Up A Lazy River to Bear Mountain

Image: Bear Mountain State Park, New York, NY

In 1962 or thereabouts, a very young Bob Dylan wrote a song called, Talkin' Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues. The song begins:

I saw it advertised one day

Bear Mountain picnic was comin’ my way

“Come along ’n’ take a trip

We’ll bring you up there on a ship

Bring the wife and kids

Bring the whole family”

Yippee!*

Through another eight verses Dylan describes a picnic cruise that goes from bad, to worse, to disastrous.

I’m pleased to say the cruise I took to Bear Mountain with the Classic Harbor Line on their beautifully appointed teak-decked yacht, Manhattan was anything but a disaster. This nine hour, full day, round-trip cruise up the Hudson River to Bear Mountain began at 9.00am with an open breakfast buffet, a complimentary drink from the bar, and a three hour cruise that wound its way north through the Palisades and the lower Hudson River Valley.

The open breakfast buffet included fresh bagels and pastries, fruit, a waffle maker, fresh quiche and sausage, and coffee, juice and tea. Quite frankly, it was more than enough food for the passengers on board, and there was no need to ‘top up’ with other food purchases at the concession stands or café within the park when we got there. In fact, we were encouraged to take breakfast ‘leftovers’ like fruit and pastries ashore with us.

Image: Mucking around in boats on the Hudson River

It was a perfect day for mucking around in boats, and I had to feel sorry for the folks back in New York City who were about to experience a sweltering day in among the concrete and glass canyons of Manhattan. Meanwhile the lucky 30 or so passengers on the cruise were blessed with a cool breeze and smooth running, all the way to our destination.

After docking at Bear Mountain, we were free to enjoy around two and a half hours exploring, hiking, or just relaxing. I never bothered with the Trailside Museums, the jam-packed swimming pool, rowing boat hire, or the small on-site Zoo, but I did amble my way around Hessian Lake and breathe in the fresh mountain air – laced with the smell of BBQ wafting across the lake from the dozens of family picnics taking place in the park.

Image: I love the smell of BBQ in the morning!

Our cruise coincided with the post-Independence Day public holiday, and it is clear that Bear Mountain has been a favourite picnic spot for New Yorkers, even long before Dylan wrote about it. Omar, a Honduran (see Special Thanks below) told me that apparently, on July 4th itself, the picnic site was full by 9.00am, and park staff had to turn every other visitor away – which gives you an idea of just how popular the location is.

At 3:00pm the Manhattan departed for the three hour cruise back to New York City. Again, we were treated to a complimentary beverage from the bar and barbecue picnic buffet! As if that wasn’t enough, an hour or so before disembarking we were also offered dessert and fruit platters just to make sure we didn’t leave hungry.

Image: The Manhattan at anchor near Chelsea Piers

The Manhattan is a newly built (2006) 1920’s style “commuter” yacht, which aims to reproduce the Gilded Era of Yachting (the company description, not mine). The boat features an enclosed, cushioned observatory surrounded by large windows and skylights which makes it very easy to take in the stunning views on both sides of the river. Of course, passengers could also sit on deck if they chose to.

Caveats
1. The company website and brochures advertise a three hour break at Bear Mountain. However, if it takes longer to reach the park, that delay is subtracted from the nominal three hours to ensure the Manhattan still leaves at 3.00pm for the return cruise to New York City. A practical example: Although our trip left on time at 9.00am, it was 15-20 minutes late reaching Bear Mountain due to prevailing weather conditions. Therefore, our time at Bear Mountain was reduced to around two and a half hours.

2. Even assuming a full three hours at Bear Mountain, we were advised that passengers inclined to walk to the top of the mountain would not be able to complete the round trip within that time. Therefore, if you are a keen hiker, and want to climb Bear Mountain, you will need to find your own way there, or travel with another company that allows more time to complete the climb.

3. Boat cruising isn’t for everyone. If you bore easily, sitting on a boat for six hours – no matter how luxurious the vessel – can seem interminably long. From time to time on our cruise, some folks read books and newspapers, dozed off, or distracted themselves from the cruise in different ways.

Others, myself included, were interested in watching the changing landscape and looking out for the unexpected – like birds of prey soaring high over cliffs and escarpments; or trying to work out which of the numerous fortress-like buildings we passed was the notorious Sing Sing, maximum security prison. That sort of thing.

