand bag, popped it and was standing under it in the rain. Apparently, he expected her to then tell him her real name was "Bond, Jane Bond".

We had a good breakfast together with some good natured fun poked at me. I was trying to explain Australian archiecture and how my parent's house is Federation-style. This apparently conjured up images of the Starship Enterprise as opposed to the 1900s. The Canadians celebrate their own Confederation.

We left Regina reluctantly and headed back to Calgary, driving from morning to evening on that Sunday. We stopped at Medicine Hat, (The Giant Teepee) and debated the poetic merit of the phrase, "To stop and pee at the Teepee" and made it home.

Our girls weekend was a success. No one in Calgary can now believe, even after reading these postings, that anyone could have that much fun in Saskatchewan and have a personality. But to my friend Laura, now champion of the Prairies and of small-breasted women everywhere I agree, "Flat is Beautiful".

Saskatchewan- the sublime to the ridiculous

2007-07-30T11:42:00.000-07:00

Many Canadians, (particularly from rival city Saskatoon) will shout me down, but Regina is a gem of a little city. Full of planted elms, it is elegant, shady capital for a scarcely populated province. Many of the buildings are Victorian, but with a small "v", not as overwhelming or grand as Melbourne or London, more of an afternoon tea with scones than a full roasted goose dinner with trimmings.

Or maybe I'm just writing in food terms because I'm hungry....

My afternoon with Laura in Regina seemed to pass in something of a blur, we packed quite a bit in. We visited the provincial legislature and took the tour, a lovely building and that chalked up my 4th provincial legislature building I'd seen (British Columbia, Quebec, Manitoba and Saskatchewan).

For the unitiated, Regina is not named so because it rhymes with something naughty, or because Saskatchewan is also home to a village called Climax. It is meant to refer to Glorious Regina, (then, Queen Victoria) now Queen Elizabeth II or the "old boot" if you're a republican. However, Laura and I did spend a lot of time speculating on these names and they differed from the masculine- sounding towns of Red Deer and Wayne in Alberta. For the record, the Mayor of Climax (who I have seen on TV) is a 40 something blonde woman in good shape who likes to wear tennis skirts.

We attempted to see the RCMP museum, which is home to all things RCMP and I think would have been a fascinating look into the history. However, they had closed the old museum in order to finish building a newer, bigger facility so we missed out. Thwarted again in my attempt to get close to Mounties !!

Not to be deterred, we went to the Natural History Museum where Laura proudly brought me face to face with a stuffed moose (they are huge and very intimidating), wolves and all sorts of Canadian wildlife. Of course my wail of "But I wanna see one LIVE !!" showed me up as an ungrateful tourist and I'm sure Laura toyed with the idea of leaving me there as punishment.

It was an environmentalist's nightmare and a taxidermist's dream. I found the experience educational AND creepy and in future, will stick to zoos.

Onwards to the MacKenzie Art Gallery, where Laura stopped in the carpark, struck by the spring leaves budding on the trees that I was about to stomp past in my quest for "proper culture". The closeup photos that we both took capture the best of springtime in Canada and I learnt a good lesson about noticing the little things of beauty.

The MacKenzie modern art gallery is well worth a look- see. I particularly liked the exhibition showing groundbreaking archiectural designs from every province in Canada, making the most of the natural resources in each area to maximise the energy and environmentally-friendly features of homes, offices and community centres in each province. There was a design for a community centre in the Northwest Territories that was designed to blend effectively into the barren snowy lanscapes around it so it didn't detract from the overall look of the area.

Downstairs to the gift shop and Laura found me agonising over whether a person ever actually needs a minature curling rock (smaller than the palm of my hand) as a momento. Answer- no.

From the sublime of art to the rough and tumble of Canadian Football we then did a drive-by for photos at the Saskatchewan Roughriders Stadium. Roughriders fans are arguably the most rabid in Canada, and their fiercest opposition are the Winnipeg Blue Bombers. I admit that it was more to stir up my Winnipeg mates that I have photos of me smiling from the Roughriders stadium but I'm sure the sting of it goes out based on these facts;

- I still, to date, have not seen a Canadian Football game
- I support the Calgary Stampeders anyway.

So in Regina we were able to find almost anything we wanted except a toothbrush for me. It became very Monty Python-ish, racing around town, fruitlessly searching for that $3 bit of plastic with bristles. Finding the legislature and art gallery was easy. Finding a toothbrush was a medium-sized nightmare. We started at a Canadian superstore, which didn't have them, but had all the bathroom furnishings you could imagine to keep a toothbrush in, to eventually a petrol station, where, I bought two toothbrushes for good measure.

It was then back to our accomodations to get ready for our Saturday night out.

Pirates of Saskatchewan

2007-07-16T22:18:00.000-07:00

The Canadian comedy band the Arrogant Worms wrote a song about the Pirates of Saskatchewan as a joke. SK is about as far as you can get away from the sea. However, the mighty Saskatchewan river flows through Regina and though my geography is shaky, I know there is more than one great river in the province.

Laura and I drove along the long country roads singing along to this song much of the way to Rolleau (Dog River). (Apparently if I had a pirate name it would be Shark Bait, because I'm an Aussie).

On the way we went through Moosejaw, which apparently was a centre for Al Capone's bootlegging during the Prohibition years. It really did have a 1920-30s feel to the town. We stopped at the Giant Moose on the outskirts of town long enough to take some photos. My favourite, (unfortunately not in my collection) is Laura lying flat on the ground in front of it as if knocked out by a giant hoof.

Before we could get to a fake Gas Station from a TV show, real petrol became necessary and we stopped at a father-and-son style gas station in the area. Pops came out to fill up the tank and we both had a chat to him. He was relieved to find out Laura was not a Canadian from Ontario because "City Folk think their s**t don't stink" and was tickled by the story of how Laura and I became friends from Quebec city to Calgary.

I think it came as a surprise to quite a few folks that we would go all the way from our home countries to Calgary and then drive up to 9 hours each way for a weekend in the middle of nowhere. When I went in to pay for the petrol, the 16 yr old son lost all his polite and disinterested service staff manners when he asked me where we were from.

"Wagga Wagga Australia and Waco, Texas"
"Jesus!"
"Nah mate, just a couple of angels. Have a good day".

At Rolleau, we did find we were the first tourists for the day. This did not last long as a family of 4 generations of Nova Scotians turned up at the outdoor set.

There's no escaping Nova Scotians. They are passionate abut Maritime life but it doesn't stop them from spending time everywhere else in Canada. In this particular family, the adult son had recently graduated from the RCMP training school in Regina and his wife, his son, his parents and his grandmother were all in SK to make a weekend of it. Laura and I offered to take some group photos of the family on their cameras and the grandmother took a fancy to me, having travelled Australia. I was able to validate her claims to the family that yes, the spiders are most certainly that "big and scary".

Laura's suggestion that I have a photo taken with the Mountie graduate was met with an instant veto from me based on the polite and silent disapproval on his wife's face. Besides, he wasn't in uniform (My desire to get a photo of a real live Mountie was bordering on obsession until I saw them recently in the Calgary Stampede Parade).

Laura and I headed into town for a sandwich lunch at the local cafe, whose facade is the Mayor's office and the Dog River Public library in the show. There were signatures all over the walls from all over the world and we are proud to have added our names for posterity. We trawled around town taking photos of familiar places from the show and recounting episodes to each other.

We headed back to the Gas station for final photos before heading into Regina. A Canadian Pacific freight train was passing through the area at the time. We heard and saw the train a long way off. So we waited. And waited. And waited. More people are killed in train-related accidents than any other kind on SK each year. My theory is that with being able to see and adjust to the idea of an object coming from a long way away, you cease after awhile to be on alert for it until it's on top of you.

The train driver must have noticed us as we took photos of his train against the grain silo. Not long after we got in the car we caught up with the train running parallel to the highway and he tooted us about 4 or 5 times as we rolled down the windows and waved.

That was a definite first. I'd need to be beeped by an Air Canada pilot to top that. I don't even think they have horns.

Dog (River) Days

2007-07-16T18:55:00.000-07:00

Corner Gas. I've mentioned it before and click on the links at the end of this post to get a better idea of what I'm talking about. It's a TV show set in the fictional "blink and you miss it" town of Dog River, Saskatchewan. It's a comedy about a town where nothing happens and Laura and I are big fans.

We are not the only ones. The Premier of Saskatchewan (SK) has had a cameo on the show, as has the Prime Minister. The best part is that it has made a province which is the butt of the rest of the country's jokes, into a winner due to being able to laugh at itself.

Regina, the capital of SK, is halfway from Calgary to Winnipeg. Winnipeg is far enough away for there to be a time difference. Laura and I were planning on going to the outdoor set of Corner Gas in a weekend.

Doing it was both a team effort and a credit to Laura's stubborness in planning and achieving goals.

We headed out of Calgary on a Friday night in late April after work, stopping long enough to leave a copy of my cardboard, partly handwritten, issued in Wagga Wagga international driver's licence with her car insurer. They didn't bat an eyelid, those trusting Canuks. Willie Nelson was put on the CD player and we were On the Road Again. We were Thelma and Louise that weekend, except Laura didn't shoot anyone and I didn't sleep with Brad Pitt.

Laura drove late into the night, which required some nerves of steel as not only were there no electric lights on the highway, there were no "cats eyes" reflectors on the road to mark the curves. The only illumination were the car lights and the stars above, which I enjoyed getting a good look at for the first time since I'd left Winnipeg in February.

We stopped for a late night supper at A&W fast food joint, which apparently make the best burgers in Canada and definitely the best root beer. Laura and I were the only ones in the restaurant with a couple of trash-makeup bored teens working there at about 9.30 pm. I was tired enough to ask Laura "What is root beer made out of?" Her lightening-fast comeback "Roots" and the two of us going into hysterics in front of the Osborne teenagers who worked there. However, it did merit a phone call to Laura's mum in Texas to ask, and she did not have a more comprehensive answer either, so maybe it's not such a silly question. Reader, if you can name the makings of root beer without researching it on Wikipedia, I may just have to think up a post-a-ble prize to send you.

Having passed Medicine Hat and realising we were not going to make it as far as Swift Current (SK) by that evening, we settled for crossing the border for a village called Gull Lake. There we found the one family run motel- the Lazy Dee to settle in for the night. The Lazy Dee was a drive-in motel, with a clanker of a heater, two double beds, clean facilities and a decent lock on the door. We were set. We checked in, walked into the field across the road to check out the stars, winking over the numerous tractors and train lines, I gave Laura some coaching on talking in an Aussie accent (she's a shocker) and we went to bed.

I feel somewhat strange after that first night of sharing a room with Laura. Not because we shared a room (which we did) or because I forgot my toothbrush and ended up using one of those disposable finger covers which doesn't quite do the job. No, it was because the shape and state of my pyjamaed bottom was objectively assessed by my best friend here and has since been reported amongst our mutual friends. Fortunately my unsuspecting and half-asleep bum passed whatever North American test of proportion, applied by Laura that next morning but it was both flattering and disconcerting to be informed later by my other friends that I was apparently in alright shape. For the record, Laura is straight.

Somewhere along the way to Swift Current I forgave Laura for waking me up before 7am and putting me in the driver's seat for my first experience ever of driving in the left side of the car on the right side of the road. This was without so much as a cup of English breakfast to moisten my tired brain cells. I was promised breakfast later, which I got as a reward for not killing either of us on the road. The logic was that on a dual carriage highway on a straight road on flat ground, I couldn't get into too much trouble. I did ok, but my sense of spacial awareness is not good on the road at all and I appreciated the trust that went into putting me in the driver's seat.

We made it to Rolleau, the village where Corner Gas is shot by 11 am the Saturday morning on a clear sunny day ahead of all the other tourists. Certainly from Housten and Waco in Texas and Wagga and Canberra in Australia, we'd travelled the furthest.

I've linked a new web album for the weekend. The sky doesn't get much bigger than out there.

Staying upright- Snowboarding

2007-06-28T20:02:00.000-07:00

On Easter Saturday it was time to give snowboarding a go. I had signed up for a full- day package including ski lift, gear hire and lunch so all I had to do was show up.

This proved more difficult than I thought, having gone to bed well-pickled at 1 am after an achy day skiing. I nearly contemplated not going. I nearly missed the bus. Now I know that would have been truly awful.

I showed up to the bus stop, almost looking for Karen though I knew she wouldn't be there. Instead, I saw a good-looking blonde Canadian guy bearing more than a passing resemblance to Leonardo Di Caprio shouldering a matchingly good-looking ski bag with all his gear in it. That was the right idea. Pop all your skis, poles gloves and anything else you might drop or stab yourself with in the one bag and off you go. Brillant.

Normally I would have been too intimidated by his Karen-like ease in ski gear to dare speak to him. But I was so tired and washed out that my internal monologue was temporarily broken.

"Nice bag"
"Thanks", he said and got on the bus.

Hardly earth shattering stuff, but that, as they say in Casablanca was, "... the beginning of a beautiful friendship". Of course I didn't know it.

I got on the bus, minus breakfast, makeup and if memory serves, a haircomb, used the last of my energy to inflate a travel pillow and promptly hid in a corner to nurse my liver.

I woke up in time at Sunshine to panic that I would be late for snowboarding school. In fact it wasn't even school. It was more like snowboarding for dummies. I knew I was a dummy. I didn't want to miss a moment.

Anyone who tells you that beginner snowboarding is easy is lying. We spent at least an hour working out how to wear our gear and clipping our feet into the board and out of it. Then it was standing on it. Then it was pushing it along on the flat on one foot. That's called skating.

I spent much of the morning negotiating my board in our group of 6 and the afternoon on my bottom (see previous posts re: bum magnetised to ice and snow). However, my feet were clipped into the board, knees apart whilst I was sitting (lying down). To get up requires a huge upper-body effort to push yourself from a sitting (or lying) position to a standing position. It must be in a fluid motion because your feet are locked into the board on an icy surface. Do that a dozen times and see if you have the strength. Apparently lifting beer and chocolate from a table surface to mouth level was insufficient arm exercise for me over the previous weeks to achieve the required fitness level.

The other consequence of having my feet locked into my board is that Eric, the pocket rocket (5ft 1 inch tall) hot instructor from Toronto had to come help me all the time. After the dozenth time of seeing his face suddenly appear between my knees as I was lying flat on my back, done in, I felt like I was undergoing some strange birthing procedure in an episode of Days of Our Lives. Eventually he saw my distress when I burst out, "This is not dignified!". He politely changed the subject but saw my point when he urged me just to "push, just one more !"

My entire class graduated from Snowboarding for Dummies (not the official title). Hooray! The only exception was a girl from New Brunswick who absconded after lunch to join her boyfriend on the slopes. No dedication to the goal.

I had a soft drink at the saloon with one of my classmates and headed off to buy my stuffed moose a badge. I have a plush Moose, if you remember from an earlier posting. He wears a stick pin for every significant place I've been to and one for every Province visited. He's getting quite pointy.

My victory was capped off when waiting for the bus to arrive. Ski-bag guy showed up, looking all windswept and interesting. He asked me how I went on the slopes and that started a conversation that lasted all the way back to Calgary. Turned out he was a Nova Scotian who traded his sea-legs in for ski-legs a few years back after a stint in the Caribbean working as a graduate and enjoying "lime time" on the beach. Hard to believe that any bloke can talk as much as I do but hardly either of us drew breath all the way back to Calgary. Turned out he was a lot more than a pretty face.

Marc called a week and half later and picked up the conversation where it left off. That conversation continues. New Kids on the Block still haven't called him back for the reunion tour (just kidding, sunshine).

I managed to stay upright on my board for at least 50 m at a time whilst changing direction and I met two amazing people in two days who really like me. Maybe I'm cooler than I think.

A White Easter and the Ski Bunny

2007-06-28T18:11:00.000-07:00

Easter was a real watershed this year. It marked the beginning of the end of winter here and the end of my good friend Ed's life on earth, which I was only aware of later.

It was also the beginning of two new relationships in Calgary and my reunion with Giles from New York.

There are several ski resorts on this side of the mountains, the three big ones being Sunshine, Kicking Horse and Lake Louise. Lake Louise was too far to travel to by myself without a car for the day. The same applied to Kicking Horse, with the additional reason that I am a crap skiier and I didn't want to find out why it was called "Kicking Horse". That left Sunshine.

