let the bread speak

It's time for a little bit of sentimentality. If the clouds decided to part ways than I would salute the Cascades to the east and the Olympics to the west goodbye. Instead , while waiting at the traffic lights, I was able to have some final eyebrow push-ups as the resident lunatics faught their battles up and down my clustered neighbourhood. All be it, we arrived at sea-tac hours before we took off, allowing us to sample some of our airports creative food ideas. Not really,just being silly, but we found a little wine bar that had great wine and a delicious menu with the food coming in at a close third on the tasty track. O well, we had the plane ride to look forward to, an excitable 14 hours of snacking on plane goods, flowing Australian wines to sample and endless movies to watch right? Only in my mind was that happening anywhere from San Fransisco to Sydney. If I wasn't begging Glenn to convince me that we were going to be okay and not crash into the Pacific Ocean, than I had mad motion sickness, the kind that you could imagine being chopped up than tossed into your food processor, pulsed, pulsed, pulsed, than poured. Not in anyway is that an exaggeration.

I think it was breaking point when my wine litterally flew out of the glass it was swimming in. I never knew turbulance was so mean.

I wonder if the bumpy ride had anything to do with the hunched over elderly gentleman carrrying a crucifix, man four foot nothing, crucifix four foot nothing. It was a only moderately disturbing, while walking to my seat, when I saw him hitting himself in the neck with his little old friend trying to calm him. I reckon he knew we were going down but raised his cross to the mightty force in protest. Thanks ole mate. I only wish I could have snapped a few photo's.

I must say it was a pretty sweet feeling landing in Sydney. The last few years of just wondering when the time would come. Plonk. Down on that runway. Deciding years in advance what I might want to eat first. What I might cook a bit later.

 I'm still a little shocked at how I never rememberd all the little amazing details of home. My gosh, just walking down the street in Marrickville or Clovally was a treat. Black cockatoos, lorikeets, whip birds, than travelling up the coast, what we thought was a dingo playfully jumping around in national park area.

A few people we told assured us that it was only a wild dog but we like to think we saw a dingo far from what many believe are only on Fraser Island.

The mission once we stepped out of the Kingford-Smith was to get our hungry, tired asses to the

 Wicked Van depot in Waterloo. Thats right next door to Redfern, with no place to go except the bottle shop at 9am for a longneck of VB. One of those you've gotta experience it yourself moments to realise just how exhausted we were after not only the flight, which would have been barable, but the 2 hour bus ride from the airport to Bondi Junction than on another bus all the way back to the same area we came from just took it out of us. There were beautiful, flowing tears and almost some wet pants from lack of food and sleep. We made it though and when we finally got on the road the only thing I had to worry about was staying on the left side of the road. Made it, with only a few times cruising down the right side, at night, when I was a little misguided from dusk lighting.

I never would have thought the first thing I was going to eat would be a hamburger, but it was a mighty fine one at that. The simple way. The way mum use to make. A handful of ground beef with onion and garlic, moulded into a flat disc and thrown on the grill. I could never forget the grilled onions. Sublime. The bun. Geez, so light the wind nearly blew it away. I don't even have any glorious photos, just toooo hungry. Than some sleeping went on, some dazed sleeping, parked at the beach, with the sound of families running around and funny dogs and dog walkers.

The best things in life are free. Well almost. It's free to get excited about all the great food i've been absent from, but far from free when I need to purchase great cheese, butter and Lebanese bread from a very small local milk bar. (More on the greatness and wonder of Lebanese bread soon).

Our first night served us well, with views of the Clovally Bowling Club. Although it was Friday night and the oldies were up for some fine bowls club grub and beer, yahooing out across the cemetary close by, we were out cold by 6pm, not noticing the hard board under the inch thick matress til' the next time we were blessed with sleeping in our van.

So much of this country to explore in every living moment. I'm facinated and have ultimately fallen in love with it. I don't know if it has been love all over again, but my eyes and heart are open now and that's what matters. I think it takes being away from a place that you know is somewhere there in your heart, just not being able to locate it at times, than coming back for to see it to really appreciate the endless joy of it. Travel; that's all I can say. Do it now. Don't forget.

P.S. Please comment. Please please please.