Image: High cliffs and escarpments; a small section of the Palisades

The Palisades, also called the New Jersey Palisades or the Hudson Palisades are a line of steep cliffs along the west side of the lower Hudson River in northeastern New Jersey and southern New York ... The cliffs stretch north from Jersey City (where their emergence is called Bergen Hill) approximately 20 mi (32 km) to near Nyack, New York. They rise nearly vertically from near the edge of the river and are among the most dramatic geologic features in the vicinity of New York City... [Source: Wikipedia]

As we cruised past the Palisades, described above, I couldn’t help thinking that it probably hadn’t changed much since Henry Hudson and his crew sailed up the river for the first time 400 years ago. It was sobering to imagine the Native Americans who must have been watching from the safety of the dense undergrowth or cliff tops, trying to work out who or what these people and their strange vessel represented.

What Is Not Included?

Apart from the complimentary drinks at the start of the cruise and on the return trip, any additional mixed drinks could be purchased from the open bar. Gratuities (tips) are also not included in the overall cruise price, but are greatly appreciated by crew members.

Special Thanks

A special shout-out to Omar from Honduras, who was generous enough to offer a complete stranger (me), a soda and something to eat. I accepted the soda, but not the food since we would be eating on the trip back to New York City. Gracias, mi amigo.

And an extra special shout-out to fellow passenger, Marlyn, who also took the time to say ‘hello’ to a complete stranger on the long trip to and from Bear Mountain. It was lovely having someone to share the ride with, and it certainly made the day more memorable for me, and hopefully for her as well.

Finally

The next cruise to Bear Mountain is scheduled for Monday, September 6, 2010, which just happens to be the annual North American Labor Day holiday. I highly recommend the outing for locals and visitors alike – especially if you are interested in doing something different on your vacation. Classic Harbor Lines offers a wide range of cruising via their website so take a look and take the time to get out on the water.

* Copyright © 1962, 1965 by Duchess Music Corporation; renewed 1990, 1993 by MCA

LINKS:

Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues…
Bear Mountain State Park…
Classic Harbor Line…

The Palisades…

New York Promenade

Image: The Cloisters commanding the best views, high over the Hudson River

~ Went out in the early evening for a walk up Cabrini Boulevard towards the Cloisters, which is only ten minutes from the apartment I’m staying at. The Cloisters is the branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art dedicated to the art and architecture of the European Middle Ages, and is located in Fort Tryon Park near the northern tip of Manhattan.

By the time I reached the park the building itself was closed, but the park was alive with activity. I quickly realised I was walking into a typical New York summer night. While it may seem like a movie cliché, to me it was everything I expected to see on a hot summer evening. Given that the vast majority of residents on Manhattan live in apartments, very few have access to anything resembling a garden or private yard. This means that in the evenings they spill out onto the streets and into neighbourhood parks (of which there are more than you might expect).

Tryon Park had its fair share of picnicking families, strolling couples and joggers, dog walkers and book readers, and bird watchers and sunbathers. Several paths afforded great views of the Hudson River, which were spoilt only by the fact that you had to squint into the lowering sun to see anything.

A large children’s playground is located at the corner of Riverside Drive and Broadway, and this was packed with families: adults, teenagers, children and grandparents. Streams of water were spraying high into the air in one central play area and young kids squealed with delight as they ran through the mist and showers of cooling water. Ice cream vendors with small three wheeled carts walked around the area plying their wares, and Latin music boomed from passing cars.

I sat for a while enjoying a $1 cup of ice cream, before deciding to walk to the end of Manhattan. Not the bottom end of the island, you understand, but the top – or northern – end, which was less than a mile away.

That iconic thoroughfare, Broadway, runs from the southern end of Manhattan up through its centre and continues on way beyond the end of the island. It is my wish to walk the entire length of the Manhattan section of Broadway, but now that I am here experiencing for myself that much talked about New York summer humidity, I will have to adjust my goals and complete the task in stages rather than one long walk. I have nothing to prove (apart from my stupidity) by walking 22 kilometres in 95 degree heat and 80 percent humidity – and the last time I looked, I wasn’t that stupid!

Image: Evening view of the Bronx over the Harlem River
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Anyway, since it was close, I set off to walk to the end of Manhattan, and I was happy I did. Along the way I passed Dyckman Farmhouse, a Dutch Colonial style farmhouse built by William Dyckman in 1784 (or thereabouts). The Farmhouse is an extraordinary reminder of earlier Manhattan and an important part of its Inwood neighbourhood. It was of course, also closed, but I will certainly return for a good look before I leave New York.

At the corner of Isham Street and Broadway stands the Church of The Good Shephard. In the garden on the Isham Street is a steel cross similar to the better known 20 foot high (6.1 m) cross salvaged from the rubble of the World Trade Center. Though much small in size, this blackened cross and the memorial garden it watches over is a poignant reminder of that terrible day. Wherever you go in New York City you will find memorials, large and small, to the thousands of victims of that terrible event, which – as you might expect – continues to have a huge impact on the lives of all New Yorkers.

