Merry Christmas

Just raising my head to wish you and yours all the very best for Christmas.

May it be safe, happy and not pass too quickly.

Crash

I nearly made it. Nearly made it to the end of the trip without crashing — mentally or physically — but today it happened.

Legs made of concrete, eyes that took in nothing and mood swings that would have me mixing it with the best of them in New York — that’s about the sum of my day. D eventually gave up trying to keep me moving and engaged and we headed back to the room early. Since then I’ve gone shopping for an extra piece of luggage, washed a few sundry items, repacked the souvenirs that were going to cost an exorbitant amount to send home by US Post into the new luggage, bitten D’s head off on more occasions than either he or I can count and am only now sitting down and “resting”.

Of all the places the crash could have happened, New York is possibly the worst. And if it was the worst place for the crash to happen it’s probably the place I most expected it to happen. It was our first day here when I realised that we weren’t going to have enough time to do even half of what we wanted. So many museums, so many art galleries, so many shops and sights to see, so many streets and people, so many, so much, so big, loud, bustling, smelly, entertaining, interesting. So, so, so wonderful. So, so unexpected. I was expecting rudeness and haven’t encountered it. I was worried that I’d feel hemmed in and crowded but apart from a few moments of anxiety (of the take me home, NOW!!! variety) on our first evening here, I’ve been fine. The trick, I discovered, is to simply go with the flow and see where it takes you.

Except I forgot that trick today. And now I’m feeling tired and wrung out (much like the sundry items will be once I can be bothered to look after them). I suspect D is too because he’s snoring in bed while I type this. I’ll wake him soon and we’ll find somewhere to have dinner and hopefully the rest of the day will pass more peacefully and happily than what has gone.

There was one bright spot although I suspect I may have been appalled had I been in any other mood today (possibly because I was glad I wasn’t the one receiving the treatment). We had lunch at the Carnegie Deli today and found ourselves seated, elbow to elbow, with an older couple from Sydney, typically Australian and hopelessly confused. D had eaten there before and knew exactly what he wanted (and by extension what we wanted because I couldn’t make up my mind and was happy to go with that aforementioned flow). The older couple, well, they couldn’t decide on anything. The waiter, who was trying to turn over tables because there was a lengthy queue outside, took our order and turned to them.

“What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have the hamburger, that Famous one, please” was her request.

“There’ll be a twenty-five minute wait for that. Everything else, the sandwiches, they come immediately.” He spoke with a thick Italian accent that may have been real. I suspect they didn’t understand a word he was saying.

“Oh. Oh… Twenty five minutes? Really?”

The waiter told them, rather brusquely “I’ll come back!”

Three minutes later he came back.

“You ready now?”

“I’ll have the chicken soup,” was his request.

“Which one?” There are umpteen versions on the menu.

“The chicken soup.”

“Which one? Matzoh? Noodles? What?”

“Oh. Oh… I dunno.”

He conferenced with his wife and eventually turned back to the waiter.

I think, yes, I’ll have the matzoh ball soup?”

“And what else do you want. There’s a minimum order per person.” I’m not sure what the minimum was but the couple obviously weren’t going to make it.

“Oh. Ohh…”

“I’ll come back.”

By this time, D and I were tucking into our (shared) three storey corned beef on rye (with a side of pickles). The older couple pushed their chairs back and farewelled us with “Well, we really wanted an American hamburger. You have a great time, though. Yes, all we wanted was an American hamburger. “

The waiter came back.

“They’ve gone have they?”

We nodded.

“Beautiful.”

As he turned away he yelled to the hostess to send two more in.

I wanted to tip him extra just for the entertainment value.

We have two more days here and nothing major on the agenda. We’ve hit the high spots of a visit to New York and now it’s time to wander a few streets.

I realise that I haven’t blogged about the Grand Canyon or Zion Canyon or Las Vegas as yet. I’m still sorting through my feelings about those places (total wonder, total inspiration and total hate come to mind and I’m leaving you to guess which was for which). If you want to see my impressions of these three places, go here.

Rain, rain go away

It’s been a couple of days (or more) and here I was thinking I was getting back into the swing of blogging. Turns out that blogging isn’t high on the list of priorities when you’re swanning around gorgeous National Parks, about which there will be more, later.

