Sammi country, Norway and Copenhagen

[After side trips to Chiang Mai and Singapore, Macktastic has returned to battle the never-ending post...]

Taking a short flight to the very north of Finland, we took a long ass bus...further north to Saariselke. On the way,we stopped for a "Sammi Experience". As in we experienced drinking tea in a hut with costumed people. I think they were actually Sammi people, but it's kind of cheesy. Like me walking around in a cheongsam doing a teacup dance (yes, it happened, no, there's no photos). They are the indigenous people of those parts and their original job is herding reindeer, but like many indigenous people the world over, they also fill tourist itineraries.

Official Cruise Outfit

After our last night in Finland, we crossed over to Kirkenes in Norway, for the 6-day Hurtigruten cruise which would take us down Norway's western coast to Bergen. It's touted all over their literature as THE MOST BEAUTIFUL VOYAGE IN THE WORLD. It's more like THE COLDEST VOYAGE IN THE WORLD, but I'm not one to mess with people's copy.

It began as a postal ship serving the people of northern Norway who would be cut off without it in winter. Now it carries cargo and tourists daily from each port. So it's a very nice way to travel, but it's not one of your huge commercial cruises with 24-hr buffet and rock-climbing wall. I had a conversation with a Norwegian at Herrang about it:
Me: I went on the Hurtigruten.
Norwegian: ohhh the HUER-ti-groo-TEN
Me: umm yep.
Norwegian: Which ship did you take?
Me: The Nordlys.
Norwegian: ohhh the NAWRT-liss
Me: You know it??
Norwegian: Sure, everyone knows them.
Me: You've been on it then?
Norwegian: Nah, too expensive.
Me: ...

The expense is because well, it's Norway, but really you can't outsource this kind of product to Asia:

Stunning Midnight Sun at Tromso

Awe-inspiring Trollfjord



Beyond-charming fishing villages

Drool-inducing Chef onboard :D

Sadly, the voyage did come to an end, but happily it was in the bustling port of Bergen:

Bryggen in Bergen!

'Bustling' is such an old-fashioned word, but I think it's right. Bergen has a World Heritage Site in Bryggen-a collection of the old buildings that they used to process fish through. The town centre is pretty much wall-to-wall heritage buildings though, and has a backdrop of seven mountains. It's basically a fairytale.

Which is why it's not hard to imagine that Bergen's most famous son is the composer Edvard Grieg who wrote the classic Morning Mood. If you think of dawn breaking and birds chirping and rainbows and morning dew, that is the music of Bergen you're hearing in your head.

We only had one night there though, before we set off to Oslo via the super scenic Flam railway.

But though the views that we got whilst speeding through the mountains was spectacular, it was what happened inside that stuck with me. Getting to our seat had been a real bunfight. Once the doors opened, it was like a very fancy version of the scramble in musical chairs, except with a lot more Japanese tourists armed with pointy umbrellas.

Luckily for us, we got in the same cabin with a Spanish group. Particularly a Spanish padre, who decided to serenade one of the aunties on the tour. The whole cabin joined him in "Guantanamera", "La Bamba" and a very passionate rendition of "Besame Mucho". Love when stuff like that happens :)

After hopping off the Flam Railway, there was another long-ass scenic bus journey to Oslo. Which disappointingly, looked like this:

This is where I slag off Oslo:

Oh man, we at Macktastic thought we could say we heart Scandinavia, but Oslo is standing in the way! Maybe it was a bad hair day for Oslo, but the whole of the city centre was under construction. Was a big disappointment after super-slick Stockholm and happily-neat Helsinki.

Wickipedia says it's the "fastest-growing Scandinavian capital. The increase is due, in almost equal degree, to high birth rates and immigration". I'm from Australia, I am a big fan of multi-culturalism, and until Oslo, thought it'd be a good thing for everyone.

Now, I'm not so sure. The rest of Norway, and Scandinavia for that matter, was safe, clean, well organised and had very few street people. Oslo in contrast was more like New York-grotty, chaotic and security-challenged. It doesn't feel like the rest of Norway at all, which was kind of sad.