Sunshine. An appropriate name for my new happy place. There was an express daily coach that left from downtown Calgary to Sunshine every day and I decided that Good Friday and Saturday would be good days to go with a recovery day on Sunday with my friend Giles, who would be visiting from New York.

It was a snowy morning in Calgary on Good Friday when I walked the 20 mins from home to downtown to catch the bus. I think I was the only person not carrying their own equipment. If I had any doubt as to where the bus was leaving from I knew I was on the right track when I caught up with a tall, well-built black man carrying his ski gear and wearing comical (but cool) pink bunny ears, also on his way to the stop.

There were not many people waiting for the bus. One of them was a friendly- looking blue- eyed brunette, with a wide-eyed smile for 7am in the morning, slender in her ski gear. She could pass all her equipment from glove to glove and upswing to her shoulder in one fluid motion whilst talking. This was Karen.

By comparison, when I got to Sunshine and rented my gear, I looked puffy in my puffy pants, dropped one ski, hit myself in the head with my poles and resembled a scolosis sufferer with plaster of paris feet when walking in my boots, rather than the casual moon-boot saunter the beautiful Canadians have been doing since birth.

Karen is an amazing woman. Educated, articulate, beautiful and completely unpretentious. We hit it off immediately and despite 7 am being my most homicidal time of day, we chatted easily in her native English. She was from Ontario and could have conducted the conversation almost as easily in French, but from my side it would have been restricted to, "We go now to make shopping/ sleeping/ eating with my red nose and where is the chocolate?". She was completely nonplussed about my crap skiing abilities and helpfully informed me what to do once we arrived to beat the crowds. Oh, she's a black run skiier. Which in Australia alone, would have impressed the socks off my frozen toes.

In Canada they give double black diamond skiiers like Karen an avalanche beacon, a collapsable shovel and a probe and tell them to go off and have "safe" fun. These ski runs look vertical from a distance off the highest parts of the mountains. The only way of accessing them is to trek up the mountain. The only thing more extreme is to be dropped ala James Bond by helicopter.

The avalanche beacon is to set off a radio signal if you're buried under 20 feet of snow so the rescuers can find you. It also acts as a key to unlock the gates to the higher slopes and records your entry. The shovel is to dig your own way out of the snow to avoid the "embarrassment" of being rescued. The probe is to find out exactly how much (trouble you're in) snow you're buried under.

We parted ways at the resort and I got my gear before going up the gondola for the 20 mins to get to the ski hills. I loved the gondola. It looked like a space'n'time capsule suspended on a flying fox cable. I wanted to be shot into space.

In Australia I was just getting into blue runs skiing 2 years ago when I last went. This time it was green all the way. I love the names of the runs. If you're a gumby skiier like me you take the Strawberry Triple Chair (which runs parallel to the Ski School tow) to Sunshine Meadows and you amble your way back to the saloon pub down Meadow Lane. Of course when I got to the saloon pub I heard a bunch of 19 year old male snowboarders ordering beer and saying, "How long did it take you to go down the Goat's Eye? Dude, the Mother-in-Law is bitchin' today with fresh powder, let's do that after lunch".

The Mother in Law. Named so because it is one of the toughest runs on the hill. I'd like to see them even out the score, because there's no run named after Dad. How about on Father's day next year Sunshine names a new black diamond run. I call it, Dad On Porch with a Shotgun, or Dad's Shottie for short.

Skiing is not for me. I am neither elegant enough, rich enough, long limbed enough, Canadian enough or disciplined enough for the boots, which caused me severe lower leg and calf pain by lunchtime because I couldn't straighten my knees. It had never been that bad before. I took the maximum legal limit of codeine, found a hot chocolate and retired gracefully by 3pm to watch the scenery. If there weren't so many Australian staff on the hill, I would've ridden the gondola the rest of the day just for fun.

I still don't know if I am cool enough for snowboarding. Nobody likes a tryhard. But everyone likes someone willing to give a new something a go. I signed up for snowboarding beginner's all-day workshop for the next day and Karen and I reunited and chatted our way back to Calgary on the bus. We cemeted our new friendship by going to our homes, showering and meeting at the old Barley Mill pub for a well-deserved bottle of red. I conveniently chose to forget that I needed to be up by 6am the next morning and stayed out until midnight.

My first Canadian girlfriend made all by myself. I was making progress.

Now you may be wondering where was Laura? Well I did not desert her. That same weekend she took a few extra days off to do her self-titled "Giants of the Prairies" trip, driving around Alberta to see the Big Cowboy Hat, the Big Beaver, the Big Boot etc. It was a strange "to do" list. But the photos are great.

Site Meter

2007-06-28T17:41:00.000-07:00

I've become a bit curious as to where my blog is currently being read. I know the eastern side of Australia is a fairly safe bet, maybe a punter or three in New York State, London and Soeul. However, I've stopped wondering and updated with a nifty cluster map (see right scroll down).

You might be watching me, but from now on, I will know where you are.

Canadian sports

2007-06-28T06:37:00.000-07:00

As winter turns to summer here my thoughts turn to home and what the people I love best will be doing "down under".

Having decimated a summer's worth of rose garden growth with a 2 sets of his n' hers biceps, a large pair of shears and the determination of a pair of gladiators, my parents will have settled in front of the plasma telly for their winter. They will be stretching out their bedtimes to the wee hours to watch the only time the Poms enjoy sports, strawberries, cream and sunshine outdoors. Wimbledon.

Winter means watching sports to Aussies. If we are not playing it during the summer, we are watching it during the short winter. Having said that, it is odd to me that football here is a summer sport, when our guys are out in the mud all winter playing it. The girls are sensibly inside after their early-morning netball game watching it on TV and admiring the fit of their shorts.

My winter of sport in Canada was almost entirely spent on my bottom. Even when I was tobogganing or skiing or snowboarding I was on my bottom. There was no escaping it. My bottom seemed magnetised to ice and snow. My main form of exercise has been walking everywhere and that, combined with eating anything I want has seen me lose 2 dress sizes. Hurrah for me.

So, in my quest to watch a winter sport and become more educated about Canada, I had to find out what really matters to Canadians.

Hockey. It's played indoors, on ice, by huge, strong agile men wearing what looks suspiciously like shorts and thick woolen stockings. For big money and for months on end.

Welcome to the NHL (the National Hockey League). For those playing at home though, how confusing is this;

- the NHL is played by a mix of teams across Canada and the US. So really, it's international, unless the Canadians have misused a lot of their time sewing maple leaf flags onto everything to show they are not American.

- the competition for most of the season is divided between the "Eastern conference" and the "Western conference". "Conference" is a civilised description for a bunch of guys in razor-sharp skates, carrying sticks and trying to slam each other on the ice.

Moving to Calgary made me an immediate supporter of two hockey teams. One, the Calgary Flames, who made it to the playoffs (semi-final rounds) of the NHL this year. The other team is the Calgary Hitmen. The Hitmen belong to the next professional league, one step down from the NHL. Most of their players are 16- 22 yrs old and wear whatever straggly facial hair they can muster up to make themselves look scary.

Unfortunately I was not prepared to sell an organ to get a ticket to a Calgary Flames game. I arrived in Calgary towards the end of the season and tickets were highly priced and/ or sold out for each game. I am amazed that the season goes for 9 months of the year and games are played about 4 times a week. The players seem to train the rest of the time so they live on the ice for most of the year.

Laura and I saw 3 Hitmen hockey games before the end of the season. It's hard to describe walking into the Calgary Saddledone. It's a huge building, serviced by a nearby C-train station. One of the photos that best shows it is the "red" one I didn't take, of a Calgary Flames game. There is a huge stadium atmosphere, with beer, popcorn and ice cream vendors wandering about, team mascots in costume stirring up the crowd, supporters wearing and waving team colours.

The first game of Hockey was the Hitmen vs Kootney Ice. The Ice team hailed from a town in the mountains in British Columbia, famous for it's lager. There were a few busloads of supporters from BC. I was unexpected harrassed during one of the breaks (hockey is broken up into 3 periods- so there are 2 breaks). Two middleaged drunk blokes from BC decided to give me a hard time for supporting Calgary but made some truly offensive comments about Australian women. This was based on the reputation of the girls in Whistler and Banff who are on working holiday during the ski season. Banff is statistically the STD capital of North America and responsibility has been laid at our green and gold door. The end of this story is that I lost my temper and told them off. They sobered up quickly, apologised and most amusingly confessed that they were "bad Canadians" for not having any manners.
The Hitmen lost to the Ice.

The next game I saw was The Hitmen against the Brandon Wheat Kings (Manitoba). So it was mountain city boys against prairie farm boys. By this time I was getting the hang of this caper. Arrive in jeans and a supporters' T shirt and beanie (because it's cold next to the ice rink), buy a "pocket dawg" (it is actually spelt like that) and popcorn and settle in with a beer for the game. Be prepared to stand up, take your hat off and sing the national anthem, "O' Canada" at the beginning, watch the pyrotechnic demonstration of bins exploding balls of fire and shout for the rest of the game in- between nervous face-stuffing and beer burping. Don't flinch when the players slam into the clear perspex wall around the ice 4 feet in front of your face. Excellent.

A Pocket Dawg is a brilliant idea, by the way. The bun does not have a split in it- it is simply hollowed out enough for the hot dog to go in it. There is nowhere for the tomato sauce or mustard to escape to or make a mess. You can even spin it 360 degrees. If my career prospects collapse upon my return to Oz I have a few entrepreneurial ideas now...

Calgary Saddledome has the best buttered popcorn. The Isreali/ Palestinian conflict could be resolved if they shared this stuff. Alternatively, they could really hurt each other with it. I don't know what makes it taste so good, but it's apparently toxic. I'm still alive.

The Hitmen won against the Brandon Wheat Kings. The home crowd went wild. Laura and I jumped up and down like pre-schoolers on red cordial. All the Winnipeggers sitting behind us got drunk but were very nice to us and philosophical about their defeat.

The game of hockey itself is fast and furious. On one hand the guys who play seem to glide silently and effortlessly across the ice in every direction, watching the other players and the puck they are chasing continously. However, they will slam into each other to get to the puck, which moves so fast on the ice that it is easy to lose track of it if you take your eyes off the game. In fact, the Americans microchipped their pucks some years ago so they could light it up for the viewers at home. This ended up causing so much embarrassment that it was later stopped.

Players are routinely sent off for a few minutes at a time for fouling each other resulting in a team player deficit on the ice. This enables the opposing team to take advantage of their greater numbers, aka "power play". The game is really exciting to watch because of the speed and ferocity of the game.

The third game I nearly got thrown out by Security. Super. This was right up there with being threatened with a ticket for jaywalking across the street by the Vancouver police on my first night in Canada when there were uninhibited heroin deals going on in the alley behind them. Go Vancouver PD. Serve and Protect.

The Saddledome is licenced to sell beer. It is not licenced for BYO. So contrary to the cricket, when you can arrive at the grounds, stick a half watermelon on your head and walk in with an esky full of beer and suncream, you cannot BYO to the hockey. Laura and I arrived earlier to the Hitmen vs Medicine Hat Tigers and were sitting in the front row sipping on ciders and beers and Kelty arrived a bit later and ordered hers from a vendor. Partway through the game, a Very Large Security Officer walked all the way down the stairs in front of a packed stadium to frogmarch me and Laura, our bags and beer to "have a talk" outside. He was joined by another Large Security Officer and they explained to me the following reason for making me do the Walk of Shame;

- BYO contravenes the Saddledome liquor licence
- anyone caught BYO are automatically ejected

Some verbal tap dancing was required on my part. I told the truth and the Powers that Be accepted my blonde foreign stupidity. Also, not even a stupid person would sit in the front row of the Saddledome drinking illegal beer unless they were an Australian tourist (where is my watermelon?). Laura, wisely, said nothing.

We we returned to our seats shaking slightly. Laura didn't want to drink anything after that. I wanted spirits. Meanwhile, Kelty was in the front row alone in her Calgary supporter T shirt being harrassed by the Tigers supporters behind them. The Tigers' colours are orange and black, so the teenagers behind us had raided a construction site for their orange attire prior to arrival. They were somewhat deflated by our miraculous return from immediate ejection.

The Hitmen won narrowly. We ate too much popcorn. Kelty had her first "cesar" summertime drink (a Bloody Mary with clam and tomato juice- called "Clamato"- sounds like a medical condition) and Laura recovered sufficiently to have a soft drink. I took a photo of some of the cute kids with their parents and tried not to look like a child stalker. It is at the hockey, that a child learns to be Canadian. This one was wearing a "Timbits" shirt, the name of the donut "holes" sold at Tim Hortons and also the minky hockey team they sponser.

I love hockey. I am pre-buying Flames tickets for next season as soon as they are available.

Tim and Ammi

2007-06-21T22:49:00.000-07:00

I have many special friends back home, but two of them lately deserve special mention. Tim and Ammi are close mates of mine, both Sth African (Tim is also a new Australian) and very much in love with each other.

Though I do not write to them personally often enough (lately was too gutted by Australia's narrow loss to Sth Africa in the Tri-Nations to bear hearing them celebrate :-) they, with Ros and Graeme, Nat and Nathan, Tim and Tegan, Sue and Scott, Kinsey, Ness and Andrei, Jess, and Lynley are often in my thoughts (I wasn't going to name names but there you go).

If anyone wants to see why I wish I had Tim's gift for photography, I'd encourage you to look at his blog, linked to this site (right side list of links). He has captured country NSW beautifully and the scent the musty red earth, crushed insects and eucalypts.

The Soundtrack to my journey

2007-06-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

When you listen to a song, it often brings back associations of where you were at the time, who you were with and what you were doing.

For example, I listen to "When you say Nothing at all" by Ronan Keating on my Ipod and it transports me to watching my brother's wedding dance almost two years ago and what a great party that was.

For better or worse, my time in Canada so far has been soundtracked to old U2 music and a Canadian comedy band called The Arrogant Worms
http://www.arrogant-worms.com/

Since moving to Calgary, I have been introduced to The Arrogant Worms , a very clever and funny band, and at times, politically incorrect or politically astute, whichever way you prefer to look at it. The band consists mostly of 3 guys singing and a few acoustic guitars. One of my favourites is Canada's Really Big, which I'll include the lyrics to here. Firstly though, an extract from Proud to be Canadian.

We're proud to be Canadian.(proud to be Canadian)
We're awfully nice to strangers, our manners be our curse.
(Can I get the door for you ma'am?)
It's cool in many ways to be Canadian.(it's cool cause it's cold up here)
We won't say that we're better, it's just that we're less worse.

Canada's Really Big

(spoken)
thank you very much
now we're very, uh, we're very patriotic canadians
and we'd like to take this moment to,
uh, to do our national anthem, that we wrote

When i look around me, i can't believe what i see
it seems as if this country has lost its will to live
the economy is lousy, we barely have an army
but we can still stand proudly because canada's really big
we're the second largest country on this planet earth
and if Russia keeps on shrinking, then soon we'll be first!
(as long as we keep quebec)

The USA has tanks, and switzerland has banks
they can keep them thanks, they just don't amount
cause when you get down to it, you find out what the truth is,
it isn't what you do with it, it's the size that counts
most people will tell you that france is pretty large
but you can put fourteen frances into this land of ours!
(it'd take a lot of work, it'd take a whole lot of work)

we're larger than malaysia, almost as big as asia
we're bigger than australia and it's a continent
so big we seldom bother to go see one another
but we often go to other countries for vacations
our mountains are very pointy, our prairies are not
the rest is kinda bumpy, but man do we have a lot!
(we've got a lot of land, we've got a whole lot of land)

so stand up and be proud and sing it very loud
we stand out from the crowd, cause Canada's really big

Picasa problems

2007-06-13T19:09:00.000-07:00

Readers, you may have noticed that a lot of photos have disappeared from my blog posts.

These photos were accidently deleted from the Picasa web album that maintains the photos online. I will have to restore the most recent photos to the most recent posts individually but will not be bothering with the archived posts.

Thanks

Bearproof loos and Big Rock

2007-06-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

After finishing up at Longview the last two stops on our daytrip was Sheep River and Big Rock.

Big Rock is the site of a Big Rock. I love the obvious namings of things in Canada. I am only sorry I might not get to the village of Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump this year. If you click on the photo of the Big Rock sign you will get the explanation for why it is there. I just like the fact that the biggest brewery in Alberta is named after it.