Continuing along Broadway, I soon came to that narrow body of water which separates Manhattan from the Bronx. The Harlem River is spanned by the Broadway Bridge, which may be unique in that if it needs to be raised for small ships or other craft to pass beneath, it rises parallel to the water, as one long platform. Having walked across the bridge to the Bronx – and mainland America – I began my return walk back to the apartment.

Image: Iconic New York street scene, still encountered today
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Somewhere up a side street in Inwood, I encountered another image I associate with New York: someone had turned on a fire hydrant just enough to send a curtain of water cascading across the road so that local children could play in the shower of ‘rain’ it created.

It would have made a lovely picture. Just the same, it was a great way to end my evening promenade through the top end of Manhattan.

Walking to New Jersey

Image: The George Washington Bridge looking towards Manhattan. For a while it laid claim to be the longest suspension bridge in the world.

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~ This entry could just as easily have been called: Walking the George Washington Bridge, or Walking Off My Jetlag, but let’s not quibble. What’s in a name, after all?

After heading to bed around 10.30 last night for a much need rest, I woke around 5.00am and could not get back to sleep, so I got up an hour later and wrote my earlier post (see below). I had a late breakfast (brunch) with my host, and then went off to perform a ritual I always undertake when staying in a new area: I explore my surroundings and try and orientate myself to the landscape by picking out obvious landmarks that will help me remember where my accommodations are, as well as where each point of the compass is facing.

Today I wandered aimlessly for an hour or so, but since I wasn’t achieving anything useful, I decided to walk part way across the George Washington Bridge which connects the upper end of Manhattan with New Jersey. The Manhattan end of the George Washington Bridge (or the ‘George’ as it is also informally called), is located in Washington Heights – where I am staying – while the borough of Fort Lee is on the New Jersey side.

It was a glorious morning for walking, and I have to say the view from the bridge was stunning as I set off down the pedestrian walkway running along the left side of the bridge’s upper level. A steady stream of joggers and lycra clad bike riders flashed past me as I ambled out to its mid-point.

The Wikipedia entry for the George Washington, states that as of 2007 the bridge has the greatest capacity of any bridge in the world, carrying approximately 106 million vehicles a year, and quite frankly that doesn’t surprise me. As I walked just a metre or two from roaring mass of steel, a constant flow of every type of truck, bus and automobile was pouring over the bridge into Manhattan, with maybe half that number heading in the other direction towards New Jersey. I wasn’t there to see it, but I’m sure the majority of the traffic flow would have been reversed during the evening rush hour.

Image: The view down the Hudson River, similar to the view that would have been facing Captain Sullenberger as he flew low over the George Washington Bridge.

Standing at the half way point, one almost gets the same exact view that presented itself to United Airlines pilot, Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger III, on January 15, 2009. Sullenberger, you may remember, rose to fame when he successfully ditched US Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River off Manhattan. Captain Sullenberger had to fly low over the George Washington Bridge before he safely brought the plane down – in the process saving the lives of all 155 people on the aircraft.

Having reached the halfway mark, walking the full length of the bridge seemed to be the logical thing to do, especially since I could see an observation area high up on the New Jersey side – which turned out to be Fort Lee.

The Bridge is near the sites of Fort Washington (on the New York side) and Fort Lee (in New Jersey), which were fortified positions used by General Washington and his American forces in his unsuccessful attempt to deter the British occupation of New York City in 1776 during the American Revolutionary War. Washington evacuated Manhattan by crossing between the two forts [Source: Wikipedia].

The George Washington Bridge was even more stunning when viewed from the Fort Lee observation area than it was from the Manhattan side. Although I hasten to add, that I haven’t thoroughly explored the Manhattan side at all at this point – but then I’ve been here less than 24 hours!

However, ignoring the constant roar of the traffic, the view down river was spectacular to say the least. I watched as tug boats slowly pushed huge barges upriver. What was their ultimate destination and what, if anything, were the barges carrying? I saw sailing boats, pleasure craft, and numerous Circle Line passenger boats carrying sightseers on a full circumnavigation of the island of Manhattan. I was even fortunate to see a lone deer grazing quietly near the fort car park, and numerous squirrels, and small rodent-like creatures I didn’t recognize.

Image: 14 lanes of traffic ferry transport and people to and from Manhattan/New Jersey.