I can't recommend skipping Oslo though, because it has one saving grace, and it's pretty big. Vigeland Sculpture Park is part of an 80-acre park and is more than 200 scultpures, plus a monolith and a fountain. It was sculptor Gustav Vigeland's lifetime's work and the monolith (that's in the background of the pic) was finished just before his death.

The sculptures are all human figures and when you walk through it, the experience is of seeing the entire gamut of emotion and relationship from birth to death played out in bronze and granite. I am so in love with this place. I think I could have spent the whole 2 weeks here and it would have been worthwhile.

See more of the stunning figures in my Oslo pix.

We got rushed out of the park to be on the ferry to the last stop on the tour: Copenhagen in Denmark.

Copenhagen was the most fun place of the whole trip for me. I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with that I could wave goodbye to the tour, and was finally free (!) The accoms came down quite a few stars. Actually all of them. But, post-ye olde tour and pre-Herrang, I'll be ever grateful to Copenhagen for giving me some awesomely awesome days there. So a big TACK for that, and a big SORRY! for causing those biking accidents on the streets :p

For the full set of pix of eeeevvverything, go here.

[Macktastic promises not to harp on anymore about Scandinavia now. No, really. I really mean it]

Herrang Diaries or Punch Me in the Stomach: Part 1

I just read this by some-time Swede, Elin, and it got me angry.

Angry like when a vending machine eats your coins without giving you Doritos, ANGRY.

GRRRRRRRRR

That's cos you can't find a swing dancer anywhere, who WON'T add to the already Atlantic-sized ocean of love for Herrang Dance Camp. I couldn't find anyone who'd utter even a non-committal word about it.

Leaving n00bs, like ME 2 months ago, with the perception that heaven exists just about 2 hours north of Stockholm. The deception has to stop people.

So even though I have hours on Facebook to log, I guess I'm going to stop that important work to tell the truth about Herrang. I know it's a drop in the ocean, but someone needs to counteract the hype. And since I could definitely be a medallist if Hatin' was an Olympic sport, I bravely step up to the line and risk the ire of the converted.

Also, I notice the burn mark on my arm is about to flake off entirely and the blister on my foot went a few days ago. The orange-sized bruise and various scratches on my leg is fading too, so I want to note down my vitriol before the golden light of nostalgia causes me to succumb to the mass amnesia that has clearly infected everyone else.

For the non-swing people reading, Herrang Dance Camp is a mecca for Lindy Hoppers. It's held in the tiny town of Herrang for 4 weeks every summer. "Herrang" roughly means "Mr Meadow". That's really only the beginning of the strangeness.

For me, it started badly, and maybe I should have heeded the signs. When I found out I'd be in Scandinavia, I checked straight away about registering. Unfortunately, there were no more places for follows (girls). So I considered volunteering. If I worked there this year, I could get classes next time for free. Hmmmm given the distance and expense, I might never return, but that seemed my only choice, so I grabbed it.

After farewelling my family and the tour group in Copenhagen, I stayed an extra few days then I hopped an 8-hr sleeper train to Stockholm.

Bound for DANCE NIRVANA!!!! WOOOOT!!!!!

Having spent the night in a space about three shoe boxes big, I thank the deities for being short, and for pulling up to Stockholm on time at 7am.

Dance nirvana, here I come! Woo!

I killed time and paid to use toilets for 3hrs until the shops opened. Then I tooled around in a costume shop on Stockholm's outdoor touristy shopping mall. Come 1pm, I headed back to Central Station and collected my bags.

dance nirvana...i'm gonna make it...


There I got on a metro. Then I got on a bus. For over an hour. I waited 40min then I got another bus. The meadows became more lush and expansive. Hmmmm cows and hay. Am I on the right one? Is this it?

