Cows in Trees

Melbourne has spectacular modern architecture, plain and simple. Edmonton has ugly modern architecture, plain and simple. A hike through the Docklands area of Melbourne left Glen and I gawking at the best modern residential architecture we’ve ever had the delight of seeing.

The Docklands consists mostly of ritzy, upper-class condominiums that would cost the gross national products of most African countries; but they are beautiful. Large marvels of colour coordinated glass and tasteful abstract sculpture. There is enough absurdity mixed in with these proud, airy buildings to make one aware that the Docklands site planners do have a sense of humour.

We got some good pictures of the buildings and the absurdities, and so I shall pepper you with them. Little commentary shall be provided, as little commentary is needed.






But what of the absurdities I mentioned earlier? Simple: I present to you, as it stands in the middle of the Docklands area…




…a cow in a tree. Huzza!

Churches Galore

Melbourne loves its churches. At least, I am led to believe that Melbourne loves its churches due to the sheer number of really, really nice church buildings dotting the cityscape. As in any big city, these churches are of numerous denominations, but nearly every single one we saw was beautifully built in very medieval styles. Glen and I love church art and architecture, and unfortunately there is not enough of it at home to sate our appetites.

We visited to particularly magnificent churches in downtown Melbourne. The first was St. Paul’s Cathedral, a large Anglican cathedral with a classic rough-stone exterior that is a smart juxtaposition with the very avant-garde construction of Melbourne film institute centre immediately across the street. Our excursion into St. Paul’s was made doubly nice by the symphony orchestra playing in the nave. They were warming up for a free Beethoven concert that was being given that afternoon.

The features of St. Paul were in a very typical grand Anglican style. Lots of stained glass windows, a beautiful choir screen that featured twelve medieval English kings, and lovely tile designs on the floor. There were some geckos (or lizards of some description) winding themselves around pillars, which we liked in particular. The pictures are far too dark to warrant putting them up in this post, but I trust you to believe that they were darling.

The batteries in the camera were dying, so the shutter speed on the camera was really low, and most of the pictures turned out blurry or dark. One of the few pictures of St. Paul that turned out was of this series of arches, which was part of the front entry:



There was also a very interesting feature on the walls behind the altar. I’ve seen many upright pentacles in church designs, but never before have I seen inverted pentacles. The picture is blurry, but you can still make them out. They are in the circles at the top of the lower archways:



We also paid a visit to St. Patrick’s Cathedral, a massive Catholic cathedral that would qualify as the granddaddy of all churches in Melbourne. You can see the church spires leaping up from behind the government buildings almost anywhere in the downtown area. It is beautiful, and reminded me of the grander cathedrals I saw on a short school trip to Quebec.

The grounds of St. Patrick are gorgeous, and one of the side entryways features an extremely long sloped path, down the centre of which runs a waterfall feature during the summer months. It wasn’t turned on when we visited, but I imagine that it is very pretty.

There was enough sculptural features covering the exterior to make one’s head spin, and the interior of the church was equally breathtaking. Glen had a fit and took over seventy photographs, only a couple of which I’ll post here. The grounds had splendid statues of St Francis of Assisi and St. Catherine of Sienna, as well of a couple prominent Melbourne figures.



There were a great number of windows, and around each window were decorative heads. Each head had obviously different features, no two were alike; I’d love to be able to find out who these people were, because I am certain that each one represented a very specific person. There were more heads gargoyles decorating the spires and the drainpipes, or clinging to various architectural precipices.



Looking straight up at the cathedral from the front gave both Glen and I a huge slap of vertigo, which is understandable considering the scale of this Goliath-like structure. I’m not too sure just how many spires there are around the front and rear of the buildings, and the sides of the cathedral are supported by fantastic flying buttresses – all as heavily detailed as anything else on or in the building.



To give you some idea of the vastness of the construction, we took a photo of the model of the cathedral. This shows the detail around the rear of the building, including some of the flying buttresses and a dense forest of spires.