I think Sheep River must be named for the long-horned sheep (that look like goats) that live in the Banff area but we didn't see that day. We stopped at the Ranger's station near the main highway and the National Park. No one was there. I had heard stories about a woman cross-country skiing just outside the fenceline for Banff town who was savaged and killed by a cougar. I did not believe in the power of bearspray (which I didn't have) and off-key singing in the forest (which I was too proud to do).

Laura assured me that if we walked by the river near the highway we should be fine as the animals don't like the noisier areas but if we were lucky we'd see a moose. Then she proceeded to tell me stories about when she lived in Alaska and getting up close to bears there. Not comforting.

Sheep river was a beautiful walk. Parts of the river were still iced over and after a short snowball fight and me having a few treehugging "I love Canada" moments we headed back. I decided to use the outdoor loo near the Ranger's station only to find that it had a latch on the outside. To keep animals out. I can't imagine what a scare you'd get if you opened the door and found something large inside. Of course, as expected when I had just settled in, I heard the latch outside click home.

Laura.

The wait wasn't long that time until she freed me. She went one better at Drumhellier town, Alberta but you'll have to wait for that one.

Longview

2007-06-09T11:32:00.000-07:00

Stating the obvious- the views to Longview are long. This is Prairie country and whilst not as flat as Saskatchewan, it was a beautiful sunny day for a drive in the country. Around this time I discovered an old fascination becoming a full-blown appreciation. North American barns. Yes, just when you thought I'd become interesting. Hear me out though. In Australia we don't have barns. We have massive corrugated iron sheds which whilst functional and manage to blend in not badly to the landscape, do not offer much by way of interest to look at. Our blokes get in them and shear sheep in high temperatures. Then we let the sheep out and leave the wool inside. That's about it.

North Americans have barns. I'd seen them in the movies. Wooden ones that have rounded edges and are painted, often with a trim. I think they're great to see on the landscape. In the movies they are often more interesting than the farmhouses, which can look drab by comparison. In the movies interesting stuff happens in them. Children play in them. Animals give birth in storms. Teenagers make out in them, the showdown scene of many a thriller has been in them. Barns hold family secrets in the country. The Kents hide Superman's space capsule in a barn in the original movies. Barns are cool. I have now seen all sorts, including the run-down ones on a lean that will blow apart next winter.

So we headed on past the nodding donkeys and the barns and made it to Longview, about 20 minutes down the road from Black Diamond. It is home to the originally named Longview Jerky Shop http://www.longviewjerkyshop.com/ and the biker saloon.

In Aust we don't really dry or cure meat as much as they do in the Northern Hemisphere. It's not really been part of culture the way is has been for the North Americans. Essentially any meat can be turned into jerky. The process involves removing most of the moisture from the the meat. It can be dried plain or a variety of flavours and spices added. The Longview Jerky shop has at least 20 different flavours just in the beef. You can also get turkey, elk, deer and a variety of other meats. The result is a stringy sort of tough meat that can be left out of the fridge and does not need to be wrapped, though it should as to not dry out completely.

Laura and I bought a few packets between us to take back to Calgary. I like teriyaki and original but honey garlic is best.

I might as well say this now because when Laura reads this she is bound to "out" me. I did not open my packet for a few days to a week after, and when I did, I had not had dinner and I was blogging. Anyway, I made it through a 100gm pkt in a sitting because it was so tasty. Unfortunately I didn't know that according to the packet, that amount of beef jerky contains 92% of your daily allowance of sodium. I wasn't sick but gained a newfound respect from Laura for simply surviving the experience.

When we go hiking now she rations it out as a snack for fear that I will go overboard again. My reply, "I can stop (eating it) ANYTIME I want" and then stomping after her up a mountain.

We pretended to be lazy cowgirls outside the shop and then (reluctantly) passed the biker saloon to go to the outskirts of the National Park at Banff on the way home for a walk. I was hoping (and fearing) the early emergence of bears in the warm weather.

Black Diamond

2007-06-09T10:32:00.000-07:00

For the first time since I got to Calgary, I turned my face from the Rockies in the West and in late March went for a day trip with Laura around country Alberta to Black Diamond and Longview.

Black Diamond was named for it's primary industry, coal. Around southern Alberta there is no getting away from the Energy business. The snow in the fields had mostly melted, leaving a brown undulating lanscape that had not yet been revived by the Spring rains. It looked eerily like part of NSW, only the gum trees were lacking. However, if you look closely there are other differences, the sky has a different quality because of the sunshine, though bright does not have the same intensity as in Australia, there were divets of water near the roads and occasionally we would pass a pond still frozen over.

And then there were the "nodding donkeys". These are the oil pumps that stand in the fields all over Alberta, looking like giant, long-legged nodding creatures that nod their heads towards the ground as they pump for oil. They are also called "pump jacks".

I was excited about getting a chance to see some of what I secretly considered to be the "great west country". There are a lot of Hollywood films set in the "West" that have been shot in Calgary and surrounds, standing in for the Northern USA states of Montana, Colarado etc. Remember Legends of the Fall? Forget Brad Pitt's emotionally constipated rancher character. Look at the backdrop. That's Alberta.

Our main purpose in going to Black Diamond that day was to step back in time, but only as far as the birth of rock n' roll. Laura wanted to take me to lunch at Marv's Soda Shop, a place both my parents would love and I was amazed at.

Driving into Black Diamond was like driving into a 1950s western town. It had an impossibly wide main street and no traffic lights. I don't even think they had Give Way (Yield) signs. The town of Longview (which we went to later) has a saloon bar. Black Diamond has a petrol station. The saloon bar looked rough and had at least 30 motorcycles outside of it. The petrol station sold fireworks. I don't know which was more dangerous but the teenager in me wanted to find out.

Instead, Laura and I went into Marv's Soda Shop, a 1950's diner lovingly accurate in every detail and complete with a memorabillia and collector's area towards the back. Laura and I were lucky to find a table in one of the pink vinyl booths and I felt like I was in the soda shop scene in Grease, right before the Teen Angel comes on and sings "Beauty School Dropout". We ordered a malted milkshake for Laura and a root beer float for me and contemplated how we wanted our individual heart attacks. Being American, Laura ordered the peanut butter burger and I enjoyed watching her with a sort of strange fascination, wondering if she would burp up Elvis or artery disease at any moment.

I went for something equally unhealthy but less weird and by the time we left, I felt like I had eaten more than "an elegant sufficiency". Being a Saturday, the place was packed. The Christian biker gang was there, but sucking down their milkshakes with their partners and kids in their highly polished leathers. I wondered later whether their rougher bretheren down the road at the saloon were having as much fun, though their image may be cooler.

It's not everyday that you get serenaded during your lunch by a man with a bow tie and a handlebar moustache. Some of us are just born lucky. Marv, of Marv's Soda Shop is not just an entrepreneur, a collector and an authority on 2 decades of cultural history. He can also sing. Marv had his own CD of light rock and roll covers and even an original about his Soda Shop, cunningly named, "The Soda Shop Song". He got out his guitar in the middle of the lunch rush and played to the packed house for free.

It was the best lunch experience I've had since moving to Calgary.

As we left I noticed a beautiful life sized wooden carving of an Indian Chief on the main street. The great irony is that he is chained by the feet to a post to stop the local hoons from stealing or damaging him. But what a visitor sees is an Indian Chief on display in the main street of Black Diamond, in chains. It was funny, sad, tragic and political. It was the similar the day I went to instruct in a case in the High Court of Australia. I arrived early, was rained on and windblown and an old Aboriginal cleaner laughed at me through the glass of the great front door. He directed me to the side entrance on the other side of the building which was for lawyers. He had access to the front doors of the Highest Court of Australia anytime he wanted. But it was because he was cleaning them.

After our lunchtime gluttony Laura reminded me that I had promised Sheena, one of the girls from work that I would visit her father-in-law who ran the popular Black Diamond Bakery. We walked in and had I not been full to the brim of sugar, salt, carbohydrates and fat, I would have just stayed there and inhaled. As it was the smell of so much baked cinnamon and wheat that was overwhelming and having ascertained that the owner had gone home after the morning baking, we bought hot cross buns and got out of there ASAP.

It was then onwards to Longview- 20 mins down the road in Alberta Prairie Country and home to the best beef jerky in the world.

Fish Creek

2007-06-07T18:32:00.000-07:00

"Come along for a walk", Laura said on one of my first weekends in Calgary after I got back from Disneyland. What I didn't know that it would turn out to be a nearly 3 hour speed walk in windy snow around an understated area called "Fish Creek", in Southern Calgary.

On the way we saw the suburb of Queensland, which cracked me up and I have since sent this photo to my Brisbane relatives for their entertainment.

I did not see any fish at Fish Creek but that was expected. Even the cold blooded creatures were staying under cover that day. It was a beautiful frozen walk and I had the opportunity to make a new friend, Kelty, a fellow geologist at the same company as Laura. My first Canadian girlfriend. I was making progress. I was able to ask her why hockey players try to pick fistfights on the ice, "It's tradition !" and we all chatted around the path following the riverbed.

There was a random moment. Most of us wish we had a superpower, whether it be to have X ray vision, to stop time, to fly etc. That day I discovered Laura's superpower. She is a real live Snow White. If any of you have seen the original Snow White animated Disney film, Snow White sings to all the forest ceatures and they gather around her and the small birds land on her shoulders and outstretched finger. This was spoofed in Shrek, when Princess Fiona sang to a bluebird, going up the soprano scale until she was so shrill the bird inflated and exploded. She then cooked the eggs from the nest for breakfast.

We were walking along when I noticed some little brown birds in a bush. Kelty explained that they were chickadees. I was delighted, having never seen one before.

All of a sudden Laura walked away from us into the field and fell silent. This was disturbing for two reasons;
- Laura is constantly in motion
- she is usually talking at the same time.

For her to cease both made me concerned that something was very wrong in the universe. As we stood and watched she stretched out her hand and a chickadee landed on it. Unfortunately I am not the fastest draw with my camera so did not capture this on film. This apparently was not a single occurrence, she has whispered butterflies and other birds to her before and since.

You can't judge a book by it's cover. Of course I have gone to town with this story since, and have told her that if she can get a Canadian geese to land on her hand (they are the size of a small child) I'll be really impressed.

By the time we got back to the car my nose was mostly frozen, my legs hurt in their hip sockets, I was wide awake and I felt I had earnt my lunch. We adjourned to the pub for my first ever maple-glazed pork ribs, Grasshopper beer and a good warm-through before heading home.

Photo album link has been included for the complete collection.

My "Bestie"

2007-06-07T18:07:00.000-07:00

Not to be mistaken for a Beastie, a Best-ie is a best girlfriend. I am blessed in Australia to have an exclusive and small group of wonderful girlfriends, none of whom it would be fair to single out for that sparkly tiara-ed title. In Canada I have made 4 really good girlfriends, Kelty, Karen, Melissa and Laura. I am lucky in knowing all of them. The tiara in this country goes to Laura, no doubt.

My travelling adventures did not end when I started work in Calgary. In Laura I had found the ideal travel buddy, better than anyone I could have mail-ordered. She is North American, so she could explain a myriad of stuff I didn't understand, like why people's barns look better than their houses, why the buttered popcorn is good at the Saddledome stadium (I would prefer actually not to know) how many foods pickles can go on and why you would put blueberries in a bagel.

Additionally, being a geologist, she has been really handy in explaining to me why the Rockies are, well... rocky. I prefer to call them The Snow Covered Chunkies. I am forgiven for getting a glazed look in my eyes when asking about (and then not listening properly to) answers about limestone formations. She had also been in Calgary for at least 6 months longer than me and knew lots of handy information about the best chocolate shop in Banff and best pubs for beer. I had a guide, a friend and someone who was frustrated with wanting to be a tourist in Alberta and whilst having many friends, few as mental as her for tripping about.

Also, let's not forget. She has a car.

Enter Moi.

In me she had found someone who knew less about Canada than her, could talk her way in (and out) of most situations in an Aussie accent, could argue about the cricket (she used to live in Leeds and supports England- very wrong !!) and someone who she could send to ask for directions when we were lost. Also there is a lot of comedy value in the random moments that we have together and my habit of asking silly questions.

Q- If you are training to be Mountie, is it a prerequisite to be able to ride a horse?
Q- What is root beer made out of?
Q- What happens to the rest of the chicken after you've made chicken wings?
Q- How can a can of spray be successful weaponry alone against a bear?
Q- How is it that bears can't get into bearproof bins?
Q- Why do they call them "Big Horned sheep" when they look like goats?
Q- If there is a "land bridge" over a road in the mountains for the animals to cross from one side to the other, how do they know where to cross? (Actually that question was Laura's. I told her about the "bush telegraph" back home but she wasn't convinced)
Q- If two people are walking in the forest and one is wearing a "bear bell" and the other one isn't, which one will the bear eat?

Without getting mushy, we have had some great travel adventures together so far, both in town and about Alberta and Saskatchewan. The best way of explaining it is that we are the "odd couple". Most Canadians find us an interesting double act, how the Texan geologist and Aussie lawyer could end up in so many crazy places together, finish each other's sentences and pass each other napkins without looking, the way old people do. I hope you will enjoy hearing about us as I capture the highlights here.

United Nations birthday in the snow

2007-06-01T12:27:00.001-07:00

I arrived back in Calgary the day before I started my new contract position on 18 March. The next day I started my new job. It was also my birthday. Each year my birthday gets bigger, more flamboyant or more self-indulgent. Two years ago I threw a "Bon Voyage party" for myself, hosted by myself, at my house and in honour of myself for an upcoming cruise on the South Pacific. My friends all came and the cruise was cancelled (twice) before I managed to get on 9 months later. Now that is a long time to be having birthday drinks to keep the party spirit alive.

Last year I hosted a Singaporean banquet (again) for myself, by myself and I bludgeoned various friends and family into travelling to attend. Many wonderful people broke the "please don't bring presents" rule and as punishment, I didn't give the presents back :-)

This year I had gone to Disneyland. I don't know if I can top that. Even coming back to Calgary and my one good friend, Laura, with the prospect of no party could dent me. She asked what I wanted for my birthday. I said "party please".

There was only one solution. Rent-a-crowd.

Because I had not been here long enough to make my own friends, Laura decided to lend me some of hers. Of course we had to make sure they didn't know they were being duped.

Laura invited a bunch of her mates to come to the pub, Brewsters to watch the (Calgary Flames) hockey on the big screen, eat chicken wings and drink beer. Canadians do amazing things with marinades, sauces etc for chicken wings and I have converted to the way of thinking that the chicken wing is an underrated and tasty carrier for salt, sugar and fat. Brewsters is also the home of two beers I am now fond of, Grasshopper, an Albertan standard lager and Blueberry beer, brewed on the premises and served with a blueberry in the bottom. It's a sissy beer AND I like it.

What I didn't realise is that no one two people sitting at the table that night were going to be from the same country. Laura's mates consisted of Alan (Scotland), Kristof (Belgium) his girlfriend Sylvie (France), Laura (US), myself (Aust) and KC, who flew the flag for Canada (Winnipeg).

It was great. Somewhere after the third round it let slip it was my birthday and by then no one felt suckered out on the promise of cheap food and good beer to celebrate with another expat. Laura's plan was a success.

As we left the pub, me with the first spring daffodils in hand, it began to snow. Literally, this great city iced itself like a cake for my little birthday.

I wish I had a cricket bat...

2007-05-29T20:59:00.000-07:00

The title of this post might seem inconsistent with these photos. This is the snowy Calgary I left for LA and more of less the snowy Calgary I came back to. I have previously mentioned that Calgary has it's share of Chinooks (warm winds off the mountains) that can increase the temperature by 20 degrees in a day, change temp every 2 hours and melt snow.

By March when I started work I was the only person left in Calgary (apart from Laura) who was enjoying the random snowfalls. Our last snowfall was one last Tuesday after the May long weekend and all the folk who had spent the May long weekend planting their spring gardens were ropable.

Meanwhile my house currently resembles a nursery (of the green variety not the nappy one). My housemate has trust issues with weather and continues to keep his seedlings inside, which I have the job of watering when he is out of town for work. No hard price for good rent and the lounge now resembles an oxygen tent.

