New Years Eve Eve

There are buskers in the square, set up between the statues. Break dancing comedians they are, performing mid way between a bronze queen and her puppy that for some inexplicable reason speaks with the voice of John Laws. 

I feel the sun splashing over my skin, the rays soaking in, right now it's all about the Vitamin D and not the melanoma, at this moment sun damage is so a tomorrow problem. Today is for enjoying the city.  

Like all big cities, Sydney has a hum, the soft buzz of the human hive. The delightful drone of everyday drudgery, punctuated predictably with the harsh tones of road rage, is more often the sound of the CBD clockwork ticking over, but today, on New Years Eve Eve, with the season's frivolity in full swing, my city is purring like a kitten. 

Snatches of song, "Your skin, your skin and bones", waft over from another soul singing for his dinner, "for you I'd bleed myself dry". A girl is crouched on the stonework surrounding a tree, near the Town Hall, reading. Her book on her knees, her hand on her cheek, sunlight trickling down through the leaves and a wall of hair speckling the pages. 

I have finished work for the year, my mild mannered insurance something something duties done for 2011, and been given a poets day for my trouble. I'm strolling the streets and loving every minute of it. 

The Universe is Talking to Me

33S 53' 40", 151E 10' 4"

The Universe is Talking to Me

33S 87' 14", 151E 20' 24"

Locating Laurent

Melbourne for me has a routine. I have travelled there a few times in my life, spent maybe a week there at a time, maximum and had up to 5 year gaps in between. Generally this works pretty well for me, as it means I know my way around well enough to not get myself completely lost, but not well enough to remember exactly where everything is. Like my favourite Melbourne café for example, I know that it is located somewhere in the vague mid section of the city, I know that it is kinda near a couple of arcades that I can almost recollect the names of, and I also know that it looks like the Gringotts building but with better posture.

As for the rest, it remains a mystery.

A treasure to be rediscovered, each and every time.

Just so, it has become my routine, that every time I touch down in Melbourne, be it via train, plane or once even by cruise ship, I allocate the hours at the beginning of my trip to locating Laurent. So habitual is my nature, that I even order the same Croque Mushroom, Soy Latte and Van Gogh Mousse Cake every single time, and every single time it is bliss.

Four-Thirty

At 4:30 this afternoon I was trying to work.

I really was trying to work.

I was also failing miserably.

A feeling had crept over me, you see, a feeling I have know for many years now, the sharp sting of anticipation, that precedes my every journey. A tingle over my skin, a chill, a readiness that makes my muscles tighten and taught, awaiting the plunge.

When I was younger, a lot younger, it was known to myself as "I'm-going-to-camp-today" feeling, it's very akin to "It's-Christmas-Day-today" feeling, and not at all conducive to getting any work done.

So, as of 4:30 today, I was totally failing at getting anything constructive done, and this is all because, tonight, I am going to Melbourne.

Success aka Blogtoberfest Day 31

I'm a bit chuffed.

Actually I'm a lot chuffed. I have successfully completed Blogtoberfest.

I am so proud of me. I  have posted every day in October. Granted some of my posts have at times been a little on the half-arsed side, especially when I was sick, but even then I posted every single day. It may not seem like much, but this is a big achievement for me. I'm not generally great at being terribly habitual, or reliable, so this is a big, big step.

I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.

I have over-exerted myself a bit though, so I'm going to break for a couple of days. Try not to miss me too much.

Did I ever tell you about the time I rode a Harley Davidson?

We rode out to a giant sand dune. It was on my last full day at the Red Centre.

The isolation of the area is abundantly apparent, once you are outside of the resort and the main tourist areas. From the dune there is almost 360 degrees of nothing, expansive desert and neverending sky, punctuated only by Kata Tjuta and Uluru. A magnificent nothing. 

I can only imagine that the feeling of isolation must compound a thousand fold when it all dies off. At the moment the area is teeming with life due to the incredibly unusual volume of rain they have been experiencing here. Without the green, it would be simply desolate but still majestic. 

On the Mend aka Blogtoberfest Day 29

As of today, after 3 days of feeling like death warmed up, and having fun times hacking up chunks of lung, I am starting to feel better.My cough is still lingering slightly, but I am no longer feeling like darkening the room, and retreating to the foetal position are my only options for the day.

The sun may shine again.

It once again has my permission.

Still Sick aka Blogtoberfest Day 28

Get Well Soon

Yesterday, Sassy Bear brought me home a get well soon pressie, a beautiful single long stemmed rose. It was so lovely.