Thankfully some Swiss dancers show me the right stop and point the way to the Folkets Hus, or Community Centre. So 4 hours after leaving Stockholm, 20 hours after my last shower, I finally arrive.

where can I eat?

I ask a volunteer in a fluorescent t-shirt for some help. In the afternoon light, I explain that I'm a volunteer, I'd like to check in and find a bed until my booked accommodation opens up tomorrow.


And here began my downfall: What I was expecting was a bunch of people who, though a little disorganised, were nonetheless helpful and fun.

What I wasn't expecting was couldn't care less, and can't be bothered. If I wanted that I could have spoken to some staff at Northwest Airlines He couldn't help me on the beds, I had to find my own. But he could helpfully remind me that when I got my stuff sorted out they needed extra hands with the decorations for that night's party. Thaaanks.

I head inside the main building and see some kind of registration process in the library. I sidle up to the slow-moving queue and spend a good 10min there before checking it's the right one (clearly spent too long in Singapore). When I run upfront and inquire, I'm told this is the queue for a weekend beginner's course and volunteers only needed 9am tomorrow. And where to sleep? General Accommodation. I steal an info booklet for students to find where it is.

General Accommodation
This is a euphemism for the bunks crammed into the school gym and some extra rooms. It's free to sleep here, so it's not surprisingly full. It looks like there's been a 3-week baggage handler's strike in there. Bags with their bowels spilling out, on bunks as far as the eye can see.

There's meant to be a labeling system, but buggered if I can tell which ones are legitimately taken, and which are the ones I can rightfully push stuff off. But who am I kidding? I'm a polite Asian. Call me thin-skinned, pussy-footed, lily-livered, or denigrate some other part of me, but I am just not the person that pushes someone's stuff off a bed. Others apparently did do this, and I met their (legit) victims in the reception the next night.

It's madness on a Friday night because of the crossover between those leaving and those arriving, and there not being enough beds. So clearly they expect people to apparate in at 8.55 on Saturday morning. Either that or a tractor beam from the mother ship, perhaps. I can't fathom any another explanation for having nothing available. Oh wait-there ARE more beds down near a place called the marina, but that's a long trek away, in the dark, especially with a backpack, and the bike rental closed 2hrs ago, lady.

Frustrated and pissed off with no bed still, I head back to Folkets Hus to find some food. I'm pointed to the burger kiosk down the road, where I spend 60SEK/RM35/USD$10 on a few deep fried meatballs, with powdered mash and shredded iceberg lettuce, plus can of Coke. This turns out to be one of the better options available actually.

After dinner I get acquainted with the showers. Do you remember teen movies in the 80s? It'd be called Porky's or Goonies, or something else that was easily-pronouncible. Many had totally unbelievable (I thought) female school shower scenes in them. It'd be scores of totally fake-boobed chicks walking around a tiled room lined on one side with shower heads, completely starkers, with nary a towel or dividing wall in sight.

Well, imagine that, minus the silicone, take the number of showers down to 3, take the grittiness of the floor up to public pool levels, add a lot more random, used clothing in the changing room, and you're about there. I won't go into the gory details, but it's not sexy, I can tell you that much.

I did go to help with the decorations after that (my other option, to cry, I would end up taking later). That got me into the hippy-themed party for free, but after doing a few laps of the hippy festivities in a turban and sarong (no, there are no photos), and a half-hearted round of the dance floor, I decided to call it a night.

Sitting in a tent, mercifully lent to me by the ONE person I do know (all hail the wonderful Cat), with the sounds of the party still in the air, waving my phone around to find an apple, chocolate, or ANYTHING to eat, was not really how I'd imagined my first night in Herrang.

I went to sleep, praying to all the deities, for the beginning of something better tomorrow.

Continue to Part 2

Heyda* Sweden!

Well, I hung laundry on a line I didn't put up, I used a FULL SIZED towel to shower, and it's only 10pm and already dark outside. Hot damn! I must be back home!