Which brings me to the cricket bat. The bed of beautiful tulips my housemate trusted in the garden since the snow melt has been savaged by huge fat-bottomed rabbits. These Calgary bunnies do not have the sleek mean aspect of the ones back home and the nervous twitch that comes from having an Aussie spotlighter training his shottie on it.

No exaggeration, these rabbits look like long-eared wombats and move about as quickly. Apparently the locals think they're cute and feed them so they are everywhere in bunny suburban- heaven. I feel like I am living in Wallace and Gromit's Curse of the Were- Rabbit.

My housemate has asked me to chase them off if I see one again. They could probably use the exercise more than me. I offered to give one a good launch into the next street with a cricket bat should I find both handy at the same time. My housemate agreed. This surprised me because he supports PETA and is a vegetarian. Maybe he thought I was joking. Or maybe vegos are just mean about their greens. Either way, we had a laugh.

Cricket anyone?

Welcome back to Calgary

2007-05-28T22:07:00.000-07:00

After my little "big" trip to Disneyland I arrived back in Calgary to start work, go on weekend road trips with my "bestie" Laura and to get my hands and feet properly snow-sodden in Alberta.

Here are some shots taken of the Calgary tower and city by day and from the Centre St Bridge by night. The Centre St bridge is the oldest bridge over the Bow river in the centre of town. Magnificent stone lions guard the archways on the bridge. The Saddledome hockey stadium is to the right of the Calgary tower in the daytime wide shot. The dome of the building is shaped like a saddle (I know, I know !).

The picture of me with the map is a running joke. Laura is a geologist and as such has a PhD in reading maps. She can also drive on the right side of the road. Though I have recently been doing a little highway driving I have found my niche in our car travels in;

- singing "On the road again" in my best Willie Nelson accent
- joining her in a rousing chorus of "the Pirates of Saskatchewan"
- announcing when we pass an interesting- looking painted barn, grain silo, or moose or train crossing (both hazards which could put a Big Dent in the car)
- spotting deer
- asking "are we there yet ?" before we leave Calgary city limits
- passing her bottles of water, crisps and chocolate, AND
- pinching the map at each opportunity to prove I am ed-u-cated too.

Hollywood- the last of LA

2007-05-28T19:07:00.000-07:00

My day on Rodeo Drive was awesome- Julie (UK) and I had a wonderful time, capped off by a glass of wine and some shopping to congratulate ourselves on surviving Tiffanys, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the Beverly Wiltshire Hotel and a lot of neighbourhoods too glamourous for two scruffy travellers.

Disney Parade

2007-05-24T21:27:00.000-07:00

Ok, This is out of order but I've actually been updating the L.A section of the blog recently and no-one has noticed. So, in case you thought I'd forgotten you all, here are the last and best of the L.A shots- the Disneyland Parade and then I will update you on the past 2 months in Calgary which I have only briefly touched on to date.

New laptop and photos

2007-05-03T21:37:00.000-07:00

Hello, very exciting stuff- I have finally got my own laptop and have downloaded my camera software. This means that I am going back to older posts and updating the entries that were waiting on photos. This is a big job so bear with me whilst I go about this.

I have uploaded some photos from Universal Studios so look left on your screen and click on the archive for Universal Studios. More to come.

http://waltzingmatildaaroundtheworld.blogspot.com/2007_04_01_archive.html

PS_ These are the best cupcakes on the planet- Crave. I can only eat half in one sitting.

Being Buddies in Banff

2007-05-03T21:18:00.000-07:00

God Bless the ANZACS

2007-04-24T21:59:00.000-07:00

It's always cold on April 25 in Canberra. It feels like the first hint of winter as you set your alarm, haul yourself out of bed and scramble for clothes to wear outside. You haven't heated your house properly because of that permanent denial that summer is actually over and wearing even a thin wool coat is the inevitable defeat to winter.

But you put on your coat, hat and gloves, make sure the torch is in your car to get from your car park to the park (to swap then for a candle) and drive around the silent Parliament House well before dawn breaks in Australia's capital city.

It's that still quiet part of the morning when the possums have shut up and the magpies haven't started.

It's ANZAC day.

Last year I joined nearly 20,000 people in my nation's capital for the dawn service, an ANZAC day tradition.

For my Canadian friends, ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. They first fought together under that moniker in WWI. The first major campaign of our involvement in the war was to take Istanbul from Turkey, squeezing the Turkish and German forces as the Allies advanced on the Western Front (where we also were with your forces but in smaller numbers).

At dawn, the ANZACS landed on the beach at Gallipoli. The Turkish forces were waiting on the sheer clifftops overhead with machine guns. Many ANZACS did not make it out of the longboats. Despite impossible odds the ANZACS lasted in the Gallipoli campaign for about 6 months and only withdrew when ordered to.

ANZAC day is arguably Australia's most patriotic public holiday and it commemorates that day. It has also come to be a standing memorial day for all Australian and NZ involvement in any war or peacekeeping activities. The day is marked by dawn services, marches by the returned (and active) services, baking of ANZAC biscuits (oatmeal biscuits dating from the period which women sent to the Front), a coin- toss gambling game called "Two-up" in pubs and at-home BBQs.

It is impossible to describe why generation after generation of young, non-military Australians and Kiwis continue to follow this public holiday. Thousands of Aust/ Kiwis make the pilgrimmage each year to Gallipoli for the dawn service. The closest I can come is that we are not a nation that explains ourselves. We take action. We are also not "flag wavers". Which is why we have defined our national identity mostly in history by sport and war. It is only by testing ourselves or being tested in the most extreme ways that we can recognise our own kind of courage and resilence, which we can genuinely call, "the spirit of the ANZACS".

So for ANZAC day this year, I successfully learnt how to make ANZAC biscuits, adopted some Aussies and Kiwis and I'll be paying my respects at the Memorial Ceremony in Calgary.

More than 9 Canadian cities are hosting Memorial ceremonies this year. 60 countries worldwide are hosting ANZAC day events this year. We are a nation of 20 million people. NZ is even smaller in population. But we take this identity with us around the world. We can, because of the freedom they fought for.

They shall not grow old as we who are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/sydneysiders-turn-out-in-force/2007/04/25/1177180684770.html

All things Canadian- Corner Gas

2007-04-16T12:18:00.000-07:00

Late last year my friend Chris in Winnipeg started raving to me about Corner Gas. Like Tim Hortons coffee shops (a franchise which is seems to be more common than MacDonalds here) he could not quite believe I hadn't heard of Canada's No.1 TV program, which is a sitcom.

Now the Canadians are not big on watching TV unless it's the hockey being played live, and they are watching it in their local bar on the big screen and eating chicken wings with their own (pretty crappy) beer. I know this because especially since moving to Calgary and the Calgary Flames were on their winning streak which got them into the playoffs (semi-final rounds), I have been watching telly under the same circumstances.

However, I managed to find out in December last year that Corner Gas was screened on Australian TV- SBS (the foreign language channel) on a Friday evening and watched an episode. This cracked me up more for the fact that the Aussies were showing it on the foreign language channel (Corner Gas is in English) than anything else. The show itself did not grab me immediately.

Corner Gas is the name of a petrol station on a corner in the fictional village of Dog River in Saskatchewan. There is the gas station, a cafe, a pub, a police station, the mayor's office and not much else to support the neighbouring farming community. The whole idea of the show is that it is character-driven by all the funny day to day stuff that happens in a small town. You wouldn't think that there would be enough material to support one episode let alone 4 seasons of this show. Well it is still growing strong and amazingly has the support of the nation. Literally, the current sitting Prime Minister, Stephen Harper had a cameo at the end of the last season, weighing into the debate in one storyline on the show whether Dog River should build a Big Prairie Dog or a Big Gofer to draw tourism to the fictional town.

One of the things that amuses me the most is that with the popularity of the show, the province of Saskatchewan has been raised.

Back home many individual states get dumped on for being boring but if you think about it, in Aust every State and Territory has a beach (ACT has Jarvis Bay for those smarties playing at home), and usually something "interesting" about it.

South Australia has wine regions and sharks, QLD the Barrier Reef and island honeymoons, NT has Ayers Rock and crocodiles, WA has diamonds, emeralds, iron ore and Margaret River wines, Tasmania has cycling and forests and apple cider and King Island cream, NSW has Sydney, Byron Bay, Hunter Valley and Griffith wine and Lightening Ridge opals, Victoria has Melbourne, the Dandenongs, more wine and the Great Ocean Road.

Saskatchewan has fields. Lots of them. Flat, bread-basket country. No trees, no beach, no hills, no mountains and a landspace bigger than Sweden. Amongst Canadians it was (maybe still is) the country's joke in terms of the dullest place imaginable to live. Having a successful comedy about the place has been sweet revenge for the province of Saskatchewan.

So, I have since watched to the end of Season 3 on DVD and Laura and I have become a pretty big fans too. After The Simpsons, it is the funniest and cleverest show I've seen, suitable for anyone to watch. I hope it comes back to Australian TV so you can see what I'm talking about. Watch out on SBS for season 2.

In the meantime, Laura and I are planning a weekend trip to Rolleau, the village where the show is set with a stay in Regina, one of the big towns in the province. We'll be Thelma and Louising it on the Trans- Canada highway. There is something a little odd about a Texan and an Aussie being big fans of a Canadian show, but good humour is universal.

Of course I can't tell you when we're going, because it's the blog.

Check out http://www.cornergas.com/

In the meantime, here are the lyrics that open the show.

You could tell me that your dog ran away,
Then you tell me that it took three days.

I've heard every joke,
I've heard every word you say

You think there's not a lot goin' on,
Look closer and you're so wrong

That's why you can stay so long
When there's not a lot goin' on

All things Canadian- Buckleys- the mean cure for colds

2007-04-16T12:16:00.002-07:00

I have a nasty, nasty cold. In the icy depths of Winnipeg's Winter, where the ice storms howl and the snow machines go bump in the night I previously learned the ancient treatment for colds introduced by the Canadians- Buckleys cough mixture.

Buckleys. A word that strikes fear into the hearts of Canadian schoolchildren. It could be the advertising. Their website actually says,

Let the people who love you give you comfort. We're here to make you better.

Which is really a nice way of saying their product tastes like 4 day old Cream of chicken soup mixed with anti-freeze. Without the chicken. I have seen a Swiss girl who has been deported from two different countries shake violently in Ottawa after taking a dose administered by a Vancouver bloke (who spent a lot of time smoking his greens, but knew the right remedy for colds).

I first was given this stuff in Winnipeg when I was coming down with a cold. I remember Chris looking at me like I was going to explode. I didn't and didn't shame my mother or my nation by making a fuss either.

Active ingredients

267 mg potassium bicarbonate
153mg ammonium carbonate
22mg menthol
2.2 mg camphor
Sugar free, Alcohol free (fun free)

The descriptor doesn't improve in French either.

Buckleys. It tastes rotten but does the job. Buckleys. Only pansies hold their nose when taking the dose. Go hard or go home.

Stop all the clocks

2007-04-10T20:39:00.000-07:00

Friends, I am sorry I cannot be with you in person this Friday. What support I can give is yours.

In Memoriam

2007-04-08T20:47:00.002-07:00

I received the news that my friend, Ed died on Friday of cancer in Australia.

My grief is too new to do justice to his life in words. Enough to say that he was my friend and it was a privilege to have been his.

Please pray for his wife, family and friends. We all have no doubt he has been taken Home.

I honour him.

Black Diamond and surrounds

2007-04-08T20:46:00.002-07:00

Report coming soon

A Pom and an Aussie in Santa Monica

2007-04-08T20:45:00.001-07:00

After a fantastic day in Disneyland Bec and I headed back to Santa Monica. The days in Santa Monica were beautiful and sunny and the evenings balmy and relaxed. The night before I'd walked down to the Santa Monica Pier where the "Bubba Gump Shrimp Co." had operations and I'd gone for a walk around the carnival area of the pier and a Ferris wheel. It was there that I had my picture taken with the only kind of gun you're likely to see me handle- a fake in a toy shooting gallery. Check out my sneaky "I'm in America and I have a gun" look though. That was fun though I didn't win anything.

My evening with Bec was a lot of fun. I had admired her sneaker-shoes so much we decided to go to Sketchers in the Plaza area. I don't know what the Americans call it but Santa Monica has a outdoor paved restaurant and shopping area two blocks from the beach which is very similar to The Corso at Manly, Sydney. However, the Corso is unlikely to have some of the most outstanding breakdancers in California.

After Bec and I went to Sketchers and amused the clerk by me asking for "Princess Disco sneakers" (see photo) we stopped and watched the breakdancing. It was amazing. Not only the dancing but the showmanship of the three young guys who did it. They announced that they would do the first half of the show and if we liked it and everyone contributed to the bucket, they would do the 2nd half of the show "for free". Fantastic concept. Even better, that the last person to put money in would have the 2nd half of the show publicly dedicated to the contributer's hometown. It was great. Everyone wanted to be last so people kept contributing. Hong Kong won. Go Asia- Pacific ! The lead guy who was black had a great sense of humour about life in LA. When spruking for contributions he said "Give up $5 and you won't have to give up the plasma tv because I won't be coming to your house, pay $10 and I won't have to bother going to college". When a nearby ambulance sounded its siren he dropped to the ground with his hands on his head, making himself and everyone laugh. I was surprised that Americans were willing to laugh at themselves over the racial stereotypes.

My last day in LA was eventful. I had met Julie, a lovely blonde Briton with blue eyes and a cut-glass accent the evening before in the Mexican-themed courtyard of the Hostel. We had such a lovely time chatting that by the end of the night I'd convinced her to come back to Disneyland with me the next day. It didn't take too much arm twisting since she had been to Florida Disneyworld several years beforehand and loved it.

We put our names down for the shuttle and met the next morning we met and went to go meet Mickey Mouse and Friends. To our horror, the shuttle was not going. No shuttle was going to either Disneyland or the Disneyland California Adventure park. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday. It was St Patrick's Day. Both Parks were open. However, not a single person from any of the hotels in Santa Monica had booked to go apart from us. So we wheedled and charmed. Got nowhere. This was Hollywood. Nothing less than a movie-star smile and cash was going to get anyone anywhere and this was business.

So we pulled our heads in and booked onto a shuttle that was doing tours of the stars homes and the Hollywood Walk of Fame. It was a great day out. Our tour guide had a great sense of humour, taking us around Beverly Hills where there are no footpaths, they literally didn't want to encourage visitors or people to walk in the neighbourhood and he successfully snuck the bus into a few gated communities. Most of the houses we saw were old Hollywood- houses that belonged to Sinatra, Zsa Zsa ("don't get mad, get EVERYTHING, dahling") Gabor etc. Whilst Madonna and Leonardo DiCaprio own homes in Beverly Hills, when they are in town they mostly stay at their residences on Malibu beach. Still it was interesting to be so close. Our tour bus driver told me it's actually the servants who have the best life. When you are live- in staff at a luxury mansion and the owner is away 11.5 months of the year, life is pretty cushy and you can throw your own parties.

Onwards then to the shopping mecca of the Western world- Rodeo Drive. Julie and I relived our collective memories of watching Pretty Woman and dropped into the Beverly Wiltshire Hotel. We were chronically underdressed for a drink at the bar (near THAT piano) so we skipped it in favour of freshening up in the Powder Room- Chanel No. 5, fresh 100% Egyptian cotton washers anyone?

Feeling like a million dollars (but looking about $200 combined) we both sauntered over the Drive to Tiffany and Co for the most delusional part of the day... pretending that we weren't scruffy daytrippers in sneakers and we could even afford Tiffany diamonds. The clerks left us alone, clocking us for what we were, the usual tourists who were trying not to look starry eyed. We did see a young couple picking out an engagement ring together which was sweet and a serious business- a big contrast from Audrey Hepburn asking to get her cereal box ring engraved at the store in the movie Breakfast at Tiffanys.

Julie and I met on the street, Mr Gregg Donovan Esq the Goodwill Ambassador of Rodeo Drive, a guide in a top hat and polyester suit- a colourful character paid by the City of Beverly Hills to welcome tourists to Rodeo Drive and to tell you that days' gossip- which star had closed which store for private shopping etc. He took quite a fancy to Julie and we had a brief chat before moving on.