When it opened in 1931, the bridge had the longest main span in the world; at 1,067 m (3,500 ft), while the total length of the bridge is 1,451 m (4,760 ft). As originally built, the bridge offered six lanes of traffic, but in 1946, two additional lanes were provided on what is now the upper level. A second, lower deck, opened to the public in 1962. This lower level increased the capacity of the bridge by 75 percent, making the George Washington Bridge the world's only 14-lane suspension bridge [Wikipedia],

As you might imagine, with eight lanes on the upper level and six on the lower deck, the accumulated noise spilling off the bridge throughout the day is loud and constant.

Le Corbusier (Charles-Edouard Jeanneret) said of the unadorned steel structure:

"The George Washington Bridge over the Hudson is the most beautiful bridge in the world. Made of cables and steel beams, it gleams in the sky like a reversed arch. It is blessed. It is the only seat of grace in the disordered city..." [Wikipedia]

Well, Chazza, that’s a pretty sweeping statement to make about any bridge, but I have to agree that it is indeed wonderful to stand at the foot of either one of its two massive towers, and marvel at the extraordinary feat of engineering the structure represents. Maybe that is why the George Washington Bridge was designated a National Historic Civil Engineering Landmark by the American Society of Civil Engineers in October, 1981, the fiftieth anniversary of the bridge's dedication ceremony.

Maybe it’s a ‘man/guy thing’, but a walk across the George Washington Bridge is well worth the effort. Especially when you are rewarded with sweeping views of Manhattan’s Westside, the vast expanse of the Hudson River as it flows towards the Atlantic Ocean, and the sight of towering skyscrapers reduced to the size of matchsticks far off in the distance, at the lower end of the island.

Unfortunately, I set out on my walk this morning completely unprepared for what might eventuate. This meant I had no water or hat with me, and worse yet, I had left my digital SLR behind, so I had to rely on the camera in my phone to try and capture the experience. Hence, the images illustrating this entry are not exactly award winning, but they will have to do until I explore the area further, and take some better photos.

So there you have it. My first full day in New York, and I can honestly say not only did I walk from New York City to New Jersey – but I also walked from New Jersey to New York. In the same day! Pretty impressive, I reckon.

Thanks to Wikipedia for the background information...

Images: Jim Lesses

Good Morning, New York

~ After an long day travelling from Los Angeles to New York, I made it to the apartment in Washington Heights at a good hour, and with plenty of time to settle in and get to know my host better, as well as the two cats I am here to care for.

Now as I begin writing this at 6.00am, still tired, while my body clock adjusts to the change in time zones and the upset my daily routines have been thrown into, I can hear the quiet hum of the city as it slowly begins to wake up and stretch. I’m trying to tune into its rhythms: the early morning calls of unfamiliar birds; the faraway thump of rotors from a helicopter hovering high over Manhattan; the dull thump of car doors as they are closed; the soft panting of the first jogger as he passes my bedroom window; the swish of cars as they carry the first rush of city workers to their labors; the wave of aircraft flying into and out of the three major airports that service the city; voices in the street; strange cadences and accents; someone coughing; these are just some of the aural stimuli my senses are processing on my first New York morning.

But this is the place. This is where I most want to be on the planet today.

And as I write these words I am reminded of a simple piece of homespun philosophy I read in the American Airlines in-flight magazine yesterday. To paraphrase the homily, since I can’t remember the exact quote: It doesn’t matter what your age is – you will never be this young again. So make the most of it.

Amen, to that, brothers and sisters.

And good morning to you, New York.

I’m awake, and ready.

Image from www.luxurylink.com

Los Angeles On The Go

~ Image: The tide is clearly out in this image of a canal at Venice Beach, Los Angeles.

Still suffering from the effects of jet lag (yes, Livingstone, I know flying 10,000kms hardly compares to the light years you’ve travelled, but tell someone who cares - I’m still tired, Ok?), I embarked on a whistle-stop five hour bus tour of L.A.

Under the expert guidance of Cyril, a driver for VIP Tours, I and my fellow passengers were whipped around Los Angeles for a strictly ‘just the highlights’ tour which took in Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive, Farmer’s Market, The Grove, Hollywood, Grauman’s Chinese Theater, FOX Studio’s, the Hollywood Boulevard Walk of Fame, Marina Del Rey, Sunset Strip and Venice Beach, amongst others.

Three stops were included in the tour: Farmer’s Market, Hollywood Boulevard (which includes Grauman’s Chinese Theater, the Walk of Fame and other locations along Hollywood Blvd), and Venice Beach.

Along the route, Cyril pointed out some of the many buildings used in movies set in L.A. The tower that Bruce Willis defends in the first Die Hard film; the fire escape used by Richard Gere in Pretty Woman; and of course there was Venice Beach which seems to appear in almost every film shot in Los Angeles. He also showed us the telephone box where Hugh Grant was caught with his pants down; the Saks Fifth Avenue department store where Wynona Ryder was caught shoplifting; the… well, you get the picture.