After a plane trip which started sometime last millenia, going through Stockholm-Helsinki-Bangkok-KL, am finally reunited with my family and my shoes. *sniff* I missed them so...Not necessarily in that order!

Some thousands of pix to sift through and digest for your easy consumption..coming sooon-ish.

*Pronounced hey-daw and meaning goodbye in the Svenska!

Macktastic Arrives in Scandinavia

A big Hej to my fives of readers!

In the last few days I've survived nearly 30 hr trip to Stockholm, via Bangkok and Helsinki, where we spent a couple days in awe at how hot Swedish people are (ok that was mostly just me). Then hopped an overnight ferry to Helsinki (again) for a quick gander at some of the world class architecture and record-breaking drinking going on there.

Right now am in Saariselke, a town deep in Lapland, the top bit of Finland--Hello to my geography PhDs out there! It's home to Sammi people, reindeer, the Real Santa Claus, and tonight if I'm lucky, the midnight sun. Whilst waiting for aforementioned heliotropic occurence to, umm, occur, have decided to spring for the 8 euro net connection. As there's only so much I can sigh at the "closed" sauna sign before the receptionist send me to the wolves.

Thoughts so far: I finally get why designers go weak in the knees for Scandinavia. These people have been creating things beautifully and thoughtfully for generations. They even thought to colour code the centuries on Swedish buildings!! It's all very beautiful in an unassuming kind of way. The things, like the people, look great, but also friendly.

BUT it's expensive in a way I never thought possible. You should know, I've got spendthrift tendencies. You couldn't teach me the value of a dollar for nuts. But I got a train ticket to Stockholm from Denmark and felt financially and emotionally violated. I had to go and sit on the beautiful timber chairs in the Central Station and have a few deep breaths.

I'm writing this on a wireless keyboard using a flatscreen TV, but the whole impossibly high-tech set-up left no room for a USB drive! So pix must wait.

Seeya later, or as they say here in Finland, Nahdaan Myohemmin!

Sabah Trip Part Dua (2) : Sandakan

A friend of the family's in KK had sms'd that "KK is not that special.. but Sandakan is great!"

That's all we needed to add it to the itinerary. The Lonely Planet was strangely quiet about it, but I thought "Woo! Finally we'll be seeing something of real Malaysia, not on the tourist route. SWEEET!" And then proceeded to feel very smug about myself.

The big draw for Sandakan is that there's an orang utan sanctuary about 45min drive away in the jungle. Most tour groups just fly their people in at 8am (it's a 30min flight), do the 10am feeding, have lunch, then return to KK. The other big attraction they have is the islands (kind of) nearby which harbour nesting turtles and very much more awesome diving than KK.

Between those two and the superior seafood, I thought we were set to enjoy an undiscovered Malaysian gem of a seaside town.

Turns out I was mostly kinda.. *sigh* well if you must.. WRONG.

Let it be noted what I had read was accurate–the seafood was GREAT. So fresh and really very reasonable.

Also the Orang Utan sanctuary at Sepilok doesn't disappoint. It's well managed and who can get enough of orang utans? Especially the babies!

The thing is, attending a feeding and a seafood lunch takes about.. half a day? Then you're left to contemplate what else there is to do, and you realise FAAARK! You've booked 4 days in a 1-horse town. Which, come to think of it, reminds you of Ipoh 20 years ago, just with more utes. And now that you mention it, many of the buildings look exactly like a building looks when you do nothing to it for more than 2 decades.

Thankfully one thing I didn't cock up was the hotel. Having made a last minute booking, we asked the taxi driver to stop in at various other hotels in town, just to see if we should change. Turns out NAK hotel, one of the first 'proper' hotels in Sandakan, and having gone through a recent renovation, is the only place in town that looks like they actually hired an interior decorator. The hotel's facilities are simple, but the whole thing's been decked out in a nouveau-chinois kind of style, which cheered me no end. And a suite was RM106! That was cheer-inducing as well.