The shuttle took us onwards to Mann's Chinese Theatre and the Kodak Theatre (where the Oscars are held). I was excited to see the stars on the pavement. Jules and I grabbed a Maccas lunch and took in the atmosphere- there was security and cleanup crews everywhere and they were laying out the Green Carpet (rather than red) for the premiere of the new Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles movie.

Now I haven't heard "Cowabunga Dude !" since I had pimples and Pizza Hut was the coolest new restaurant in town. I don't understand how the sequel concept could be stetched so far. Maybe I can make it back to LA for the premiere of Indiana Jones and the Gerriatrics of Doom when I'm 70 years old or Die Hard- Cryogenically Alive when Bruce Willis is 102 yrs. If you have seen the new TMNT (turtles) movie, are prepared to admit to it, and liked it, I want to hear from you.

Meanwhile there were anti-war protesters trying to draw the media attention in addition to some more creative enterprising types. I saw a guy in a low-quality Dark Vader costume carrying two plastic light sabers. He would offer people one to fight him and then jingle the plastic cup attached to his utility belt for money. The West Hollywood Police seemed untroubled by him so I managed to get them in the same photo moment.

After our brief run around the area so I could get pictures with the stars I wanted (see photos) we just made it in time to meet the shuttle. Onwards we went to see the famed Hollywood sign. The closest and best vantage point was very hot and crowded on an exposed section of one of the Hollywood Hills. Ironically it also afforded an excellent view of a star's house not amongst the Beverly Hills set we had seen earlier. David Hasselhoff. Yes, The Hoff, Knightrider, lives within clear eyesight of the Hollywood sign. Strange that he is now more famous in Japan.

Julie and I headed back to Santa Monica for a quiet drink in a bar and a debrief on our day.

I was really blessed in LA for girlfriends. I went there expecting to meet no one and have a fun time doing my own thing. I met two terrific girls and had a fantastic time.

Leaving LA was always going to be hellish. Not because I was sorry to leave (which I was) or because I was going back to snowy Calgary. It was the 3.30 am wakeup and what happened next that made humour essential and murder contemplatable. I like my sleep. I don't function without it and I'm not great with gigantic crowds.

I felt ill. Really ill. Running around like a pork chop for several days straight on little sleep I was like one of the oversugared, overtired children at Disneyland. I made it on the shuttle to the airport and got off at the United Airlines section of LAX. I knew I was getting on a United flight operated by Air Canada. There was a long line and little help there. Unfortunately by the time I got to the front of the line it was 20 mins later and I was informed that I needed to check in at Air Canada desk. It was several kilometres away on the other side of the airport after getting down 4 flights of stairs (escalators not working) with my wheelie bag and Calgary coat.

I looked out onto the curb for a shuttle bus. Intermittent flashes of panic shot through my heart. There was a very real possibility of missing my flight. Maybe I could live in Disneyland... Focus ! My saviour arrived in the form of Willie, a big black American shuttle bus driver who cheerfully let me struggle on with my luggage. He took one look at me and told me that God had told him that it was going to be a good day. I'm not sure how, but I just accepted it and hoped it was true.

There were some Canadians on board who were complaining loudly about the distance travelling home to Vancouver from LA. This was unusual in itself because Canadians seldom complain about anything as a people.

Willie took one look at my half- asleep face and recognising my accent said, "Honey, where have you been travelling?"

I could only respond in a singsong monotone, "Sydney, Honolulu, Vancouver, Victoria, Quebec city, Montreal, Ottawa, Winnipeg, Calgary, LA".

Everyone went silent.

"Oh, ho ho ! This little lay-dee has been around half-way the world!".

The Canadians didn't say anything for the rest of the bus ride but they were the first to help me off with my luggage and up the stairs, bless them. I was too tired to explain that I hadn't travelled all those places continuously.

Arriving at the Air Canada desk was like going from the frying pan into the fire. The self-service kiosks for check in were all offline so by 5.15 am there were about 180 people waiting for one open desk to check in for the flight back to Calgary. It was also the morning after St Patrick's day and I was not the only one who looked pale-faced and homicidal.

After making it through, American customs were next and I had actually woken up sufficiently to chat to an American man and his 18 yr old son who had just won a filmmaking scholarship to go to Vancouver. Nice guys and I wish I could remember the son's name so I could say, "I knew him when..."

The flight back to Calgary passed in a blur and my first real test of my working holiday visa came into play. I had not left Canada since I arrived and it was a little nervewracking as to whether I would be allowed back in. No problems. After Laura picked me up and brought me home we had a cup of tea and a bit of a "show and tell" of souveniers before I crashed into bed at 2.00 pm, not to open my eyes again until a cold, crisp Monday morning in Calgary.

I slept so long my housemate told me he thought I must've died.

"No, I've had the time of my life".

Fantasyland

2007-04-08T20:44:00.003-07:00

As you head down Main St USA towards the roundabout you see Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse holding hands. However, your attention is caught by something grander. The Disneyland castle rises up behind it in a very dramatic fashion, with an open drawbridge leading into the keep. Was it Tinkerbell's bells tinkling as I looked at it or just my imagination???

The guardhouse on one side has been utilised as a crystal shop. In there you can purchase collectable glass and crystal ornaments with the Disney characters lasered inside them in 3D leadlight images. I was particularly taken with one of Sleeping Beauty with the Prince in a waltz position that when placed on an uplight, was very simple and pretty.

It was then that I discovered the weird thing about Disneyland.

The staff at Disneyland are kooky. The perfomers and character actors are wonderfully flawless, always in character. In Fantasyland, Bec and I passed by the evil (but very beautiful) witch from Snow White on the street. Little girls were tugging her skirt and begging for her autograph. She gave it imperiously, hardly breaking stride but she did give them her attention. She didn't try to scare them but was icy, elegant and snobbish as a good witch should be, "Yes, yes, how lovely you are here. Now, I really must be on my way." The little girls thought she was great, they got their autographs. Bec and I thought she was fabulous.

However, the staff at the park in the shops and food areas are another matter. I watched for a few minutes at the parade later in the day, a young guy slumped over the counter of a nearby souvenier shop mouthing the words of the parade songs with eyes completely glazed over. 100% zombie. Disney-brainwashed. Then there are the old dears who run the candy stores on Main St (who I think) still think it's 1950, with the number of brass bands and ice cream vendors that go by each day. They were the least worrying to us. They were just permanently cheerful. If I'd lived through 1950 I'd probably want to stay there too.

Then there are the Disney fanatics. I asked the guy in the crystal shop to bring down the ornament off its light that took my fancy. I didn't looked at it carefully (the shop was dark) and I mistakenly called it "Belle and the Prince". The guy at the shop looked at me scathingly, "It's Princess Aurora (Sleeping Beauty) and the Prince, NOT Beauty and the Beast (Prince)". The thing is, he really cared that I should know the difference. Hmmm. Okey dokey.

I thanked him for the correction and slowly backed out of there without making a purchase, which is a shame 'cause I really liked it. Disney nutters. If I spent all day listening to the music and working in Fantasyland I'd probably take up residence mentally too.

In Fantasyland Bec did comment more than once that she was surprised the big tough lawyer had not outgrown her own "inner princess". I was delighted to find a shop full of costumes (for ages 8 and under) consisting mostly of glitter and tulle and bounced with joy when I found out that even though were were going to miss the evening parade (we had to be back on the shuttle), there was an afternoon parade that we could see. The parade was the big highlight of my day. Australians don't really do pagentry (but then again I've never been to the Royal Easter show in Sydney). I have absolutely loved the detail that goes into every professional musical I've seen and Disneyland was no exception.

I took a heap of photos and there were a series of giant floats. Mickey and Minnie were on a Disney castle float with all their friends. The Alice in Wonderland one was a giant table and chairs (Mad Hatter's Tea party). The table was a trampoline base and the Hatter was bouncing on it all the way down the street. The 7 dwarves skipped down the road followed by a float with the Disney Princesses (Snow White, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty).

The little Mermaid got her own float as did Beauty and the Beast, who waltzed on their float together. The parade ended with the Lion King float, with African animal characters on stilts. There were acrobats on ropes twirling and doing sustained poses 20 feet in the air in concert with each other as the float moved down the street. The Lion King characters looking incredibly life-like and the whole parade sang "Circle of Life" to a massive orchestration to finish.

Any residual embarrassment one might have about being in Disneyland at that point was completely gone. Having my photo taken next to, or in a set of giant spinning teacups was possible. Taking a ride on the Matterhorn was entirely probable.

The Matterhorn is a ride around and through another fake mountain covered in (you guessed it) fake snow. It zoomed around and like the ride we took in Frontierland, Bec was cooler than I was and again, I had fun by the end of it. It's pride that mostly gets me on those things. I refuse to be less courageous than a 6 year old.

In Fantasyland Disney takes its Princesses pretty seriously. Princesses have a Royal Schedule posted up in Fantasyland. I cracked up laughing and took a photo of what they were up to that day. We were determined to make it back to Fantasyland in time to have our photos taken with some of them but found the line was closed. No fear, we dodged Security and boosted ourselves over a low wall (which a Princess would never do) to watch them.

Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Princess Jasmine from Aladdin and Belle from Beauty and the Beast were all there. Ariel the Little Mermaid wasn't (I guess she's not too mobile out of water). The actresses cast in the roles looked the parts perfectly, like they had stepped out of the animated movies into human life themselves. It was remarkable what good casting, acting, makeup and costume can do. They were all giving gentle instruction to a bunch of young girls on the ways of the Princesses. Having insufficient power in my arms to hold myself up long enough on the wall to find out what exactly are the ways of the Princesses, how to become one to this date remains a mystery.

This little interlude reminded me a bit of something that happened earlier in the day at Tomorrowland. Bec and I bought some Cokes and I wandered off with my camera. Or more to the point, the last thing Bec heard was me shouting, "That's the Star Wars theme music!! I have to find out what's going on!" and dashing away. On a nearby stage a tall and good-looking Asian-American guy was wearing a Jedi costume doing spectacular martial arts moves with a plastic lightsaber. Now, the fact that he was still able to impress with a plastic lightsaber was remarkable in itself. The presence and athleticism he conveyed was terrific (it helped that his lightsaber made those swishy movie- sound effects when he moved it). Anyway, he was conducting Jedi class and getting children from the audience to become his Paduan learners.

I was entranced. I wanted to stay and become a Jedi. Was it a Jedi mind trick? Bec snorted and said she thought it had more to do with the instructor's charisma. She dragged me away to the Buzz Lightyear ride to focus me on defeating the Evil Emperor Zurg. That's what good mates do.

We left ourselves about ½ hr at the end of our day (about 5pm) to buy souveniers, having skimmed through most of the shops during the day. It was nowhere near enough time. The lineup for embroidered mouse ears was too long and I agonised over my lack of shopping time to buy gifts for my sister's children until I made enquiries and found they had all the same stuff at the Disney California Adventure Park (where I planned to go but ended up being prevented from going the next day- Joanne don't worry I still have a plan for Disney souveniers).

I helped Bec organise her souveniers and we strolled out of the Park around sunset. Was it time to rejoin the grownup world?

I'm not sure if I need to explain these photos. I did something naughty in Disneyland. Bec and I got on the Snow White ride and didn't find it scary at all. So we screamed at random points in the dark for the benefit of the children in the carriages behind us to "enhance" their experience.

By the end of that day I felt I had danced in glass slippers, had tea with the Mad Hatter, eaten a magic apple, gone to a Prince's ball, visited an enchanted castle, slept through Time, tamed a Beast and sung from the depths of the ocean.

A magical day. I looked forward to living Happily Ever After.

Toontown and Main St Parade

2007-04-08T20:44:00.001-07:00

If you've seen the film, "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" then you're partway to understanding what I saw when I walked into Toontown. Imagine stepping into a cartoon, where the walls and roofs on buildings are sloped and brightly coloured. There is a saloon and police station and a fire station to deal with the path of destruction expected from fictional cartoon gangsters and criminals. The whole place has a Looney Tunes feel about it (which I actually think is Warner Bros).

It was in Toontown that Bec and I both found cartoon houses we would like to own, resembling cottages from the Snow White story and tripped over a whole lot of 3 year olds running on sugar and junk food who were about to hit that late afternoon wall of overtiredness. We skipped the kids' rides, for fear that our legs were too long and we might not physically fit into the seats and headed back into Fantasyland.

Photos of New Orleans square

2007-04-05T20:46:00.002-07:00

New Orleans Square and Pirates of the Caribbean

2007-04-05T20:18:00.000-07:00

I loved it. Simply loved it. Appropriately south of Critter Country lies New Orleans Square. I've never been to the real New Orleans, my parents have (pre-Katrina) and they have some wonderful stories about the city. I don't think the Disney version can compare or whether I will get the opportunity to go, but old New Orleans is a place and an era I've loved ever since I listened to my first jazz and big band records.

Imagine a cobblestone marketplace with a bandstand and a jazz band playing. The street are narrow with French signs on the cafes and shops. A large saloon style upper verandah stands in the full afternoon sun. On it stands a large black woman in reams of taffetta, giant puffed sleeves, elbow length gloves and feathers stuck in her pomadour hairstyle. She sings the Bayou jazz to the boys in the band on the street level. When she descends the stairs and draws the crowd closer you can see the sheen of sweat beading above her makeup. It's a hot day but nothing would stop her from wearing her finery. There is the smell of fried chicken and cornbread in the air and something vaguely swampy.

I knew there was a Pirates of the Caribbean "something new" at Disneyland but I wasn't sure if it was a display, exhibit, ride or show. It didn't matter. We passed on the "Haunted Mansion" and with Bec in tow I was determined to see the Pirates. We waited the longest all day- about 20 minutes which was not bad at all.

The most unpleasant thing that day happened when we were standing in the crowded line. There was a very good looking family, Mum, Dad and a girl (about 10 years) and a boy (about 8 years) in front of us. Mum had picked the precise time of being in a crowded line of about 100 people to have a quiet but heated go at her husband for something unknown (I was politely trying not to look or listen). The girl who was the same age and the same gentleness as my niece tried to interrupt the argument (Dad was looking unhappy and cornered) by asking her mother something. Mum spoke harshly to her "You're the kid and I'm the adult and you're interrupting- go over there". My goodness, this child looked whipped and she and her brother kept as far away from them as possible until they got on the ride. The parents completely failed to notice. Bec and I were appalled.

I wanted to hug the girl and have word with the parents. Sure, some things need to be sorted, but at Disneyland? If there was ever a day a child would remember being unhappy by sheer contrast to how the day should have been, it would be there. There's something to be said for the right place at the right time.

Speaking of the right place at the right time, it WAS the right place at the right time for me to finally meet Johnny Depp. Well, his wax animatronic model anyway. I'll confess, ever since he stepped out in that bandanna in 21 Jump St, he's been top of my list of "If only..." My affection goes beyond the bandanna (though I guess you could argue that he is wearing one in Pirates). He is one of the better screen actors of his generation.

The Pirates ride is a ride, a display and an exhibit all in one. The distinction I make is that a exhibit doesn't move and a display often has moving parts. We clambered aboard a low boat indoors in the dark on a swampy river. What amazed me as our boat was propelled along the river by unseen hands was that we could see a little ways away, an old Creole outdoor restaurant in the middle of the bayou, with gas lamps on each table. It was a real restaurant and people were having a late lunch there. It was incredible. Outdoors it was bright sunlight. Where we were was in the middle of a bayou drifting on a silent boat past romantic couples eating by lamplight.

As we progressed, our boats arrived at "Port Royal" from the film, all by night. All the pirates were animatronic wax models that moved and spoke so realistically like humans it was fascinating. There were pirates coming out of pubs arguing, there was a pirate talking about hidden treasure to another while Captain Jack Sparrow popped his head out of a nearby barrel to listen in, we drifted past the Port Royal Gaol, where the prisoners were still trying to convince the dog with the keys to come for the bone they were waving.

We drifted onto Tautoga pirate town, where the atmosphere got rowdy. Prostitutes chased men out of the saloons on a track waving bottles at them (all animatronic wax models), pirates sang sea shanties at us from a footbridge overhead and there was the jingle of gold everywhere. Onwards again and we found ourselves in "open sea". The sense of space seemed to go on forever but I realised this was a visual trick- rather than walls, they had mounted distant screens or cloth and projected graduations of light to imply that the night sky went on forever. We found ourselves in the crossfire of a battle between the Black Pearl and Port Royal. As expected , there were flashes of light and puffs of smoke as the "cannons" went off. What I didn't expect were corresponding "plops" of water around us where the cannons were aimed, nor a blast of hot air in my face as a "musket" was shot nearby from the ship. That level of realism was amazing.