Today it's gone a bit Beauty and the Beast on me, but I still love it.

Sick aka Blogtoberfest Day 26

Summer Hill Grand Food Bazaar

Talking Bottles

Yesterday, I spent a good 10 minutes talking to a bottle, the most astounding part of this was that the bottle actually had something interesting to say.

The bottle was lobbying to implement a container deposit system, like there used to be, in the good old days, when milk came in glass bottles and crates, and everyone would steal the crates because they are the perfect size to keep vinyl in, use as a step stool, build forts out of and a myriad of other uses. 

The bottle proposes to increase recycling by reinstating the cash for containers system where by collecting recyclable cans and bottles and handing them in at the container deposit depot, you get paid the cold hard smackeroonies, or 10 cents per container, one or the other. The bottle was with a group called Boomerang Alliance, who are calling for people to join their cause, and bring their bottles. If you have bottles, or wish to join the cause, you can check out their website or email the Australian Minister for Sustainability, Environment, Water, Populations and Communities. 

Talking bottles. I did mention I got a touch of sun yesterday, didn't I? 

A Touch of Sun

I'm a little bit pathetic. Today, I got a touch of sun. I'm probably a little bit burnt, more than likely slightly dehydrated, definitely feeling totally sorry for myself and at the ever so early time of 9:32pm I can barely keep my lids open.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I just had a microsleep whilst typing the above.

So, on that note, I'm going to crash and tell you about my adventures another day.

Good night everyone.

The Letterbox War

The other day I declared war on our letterbox.

It's locked you see, and some unknown vandal has jimmied the lock, out of wanton maliciousness or an attempt to gain entry. Now it won't open.

So I declared war, and began to battle.

I lost.

I now have stigmata. Once a sign of devout Christians, now also the mark of those who wage war on letterboxes. It comes from trying to stick my tiny little doll fingers into the letterbox slot to fish out an urgent bill for Sassy Bear and now I have matching bruises on the backs of both my hands. I did get the letter out, but surprisingly that letterbox can bite.

National Feel Your Boobs Day

Today is Pink Ribbon Day or a I like to call it National Feel Your Boobs Day, and to celebrate here is a giant pink ribbon made out of balloons in a fountain. The fountain in Martin Place to be exact.

Pink Ribbon Day for me is very personal, I have had multiple family members affected, and it always reminds me of how early detection and regular checking is of the utmost importance. As important as this is though, it doesn't need to be a chore, any time you have a free second you can have a Cheeky Check, or get your partner involved for a feel. Start off serious, get carried away, just make sure you do check.

Pink Ribbon Day also aims to raise funds and awareness for breast cancer research. To support this great cause you can donate to a couple of different funds, who all raise money for research, but have slightly different plans of attack.

Firstly the National Breast Cancer Foundation focuses on funding research for prevention and a cure specifically for breast cancer, or the Cancer Council who raise funds to fight cancer in general, through research and education on preventative measures (and they're about boobs).

Then there's the Breast Cancer Network Australia which focuses more on creating support programs for those living with breast cancer, by providing those newly diagnosed with comprehensive information booklets and ongoing access to forums and support groups (and it's about boobs). On a similar vein, there is also Look Good Feel Better which provides makeover workshops to survivors who have been through chemotherapy.

The last one I'd like to mention, that you can donate to, is The McGrath Foundation, which raises money to place breast care nurses in communities all across Australia (and it's about boobs).

Now, these are all Australian, so please if you aren't from around here, I encourage you to seek out the like minded foundations in your country and support the eradication of this horrible disease, and at the same time just focus a little bit more on the boobs.

The Universe is Talking to Me aka Blogtoberfest Day 20

33S 53' 48", 151E 10' 23"

Did I ever tell you about the time I saw the sun rise over The Rock?

I was up before the crack of dawn, this time to board a coach, destination, Uluru. Our first stop was one of the main viewing points, where we disembarked and strolled up to the deck to experience the sunrise. The viewing deck affords a clear view of the Rock, and already in the pre-dawn light the monolith had begun to smoulder.

Slowly but surely it began to redden, glowing brighter and brighter as the sun slowly rose behind us painting the eastern sky in a stunning array of pastels. The first true rays of the sun crept over the horizon, igniting the Rock and stoking it into an intense vermillion.

As the sun continued to rise, the embers of Uluru settled into the new day.

Headache aka Blogtoberfest Day 18

Hello World!