Cyril pointed out some of the homes of the rich and famous: Steven Spielberg’s massive mansion on top of a hill overlooking the city; Marilyn Monroe’s L.A. home (quite modest by today’s standards); classic music venue’s like the Roxy and the Rainbow; and the venue Johnny Depp bought just so he and his buddies could party long into the night undisturbed.

Venice Beach began taking shape in the early 1900s, when tobacco millionaire Abbot Kinney and his partner Francis Ryan bought two miles (3.24 km) of oceanfront property south of Santa Monica in 1891. We passed along Dell Avenue and saw the canals that give Venice Beach its name, although if you look at the area using Google Maps you may be as surprised as I was to see just how small this area actually is.

Image: Livingstone sharing a private moment with Steven Spielberg’s star on The Hollywood Walk of Fame.

The Hollywood Walk of Fame (along Hollywood Boulevard) is probably the one place that every visitor to L.A. walks for themselves while looking for the star that represents their favourite Hollywood legend. The problem is that there are apparently some 2,400 stars fixed along both sides of the Boulevard, so the chances of visiting everyone of them is probably remote given the amount of time most tour companies allocate for this stop.

The stars don’t just recognize actors and actresses – they also immortalize legendary directors, motion pictures, broadcast television and radio, audio recordings, and theater/live performance. As an aside, I note with some bemusement, that Muhammad Ali received a star under the Live Theatre category. Boxing certainly offers spectacle on a grand scale, but live theatre? Ali’s star can be found at 6801, Hollywood Boulevard.

Apart from the glitz and glamour, I couldn’t help notice some of the poverty on display around the city. The most obvious signs of this being the numerous homeless men and women, young and old who have clearly missed out on winning their small part of the American Dream. Other observations: the ubiquitous trash that one sees everywhere; the relatively small midtown section of the city with its modest number of high-rise buildings and skyscrapers (I expected a lot more); the large number of surprisingly small homes and apartments

Image: This is as close as I got to the famed Hollywood sign on the hills overlooking downtown L.A.

As someone who champions the concept of slow travel, these bus tours are exactly the type of thing I dislike most, and yet there I was doing the ‘tourist thing’ just like so many other out-of-towners. Sometimes you just have to swallow your pride and make the most of the available time you have – and today was one of those occasions. For just $55, the tour was cheap, quick, entertaining enough, and the bare minimum you would need to get some sort of overview of the most popular parts of the city.

I would love to come back and spend a month or two in L.A. to experience the many other sides of this sprawling place, but that will have to wait for another trip and another day.

Historical information about Venice Beach courtesy of Wikipedia...

The Hollywood Walk of Fame...

Complete list of all stars and their locations...

Touchdown in Los Angeles

~ International travel can be quite confusing to the uninitiated. Last night, Tuesday, I uploaded a blog post from Auckland, New Zealand. And now here I am a day later posting another update from Los Angeles, California – and it is still Tuesday night! No wonder international flights leave passengers jet lagged, short tempered, and struggling to adjust to constantly changing time zones.

At 2.02pm local time, New Zealand flight NZ2 touched down at Los Angeles International Airport, otherwise known as LAX. It was the end of another uneventful flight spanning 10,590 kilometres, and eleven long hours from Auckland. All up I’ve spent at least 18 hours travelling (I’m too tired to work out the exact number). Right now as I sit in my Super 8 budget hotel room at LAX, I am delighted I made the decision not to fly through to New York, thereby saving another 6-8 hours of flying time, and the additional problem of trying to work out what to do after arriving at New York City’s JFK airport at one in the morning. I certainly had no intention of banging on the door of my host’s apartment at 3am or thereabouts asking to be let in.

Never the less, my stopover in L.A., is going to be short, sharp and shiny. Essentially, I’m here to let my body adjust to the change in time zones, so that when I reach New York I will be ready to hit the streets as soon as possible. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to spend a day and a half sleeping or sitting around watching cable television. Tomorrow I will go on one of those horrible all-in-one bus tours that cover most of the popular attractions around Los Angeles, if only to get a quick overview of the city.

My in-flight movie of choice this time was The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, a film based on the best selling book of the same name by Stieg Larsson. Several members of my family have been urging me to see the film, so as soon as I spotted it on the list of in-flight movies, I knew I had to watch it. I must say though, it was very disconcerting to be watching this film while sitting next to two young women. The film features several explicit sex scenes (even after being modified for air travel), graphic violence, lot’s of images of dead female murder victims, and other violent scenes. I don’t know if anyone else was watching the film over my shoulder, but I certainly felt conspicuous and even self-conscious at various points during the movie. Having said that – it is a very good film, and I’m glad I finally got to see it. Even if it was edited for our in-flight entertainment.