We progressed on to the "treasure cave", where another Captain Jack Sparrow was slouched in a chair, his stolen golden crown askew amongst all the treasures singing, "Yo ho ho, a pirate's life for me. Now if you be so kind as to see me to my ship" . A brilliant ending to a fantastic ride.

It was one of the few places no photos were permitted. You'll just have to go there.

Critter Country

2007-04-05T20:15:00.000-07:00

Critter is not a word we use in Australia. The first time I heard anyone use it seriously in North America was Laura, when talking about Australian animals as being "critters". I love the word as it is really American and I think it applies well to wombats and possums, but can't imagine it absorbing into my everyday speech.

Critter Country is more of an offshoot of Frontierland and we only briefly visited there. Davy Crockett's Explorer canoes only run on weekends and again, *shock horror* Splash Mountain was closed all day. We decided to skip Winnie the Pooh's Adventures and continue on. It struck me as odd that the Americans would stick honey-eating Pooh in Critter Country. I don't know if his British sensibilties should be offended at being lumped in with the snakes and racoons, or if Tigger or Christopher Robin could even together successfully fight off an alligator.

Photos of Frontierland

2007-04-05T20:13:00.002-07:00

I thought of my friend Ros when I was in Frontierland- I loved these saloon showgirl posters best.

Photos of Adventureland

2007-04-05T20:13:00.001-07:00

Frontierland

2007-04-05T20:10:00.000-07:00

Tune your banjo, load up your rifle, saddle your horse and wave away that paddle steamer... we're goin' into Frontierland.

From the primitive of Adventureland to the rough and ready of Frontierland, one area moves smoothly into the other. The Indiana-Jones style North African bizaar area gives way to a small lake on which the sailing ship Columbia and the Mark Twain Riverboat are berthed. We climbed aboard the Columbia and had a turn at 'piloting' the ship (I got very good at driving or pretending to drive stuff at Disneyland).

The big attraction of Frontierland is the Big Thunder Railroad ride, which looks and operates a little like a set of miner's carts through and around a big dusty mountain at high speeds. This ride, we did go on. Bec is fearless and she had promised to spend some quality time absorbing classic Disney fairytale stuff in Fantasyland with me. It was a point of pride not to be a pansy about "potentially scary" rides in return.

As the ride started up and was about to hurtle through rough-hewn fake rock tunnels and in and out the mountain, Bec (always the quick draw) whipped out her camera. Of course she didn't need to hold onto the safety bar and screw up her face. She was holding the camera at arms-length and laughing her head off at me. There are some terrific shots of our contrasting reactions which I will post ASAP. It was a lot of fun, despite me being a chicken and once I got off, I wanted to do it again.

Adventureland

2007-04-05T20:06:00.000-07:00

Can you hear it? The distant jungle drums and the sound of rushing water under an enormous leafy rainforest? Welcome to Adventureland.

Tarzan is not my favourite of the Disney cartoons, but I did really enjoy the film, how they cartooned him looking like he was skating and sliding through the trees set to an awesome Phil Collins soundtrack. Disney has faithfully paid tribute to the Tarzan story at the Park by a series of bridges over creeks connecting treehouses recreated from the story. It was brilliantly done and there were a lot of families particularly with little boys who were enjoying it. For Bec and I, it gave us a tree-top vantage point to orientate ourselves around the rest of the park.

Of course a central feature of Adventureland is the Indiana Jones ride. Now the world is divided into two kinds of people. One are whom, when I say, "Indiana Jones", instantly hear the music in their head, "Da dada Dah ! Da da da,"

.... and those who don't.

If you too can hear that theme music you'll understand my frustration to find the ride was closed. I was close to the silent foot-stamping tantrum I had in Vancouver when I used a dryer for the first time in 10 years and shrunk my favourite pair of jeans two sizes. A brief flash of wounded outrage and then I laughed and got over it just as quickly. Those same jeans now fit again and we were also informed that the ride might be open later in the day. Hope springs eternal. It was, but by then we had run out of time. You'll hardly feel sorry for me, or I for myself when you hear what we did the rest of the day.

Tomorrowland

2007-04-05T20:03:00.002-07:00

Welcome to Tomorrowland. It was a futuristic place where even Goofy gets a chance of being shot into space. Awesome. Having deigned all Disney-provided transport in favour of legging it around the park, we did not go on the Monorail or the Disneyland Railroad which goes all the way around the park to get there. When you are entering Tomorrowland you are confronted by a huge rotating sculpture of the rotating planets and stars in bronze, which was pretty impressive.

Now you might be disappointed in me, but we didn't go on "Rockin' Space Mountain". The lineup for some of the rides was so big and the express pass opportunities had closed by the time we got there that we decided our time was better spent seeing more than waiting.

Which gave me the perfect opportunity for some driver's education. In North America they drive on the other side of the road with left side controls. I have finally become used to being a pedestrian sufficiently to cross the road without looking so many ways that I look like a Mama Mia filmclip. However, driving is another matter.

I am proud to announce that I now have my very own Disneyland driver's licence, for ages 5 and up. You need to be 132 cm tall to drive the cars in Autopia, a futuristic car race around a circuit and I did pretty well, a few near misses but no serious scrapes.

The highlight of Tomorrowland for me was the Buzz Lightyear Astroblasters Ride based on Toy Story. You get into a capsule that can be rotated almost 360 degrees using a joystick and the ride takes you to a giant Buzz Lightyear, who presents you with his mission, to help him defeat the Evil Emperor Zurg.

Bec and I looked at each other and in the same moment dumped our Coca Colas. Oh yes. We were ready to become Space Rangers.

Each capsule has a two rayguns and as the ride moves on, your objective is to zap as many targets as possible, including Zurg. Your capsule lights up with your point score. One of the best bits was being allowed to shoot those little three-eyed Aliens, y'know, "Yooou have saved us, weee are eternally grateful." Zap ! Down they went. Bec beat me hands down on points, and at the end when we got our scores I was designated only a "Space Cadet" and she was a "Super Star Space Ranger" or something similar. My story (and I'm sticking to it) is that even though she was handling a ray gun in one hand and using a camera to take photos of me being silly with the other, I was the one 'piloting' our capsule.

Emperor Zurg was defeated. No doubt he will be back.

Main St USA

2007-04-05T20:03:00.001-07:00

Goofy made a friend and I found a castle. Only at Disneyland.

Disney Day- Main St

2007-04-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

In walking into the front gates of Disneyland you are immediately transported to a magical place... at least that's what the advertising should say. I'm afraid it's true. Put out of your mind the crying children, dropped icecreams and parental arguments. The cinematic music of Fantasia and all of the Disney films played in the streets (almost) covers them. Every day is sunny and happy at Disneyland.

The heart of Disneyland is "Main St USA". It is like something out of the movie Pleasantville, except busier. All the best cultural aspects from the 1900s to the 1960s are there, it's as if none of the wars never happened. Walk with me down Main St...

Everywhere you look there are bright colours and happy children. Most of them are wearing their best "dress-up" costumes (because really, where else would you wear your tiara and tulle all day if you're under the age of 8? I ran a serious risk of envying them) A smiling ice cream vendor in a paper hat, striped shirt and bow tie offers you a selection of traditional flavours. Banners hang from the candy store nearby where you can mint your own penny with a picture of Mickey, Goofy, Donald or any of the Disney Princesses. You turn to the sound of music getting louder and its a brass band in striped shirts walking by. Stripes were all the rage. A horse and painted wagon waits patiently for people to get on and gives way to a tram that shuffles past. The one thing that was real were the trees. Being Springtime, they were all in full pink blossoms and matched in perfectly.

Main St ends at a roundabout planted with pansies and low flowers. In the centre is a bronze Statute of Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse holding hands and waving. No getting away from Uncle Walt.

There is a fantastic thing in Disneyland. Instead of waiting all day in lines to get on a ride, you go to all the most popular ones, grab a ticket telling you a timeframe to come back ie: between 2.00 and 3.00 and when you get back, you are in the "express" line. Super. Bec and I decided to belt around the park and get all our tickets straight up and then we could plan our day around it. There was just one small hitch. It could have been my imagination but even with a map and each section of them park on a theme; ie: Tomorrowland, Fantasyland, Adventureland etc it seemed as though all roads lead to souvenier shops and quite often we got lost. We found bathrooms when we didn't want them and couldn't find them when we decided it might be a timely idea.

We packed so much into the day I cannot remember it precisely chronologically. Besides, I never said that I would tell you how this year happened. Charles Dickens I'm not, but like our young man in Great Expectations, I'll tell the story of this year how I remember it. Firstly, Tomorrowland, which fittingly I must leave until tomorrow.

Disneyland, the original.

2007-04-04T18:20:00.000-07:00

Friday in LA was to be the realisation of a massive portion of my childhood dreams. Everytime you watch a Disney film, that castle flashes up beforehand with the shooting stars overhead. Well, now I've been inside that castle. Inside !!!

It's going to be really difficult to not rub it in, but I'll try. Firstly by remembering it's not the Taj Mahal.

However, like Tim Horton's coffee for Canadians or Gelatissimo icecream for Aussies I might have developed an magnetic attraction to Disneyland. It's going to be hard not to find an excuse to go to Florida or Paris this year to take my Disney gluttony on tour.

The day started and ended bright and sunny and upon waiting for the shuttle bus I was approached by another Aussie girl who asked me if I was "Lisa A...." I was surprised but she had been enterprising enough to see my name on the signup list from the hostel and we were the only two people going from the hostel. Bec was travelling with Aust married friends who were sushi fanatics by all accounts and weren't keen on Disneyland. So she'd decided to leg it alone and was hoping to make a travel buddy for the day.

Being from Mount Gambia she had no problems with my home town and we got along so well that by the time we got there, we decided to tackle Mickey and Friends as a team.

We'd both learnt our lesson from previous theme park food and headed to a pancake place for a slap-up brunch to fortify ourselves for the park. Sorry to say that whilst Santa Monica is full of a combination of beautiful people, regular folk like me and exotic imports, Anaheim (theme park neighbourhood) was heavy in poundage, consisting of Americans from other states. Certainly I'm still eating Australian style (a few crepes and fruit is a good filler). There is no way I could possibly handle the sheer quantity of food eaten by the non-coastal states Americans at each sitting. It was also my first experience of ordering eggs in the US and the number of ways you can have them is boggling. So far in Canada I have chickened out (pardon the pun) at each opportunity and gone for scrambled.

So fortified and having sharpened our elbows for the crowds, Bec and I said goodbye to reality and stepped into a magical world for a day...

There are two theme parks at Disneyland that require separate tickets. The first is Disneyland (the original). The second is Disneyland (California Adventure park). Whilst the original is more of the complete Disneyland experience with shows, parades and rides, the California Adventure Park is more just rides or an extension of the original to keep up with the Florida and Tokyo parks.

We went to the original which, though it has been around a long time and is considered "small", met and exceeded my highest expectations.

We had precisely 7.5 hours there. We constantly on the move, no messing about.

To be continued...

Living the movies

2007-04-04T17:51:00.000-07:00

After my big day at Universal Studios I had an unexpected surprise back at the Hostel. There was a large black American girl my age staying there which surprised me because she was from Santa Monica. Apparently her housemate partied so hard and so late at night that she couldn't sleep, so apart from staying a few nights a week with her family, she often checked into the hostel for just a night of rest. She had told him (and I quote) "I didn't think white boys could party so hard !!!".

Her lifestyle seemed crazy, because although Natalie was a generous and gentle hearted woman, she had no trouble asserting herself at all on behalf of others (she is an Aust. size 22 at least and works with the homeless-oh the irony to be staying in a hostel). One conversation with her and I felt I was in the audience of Oprah. She called me "girl" a lot, told me that her oldest Southern relatives were unlikely to speak to me at all on account of my skin colour, Australian or not, and laughed richly, long and heavily when I showed her my pair of pink rubber beach thongs marked "Rivers soft thong".

After 20 mins of chatting quite happily in a stifling room, I invited her to come out for a drink, given it was such a mild evening. She said that she had all her share at once the week before but would come along to hear more about those "Manly" Surf Lifesavers "There's boyz on a beach called Manly? Heh heh heh". I have never seen such a large woman wear such little shoes and still balance well.

We ended up, weirdly enough at the English pub called The British Bulldog, decorated strangely full of pictures of bulldogs. It was a bit surreal seeing the last of the sunset glow of the Pacific ocean (in Australia the sun rises over the Pacific), being served at a bar in a British-themed pub by a tall American who writes commercials in his spare time.

In America and Canada if you take a seat at the bar a lot of the time other people will talk to you, with the bartender generally being the focal point of conversation, much like in the UK and Scotland. It was there that Natalie and I got chatting to Roman, a self-employed businessman who also made short films and took acting class in his spare time. We had the acting "stage vs screen" debate but I realised quickly that I had picked my battlefield badly if I thought I would win that one in Tinseltown.

Disneyland was put off until Friday and I took some time to check out Santa Monica and get better orientated. The Santa Monica pier is famous. It became more famous when Forrest Gump ran from one end of the country to the other, going through the archway sign and ending at the pier. There is a Ferris Wheel and Carnival Games there, as well as the "Bubba Gump Shrimp co." named after the movie. It was the first of many moments in LA where life imitated art rather than art imitating life, and where I truly had the feeling I'd stepped into a movie.

If my life was a movie, what kind of movie do you think it would be? Most of you have been following my travels long enough to have an opinion on this one.

Universal Studios photos

2007-04-04T17:50:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Universal Studios !! Where you can see King Kong, meet Marilyn, visit the Bates motel (Psycho), laugh with Lucy and see Waterworld on fire. It was a fantastic day. The evil kineval car was not photographed at the Studios though. I shot that from the bus on an ordinary LA suburban highway on the way to Universal Studios.

Universal Studios

2007-03-31T11:14:00.000-07:00

My first in-depth installment on arriving at LA is two posts down because I started it earlier in the week, so please go there first to bring you up to speed on my arrival in LA.

On the Wednesday morning I went to the tours office next door to the hostel to wait for the shuttle to Universal Studios. Unlike the daytours of the star's homes and shopping, it is not a "tour". The shuttle service goes out and picks up at a predesignated time. The good news is that they give you your entry ticket with your shuttle pass so when you arrive at the theme park, you can go straight in and not wait.

There were 7 of us on the bus that day, Kate and Paul, young marrieds from Sydney who has previously lived and worked in Banff a few seasons ago. There were also four middle- aged Aussies from Perth, a married couple and long-time friends travelling together as a foursome on a big world tour. As I write they will be on their way to or in the West Indies for the World Cup Cricket.

Universal Studios is two things; a successful working studio and a successful theme park. It is built on a hill so there are some of the longest escalaters I have been on, cunningly called "star-ways". It was a bit disturbing. I just thought I was on a really long escalator. Imagine then, getting on it and being told by a Troy MacLuire- style voiceover that I was on the "Universal Studios Star-Way, at the place where the Movies HAPPEN !!!". I have never seen anyone glamourise an experience of travelling up an escalator, which as we know primarily involves avoiding; looking at, comparing yourself to, or catching a whiff of, the person's bottom in front of you.

There were also videos at the end of each section showing two "celebrity hosts" from a morning show program. They were entertainment folks I didn't know- call them LA Barbie and Ken, telling me that if I was lucky, I might just spot other celebrities just like them (which would be difficult because TV celebrity generally doesn't excite me). There were a large number of Asian tourists who were very excited all day at various points in the Park (theme park) taking a large number of photos of everything, including the cardboard cutouts of Tom Hanks and the Apollo 13 crew. Fantastic.

My day started by tagging on with the group of four from Perth and heading for the Universal Studios Studio Tour. On quite a few movies (I think a few of the Beverly Hills Cops and Naked Gun movies) they have shown scenes involving the hero hiding on one of the little white motorised trams used for the tour and then escaping into the soundstages proper to find something/ someone/ solve a mystery. Well, I was on one of those and security was tight. The trams are all connected and open- sided for photo taking. There was a combination of video presentation screened on each tram and the tour guide riding on the front tram but he was also live video-presented on all the other trams. It was really well put together. I recommend the tour. Even though half of it is simply showing the outsides of the big soundstage buildings, the video presentation did a bang-up job of putting together the history of the studios.