The wonderful Linn at the hotel also hooked us up with a day trip to the Turtle Island of Selingan. It's one of the 3 islands nearby where mama turtles come to lay their eggs. We'd spoken with a few travel agents who said it couldn't be done; it takes an hour and a half to get there, you have to stay overnight etc. I think this is because the island is run by one operator and they only need enough people to fill their chalets. More than that they're not really interested in.

But, we managed to wrangle it, and were happy to see the island, if not the turtles. Turns out though, that we got real lucky! When we noticed a baby come out of the sand in the hatchery, we asked the ranger to help us take a picture (they're kept under watch because eggs left on the beach get stolen and sold by guys holding carrier bags in the street outside Sandakan market). Instead of doing so, he reached in to grab it and asked us to follow. We proceeded over to the beach and let it go! Like some kind of baby turtle freedom fighter. OK so am not up for any awards from Greenpeace yet, but it was such a special experience. I said a prayer for the little guy as he turned into a speck in the blue.

I figure he needs all the help he can get.

New suggested tourism tagline: Sandakan, Not As Bad As You Think. Catchy, huh?

Sabah Trip Part Satu (1) : KK Diving

Yen came back from SF for Dad's 60th, so we thought we'd go somewhere for a family holiday. Having (sort of) successfully convinced my dad the diving trip I had planned in Sabah was for his birthday, we hurriedly packed after the cake was cleared away and headed off the next day for Kota Kinabalu. Or KK for the Malay-challenged.

KK is in West Malaysia, in Sabah state, which is the top right part of Borneo (how much do I rock at geography!). Now, most people go to KK for Mt Kinabalu, the river safaris, the exotic jungle wildlife and such. Me, I give you two words: cheap diving.

Whilst Sipadan off the west coast of Sabah is a magnet for divers (and sometimes terrorists..), you'll also end up paying resort prices to learn in the shallows, and there's sweet FA for non-divers, so I went with KK where there's a plethora of choice. Also a refreshing lack of 2000m drops!

I had enough trouble getting to this point (the trip initially was for China, don't ask), so I only booked hotels, no activities. Luckily KK is fantastic for the last-minute and unprepared traveller, like moi. They have this lovely place called Wisma Sabah in the little downtown. It's a building housing only travel-related companies. Dive tours, Air Asia, hotel bookings, jungle safaris... whatever you want to do you can ask for details, compare prices, and book in the same floor. How cool is that!

Jennifer at Scuba Paradise was very helpful and we were able to book some Mt Kinabalu/river safari things for mum and dad as well as Open Water PADI diving course for Yen and I. Rm 840 for 3 days instruction from personal dive master, equipment rental, lunch, hotel pickup and certification. W00t!

The first day of training was loooong. The PADI DVD is immensely cheesy and there's 5 modules to go through before a final "exam". It's pretty much high school physics (buoyancy, gases, light, refraction..), safety stuff and using a table to figure out how much nitrogen is in your system. It's brain hurtin stuff though, for a holiday. So, we were really glad to escape at the end and quickly sniffed out the waterfront mamak stalls covering the essential food groups: anything fried, desserts with condensed milk, chicken wings and MSG.

Next morning we took off from the jetty at Sutera Resort, the fancy new one in town. It's just chockers with Korean ladies off on a boat ride to the islands with their matchingly dressed and coiffed man and stilettoes.

I curse my slowness in taking pictures! They were truly breathtaking.

If I were learning in Australia, I'd have studied by myself and spent this part in a pool. Instead, our first stop was the shallows at Sapi Island, ten minutes away. It's much more convenient to go to the island than to find a swimming pool actually!

Pulau Sapi is one of the five islands in the TAR marine park off KK. The snorkelling and diving here isn't going to compare to Sipadan. As we were to see for ourselves, most of the coral has been dynamited, leaving only a few patches here and there of natural coral reef. Still, the water is clear, warm and thick with all kinds of fish, so it's very good for beginners.

At the beginning, as with most things, it's all weird and uncomfortable. The equipment is just a tangled mess of hoses and valves with some really indecipherable gauges thrown in. Then there's the actual diving...