It really would be impossible to go into detail about the degree of decoration around every single window, cornerblock, or archway. Vines and faces and florets and foils were everywhere. Moving into the cathedral was equally dramatic. Every window is stained, and if it isn’t stained with images and art, then it is stained an amber colour. At that time of day, slightly before noon, the sun was slanting in through the amber windows, which literally bathed the entire cathedral in a gold glow. It is like stepping into the inside of a piece of amber.



As one would expect in any major cathedral, artwork was everywhere. The organ pipes themselves were something to wonder at, and took up the entire rear of one of the side apses.



Around the rear of the sanctuary were are series of niches, each with it’s own unique dedicated altar and heavily decorated glass windows. We spent a great deal of time attempting to decipher the symbols that littered the area; each niche had a specific story that revolved around a specific religious figure, and while we couldn’t figure them all out we were able to get the gist of most of them. It was a great deal of fun. Adding to that are the accessible records of the building of the cathedral. Nearly every pillar has a brass plate on it stating who ‘built’ (read: paid for) that particular pillar. There are dedication plaques everywhere, and a detailed account of one parishioner who died in 1900 and left 50,000 pounds in his will for the completion and decoration of the cathedral. There is as much history lesson as religious experience available in that place, and you need to take your time to go do it any justice.

There is art up, there is art down, there is art on each floor stone and ceiling mosaic tile. There is a huge rose window at the front and massive glass triptychs at the back. It is a staggering place, defiantly worth the time spent there.

You can Take the Librarian out of the Library…

*Note: I will warn all readers in advance – the following post essentially amounts to library porn. It is entirely possible that any of you who are not either librarians or fanatical about library buildings will find this post, at worst, incredibly dull, or at best, amusing in an "oh, those silly little geeks" sort of way.

One would think that two young adults in their mid-20s would arrive in Melbourne glassy-eyed with thoughts of joining the thriving and unguarded nightlife. In this case, one would be entirely wrong. Where did we spend a large chunk of our first day touring Melbourne? At the Victoria State Library, of course.

Yup, I’ve left behind the library world only to immediately glom onto the first large library we came across. Granted, the building is particularly beautiful, so it was nigh impossible not to go in. After waking up ridiculously early (approximately 5:30 in the morning – jet lag lives on!), Glen and I decided to spend the day touring the downtown area. There is a free tram that circles the main city centre during the day; it moves slowly and has a recording that points out areas of interest, so it really is the idea way to become familiar with Melbourne’s downtown district.

After spending a good three-quarters hour on the tram with our coffee, we hopped off at a station that was central to some magnificent government buildings. As it happens, that stop was smack outside the Victoria State Library, and there were several very beautiful statues out front of a very beautiful building.



Glen, ever the sculptor, immediately began snapping pictures of the statues. Our favourite was St.George defeating the dragon:



Followed by the sphinxes on the base of the lampposts:



Sphinxes! On library lamp posts! I find this incredibly fitting.

There were also sculptures of Jeanne D’Arc, and LaTrobe, for who one of the main downtown streets is named, and some big judicial fellow who had a statue erected in his honour in the late 1980’s.

There was an exhibit of some nice pictures of big celebrities inside the library’s lobby gallery. It was a lovely display, but I hardly think that we need to expound upon artsy shots of Emminem, Fifty Cent, or Bill Clinton here.

The library is chock-a-block with pretty things. We had to pay entirely too much for the use of a locker, as library rules did not allow us to bring in our day-pack with us, as it was considered too large. Near the locker room is this lovely staircase with stained-glass windows. Glen was compelled to photograph these as well:



Being a state library, there are several state galleries within the library, affording a free view of many Victorian era portraits of important people who could afford to have portraits painted of them. There were also landscapes of Australia that looked remarkably like landscapes of England, which is no surprise considering that the majority of the artists were British ex-pats with a fondness for pastoral subjects.

The library was quite packed with university students starting up their spring term studies. Considering the beautiful reading rooms, freely accessible internet, and amazing rare books collections, it is hardly unreasonable that this place is a haunt for the studious. One of the rare book collections that we came across is devoted to books that are important to the development of children’s literature. Unfortunately all the rare book collections are restricted access and appointments are necessary to even enter the rooms. It was all Glen could do to keep me from storming the rare children’s literature collection.