A couple of weeks ago I changed over the interface I use on blogspot. It wasn't a very big change for any one who isn't me. In fact I don't think it would have blipped on anyone's radar at all, as you have to be on this side of my 'sign in' in order to see any difference at all. So, unless you're hacking the Turtlepack you wouldn't have seen it.

Initially I wasn't overly impressed, mostly because they moved all the buttons on me. I had to find the commands all over again just to be able to do the things I'd always done, which is just irritating and inefficient. I was almost on the edge of changing back to the old interface when,  today, I found this.

This is a world map that charts you. You, being the people who view my blog. I now know a little bit about who you are, or at the very least where you are from, or happened to be situated when you were having a squiz. The darker the colour on the map the more page views the country has logged. It's very exciting for me, and as such, I just wanted to give a shout out to a few countries.

First of all, I'd like to give a big "Thank you" to Australia, Japan and the good ol' US of A, you are my bread and butter and I can say from personal experience are all awesome countries to live and work in.

Next I'd like to say a big "Howdy" to Canada, Russia and Malaysia, I haven't had a chance to visit yet, but I hear good things.

Thirdly, I want to give it up for my European friends, France, Germany, Denmark and the UK. I'm planning my next big trip in your direction. I hope to see you soon.

Lastly, to the countries that didn't quite rack up enough views to be shown above on the blogspot map, I still appreciate you stopping by, I hope I had the chance to make you smile. 'Hello and thanks' to Romania, Singapore, India, Italy, Spain, and Indonesia.

Happy travels all!

Feet Feat

Apparently I have enough dead skin on my feet to shock a pedicurist.

I'm not entirely sure that is information I should have shared, as I fear it may have altered your opinion of me, as it is a bit on the hyper-gooey side, but there it is. I learnt this today, when I had my first ever pedicure, when the girl at the nail salon took to my feet with a cheese grater, which resulted in a pile of shavings of a size fitting to top a couple of large spaghetti bolognese servings.

Absolutely disgusting it was, but it's another check off my Bucket List and post-grater, my feet are about at sexy as feet can get.

Meet my Id

This is the Warrior Woman.

She was named by Captain Obvious after an incident in a hospital where an idiotic woman threatened the comfort of someone I care very deeply about. I almost killed her. Had she not had the power to remove me from the hospital, revoking my visiting privileges, I probably would have. As it was though, I didn't lay a hand on her.

She is the id, the super hero alter ego, the section of my psyche that's all sub-conscious, sharp and saucy. She's never had a face before, this one comes courtesy of Marvel Comics where you can build your own super hero, and it's a very fitting one, even if I do say so myself.

You might at this point be thinking I'm a bit crazy, to be identifying and naming different aspects of my personality separately, but it's not as uncommon as you might think. For example, almost every aspect of super hero pop culture is founded on this idea. From the most obvious, like Batman, to the more obscure, like The Maxx, the genre is based on this idea. Bruce Wayne, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Hal Jordan, Tony Stark, just to name a few of the most recently popular, all giving a persona to their ids to protect their loved ones from the world. So too it is with Little Girl Lost.

Also, it's fun, and I have wings. After all, even Beyoncé has Sasha Fierce.

Did I ever tell you about the time I walked into a lightsaber duel in Kobe?

Really.

In February, on our way from Osaka to Sapporo, some friends and I stopped in Kobe overnight. After dinner and checking out Chinatown there, we went for a stroll through a park down by the docks there. We were just bumming around, minding our own business, climbing up a ridge of stairs when we walked straight onto a battlefield. A lightsaber battlefield, complete with glowing blades and sound effects. It was one of the most surreal things I have ever seen. There they were, the duellers, three of them to be precise, dressed like extras from The Matrix, just having at each other as if The Empire depended on it, and there we were.

Dumbfounded.

Noodles. Make. Everything. Better.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of some noodles.

It is distinctly possible you have noticed that Daylight Savings makes me a bit cranky, or more than a bit cranky, to tell the truth it turns me into a complete Cranky McCranky-pants. Actually it's worse than that, if Cranky McCranky-Pants and Snappy McSnap-Snap had a love child, you would not only get the weirdest hyphenated surname on Earth but you would also get me, during Daylight Savings. Every year at this time, the government rolls forward our lives an hour, and throws my body clock into chaos. You would think my body would adapt, after all it happens every single year, but no, it never does. It feels like jet-lag, it feels like I've been waking up at 5am every day for a week, and I am not, I repeat, not a morning person. 

Today, I had a crappy day to boot. 

However, this year I have discovered there is a cure. 