I don't have pix of the dives unfortunately–need a whole underwater setup for that. Besides, I was initially, ..what's the right word.. freaking-the-hell-out. It felt so unsafe to willingly 'drown' and then keep heading down, even when you can't see the bottom. My mental dialogue: "faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrk!!!!"

Mental hysterics over, I realised I'm not going to last long if I keep this up, so I turned it into underwater meditation class: Breathe iiiiin, breathe ooooout. Don't think of anything else.

It's quite good training, cause screwing up the calm breathing=drowning. So on pain of death, you must keep calm.

With each dive and learning exercise, we got more comfortable. I went from holding the instructor's arm in a death grip to being able to navigate away and come back (it did take 2 goes, but no one's perfect!).

On the second day, after a swim test, we were finally certified!

I must say initially, I was hoping for a different instructor. Perhaps tall, tanned and French..dark hair...deep soulful gaze.. just a suggestion! But we got safety-minded, old-hand Jeffrey instead. Which turns out was exactly the person I wanted to be in sight as I was freaking out in the murky depths.

It turns out dive instructors, like winners of the World Cup, can't be picked on their good looks alone. Who knew!

This was even more apparent as we got off the boat triumphantly at the end of the 2nd diving day. Another boat had come racing in behind us and there was a lot of kerfuffle as a British girl was taken off on a stretcher in agonies. She'd managed to step on a stingray...ON THE BEACH! We hadn't even seen any in the water!

As her quite hot tour guide was frantically shouting into his phone in the parking lot, it was a timely reminder that a whole bunch of unexpected stuff can happen at sea, and safety, whilst boring and not as good looking is paramount :p

For more Sabah pix and rapier-like wit click here.

Next: Sabah Trip Part Dua (2) : Sandakan

Many happy returns

I know the last few posts haven't exactly been rays of sunshine. Being referred to as an alien, let alone an illegal one, is bound to put a damper on things.

But, with all the b-day celebrations/happy stuff in the past 2 weeks, it's been hard not to feel just a little festive. It's been my sister's (30th) as well as mine (25 forever) so there has been a lot of joint action.

Let me see, there was...

-my first ball game.


-some kind of huge-ass BBQ at a friend's place north of the city


-a road odyssey to Vegas (more about that later)


-an Italian dinner that came very slowly, chased by many vodka-based beverages that were drunk too quickly...

...which was chased by a run-in with shore police at fleet week, outside a Thai "health" massage parlour. (Full story coming)

These few weeks have definitely love me long time!

And today, (actual b-day), great big huge American pancakes at the Millbrae Pancake House and possibly a wander around a lake.

In Vegas, I played the 1-cent pokeys a lot and the trick to them is getting a bonus round. Then you get a bunch of free spins, and lots more chances at wins. Well, I think in the great dodgy casino of life, everyone gets old, there's a lot of glitz, but the reality often smells funny. This year at least, has been a pretty huge bonus round.

Thanks for sticking round for it :)

Back from Yosemite

Am interrupting my Harry Potter reading time to let you know I got back from Yosemite in one piece. There's something about communing with nature that..well...ack I got nothin. It looks the same as the time I was there last September. We did go on a 7km hike though, which we didn't do last time (w00t!). I must say the views were worth it. Enjoy!

On top of Sentinel Point

Valleyscape

Merced River–some of the very little water that was flowing at this dry time of year.

Not the only one struggling with the heat.

Aaaah, nothing like a long walk to make you feel like jumping off a cliff.

Summer in the Bay

Hello my lovelies,

Oh how I've sucked at posting this month! Mucho sucketh. I promise I've been busy and not just bone-arsed lazy. Well, mostly anyway. The thing is, it's summer now. Apparently that's a cause for celebration. In Australia, there is vicious amounts of sunshine, causing one to have a guarded respect for it; all Aussies know the dangers of skin cancer. Here, however, copious amounts of mostly weak sunshine makes walking about fun, and makes all food taste better on a paper plate.