Here I am in the first reading room where we found the rare children’s literature collection. A couple of the students were poking fun at me as I attempted to pose for Glen. They simply didn’t understand…



This is the second reading room. The circular floors around the perimeter of the room house some more excellent exhibits, including a fabulous display of the history of the book. This exhibit showcased many of the library’s most prized rare books, dating back to Celtic illuminated manuscripts and medieval hand-written texts. It carried up right through to modern printing; some of the most interesting modern pieces were the laptop upon which a particularly famous modern book was originally "penned"(alas, the name of the book and author escapes me), and an original Kelmscott Press printing.

As you might imagine, the entire gallery and reading room were stunning, regardless of the level from which you looked at it.



At the top of the gallery levels, right where we took the above birds-eye photo, we found a stained glass window that likely doesn’t get viewed as frequently as it should due to it’s somewhat backroom display. It is a lovely glass rendition of Shakespeare, but what makes it really nifty is the number of times it has been broken and the absolutely masterful was it has been restored.



Unfortunately the picture could not capture the numerous breaks and cracks that spider across the window. They are barely discernible unless you are looking for them, and looking very closely and carefully at that. The conservator who restored the window defiantly knew what he was doing. I can imagine that he probably went blind labouring over the fumes from the glue and molten lead needed to piece the window back together.

What was likely the most personally satisfying in an "I KNEW IT!" sort of manner was coming across a room in the library dubbed "Experimedia". This place is a wonderland, a library games room with computer games terminals - console and PC - scattered around the room as well as additional ports to multimedia and experimental media information and entertainment formats. I just about had a conniption when I saw this beauteous wonder. None of my library cronies reading this post will question why, knowing mine and Glen's obsessions with computer games. I wanted to bark with laughter when I saw that room, saying a bit HA! to all those tosspots who are under the impression that games have no place in a library.



As you can see, it is indeed a thing of beauty!

Melbourne: The Lost Day

I had embarked on the flights to Australia with the smug idea that due to the timing of our departure from Vancouver and our arrival in Melbourne, Glen and I would magically escape the effects of jet lag. Alas, such was not the case. On the cab ride to the YHA Melbourne Oasis hostel, Glen fell asleep and I may have actually had an out-of-body experience; then again, perhaps my brain simply shut down. At any rate, we fell into the hostel at around 10:30 Melbourne time, and immediately dragged ourselves to our room.



The room was as we expected it – small, serviceable, and clean. Personally, I find it rather amusing that 8 months into our marriage we are already relegated to tiny separate beds and alarmingly unromantic and celibate bedrooms. But such is the rule of the hostel. We did have a room to ourselves, and the hostel facilities were well-appointed and quite tidy (the pillows were exceptionally flat, I must add – any flatter and they would have been concave). As soon as the beds were made, we fell into them and proceeded to sleep for a good three hours.

Upon waking, we decided that food was in order. As we wanted to establish our own supply of groceries in the hostel refrigerators, we asked the receptionist where the nearest grocery store was. She directed us to a little neighbourhood supermarket, but said that we would do much better to walk to the Queen Victoria Market. Being a farmer’s market, the produce and meats would be far more varied and superior in quality.
Taking her advice, we hiked the two kilometers or so to the market. Our first sight of it prompted a rather embarrassing squeal of delight from me – the first stall had live quail, ducks, and chickens for sale, all ready for laying eggs. Melbourne is one of those enlightened municipalities that allow for homeowners to keep a couple poultry in their backyard for the purpose of gathering fresh eggs. I’m currently harbouring an obsession with backyard chickens, so this discovery was quite delightful. This same stall also had an excellent selection of very fresh free-range eggs, of which we bought six.

Once we passed by this egg stand, it started to sink in just how enormous this market is. We had landed in the produce section, which was enough to make any vegetarian’s head spin. The variety and price of the produce was exceptional – avocados were three for a dollar, local pineapples were two dollars apiece, mushrooms came in dozens of varieties. The strawberries were a little tired looking, but we came across ‘sweet honey’ oranges that smelled so delicious that we bought four for immediate consumption. And joy of joys, the oranges were full of seeds. These are not the seedless variety that populate Canadian grocery stores – those sterile, unnatural globules that are transported a ridiculous distance and taste of nothing except pure citric acid and water. These oranges were bursting with seeds and were so flavourful and juicy that we drooled quite shamelessly as we snarfed them down.