Noodles. 

Noodles, it turns out, make everything better. 

Noodles, more specifically, eaten outdoors in the middle of Hyde Park at the Night Noodle Markets which make up part of the Crave Sydney International Food Festival.  Sitting under the fairy lights, with my noodles, a crisp bottle of vino, add some engaging conversation with some excellent people, and the infectious drumming that accompanies a Chinese dragon, and I can, if only just, find it in my heart to forgive the government for stealing my hour. 

Daylight Savings

Sucks.

Goodnight.

Aussie Aussie Aussie

Today the Australian Socceroos beat Oman convincingly. I know this, I was there, donning my green and gold scarf, sitting next to my little bro in his jersey in the stands at ANZ Stadium, in Olympic Park, Sydney. The boys are once again well on their way to the world cup.

In the Pants aka Blogtoberfest Day 10

Today (in the pants) I arrived (in the pants) home to discover (in the pants) that I am loved (in the pants) by Sassy (in the pants) Bear.

Of Mice and Men aka Blogtoberfest Day 9

Yesterday I had the wonderful idea of going to Paddy's Markets. I had two reasons for going, the first of which  was to get a new phone cover, I have recently acquired an iPhone 4 (I know, I'm a bit behind the times on this one) and wanted to funk it up a little, make it 'mine'. Secondly, I wanted a good opportunity to practice with my brother's camera which I have been borrowing since the demise of Sophie.

With this idea and my two goals in mind, I got up early, well, early for me on a Saturday anyway, and headed out, took a few photos on the way, which I've shared previously and promptly missed this train. 

Presently, there was another one along, I managed to catch, that in time deposited me at Central Station  from which I walked down to the markets. From that moment on however, I failed. Failed in my attempts to find the perfect case for my little phone, and failed in taking any good photos in the markets. I could blame the vendors, I suppose, for not having any cases I found attractive and for not letting me take pictures (which is a very anti-tourist attitude I might add) or I could blame the fluorescent lighting that gave everything an unnatural pallor and bounced off every single even slightly reflective surface in the place, but I won't.

Instead, I will just sigh. The best laid schemes of mice and men, go oft awry. 

Just any other day in Stanmore

Last Minute aka Blogtoberfest Day 7

I've always been notorious for leaving everything to the last minute. In high school, I was always burning the midnight oil, burning the candle at both ends, there was a lot of burning, trying to finish (and sometimes just beginning) assignments hours before they were due. 

It would appear in the many years since that I have learned nothing, as here I am, eleven fifty nine hurriedly scrapping together a post. You really would think I'd have learned by now, but somehow the phrase "P's get Degrees" is still my motto, in relation to anything with a deadline. 

Some things never change. 

Sunset Camel-Style

Did I ever tell you about the time I got sneezed on by a camel?

It was decidedly green. I'm usually a big fan of green, in fact it's my favourite colour, but in this particular instance I could have done without it. It was disgusting, and foul, and mortifying, and all happened on the camel tour I took when I was in The Red Centre earlier in the year.

This was the camel.

I had never ridden a camel before, and was quite excited at the prospect, pre-sneezing anyway. Post sneeze, the camels, despite their pretty eyes and long lashes seemed to lose a little bit of their charm. Even though, one of them, according to the tour guide, was a world record holder and another was a star of the silver screen, having acted alongside Hugh Jackman in "Australia". After the incident of the sneeze they just lacked the same lustre.

Still, the sunset was beautiful.

Census Consensus

In Australia, we had our census a couple of months ago. The propaganda had called it a snapshot of Australia in a moment in time. It's purpose was to give the government an idea of who we are as Australians. This is so they have the statistics that they need to build the infrastructure that we require. It makes sense really.

The census asks us all sorts of questions about where and how we live, what type of families we have, and what religion, if any, we choose to follow. Last time we had a census, an idea went viral. It was a wonderful idea, centered in the Aussie larrikin persona that we as a country are often well known for and that I for one am very proud of. The idea was that if enough Aussies thought it was funny and declared their religion as being Jedi Knight, that the government would have to recognise it as a valid religion. It was a brilliant, hilarious idea, and we joked about it right up to the point where our pens hit the paper, but at the end of the day most of us filled out our census sensibly.

I was expecting something similar to be buzzing about this time. What I was not expecting was this;

"Australia will be holding a census this week. Don't leave the 'Religion' section blank. Be sure to at least tick Christian (or write Jedi Knight in the box).

One million Muslims will tick their box.