Today we’re in Chicago. Yesterday we were in Chicago. It has been raining the whole time. I normally love cities when it’s raining. The streets washed clean of grime and rubbish. Sparkling, almost, and ready for a new day. But I’ve found that there’s a limit to how much rain a person can reasonably tolerate. I reached that limit sometime yesterday afternoon as I huddled under an umbrella trying to find a destination, any destination on a map, and a record amount of rain fell on the city. We had decided to go the Art Institute but by the time we had organised ourselves and made it there the line stretched a little too long and we didn’t feel like standing still in the rain for goodness knows how long. So we walked. And walked. Around the Loop and in the rain. And given that we spent most of our time under umbrellas, I don’t know how much I actually saw of this city. Or if we even found a destination. But it is a good city to walk around.

What I did see, I liked. Chicago seems like a city I could really like, if only I had the chance to really get to know her. And what with the rain and our limited time, I don’t think that is going to happen. So I will enjoy today at the Art Institute (we’re organised today and will be there relatively early, hopefully avoiding the queues) and whatever else we decide to do because the forecasts say that the rain will be clearing by evening.

I’m not so keen on the hotel or maybe it’s just the staff at the hotel that I’m not too keen on. The hotel itself is charming but the staff are not. Maybe I was just spoiled by the attentiveness of the staff at our previous hotel, where nothing was too much trouble and every request was anticipated before you’d finished forming the thought, let alone the question and was expecting more than a vague gesture in the direction of the lifts when we arrived on Friday afternoon, obviously wet and staggering under the weight of our bags. Unfortunately, with two days of our stay down and two left, they haven’t managed to redeem themselves.

Enough of the complaining.

It’s time for me to shower and head out for the day.

Maybe it will stop raining soon.

I am the sort of tourist I hate

The one with the lists of things to do and see, who ticks off each item as it is “done” and then rushes to the next attraction without stopping to savour the sights, sounds and smells.

Alcatraz.

Tick. Done.

Chinatown.

Tick. Done.

Ghirardelli Square.

Tick. Done. Yum.

Cable Cars.

Tick. Done. Many, many times.

Pier 39.

Tick. Done.

SFMOMA.

Tick. Done.

Given how little time we really do have here in San Francisco, I’ll live with it. I don’t have time to be the sort of traveller I’d like to be, not in four days, not when there is an entire city to be discovered, not when new wonders reveal themselves around every corner.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Like the exhibition at the SFMOMA the references to which I had somehow missed during the research phase of this holiday.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
…the view as we disembarked from the cable car and made our way to Chinatown. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
…the splashes of colour on an otherwise grey rock.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
…the moments of serenity in an otherwise bustling city. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

And then, of course, there is the utterly familiar which, despite its familiarity managed to take my breath away.

Today is our last day here and there is still so much we haven’t seen and enjoyed. I could be regretting that we have been a little ambitious with our plans for this three weeks. I could be furiously rearranging the remainder of our time on this side of the big pond so we could spend more time here.

But I’m not.

Because I know I’ll be back.

You always come back to the ones that you love.

180 something days

One hundred and eighty something days ago I sat at my desk at work, with a calendar in front of me, writing numbers from 0 to 180 something. Each number was a day.

For 180 something days I watched the numbers become smaller until today.

Today is day 0.

Currently I’m sitting in Auckland airport, in transit to San Francisco. Ahead of me is a twelve hour flight; behind me three and a half hours, a missed food service and some very sore ears courtesy of a head cold a colleague very kindly shared.

I can’t wait for the flight to be over and to arrive.

It’s taken a long time but my holiday is finally here.

It’s official

I would have written this sooner but I’ve been hedging my bets, hoping that I wasn’t feeling what I was feeling. But I am. And here I am. Just briefly. Just to say this blog is in hiatus.

As if that wasn’t obvious already.

Three, four or five times daily I see or hear something that immediately starts spinning itself into a post but when I arrive home the urge to share is no longer present. Each time it happens I feel a stab of guilt that I have not written, that I have neglected my blogging duties. And therein lies the problem. Blogging feels like a duty, an obligation to fulfil rather than a pleasure to indulge. I have enough obligations in my life without adding something that was once fun to the list.

So I’m taking a break before I end up detesting even the idea of blogging. I don’t know how long it will last and when I come back I don’t know if it will be here, exactly. In the meantime, I’ll keep myself busy with knitting (nearly finished a sweater for D.), planning our trip in September (only two hotels and a rental car left to book — I’m very excited) and quietly lurking on my favourite blogs (over there, in the sidebar).

Thank you all for being patient with me. I’ll see you on the other side.