Getting through security at LAX was slow but without incident. After having my fingerprints taken and my face photographed for posterity, I was out on the street looking for my courtesy bus ride to the motel, which duly came and presented me with my first problem – no money for tips. It’s not as if the driver of the bus had to do very much. After all, I am quite capable of humping my own backpack and small case, but of course he wanted to show how efficient and accommodating he could be. So he loaded and unloaded them for me, and clearly expected a tip, which I just as clearly ignored, since I didn’t have any money handy to give him.

If the same driver gives me a ride back to the terminal on Thursday morning, I will make sure he gets an extra bonus for his efforts.

I must say, my energy levels are flagging fast at the moment, so I’m signing off. Time for a long hot shower, and meal at the Greek restaurant just around the corner. Later, gator…

Image source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mike_s_etc/

One Leg Down - One To Go

It's 7.30pm New Zealand time as I write this (5.00pm in Adelaide).

I've just completed the first leg of my trip around the world - Adelaide to Auckland - although I'm not spending any time exploring the 'land of the long white cloud'. There are better times of the year to travel New Zealand, unless you are into winter sports - and I'm not.

Got off to a good start this morning, thanks to Sarah-Jane, my long-suffering niece.

However, I had a moment of panic last night when I went to bed. Literally 30 seconds after I flipped out the light and put my head on the pillow, I suddenly thought: I don't have any printed details for my accommodations in Los Angeles. I had of course, booked a couple of nights in L.A. weeks ago, and I had copied the information into a couple of MS Word documents onto my laptop. But I had forgotten to make a print out of the information.

There I was, trying to get to sleep, while also trying to remember the name of the hotel and coming up with numerous variations of the place, but not the right name. I considered leaving it until this morning, but knew if I left it, I would never get to sleep from having the oversight play on my mind all night. There was nothing to be done but get back out of bed, unpack the laptop, power supply, cables, and pre-paid wifi dongle, boot up the computer, find the files on my machine and finally email them to myself so I could print them off this morning. All that duly done, I packed everything away again, and 50 minutes later hit the pillow once more.

But why did I remember this oversight at almost the last moment? How is it, that my subconscious was able to retrieve this information, when my conscious mind had forgotten these very important files? I have no idea of the answer to those questions, but I'm thankful for the gift. Truly, the human mind/subconscious is a wonderful thing.

In the end, it was an uneventful flight - just the way I like it. My inflight movie of choice was a second viewing of the South African film, District 9. I even got to sit next to the wing exit, which means that in the even of an emergency, I was the person designated to open the escape route onto the wing. Unfortunately, no-one explained if I had to wait until the plane came to a complete stop before I opened the door, or whether I could open it before we hit the ground. Fortunately, I didn't have to find out!

Livingston spent the whole flight tucked into the overhead storage locker - sleeping. At least, that's what I'm assuming. Anyway, he didn't complain too much, and I left him to it. I did take some photographs during the flight, but as yet I can't download them from camera for your viewing pleasure.

They will wait.

Just like I'm waiting for the next stage of the trip: Auckland to Los Angeles.

The first leg was easy. This next one will be a real back breaker, but with a bit of luck I hope to sleep most of the way. See you then, then.

Dr. Livingstone, I Presume?

~ Well, yes – and no.

Meet my travelling companion, Livingstone, named in honour of the Scottish missionary and explorer David Livingstone. Livingstone was created by my niece, Sarah-Jane Cook, a much underrated visual artist who works across many mediums. Since I generally travel on my own, we both thought (that is, Sarah-Jane and I), that it would be good if I had a travel buddy with me on my round the world trip, which begins in less than 24 hours. So, out of all the creatures and characters Sarah-Jane has created, I have selected Livingstone as my boon companion.

Livingstone is already well travelled, having recently come from a tiny planet in the region of a star cluster with the incredibly romantic name of NGC 6752. Seriously! Livingstone was very straight faced and quite sober when he told me this. Apparently, NGC 6752 is somewhere out beyond the Pavo constellation. Unfortunately, he did get caught up in some recent sun spot activity which seems to have caused a major malfunction in his internal guidance mechanisms. The other side effect of this incident is that it has left him with a body mass that has become extremely soft and pliable, giving him the appearance of a soft toy made from heavy ply wool with black beads for eyes – but as Livingstone says, appearances can be deceptive.