Ten million Australians will leave it blank then wonder why Christmas Carols are being banned in schools. Not to mention, Easter Hat Parades.

It's not about religion, it's about keeping our way of life.

Repost if you agree."

This set my brain into immediate conflict mode. One part of me wanted to scream and yell that I couldn't believe that such filth was polluting the airways, or more specifically my Facebook feed. Another, more sensible part of me however, just sighed, and thought to itself, "I love my country because it defends the right of every Australian to free speech". Suffice it to say though, I did not repost.

A census is supposed to be a snapshot of who we are, and if one million of us are Muslim and ten million of us have no religion, then so be it, we are who we are, and we should be proud of that.

One thing positive this status did achieve though, it did get me thinking. Always a positive thing. I started wondering about my part in this snapshot. As such I have been doing a bit of soul searching, and I have come to a conclusion.

I am pagan.

I have no active belief in any all-powerful, super omnipotent, omnipresent, massively awesome paternal-like deity. It's really not my style. I'm really not a follow the masses kind of girl, and as for the church-thing, I gave it a good solid go when I was younger, but it never really took.

I have, however, on many occasions, acknowledged and made sacrifices to both the Party Gods and the Travel Gods. Most recently, a sacrifice was made to the God of All Good Parties in the form of my dear little camera Sophie. It was during my last birthday party, as the merriment increased, the party-goers (including Yours Truly) all got very smashed, as did poor Sophie. The party-goers and myself were, of course, only 'smashed' in the figurative sense of the term, Sophie on the other hand, was quite literally smashed.

It was a great loss, Sophie who had travelled the great lengths of Japan with me, who had been responsible for most of the photos here on this very blog, had met her end. It was a immense sacrifice, but an even more epic party, and so I thank thee Party Gods and bid farewell to my wonderful little Sophie.

Home Sweet Home aka Blogtoberfest Day 3

I'm in love.

I am in a state of true domestic bliss.

As of about 2 months ago I moved in with a good friend of mine and I'm loving it. She is my new found heterosexual life partner, she is the Jay to my Silent Bob, the cheese to my macaroni, the Wicket to my Totoro, and I can't imagine life at the moment without her.

My roomie is just altogether awesome, if we were in The Babysitter's Club she'd be Claudia, if we were in Care-a-lot she'd be called Sassy Bear.

About a week after I moved in, Sassy Bear was talking to one of our neighbours, who mentioned it must be working out well having me as her new housemate, Sass agreed as our neighbour went on to explain that they had assumed this as they could hear nothing but us laughing constantly most evenings. It is usually until we're both in tears, and I can't even remember, what about.

Though we are about to have an argument about who gets to be Silent Bob, so who knows? It's possible that this whole living together thing won't last, but I doubt it.

Simple aka Blogtoberfest Day 2

Small things amuse me.

For example, that sentence, the first thing I would like to do with it, is to succeed it with the time honoured quip "That's what she said..." and giggle like a schoolgirl for longer than is socially acceptable.

The phrase "small things amuse small minds" always seems to float around my grey matter at this point, and I wonder at it's validity or my intelligence. Is the ability to laugh easily, to find amusement and pleasure in simple daily things, really a characteristic of the small minded?

Oscar Wilde, JRR Tolkien and Leonado Da Vinci have all spoken on the subject of simplicity. Wilde once said "I adore simple pleasures. They are the last refuge of the complex", and Da Vinvi is quoted with "Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication", whilst Tolkien states through his character Bilbo Baggins "it is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life". As these three are generally not considered to be small minds, I conclude that I too, am safe to like the little things.

Kelloggs, in relation to their cornflakes, would also have us believe that "The simple things in life are often the best". I agree with their marketing whole heartedly, especially as I attribute this as being the reason I love my Dad (aka Captain Obvious) so much.

Nothing brings this home to me quite so much as the movie Amélie. It's a truly beautiful film, about petite pleasures. About all those teeny tiny things in life, that just give you that feeling, that minuscule electric rush, that always causes a flash of a smile to creep, unwittingly into the corner of your mouth. It's these little things that make everyday life worthwhile. Each character is introduced with a short biography of their indulgences.

If I were portrayed in Amélie my preface would be;

Little Girl Lost likes running her fingertips over the smooth, cold, satin edging on blankets so much so that she is compulsively unable to walk past a satin edged blanket without touching it. She likes baking and decorating biscuits and cookies of all shapes and sizes, and hates the way no one says "goodbye" when hanging up the telephone in movies.

What would your Amélie-esque introduction be?