We mainly bought fruit and mushrooms, and a chunk of very savory cheese. Tomatoes were, alas, out of the question as recent weather conditions have caused most of the tomato crops to fail and the prices to skyrocket. All over the produce market the voices of the vendors could be heard shouting, shouting, shouting their wares and prices to anyone walking by. This was somewhat overwhelming for both Glen and I, who are accustomed to the relatively non-aggressive farmers markets of Edmonton. It was quite interesting, though, to hear the goods being advertised at the highest lung capacity the vendors could muster. Next to the produce was the clothing section, of which we had little interest. Crossing the street, we came upon the meat and seafood section, which is housed inside a long, low building to accommodate the need for meat coolers.



If we thought the noise in the produce section was surprising, it was nothing compared to that of the meat market. In here the vendors didn’t just shout, they bellowed, holding out large trays of meat and thrusting handfuls of sausage links over the tops of their counters. The vendors yelled, the customers yelled, and the entire place swarmed like a hive, making it difficult to wend our ways down the aisles. As it was nearing the end of the market day, many vendors were dropping their prices extremely low to ensure swift sales and screaming the sale prices at peak volume; clearly the end of the day is the ideal time to purchase meat at the Queen Victoria Market. We came across one silent stall that bore the proud sign "We don’t yell to sell" – they must have been the only ones. After making a loop of the entire meat section, we went back to the first stall we saw and bought a kilo of lamb cubes.

From there we went to the deli/sweets/breads area. We found a butter vendor and got some really excellent butter, then attempted to find a bread vendor. Bread appears to be the one item in the Queen Victoria Market that is in relatively short supply. It is possible that we missed the main strip of bread sellers, but we only found a couple of stalls that had anything to offer, and they were busy shutting down. We did manage to nab a loaf of dark rye that looked remarkably similar to a big loaf of chocolate cake. Chocolate cake and any other variety of cake was far more accessible than bread; apparently Aussies have a well developed sweet tooth.

Having purchased what we needed, we wandered around the market for a few more minutes than headed back to the hostel. Now here is one of the most remarkable peculiarities of Melbourne that we have encountered: once we got away from the marketplace, the city appeared to be deserted. We could have counted on one hand the number of people we passed during the entire walk. It was like a ghost town and was actually rather unsettling. I half expected to see a zombie staggering down the street in quest of fresh brains.

Upon our return to the hostel, we had a pretty basic late lunch consisting mostly of rye bread and cheese. And then we lost the remainder of the day. How, you may ask? By going to bed at quarter to five in the afternoon with the intention of having another short nap and not waking up again until three thirty in the morning.

Yes, folks, a mere three hours after a three hour nap, we succeeded in clocking another 10 hours of sleep. When we woke up at 3:30 am, we grumped a bit about waking up so early, rolled over, and fell back asleep until 6:00.

It does seem reasonable that after nearly two days of flights and very little sleep we would be in need of a few extra hours of shut-eye. But 16 hours in a 20 hour period? Where did the day go?

Geeks Disconnected

Rightey-o: for those amongst you wondering why there has been a prolonged silence from the blog-end of things, this is not due to Glen and I getting kicked to death by a kangaroo. We are currently in Halls Gap, a little touristy town in the Grampians National Park (for the Albertans: think Jasper, now make the townsite smaller and you've got Hall's Gap) and the internet resources here aren't exactly contributing to our blog activities.

I've got posts written about Melbourne, and I've got the pictures to back them up, but they are all on Stowaway the Laptop, and the computers at this hostel - which is absolutly paradisial in every other way - don't like speaking to their own USB ports. Add to that a lack of word processors or picture downloading equipment on the hostel computers, and presto: we are unable to post our travel journal writings.

We'll be here for a few more days (probably another four evenings). After that we should have much better internet access, so you can expect a veritable deluge of posts, possibly even several in the same day. If you are mildly frightened by the prospect of slogging through that many posts in one go, you should be. I've managed to turn a lack of internet access into a five hundred word philibuster - just imagine what I've done to our going-to-the-market story!