In and of itself, his transformation from an inter-galactic, state of the art, robotic alien is not a major drawback, since it means he is now incredibly light and can fit into almost any space, which in turn means I should have no trouble toting him around with me wherever I go.

Assuming I don’t get turned back at Los Angeles International Airport by an overzealous Border and Customs Control officer who thinks it is very strange that a 61 year old should be travelling around the world with a ‘soft toy’ called Livingstone, I look forward to sharing many exciting adventures with you - and of course, with Livingstone.

Packing & Stacking

With around 60 hours to go before I jet off on the first leg of my round the world trip, I have spent most of the past few days (since my return from Melbourne) packing and stacking.

By that I mean I have been packing boxes with the detritus of my rental accommodation, and stacking those boxes in my niece, Sarah-Jane's, garage. I have taken a couple of car loads of clothing, books, and assorted goods to the charity shop and the second-hand book store down the road, and I've off-loaded some old magazines at the laundry on Semaphore Road - magazines which make much more interesting reading than the awful 'women's' magazines that usually lay about on the benches there.

I've got a couple of half full storage boxes waiting to receive the very last minute stuff that I need to see me through the next couple of days. My suitcase is packed. My backpack waits to receive the laptop I'm writing this with, along with the other technological paraphernalia that so many travellers burden themselves with - and that's it.

Los Angeles, here I come...

And New York City...

I hope you are able to join me on my travels, where I look forward to viewing the world with a fresh perspective, an open mind, a joyful heart, and welcoming smile.

See you on the road.

Two Tribes

~ Yesterday, I attended my first Australian Football League (AFL) game at one of Australia’s iconic sporting venues, the Melbourne Cricket Ground, otherwise known as the MCG, or to real sporting aficionado’s simply as the ‘G’.

Now you have to understand there is a world of difference between Aussie rules football, or footy, as we like to call it, and the British version of football (which we call soccer), and what the Americans call football, but this is neither the time or place to try and explain those differences. Except to say that Aussie rules football is high scoring, fast (and sometime furious), full of high marks and aggressive tackles, and played by teams whose supporters are practically born into their favourite teams, just like previous generations of family members.

Facing off for a classic round of Aussie rules footy where arch rivals Melbourne and Collingwood. Personally, I would have been happier attending a match between my two hometown teams, the Adelaide Crows and Port Power, but unless they miraculously play off against each other in an AFL Grand Final (dreams are made of this), I can only see them compete against each other in Adelaide.

However, Melbourne is where this sport was born, where the biggest teams come from, and where the most passionate fans are located, so it was interesting to attend a game between two Victorian teams with a long history of competition between them. It was also interesting to be part of a crowd of 67,454 football fans who are not afraid to give voice to their anger, frustration, and gratuitous advice, with which they liberally shower their team and coaches (and the opposition team and coaches with).

I don’t know how many tourists or travelers make a point of attending major sporting events in the cities they visit, but I think you can learn a lot about a country and its people by doing so. I suspect Australian football fans are no different from British, American or any other national sporting fans you care to name. We are passionate, vocal, rude, outrageous, and make no excuses for being so.

Along with the previously mentioned abuse hurled at both teams, the greatest vitriol is reserved for the hapless umpires who seemingly can’t do a thing right, or make a correct decision – especially when it is your team which is on the end of a controversial ruling. It is at this point that all semblance of decorum and manners fly out the window (or more to the point, fly out of the mouths of adults who should know better). I don’t know if sporting fans are the same all around the world, but Australian sporting fans don’t hold back when they disagree with an umpire or referees decision. Anything goes, and if you are the type of person who is offended by profanity of the worst sort, you wouldn’t want to attend an Aussie rules football game.

I fully intend to undertake my own research on the behaviour of sporting fans during my summer trip to New York City, where I plan to attend a couple of baseball games and roller derby events, and any other major sporting event I happen across. I’ll let you know the results of my ‘research’ down the track.

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For the record, the game was a draw – a rare and unusual event in Australian football. However, Collingwood should have won, since they had 31 scoring shots to Melbourne’s 21 scoring shots. The final result: Melbourne 11-10 (76), to Collingwood 9-22 (76).

If you are wondering how the scores are arrived at, teams score by kicking goals or points. A goal is worth 6 points, and a point is counted as 1. Since Melbourne kicked 11 goals and 10 points the equation looks like this (6x11=66+10=76). For Collingwood it is (9x6=54+22=76). The team with the most points at the end of the game is declared the winner, and gets the four points allocated to the winning team which determines its place in the competition. Since the game was a draw, each team gets 2 points, and moves up or down the competition ‘ladder’ depending on how other teams in the competition performed over the weekend.