They had also put a lot of effort into making the outdoor stuff interesting- creating a flash flood down a nearby hill, showing a working "Bruce" shark from Jaws, an entire 747 busted in half and war zone from War of the Worlds and a working King Kong having a go at the tram during a recreation of a San Francisco subway station earthquake. Trivia- the name "Bruce" for the mechanical Jaws shark was the name of Spielberg's lawyer. I am sure the Bruce shark in Finding Nemo is a subtle nod to that and the Monty Python sketch. More recent additions include having the opportunity to drive down "Wisteria Lane" made famous by Desperate Housewives. Even though I only really watched the first season, that was very cool. For the record, I don't think the wisteria is real. I know, what a shock !

Back to the theme park and my determination to see most of the shows, so I said cheerio to the other Aussies and went my own way. Unfortunately, being a Wednesday and not a weekend, the live Blues Brothers show was not on. However, I did go to the Terminator 2- 3D show, which was excellent. The Terminator 2 film actors, including Arnie, had previously shot a sequence in 3D film of a battle scene and time travel, which was fused with live actors who looked scaringly similar, appearing as though they'd stepped out of the screen to do battle with Terminator machines on the stage in front of us, with pyrotechnics, smoke etc. To counterract the problem of no-one being able to sound like Arnie, all the live actors were very carefully lip- syching with the pre-recorded movie actors' voiceover. I am pretty cynical but it all impressed the socks off me.

I stuck my head briefly around the Flintstones Carnival Games section for confirmation that it was "Yabba Dabba Doo" for kids and went in search of something to eat.

I still have the park map and guide and it cracks me up every time I see the headline, "Healthy Choices available at all restaurants". Which basically means after you've eaten your dried out salt-encrusted deep fried chicken you may substitute a lettuce leaf for a basket of fries. That one's true. I tested it. Golden rule of theme parks- don't eat. Have a big breakfast, digest it before any rides and run on water and soft drink all day. The food and prices are rubbish and you're wasting time by sitting down when you could be looking at the I Love Lucy Exhibit and quite frankly, you should be too excited to eat.

Speaking of I Love Lucy, I was really touched to see the modest, but lovingly put-together exhibit on Lucille Ball. It had her collection of Emmy awards (four or five in total) under glass, which was exciting and the closest I will get to one of those, a lot of her most famous costumes (she was very petite in figure) and a large projector screen showing continuous episodes of the show. There was a real collection of old folk in wheelchairs watching the old shows when I went in. They were chuckling and throughly enjoying themselves, not hearing the distant screams from the Curse of the Mummy ride. One thing that is great about Hollywood, is that they do give credit to where they have come from, and the past talented people and performers, who can hold their own against most of our current stars with ease.

Whilst the lines were too long for me to wait around for the Curse of the Mummy ride and more unfortunately the Back to the Future ride, I did get on the Jurassic Park ride. It's a water-log ride and I was in the front row, being menaced by dinosaurs, including a 50ft T-rex, chased by raptors and my only escape, "a treacherous plunge straight down an 84- foot vertical drop waterfall !!!". Not too scary but fun while it lasted. Well, I survived and dried off in time for the Waterworld show at 1pm, which is more popular (and probably brings in more money) than the movie. It was a big outdoor stadium show with all actors performing high quality stunts, including flying on flying foxes, fistfights on bridges 5 storeys up, diving off the same heights or higher into water, beating each other with heavy implements, racing around on jetskis and jumping over people in the water and most importantly, large explosions.

Interestingly, there was a "technical problem" into the first five minutes of the show, after the heroine had made her big entrance by speedboat. The show had to be stopped and started again but without (rewinding) the big entrance. The actors improvised over it to make it still interesting which again, was cool. Most of the actors had appeared on various TV series, including Law and Order. I think they were just as good as professional stuntpeople, which answers the question of what the supporting characters from various shows do in the off- season or when their contracts are up.

The guy who played the Kevin Costner character was better-looking and a better all-round hero than Kevin Costner which combined with the Arnie lookalike in the Terminator show makes you wonder how many star lookalikes there are in Hollywood. Certainly at every show and tour I went on at Universal Studios all the staff were acting as though they were about to be "discovered" and I had a hidden camera in my purse... Smile, pose, smile again, crack a self-deprecating one-liner, talk about the "vista" of LA (fancy word for smoggy horizon) smile and wish me a nice day. I started looking suspiciously over my shoulder for the imaginary camera crew within the first few hours. Eventually I gave up and just went along with it.

Another excellent show was the Backdraft special effects fire show, which was a recreation of the last factory scene sequence, where everything was burning down or exploding. The heat from the explosions was so carefully calculated that we only felt it as a warm flash on our faces from our vantage point. An opportunity to see more fire effects, one of my favourite kinds of special effects because it is the most difficult to control.

I did dedicate some time to trekking about the shops to find souveniers of my day, including my nephew's birthday present and just checking out the Betty Boop and Marilyn Monroe collectables, which were half the price of similar stuff back home.

Other highlights included the Special Effects show, where the presenters got some audience participation to saw someone's hand off, re-record the sound of the final race of the movie Seabiscuit, the final scenes of King Kong and show some animatronics. At each show, the presenters would always say that they had "lots of people from other states and other countries" and invite people to shout out where they were from. At every single show I went to that day, the first and immediate response from the crowd would be "ARIZONA !!!" like they had just won the lotto. Apparently Arizona or at least two residents of that State were really, really excited to be in Hollywood. There was one exception to that. At the Special Effects show the question was thrown to the crowd and the immediate response was "Kakistan !!" The Presenter stopped dead and I saw clearly that she wanted to say "Are you kidding ??" because since Borat hit the screens I doubt any Kakistani would admit there were from there, particularly in Hollywood. She recovered well though, "O-kay ! Give it up for KAKISTAN !!!!" Big applause. Then "Anywhere else?"

Of course. "ARIZONA !!!!!"

News in the house

2007-03-27T20:47:00.000-07:00

I've written a lot about where I've travelled so far I thought it might be time for a word on where I've settled. For the past month I've been sharing a house with a homeowner in Calgary. Chris is an electrician, a vegetarian and basically a good guy. He's travelled to Australia previously and has also worked with Aussie tradies, so not entirely unfamiliar with our funny ways and straightforward attitude. He thinks I am funny for announcing to him from various parts of the house whenever it starts snowing outside the windows (as if it was a brand new discovery) but doesn't try to dampen my enthusiasm for it.

Speaking of which, after all the snow melts we've had recently, it snowed last night and we had a good 5 cms today. So I walked to work yet again with hiking boots on with my suit under my down coat, and wore sunglasses to stop my mascara from freezing/melting again. It reminds me of the old song, "I wear my sunglasses at night"... more than just a fashion statement. I inhaled a snowflake today. It was a direct shot to the sinuses and wasn't glamourous.

Upon reporting for work, my new boss gave me a cheery hello and laughingly told me that when she saw the snow she knew I was the only person who would be excited. Everyone who spent the weekend digging out their sandals and BBQing in the plus 10 degree weather on the weekend is grumbling that the snow keeps bouncing back and at this rate spring gardens haven't a hope of being planted. My downstairs neighbours have spat the dummy and are going to Mexico soon on holiday, hoping winter will be over by the time they get back.

Anyway, back on the home front, apart from being pretty reasonable on rent, Chris has been kind enough to let me use his computer in his study to check my emails and keep my blog updated with my adventures over the past month.

Tonight I got home to find that he had unearthed an old laptop for me to use while I shop for my own 2ndhand. My recent experiences of travelling about Canada using internet cafes at $5 to $6 per hour had convinced me that it is worth the inconvenience and the extra vigilence on security to carry a laptop with me whilst travelling, with my own photo software, especially when everywhere I've stayed has had free wireless broadband access.

So, here I am in my cosy little room, within walking distance of work, with, for the first time, unrestricted time and privacy to write you all. I hope to take some time over the next week or two to update you on my adventures from LA and my birthday, they do deserve some detail.

I will be emailing the boffins amongst you- Tim x 2 Tegan, Chris x 2, Scott and Sue, Giles etc about the laptops I am looking at to purchase for your opinions over the next few weeks. If you are able to give me advice I'd be grateful. I am sure I haven't progressed that far from toddlers who insert toast into VCR players when it comes to technology. Thanks in advance for your help.

LA Story

2007-03-26T18:58:00.000-07:00

It was nearly three weeks ago that I was in Disneyland and I have been almost too busy with all the action of starting a new job, my birthday and the weekend day tripping Laura and I have taken since to write about it.

My trip to LA started on a Tuesday. Over the month of March in Calgary most of the built-up snow and ice has been melting but about once a week we seem to get a substantive dump. This is to remind everyone that the calender might say that Spring is coming, but The Fat Lady Winter is not singing yet. So the Sunday and Monday before I left, it had snowed. The Tuesday morning I left my suitcase inside my front door, laced up my hiking boots and wrapped up well to do my walk to work in a good 8 cm of snow.

It was unreal. In less than 19 hours I was going to have completed work and be in California on Santa Monica beach looking at the Pacific Ocean.

I had been temping in a family law firm who had wanted me to stay on, but had accepted the job offer with the firm I'm now at. This left me with 5 days break over the St Patricks' Day weekend. One of the ladies from my work lived near the airport but always took the bus to work because you generally need to sell an organ to pay for all day parking in the city, it's up there with Sydney. So we'd arranged for her to drive in that day so she wouldn't have to take the bus in the snow and I would pay for parking if she could drop me at the airport, rather than taking a cab. So after work we swung by my house, picked up my suitcase, dumped the hiking boots, grabbed the sunglasses and I was ready for LA.

I left plenty of time but departing Calgary is a longer process than I thought. Whereas when I arrived in Calgary from Winnipeg, the arrivals hall has huge technicolour murals of cowboys and rodeo riders (My favourite has a hot pink ten gallon hat- very New Vogue), departing is strictly business. You go through US arrival customs and immigration at Calgary, not LAX, to avoid congestion at LAX. So after passing through all that you are quarantined into a different part of the airport to try and choke down your last Canadian muffin (bran- who puts bran in a muffin? might as well bake shredded cardboard) and await your flight.

The flight itself was nothing to report on. The movie was ordinary and the seats were half empty.

Arriving at LAX at about 9/ 9.30 pm I had found that I had neglected to bring the piece of paper with me that actually had the address of the Santa Monica YHA where I was staying. No worries, I still had cash from Hawaii including some quarters so I found a phonebook and called from the airport. A lot of signs I see around public spaces in the US says "No solicitors" which initially confused me, and I'm still not sure whether it applies across the board to all people selling something, or just beggars and hookers. Or maybe they just don't like lawyers. Given America is the Land of Revolution, I'd like to see some signs saying "No dentists" or "No telemarketers" instead which would make more sense.

After phoning the hostel and working out I needed a shuttle bus, I did a few laps of the arrivals driveway outside the airport before locating the right ones, run by two black guys, one in dreadlocks and the other with a stack of electrical gadgetry hanging around his neck. They were very friendly and thought the level of travel that Australians do is amazing. I was pretty tired (but have been worse) and they took good care of me, keeping up a steady patter on Santa Monica, laughing at the idea of me "movin' from tha Kan-ga-roos to tha Roc-kee" of Calgary and telling me you're never to old for Disneyland though "we like it but we don't go there".

I think the concept was that they are proud of Disneyland being in their town but that they were too cool to go. They were also too cool to explain to me how cool they were because that would be uncool. That was fine by me. I had already worn my housemate down, who initially said, "Disneyland's for kids" with my enthusiasm over the preceding week and he'd eventually caved to the idea of me in Disneyland and volunteered that he would accept plastic mouse ears if I brought them back as a souvenier.

The shuttle driver seemed to drive on endless ribbons of highway before slowing into the Santa Monica area, which reminded me a lot of Manly, with the beach (no surf though and much wider), a plaza area and lots of late night shops and lights. It is a really lovely area and the hostel was wedged prominently in the street one block from the beach one way and one block from the plaza area the other way. It was one of the best locations I have stayed in, central but not dodgy. In LA there a lot of homeless people and ironically out of all the homeless folk in the world, the ones in LA look most like the ones on the movies. Maybe they don't use extras after all. When the shuttle bus pulled up, there was a large old black woman in rags picking something out of a bin. She looked exactly like the Southern Voodoo woman who plays opposite Kevin Spacey in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

They have renovated the hostel over the past few years and the best part is the Mexican- inspired stucco archways from the dining rooms to the secure courtyard where people hang out at night, drink beer, smoke and talk. I got sorted, decided that I would go to Universal Studios the next day on my first day tour, and hit the pillow.

Calgary for Dummies

2007-03-24T17:46:00.000-07:00

Things to know and "facts" about Calgary and surrounds;

1. Streets run north/ south, Avenues run east/ west. Consequently, there is a bar on the corner of 5th and 5th, called "5th and 5th". When a person asks you to meet them on "8th and 3rd", life gets confusing

2. The Bow River runs roughly East West through the city. The CBD of Calgary is South of the river.

3. Calgary is not the capital of Alberta. Edmonton is. Calgary is just noisier because of the large numbers of Texans living and working for oil companies in Calgary

4. There is no provincial tax in Alberta. Federal GST is only 6% (hooray!) Overall tax in Quebec is approximately double

5. Alberta shares borders with British Columbia (to the West, wear your Rocky mountains climbing boots), Montana to the South (G'day USA) and Saskatchewan to the East (all prairie lands- throw a rock and hit... ?? )

6. Calgary hosted the 1988 Winter Olympics- the first time a Canadian city had hosting privileges.

7. For an excellent night in, watch, "Cool Runnings" (rated PG) a story of the Jamaican bobsled team with John Candy, set during the 1988 Winter Olympics

8. Most people who live in Calgary now did not live here in 1988

9. Calgary Tower was not built for the 1988 Winter Olympics. It was already there and just a lucky coincidence it was shaped like a torch. They painted it red for effect. The Olympic Flame burned from the top of the tower for the duration of the Games

10. Calgary has a huge Ukranian immigrant population. They don't complain about the cold (is pyrogy eating linked to cold resistance??)

11. Every person in Calgary under 5ft 7 inches is;
a. of South East Asian descent
b. is from Nova Scotia
c. is me

12. Nova Scotians in Calgary talk about their boats and multi-generation fishing heritage back home. There are no jobs in Nova Scotia. They are the friendliest people in Calgary

13. Nova Scotians who live in Calgary go inflatable rafting on the Bow River in summer with beer to feel more at home.

14. Calgary hosts a 10 day festival called the Calgary Stampede during the 2nd week of July. It consists of a Rodeo, chuck wagon races, pancake breakfasts and parties. Denim is permitted as office attire for the duration and everyone turns overnight into a cowboy/girl. Attendance at the parade is usually 350,000 people

15. Calgary has a Saddledome where the Hockey (ice) is played. The dome of the stadium looks like a saddle (I know, I know)

16. The Calgary professional hockey team are the Calgary Flames. Their arch-rivals are the Edmonton Oilers

17. The Calgary Flames are likely to make it into the playoffs this year. The Edmonton Oilers aren't. The locals are happy

18. A staple food for watching a hockey game in a pub is chicken wings (and legs) with sauce and beer. No one knows what happens to the rest of the chicken

Calgary- Ukranian dumplings, weird Western music and pre-dawn starts in the city

2007-03-24T17:19:00.000-07:00

There are few things that make you feel so silly as when a friend is egging you on to take a photo of your dinner because it's something you would never eat at home. Y'know, people do stop, watch and laugh when you whip out the camera but I don't know a time when it isn't worth it.

That's what happened when Laura and I went to the Ukranian dinner, which turned out to be a feeding frenzy of about 200 people on pyrogies (potato and wheat dumplings) all set to live Western/ folk music.

For the record I only made it partway through this feast of starch, starch and protein. However, I guarded my Saskatoon berry pie carefully from Laura, who'd finished hers in record time (inhaled it) and was eyeing mine off (see Banff posting about Laura and her pet tapeworm).

I've included some photos of the early morning city views of Calgary- I hope to see the Tower lit up before the end of the year.