Back from Outer Space aka Blogtoberfest Day 1

Recently I dropped off the face of the planet. I have no good reason for doing this, no super exciting tale to explain my absence, no epic narrative of my comings and goings, and no splendiferous ballad outlining my whereabouts, just a tiny squeak of an apology.

Sorry.

I do, however, have an offer to make amends. An offer to make it up to all my loyal readers. I deserve the lash, the cat'o'nine at least, to be hung, drawn and quartered, but my atonement will not be so macabre, my penance shall not be 'Hail Mary's' or 'Our Father's'.

It shall be posts.

Lots of posts.

Daily posts even.

I am going to attempt Blogtoberfest. For those of you who are not familiar with it, Blogtoberfest is a yearly festival of all things blog, where those who blog come together to celebrate their blogginess, their blognificence, their blogevity and have an all round blogging good time, but most of all, everyone participating posts every day for the month of October. This year I am participating, I've officially signed up, and have the cute little button to prove it.

For those of you who are also of the blogger persuasion and would like to join me in the great carnival of blog that is Blogtoberfest, you can sign up at {tinniegirl}, add your name to her list, and follow the instructions to add the button to your site, or just check out some of the other participants.

As for me, I have to go find something interesting to say for the next 31 days. On second thought, I'm making no promises with regards to quality. I have to go find something (anything) to say for the next 31 days. What have I done to myself?

Happy Blogtoberfest Everyone!

Nightly Journeys

I get a call last night, or more accurately early this morning, at 12:10. It was Semi-Naked Guy and he's standing at the back door with no keys. He did wake me but I didn't really mind.

"Where do we go when we sleep?" he asked after I had walked the length of the house and let him in, I assume inspired by the groggy nature in which I had answered the phone. He's full of big questions like that, big questions that cannot be contained by his lack of shirt.

I left the conversation for bed, without an answer. Shortly after I could hear soft snoring from the lounge, indicating that where ever we go, he's beaten me there.

I lay awake for a while pondering my destination. The Land of Nod as it were, and the journey we take there each night. We show an innate knowledge of it in the words we choose, all suggesting some form of movement, sometimes "drifting off" like a leaf tumbling in a summer breeze. At other times, the violence of "falling" asleep, of dropping sharply between worlds, as our bodies plummet from our control and our consciousness goes... where?

Before I had tottered off back to bed he said "Thank you for being part of my journey", "You're welcome, I guess" I answered uncertainly.

All I did was open the door.

The Tale of the Random Rickshaw

So at the moment I'm living with this dude, not "living with" just living with, and he likes to walk around sometimes in different levels of semi-undress, so I call him Semi-Naked Guy (not to his face, just, you know, in my head).

Anyway, the other day, Semi-Naked Guy walks into the house and says "Hey, wanna come look at my rickshaw?". I'm thinking euphemism, but no, as I walk outside, there it is, a bright red rickshaw.

He'd hired it for his friends' wedding they were using it as the bridal vehicle and it was parked outside the house for a week.

The day of the wedding arrives, and he has the bright spark idea of getting the rickshaw to the wedding on the train, he gets to the station all right. He's set with his 2 tickets, one for him, one for the rickshaw, and gets all the way up the 40 odd stairs to the platform only to find that when the train arrives, his bright red rickshaw doesn't fit through the doors.

So S-NG and his mates end up hiring a trailer or something and manage to get the Bride to the alter on time, or at least only the usual amount of late for a Bride.

After the ceremony he's driving the bridal pair around for their photos and he turns the rickshaw, as he turns, he moves, the rickshaw moves, and the couple moves with it but one of those massive cartwheels on the side doesn't. The guests are all watching the situation in slow-motion, yelling out with one voice that real slow drawn out "NO!" that only ever happens in movies and bad sit-coms. Semi-Naked Guy realises just in time to not ruin the Brides day completely.

He spends the remainder of the day, riding around offering all the cute girls a ride on his rickshaw. Now how's that for a line?

"Ladies, want a ride on my rickshaw?"

Happy Wandering Woman-niversary!

Exactly one year to the day, after I set foot in Japan, I set foot in my new office into my new role. I'm still wandering, just in a more centralised location for now. Centralised specifically around the Central Business District in Sydney. It's my city and I love being back here, I have rediscovered the strong sense of home that I have here. I have come full circle, ready to start saving for the next adventure.

Now, two weeks in, I'm really loving my new job too, successfully being incognito as the mild-mannered insurance something something.

Thanks for following.