Whew, that’s more information than you probably needed to know, but there it is!

Four Seasons in One Day

~ Melbourne. Tim Finn was right. Mind you, I don’t know if he was writing about Melbourne exactly when he wrote Four Seasons in One Day, but the song’s title perfectly sums up Melbourne’s weather since I got here a week and a half ago.

Take today as an example. Cloudy and grey at first, then several hours of brilliant sunshine. Just as I got ready to head out for a while it started pouring with rain, so I sat down again to read a couple more chapters of Barack Obama’s first book, Dreams From My Father. An hour or so later, with the sun shining brightly in the early afternoon sky, I stepped out for a coffee and some lunch. Half way through my meal, I watched as a heavy shower of rain, washed the streets of Fitzroy North. Fifteen minutes later as I walked ‘home’, again bathed in sunlight, I couldn’t help but hum the Crowded House song whose title heads this entry.

So what have I been doing between bouts of sunshine, rain, and my last entry? Hanging out mostly. Walking into the city and back again – a round trip of 12-15 kilometres. Window shopping. Reading. Catching up on season one of The Wire. Checking out the open mic at the Empress Hotel just down the road. And discovering the final resting place of Australian Prime Ministers, renowned explorers, and the Elvis Presley memorial (see image), all located in the Melbourne General Cemetery along Lygon Street, Carlton North.

See, that’s the thing about extended vacations. About slow travel. You have the time to undertake weird things like walks through cemeteries, book reading, and just hanging out enjoying the location you are in. You don’t have to rush about trying to hit every major attraction or tourist trap just because that’s what every other visitor does, or because it is expected of you.

This time around, I am spending three weeks in Melbourne. Since I don’t have my own car, I will not get out of the city or the inner suburbs, but that’s fine by me. I’m happy just to hang out and take it easy. This is like the vacation you have when your not really having a vacation. It gives me time to think about the real journey that I am undertaking at the end of the month. My trip to New York City.

I feel like I’m conserving my energy and ideas for New York. Not to mention my money. And Melbourne in winter, is certainly preparing me for summer in New York. I can hardly wait, but wait I must.

In the mean time, it is threatening rain again here, and I’m settling down for a night in with the final two episodes of season one of The Wire. See you down the track…

Walking Melbourne

~ I’ve kicked off the shackles of illness and hit the streets of Melbourne town with a vengeance and a good pair of walking boots.

I set off at midday for a walk from Fitzroy North into the city centre – a pretty easy and doable distance of around 6 kilometres (3.7 miles). The object of the exercise (no pun intended) was to walk, explore, enjoy the sights, take a few photographs, eat, drink and make the most of a perfect, cool, clear sky Melbourne day.

You can see a complete route of today's walk here. I should however, point out that the route as displayed between the 4km and 10km markers looks like the ramblings of a drunken man – and I can assure you I was not staggering around the streets of Melbourne in an inebriated state. I can only assume that Walkmeter, the iPhone app I was using to map my route, had trouble getting good GPS coordinates due to the many high-rise buildings around the city centre. And it probably didn’t help that I kept disappearing into one building after another to explore some point of interest along the way.

In the end I also walked home again, completing a good afternoon of exploration of around 13.5kms (8.3 miles), that took in Brunswick Street, Federation Square, ACMI, the Arts Centre, Lygon Street and more besides.

My overall impression of Melbourne remains much the same as it was after my visit earlier this year. That is, there seems to be a pervasive sense of forward movement, continued growth and excitement about the place. Unfortunately, these sentiments can’t be said about my home town, Adelaide. But don’t get me started on that theme!

Melbourne’s alleyways are renowned for the quality of the graffiti that covers their walls, but the alleyways are not the only place you will find great graffiti. Yes, I know “great graffiti” sounds like an oxymoron, but let’s be honest, there are artists and practitioners of graffiti who do have real skills and creative ideas that rise above mere spraying of tags everywhere. Which is why I’ve decided to illustrate this post with some examples of the graffiti I discovered during my walk today.

This wonderful mosaic bench was one of three I saw at various locations along Brunswick Street. This is a good example of the types of public art you can see all over the centre of Melbourne, and the inner suburbs. In this respect, Melbourne reminded me of New York City, which also makes a point of placing public art all over the five boroughs that make up greater New York.

Melbourne even produces a public art walking map which guides you around a collection of some of the best examples of the city's public art works, and another brochure detailing the graffiti covered alleyways that have helped to make the Victorian capital so iconic and well known internationally.

There is much yet to discover in Melbourne, and I will barely scratch the surface over the next three weeks, but you have to start somewhere, and this has been my beginning.

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