Homeland Security Threat Level Orange!

It has been a recent discovery of ours that there are many kinds of airports. Glen and I, being relatively unseasoned airborne travellers, have only encountered a couple. They contained restauraunts and duty-free shops with remarkably overpriced goods available for purchase. Our flight to Melbourne had us experience no less than four airports – Vancouver, San Francisco, Auckland, and Melbourne. We spent approximately 24 hours on planes and in airports and while it must be said that both the aircrafts and airports were far more comfortable than the buses and stations of the Greyhound bus line, they had their own peculiarities.

Actually, there were only two airports that struck us as having anything really peculiar, but we shall get there in time. Photo evidence of some of the airport shenanigans has been provided for your amusement.

First up was the Vancouver International Airport. This is a rather nice airport with an alarmingly confusing flight ticket-wicket area. It took us a while to figure out where it was we needed to go to pick up our tickets, as the rows and rows and rows and rows of wickets are somewhat befuddling. Eventually we made it through and had to fine ways of amusing ourselves for the next two hours.

As with pretty much every airport worldwide, the Vancouver International Airport is jammed with retail spaces devoted to hawking kitschy souvenir crap.


I found the largest piece of Canadiana I could find and said a wretched goodbye to my home country.

Afterwards, Glen and I acquired some free Starbucks coffee (gotta love coupons) and my already jangling nerves were put on high alert thanks to a Venti portion of caffeine. Being utterly unable to sit still, I proceeded to harass Glen by stacking stuff on him.


It started with a coffee cup…



and quickly escalated from there.

At this point we went for a walk. It was either that or I would have chewed off the headrest of the seat in front of me.

The flight from Vancouver to San Francisco was brief and uneventful. As we had a three hour layover before our plane for Melbourne-via-Auckland left, we were hoping to find some form of diversion.

We found it about two minutes after disembarking from the plane. The public announcement system crackled into life and a female voice boomed:

Attention passengers: we are at homeland security threat level orange. Keep your luggage with you at all times. Should you see any suspicious persons or packages, call 911 immediately.

Cheerful, no? This ringing endorsement of pointless vigilance paranoia repeated itself every ten minutes. I kid you not – we must have heard these words no fewer than twenty times while we waited for our next plane.

As we were hungry and bored, we went in search of something to eat. The Japanese restaurant – which was my initial pick as you can usually expect reasonably fresh ingredients and a fine portion of veggies from these establishments – had a nightly “special” of four pieces of sushi and one piece of maki for $15 USD. This was clearly daylight robbery, so we tried to find sandwiches. The average price of a limp and anemic panini was $12 USD, so we avoided the sandwich stops as well.

The final choice was a Mexican restaurant. The space looked pleasant enough and the entrees were a reasonable price, so we settled for that. Glen and I each decided to order a burrito platter, as they came with a side salad. Wanting more veggies than the salad provided, I elected to get the grilled veggie burrito. Glen and I discovered something strange almost immediately after I cut into it. Here’s a clue:



Did you spot it?

WHERE ARE THE VEGETABLES? I’m sorry, but a couple pinky-nail sized squares of bell peppers (not present in the photo), some burnt corn, and a few slivers of zucchini lost in a half-ton of black beans and refried rice does NOT a "grilled vegetable" burrito make! Nor does the absence of meat immediately imply the presence of vegetables! I ate the salad and about a third of the burrito and abandoned the rest. The remainder of our time was spend listening to the repeated howling about orange security threat levels and wondering where the nefarious "persons or packages" were.

The flight from San Francisco to Auckland took 12.5 hours and was punctuated by two meals, each of which managed to contain about fifteen times the vegetables as that burrito. There was an 1.5 hour layover in Auckland, where we discovered our second airport peculiarity: the multiplying duty-free shops.

Truly, folks, you will never see the same number of duty free shops anywhere in the world as we saw in Auckland. They were so densely populated that you could touch two at one time. And each different brand of duty free shop had a clone somewhere else in the terminal. It was bizarre. But there was some good stuff to be found, if we were in the market to purchase overpriced airport goods. The MacGregor sweaters (containing merino and silk wools) were beautiful and wonderfully soft. And you had your choice of at least five identical stores to buy them at.