Tobogganing in Winnipeg

2007-03-24T09:04:00.000-07:00

As you will remember, I got on a jet plane and went to Winnipeg, where they have a strange winter sport- tobogganing.

Now Tobogganing was started during the battles of the Mongolian hordes in the time of Genghis Khan. The Hordes were fighting Attila the Hun's army in the snowy wastes of Siberia when they needed to make a rapid getaway. Genghis commanded his men to throw down their shields and sit on them facing downhill. The resultant effect was something that looked like an avalanche crossed with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Actually, I can't back any of this up. I have no idea how tobogganing started. As a side note, I did actually meet a girl from Siberia, she was a student at the University of Winnipeg. She said that Canada was colder. That is a true story and made me feel like I'd achieved something by getting out and about in Winnipeg.

Back on tobogganing, I do know that on the day that I went out with my friend Chris (Phil from Ottawa- s brother), his youth group, Moira and friends, that someone broke one of the plastic toboggans due to the fierceness of the ride. It wouldn't have happened if it was Tupperware.

Tobogganing is strange for two reasons;

1. It involves grown-ups (and kids) hurtling themselves down hills with little or no direction or control, no brakes and no suspension on anything made out of plastic or metal designed to give you the maximum amount of bum-bruises per ride

2. And it's fun !

In Winnipeg, tobogganing is strange for a third reason- Tobogganing by definition needs hills. You can't toboggan on the flat. That is sledding and usually requires several smart husky dogs or a few stupid friends to pull you along. Well, Winnipeg is in the Prairies, which is just a fancy word for "Really big FLAT land with endless sky".

Winnipeggers are innovative, I'll give them that. Their landfill on the outskirts of the city has created small hills and covered with many feet of dirt and about 4 feet of snow. This makes perfect tobogganing hills.

It was a fun afternoon. The bruises lasted 4 weeks. I hope the memories last longer.

Ottawa night skating- Photos

2007-03-24T08:32:00.000-07:00

Now there aren't any photos of me actually night skating, but here are some of the shots of us putting on our skates in the marquee they set up on the frozen lake. I am still wondering how they managed to pin down the Marquee, given it was on ice. With the strong windchill factor it was colder than minus 25 and as a group led by Phil and Triscilla we bravely skated out. I could see the ice particles being blown off the canal like white dust and going one direction, the wind was so strong we did not need to skate at all, just point our skates in one direction and be pushed along by the wind. Of course, skating into it was harder coming back.

The Rideau is the longest ice skating rink in the world. The Skateway is equivalent to over 100 hockey rinks end-to-end, is accessed by almost 40 stairs along its length. See

http://www.foundlocally.com/Ottawa/Sports/Rec-RideauCanalSkateway.htm

for a map. We headed north from Dows' lake for a few kilometres that evening before turning back.

Like night skiing, which I did in Montreal, night skating is not as scary as it sounds. The way in which the light moves over snow and ice at night can help better identify them apart (avoid snow on the ice if you're skating) (avoid ice on snow if you're skiing). Clear as mud?

The Ottawa Backpackers Inn is a dump. No wonder travellers prefer to stay at the Gaol. If you think I'm joking, check out http://www.hihostels.ca/OntarioEast/en/index.aspx?sortcode=2.0.7

Thanks again to Phil and Tris for a great evening, out and at their home. After Calgary, the city of Ottawa would definitely top list of my places to live in Canada.

Winterlude- Ottawa by night

2007-03-22T17:27:00.000-07:00

Whilst Ottawa was grey by day, it certainly put on it's colours at night. In honour of the Winterlude, the city put blue and white lights in the trees. My favourites were the oak trees, which looked fantastic. The shots of me (in my new toque- beanie) and Philipa "Miss Nova Scotia" were taken after we had been to the High School Theatre sports event in Ottawa, which was a terrific example of up-and-coming local theatre. If you look carefully you can see a tear in my eye. It's not emotion, it happens all the time in that kind of cold, your eyes water and the contents of your nose freeze. Very unromantic.

Supreme Court of Canada- twin statutes

2007-03-22T17:11:00.000-07:00

The Goddesses Truth and Justice seemed well-suited to the snowy landscape at the Supreme Court. A guard inside the Court notified me that when the Court was first built, the statutes were forgotten and remained in storage for nearly 20 years before they were found and placed, where they remain, outside the staircase to the main double doors.

Ottawa- in and out of the Houses of Parliament

2007-03-22T16:31:00.000-07:00

This set of photos were taken inside the clock tower (called the Peace Tower to commenorate the end of WWI), the hall and outside. As you can see, it was such a cold and cloudy day that you could look directly at the sun.

O' Canada- Flashback to Houses of Parliament- Ottawa

2007-03-22T16:11:00.000-07:00

Here are the photos I took from both ground level and from the clock tower of the Houses of Parliament, Ottawa. Anyone who has been to London might note a strange similarity to the Houses of Parliament, London England, but with slightly more snow.

Flashback Ottawa- skating the Rideau Canal

2007-03-21T20:32:00.000-07:00

Only the Canadians could combine eating fast food with exercise on ice. Take donut mix, squash it flat by accident, hope no-one is looking as you drop it in the deep fryer, cover it with icing sugar and chocolate or lemon or orange, call it a part of a native animal (beavertail) and justify eating it as a nationalistic exercise.

Alternatively say you deserve it because you put on your hat, skates, 14 layers of thermals, coat, gloves, scarf and sunnies... then risked broken limbs or public humiliation (or both) skating across a public canal to get to the beavertail stand.

These shots are of the Rideau canal. It was minus 30 with the wind chill and I was not the only one out there in the middle of the morning. I think I was the only Aussie based on my inept performance to struggle across though.

In Ottawa you can skate from one end of the city centre to the other to get to work. A lot of people do it, which amuses me to no end, having sat on the London Underground at rush hour and on Sydney Ferries across the Harbour first thing in the morning and seen the people on their way to work. Same jobs, different lives. Your choice.

Flashback Montreal to Ottawa

2007-03-21T19:55:00.000-07:00

At the end of my Sunday with Giles and Kirsten we went on one of the coldest walks I have been on so far to a lookout point over the city (Mount Royale), where I finally had an appreciation that Montreal is essentially built on an island. The St Laurence River had seemed to follow me around those two weeks in Quebec province, very frozen and very beautiful.

That evening, as you will remember, Giles and I had absolutely no guilt about Kirsten eating yoghurt and going off to play competitive level Ultimate (frisbee). Meanwhile, he and I took off to Brutopia, a great pub downtown where we had "brewed on the premises" beers and then pizza and sat on our bums all evening talking each other's ears off.

The trees around much of eastern Canada in the cities are lit up with lights during the night, which is just fantastic to see and the next day, I was quite impressed at Montreal train station by the hub of long distance trains going to other parts of Canada and the US. The train going to New York reminded me how close the two cities really were and was a bit unreal to watch.

Flashback to Montreal

2007-03-21T19:36:00.000-07:00

Now that I am settled I have had a chance to sort out my own photos from Montreal--> Ottawa--> Winnipeg --> Calgary and illustrate some of the stories I have been telling. This set is from my Sunday in Montreal with Giles and Kirsten. From the famous speciality stores and markets at Marche Jean- Talon (with the obscure root vegetables without labels, to Giles trying to select a cheese to take back to New York, "But there are sooo many !!!", to a late afternoon lunch at Schwartz's Jewish delicatessian and cafe.

It was a great day. Thanks again to Laura for helping me load up these photos and all the rest you will see from now to Calgary.

Survived LA X -----> Calgary

2007-03-18T13:02:00.000-07:00

I'm back in Calgary in one piece. LA X is a crazy airport. Easy to arrive in from another country but extremely hard to get through if you're trying to leave, even at 4 am. It was an absolute zoo, right up there with London Heathrow. Which answered a question of mine- do airline hosts look and act that bright, authoriative, polished and cheery all round the clock, especially when you show up bleary eyed and washed out, having had to check through your toiletries over 100 ml for security purposes? The Answer- yes. Now all I need to work out is how they manage it and duplicate it at will for tough work days.

On my own bright note, my mini-break to Santa Monica LA was brilliant !! I had an awesome time and will report in more detail shortly, from Universal Studios to Disneyland to tours of the stars homes, Rodeo Drive and the Beverly Wiltshire Hotel (various scenes from Pretty Woman) to Mann's Chinese Theatre, Kodak Theatre (the Oscars) and the Walk of Fame (stars on the pavement).

To keep you all busy until then, check out these websites with video and sound and the park maps. I'll be referring to them later.

http://disneyland.disney.go.com/disneyland/en_US/home/home?name=HomePage

http://www.universalstudioshollywood.com

G'day from LA !

2007-03-14T18:56:00.000-07:00

Yes, you heard me right... just when you thought I was in Calgary for the duration, I've tripped down to California for a little under a week before I start my new job. I scored a cheap flight (thanks Air Canada) and my visit coincides with the week before American kids go on Spring break. Which means I only had to contend with foreign tourists at Universal Studios today.

It was terrific and ultra-cheesy. I'm not quite sure if the Californians are aware that they appear to be running on pure botox and red cordial (except red cordial has calories so that doesn't work), but they have a great, happy plastic outlook on life and work and I admire their efficiency to everything.

Today, I travelled down Wisteria Lane (Desperate Housewives) saw the pyrotechnics of Backdraft, went on the Jurassic park ride and met Marilyn Monroe (again, actually- she's also at Movie World on the Gold Coast- spooky). It's been a great day and I'm off to catch some photos of the sunset over the beach. Apparently the smog disperses the colours in a really beautiful way, which is the best thing that can be said for it.

Disneyland tomorrow. Here's an earworm (song that gets stuck in your head) to keep you entertained in the meantime, "It's a small world, after all".

Photos from Banff

2007-03-12T17:04:00.000-07:00

These are the photos we took on Laura's camera from Banff on Saturday. Double click for a closer look if you like.

The one of the lady pulling a dog on a trolley- well, the dog was stuffed. As in dead and stuffed. Really odd. This particular lady had parked her dog outside (as you do !!) and popped up in the middle of a random conversation Laura and I were having in a crowded coffee shop on the main street as we were speculating and joking about the most bizaire type of diet a person could put themselves through (not for the fainthearted). There are some weirdos about, I have to tell you, and all the random ones seem to approach me. But they all seem to have excellent manners so I don't mind so much.

The other photos are of around Banff, including the Grizzly restaurant and the Fairmont, which like the Fairmont in Quebec city, has the best location and the price tag to match.

Jaw Dropper

2007-03-12T11:48:00.000-07:00

How can I put this without sounding completely lame. The Rocky Mountains are, well... Rocky !! (Ok so I failed at the lame test).

Since arriving in Calgary my cup has well and truly runneth over. In record time I found a home that is a mere 15 min walk from downtown, a temporary job and a new contract with a major firm to start on my birthday (next Monday). I have a good girlfriend, friendly neighbours who I've spent time with, a LA style salsa class and last night I found a great church to be part of;

http://www.cschurch.ca/

So basically I've been busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger but have a lot to show for it. God has been very kind to me and cut me a big break since I got here. Thanks for all of you who have been praying for my well-being.

This weekend was terrific, Laura and I jumped in her car and went to Banff for a half day on Saturday. The snow on ground level has mostly melted, leaving the grass looking brown, the land flat on the way and but for the pine trees, strangely Australian. Until we got closer to the Mountains and in the space of minutes were surrounded. The Rockies look like they do in the pictures and postcards but to be there was almost overwhelming. They are truly awesome and majestic by day, humbling and imposing by twilight and intimidating and frightening by night. They were snow capped, which is just how I wanted to see them and the town of Banff is tucked into a valley, a one-main street town.

We had lunch at the Grizzly (restaurant) and I tried my first buffalo (hamburger) (tastes like beef) and then it was off to Rogers chocolate shop for some Maple cream truffles to take back to Calgary with us for eating and gifts.

I had been under instructions to bring my swimmers so Laura and I went off to the Hot Springs (tapped naturally from somewhere). So at 4pm on a Saturday afternoon I found myself in my swimmers, sitting in a 39 degree hot swimming pool with about 50 other people including 6 Scottish people randomly associated with Laura and related to each other. It was outdoor and open air and as the steam rose off the pool, we could still see the mountains all around us and as we were sitting there we were snowed on. It was one of the most bizaire experiences an Aussie can have when a pool is for cooling off, not heating up.

It seems unbelievable to me that I now live less than 1 1/2 hrs drive from one of the most amazingly beautiful places I've ever seen. I've made an amazing discovery. Hiking is not rocket science or an Olympic sport. You don't have to wear full body spandex. It is just tough walking with serious boots on. Which means that I've been doing it for weeks. This summer it might be time to up the ante. I've been invited to join a hiking club to do some walks in the mountains.

I say, "When in Rome..."

Random maple leaf stuff

2007-03-04T12:44:00.000-08:00

Now that I've settled in one spot for while, I've had a bit of time to think about Canadian culture and the funny things that tend to define a country. I'm going to generalise (a lot) so bear with me.

Firstly, Canadians, as a whole, love Aussies and Australia. They consider us the summer to their winter, not just literally (living opposing seasons) but in terms of being flipsides of each other in sports, food, lifestyle etc. I feel the same. They embrace their major season (winter) the way we embrace our summer. There are differences though. As a whole, their manners are more formal. Someone will always say "Bless you" when I sneeze and if I bump into someone, then they will apologise (as well as me). They are courteous to a fault and know that they are known for it. However, whilst we are not necessarily better sports, we don't have exactly the same view of sportsmanship as them. I haven't seen a live hockey match, but I have on tv, and without fail, there will be a fistfight between players during a game. It is expected and looked forward to by many in the crowds and to a certain extent condoned. Having said that, a few Canadians I've met disapprove of this. If our rugby players did that, it's straight before the sports tribunal and severe penalites and suspension. I don't understand the hockey thing and I'll write again on it when I have more info.

I'm deeply impressed by the Canadians. If a sport involves snow, ice, possible risk of life and limb, travelling on steel blades or planks of wood or even a scrap of carpet at high speeds down mountains, on slick ice, down tunnels or climbing up stuff covered in ice and hanging off it, they will do it. I have had some funny conversations with people who do all that stuff and are afraid of spiders and won't travel to Australia because of it. I'd take avoiding a redback over hurtling down a bobsled track anyday.

Back on courtesy, if you were to take them literally, then the entire nation hasn't used a toilet since it's invention, except for the Quebecquois, "Ou est les toilettes ?" English-speaking Canadians call them washrooms. It's custom not to refer to them as they actually are, which are loos, dunnies, lavatories, toliets, ladies' etc. In America they call them "restrooms" unless you are in someone's home in which case you ask for the bathroom. I can't adjust to saying "washroom" but don't want to be impolite and ask for the toilets, so have decided to split the difference to call them bathrooms. It's something I have to keep reminding myself of, like walking on the right (same way as car traffic) instead of the left. I am starting to look permanently duck-footed as I step left- correct- step- right to avoid going against pedestrian flow.

Compromise number 2 has been the name of my hometown, Canberra. It's a 3 step process which I've now repeated about a hundred times. No-one understands where I am talking about if I call it "Can-bra" and is been discouraging to see the blank look on people's faces as I then gently repeat it phonetically. "Can-ber-ra". Then about 1/ 3rd of people (so far) know that it's the capital of Australia. Most just ask me where it is and if it's a nice town. To be fair though, a lot of Aussies think the capital of Canada is Toronto.

I have to pick carefully which people to reveal that it is the capital of Australia and which not to. Some people have been acutely embarrassed to find that it's not Sydney and I've not wanted to hurt anyone's feelings. So now I call it Can-ber-ra and am thankful that people are interested enough to ask at all.

The maple leaf in one form or another is everywhere, hung from the national flag, on advertisements, national companies etc. I like it, it's a constant reminder from one end of the country to the other of where I am. However, I don't understand how the maple leaf, which is lovely became a symbol of the country above others, such as one of their animals etc. But people are fiercely proud of it and I'm not sure whether it captures the imagination in some indefineable way or just that it distiguishes them forcibly from the Americans (which seems really important here). Our green and gold kangaroo and the Aussie flag/ Aboriginal flags seem to share more equal time back home and I can better understand it. Maybe you have to be Canadian to understand the maple leaf. I'm going to watch and listen this year and give it a good try, though.