On the 'travel' front, I've been over to Half Moon Bay twice. I use the quotes because it's not really out of town, though it does feel like it.



Just 15 minutes west from us, and on the coast south of San Francisco, is the little town of Half Moon Bay. It's cute like the way you imagine American seaside towns to be. Even though there's only one road through the hills to it, causing huge bottlenecks at peak times, people still commute from there. Once you get over the hills it's no longer a suburb in the Bay area but a country-style escape—market gardens and flower farms and such. I guess I can see why some would think it's worth the hassle.



The photos above are from the front garden of a lovely and bizarre antiques shop in town called 'Half to Have It', which is bursting at the seams inside with all manner of vintagey goodness. Those birdhouses above are made in China though, muahaha.

Meanwhile, we were also quite chockful of activities in the 'Sitting on a blanket outside' category. Actually Yen and I have become quite pro at packing a picnic.


First up was the radio-sponsored 'Summerthing' concert at Golden Gate Park, featuring the musical stylings of Everclear and Smashmouth. They should have called it 'Remember those guys from the 90s?'


Yen, me and Yee striking a pose—you really got to entertain yourselves whilst waiting for a song you recognise.


Next up, 4th of July fireworks. There was no national anthem or music of any kind actually. The fireworks were big, but kind of random. What's up with that? Also there seems to be a much shorter minimum distance from crowd to firework. I was stoked to be right under the exploding sky, but the jury's still out on my hearing.


Then a trip out to Tomales Bay, north of the city, for cheap oysters by the water. It takes either one and a half or two and a half hours to get there, depending on whether you Google the right place or not(!) Suffice to say the long and windy car ride left me unsociable. I am only smiling here because they have oyster knives in my back.


Finally, the piece de resistance, the Stern Grove festival. It's a concert series held in a large-ish umm ..grove..in the city. We saw Lavay Smith and a New Orleans jazz band, and the SF Symphony Orchestra here. Because it's a smallish space, you have to go early to stake your claim on some real estate and watch a lot of shirtless men before the music. Awesome.

My most exciting news is this most rubbish picture. I know you can't tell, but I had a cut and colour as a hair model for the first time ever. Being skint will do that to you. I wasn't sure whether I'd have to start wearing hats afterwards or not, but both my trainee stylists did great jobs. They were at big name salons, so they had very good seniors supervising them. It takes longer than it might usually, but it's so worth it. Colour was US$30 and cut US$15. Bargain, no?

Actual conversation:
Me: Hi, can I make an appointment for a cut and colour?
Apprentice: Is it virgin?
Me: Excuse me?
Apprentice: Is your hair virgin?
Me: Ummm. Yeah, it's uncoloured.
Apprentice: Ooh great. it's really hard to find virgin hair.
Me: I see...

Road triplet!

Every once in a while you have an aviator guest who needs to get to some hick airport out in the sticks. You rejoice at this, because it's a rare chance to go on a mini road trip, to make a pilgrimage of sorts, to that spiritual home of yours:

The Charles M. Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa.

Street cred be damned, I was going to see Snoopy. But really, who doesn't love Snoopy? If you're reading this and you don't, you're totally off my Christmas card list. Also, I'm going to assume you're a baby-killer.

Aside from providing me my secret dream of owning a beagle named Snoopy, Peanuts taught me all the important lessons in life:

The value of persistence–

The value of speaking up–

and the benefit of the boogie–

*sigh*

Here's the table where Sparky had lunch every day at the Warm Puppy cafe, which is next door to the museum.

It's at the entrance to the ice-skating rink he built,

which is next to the tennis court he built, which is adjacent to the baseball field...

..you get the picture.

And on the way back, we passed by famed California wine country Sonoma. It's like Margaret River back in Perth–lots of vineyards and orchards.

We just could not resist the roadside strawberries and cherries, so we loaded up and have had strawberry shakes all week. Happy days.