We then spent about four hours flying from Auckland to Melbourne, where we were inspected by the most cheerful customs officer ever. Fearful that our two chocolate bars and one camping knife would get us into trouble if we didn’t declare them at customs, we filled out the customs cards truthfully, meaning that our bags needed to be searched. Neither of us had a problem with this – if the stuff got confiscated, it was no big deal. But the prospect of slipping up and getting into trouble for having stuff we weren’t supposed to was scary. Improper customs declaration = substantial fine + possible time = early and pathetic end to adventure. I’m certain I was acting with a fine helping of paranoia, but it’s better safe than sorry. At any rate, the customs officer was relentlessly cheerful and we had a splendid conversation with him, wherein he told us his own favourite places in Australia (namely Tasmania, which is where we are headed to once we are "done" with Melbourne).

From there we took cab to our hostel. I wanted to take a picture of us leaving the airport, but Glen said the picture would be a lousy one.



He was right.


Stay tuned for more Melbourne adventures!

The Geeks are Drifting

AND LO, did they bid farewell to loved ones and mount the steps to the Greyhound Bus, thus declaring themselves to be officially homeless for the next several months. And the bus did rumble and rattle its way through the night with its many passengers, stopping at every unmarked Albertan town along the way to pick up parcels of unknown contents. The passengers did sleep fitfully, confused by a bad Tom Cruise movie and jarred by the perpetual sensation that the bus was about to tip over.

As you may imagine, the overall epic quality of a bus trip requires some embellishment. We jammed ourselves into narrow chairs and I bawled into Glen's shoulder for a good five minutes as the bus started to leave the station. Then we watched Collateral and Antz on the tiny on-board bus TVs, attempted to ignore the odd personal odours emanating from several of the passengers, revelled in the bus driver’s occasional rebuking of drunk passengers or people having nicotine withdrawal crankiness, and made small talk with other passengers. We met a fellow from Suriname, South America, who was taking a holiday in western Canada. We spend a good hour and a half listening in to a rather soap-operatic conversation between two passengers sitting in front of us. They were both in their early 20s, and after they met on the bus they quickly discovered that they shared a lot in common, namely a penchant for drug-fuelled recreation and relationship drama. It was one of the most amusing conversations I have listened to in a long time.

Catching any sleep on the bus was next to impossible, as the chairs don’t really allow you to rest in any position save for bolt-upright. Glen attempted to get creative with his positioning and succeeded in wedging himself into a bastardized version of a full-foetal curl, with his head on my lap and his knees under his chin. A note to all you would-be bus travellers: those travel pillows that are actually small zippable cases stuffed with blankets are a god-send. I’m using a Eddie Bauer travel pillow stuffed with a down blanket that Glen’s mother bought me for Christmas, and it is delightful. Perfect size, good loft, very comfortable, and can be mashed down to the size of a hoagie.

We elected to take the bus because thanks to Greyhound's companion fare discount (buy one full priced adult fare, and your companion can ride for $20) taking the Bus from Edmonton to Vancouver saved us around $300. That represents quite a few nights in a hostel. If it weren't for the companion fare, however, it would have cost around the same for us to fly to Vancouver. It pays to do one's homework and cost-compare.

As we approached our destination, we said hello to the clouds of smog hovering over the Vancouver-area cities like a nicotine coloured blanket. After arriving in Vancouver we had lunch with a dear friend who we can hopefully stay with for a few days when we return. From lunch, Glen and I succeeded on getting separated on the greater Vancouver sky-train. Those doors slam shut hard and fast, and basically slammed shut on Glen’s hand as he was following me onto the train. This left me speeding away while clutching two overpriced fare tickets, watching Glen disappear into a tiny dot on the platform. I got off my train car at the next station and simply waited for his train to turn up, still holding on to his ticket. When his train arrived, I found that he had purchased another overpriced ticket, just in case there was a train attendant checking. The rest of the journey was marked by an incredibly squealy and rattly ride over the Vancouver housetops. The people-watching was only semi-interesting, although we did see a young man with a Beretta gun tattooed onto his neck. Clearly he is a very hardened gangsta and I’m certain he has an enormous penis. Or not.

We are how bunking at my cousin’s house in Vancouver and enjoying their enthusiastic hospitality. It is always lovely being able to visit them and is giving us a good jumping off point for our adventure. We leave for Melbourne on the afternoon of the 13th, and have yet to actually make a hostel reservation for our first night in Australia. I believe I shall do that immediately, as I have the very handy Hostelling International Australia hostel guide at had.

Next stop, Melbourne!

Note: Stowaway the Laptop is a fantastic traveling companion.

And the beat goes on...

Glen and I had another goodbye yesterday, this time to Glen's dad. We'll be saying farewell to the rest of his family sooner to our departure date. Hopefully we'll be able to throw a final little party with our friends so that we can see them once more prior to leaving.

This week is hellishly busy, and preparations combined with general fretting meant that I have been remiss in my updates. On the weekend we helped build a garage and prep a house for sale, and so did not get a whole heck of a lot done, Monday was pretty much a write-off, and Tuesday was just plain awful - a bunch of irritating paperwork and insurance purchasing that culminated into a huge melt-down on my part. I felt much better post melt-down, though, so I suppose it was a good thing.

At any rate, my cheerful optimism is back, and I rather enjoyed yesterday's endeavors, which involved clearing our crap out of my mother-in-law's basement. She has that space more-or-less back now, although there are still a few more things that need tidying, and our worldly possessions are now in storage at my father's shop. Today we will be taking another load of goods to the shop, and spending money on backpacks and various other travel gear and clothing items. It'll be fun, especially as we tonight we have a free room at the very beautiful hotel where we had our wedding (there was a mix-up with the hotel rooms on the wedding night, so they gave us a free evening by way of apology). It is close to one of our shopping destinations, so we shall tote our prizes straight back to the hotel where we may inspect the purchases, go for a dip in the pool, enjoy the hot tub, and chill out in the hotel room.

These reports aren't particularly interesting at the moment, and for that I beg forgiveness from you, devoted reader. As we are departing Monday night, however, you won't have long to wait for some real news to come up.

Oh, and here's a thought for all you needing travel insurance: Don't assume your bank or insurance broker has the best deal out there. We got a far better deal for more comprehensive coverage through the Travel Cuts Bon Voyage insurance. It's for travelers under 50, and you don't need to be a student to use it. There are plenty of other travel insurance providers out there, too, such as automotive clubs like CAA. Shop around, there are good deals and good insurance plans lurking around many corners.

Not all preparations are comfortable

The past weekend has been rather exhausting. As Glen and I are approaching the final countdown to our departure date (we leave for Vancouver on the evening of September 10th), the round of good-byes has begun.

The first farewell was from my workplace, at noon on Friday. Generally speaking, saying goodbye to work itself isn't difficult, but doing so to co-workers who I genuinely like is. I did choke up, but not so much to cause much in the way of embarrassment for the parties involved.

The second farewell was to my belly dance group, on Friday evening. My instructor, the ever-fabulous Aurora Ongaro of the edVenture Arts studio, with the help of a few dedicated (and incredibly energetic) students, had put together a Hafla complete with the spectacular Arabesque Orchestra. The musicians came in all the way from Toronto and there were a number of Alberta's best dancers in the show, including a particularly moving performance by Aurora. After the performances the floor opened up for the audience to dance, and dance we did. Music played until 1 a.m., and it was both exhilarating and rather emotional. The girls from the studio are really exceptional individuals, and I've made a number of friends in a short period of time. I will miss chatting with them, I will miss dancing with them...but what a way to spend my final evening in their company!

The third was to my parents, at the airport on Saturday morning. As they were leaving that day for a cruise, this would be the last time I see them before our departure date. As anyone who has a good relationship with their parents may imagine, seeing them off prior to an extended absence is quite difficult.

And now we have started staying goodbye to our friends, as we manage to visit them during our last week in town. We will be having an informal going-away party or two, but of course that doesn't make the process any easier.