Eternal sunshine on my mind

Today, Australia, I am slightly disappointed in you.

Allow me to explain. I woke up this morning at 8 a.m. with every intention to plant my butt firmly on the beach before 10. It is often hard to tell what the weather is like from inside my room with the blinds drawn. I've found myself thinking it must be cloudy when in fact it's sunny and vice versa. Today it seemed cloudy from inside, which I thought was a good sign until I opened the door . . . and it really was cloudy in every direction.

Not one to lose hope easily, I ate breakfast, showered and read a book for awhile. It was still cloudy.

Time for Plan B: I grabbed my Sydney visitor guide and decided to see the Australian Museum, just a 15-minute walk from where I'm staying. I figured that if I did some hiding out deep inside a museum for a couple of hours that I would emerge back into a world of sunshine by lunch. And so here I sit in an Internet cafe at 3:35 p.m. and it still just as cloudy out there. It even rained around lunchtime, to add insult to injury.

You might think I'm making too big a deal out of the weather. It is just one day after all. It's not like there'll never be sunshine again. It just seems worse because all of yesterday was so incredibly bright and sunny . . . and I spent the whole day working inside. Each time I glanced out the window at the sunshine I comforted myself with the knowledge that I'd spend tomorrow on the beach. I even announced my intention to do so to several coworkers, several times over the course of the day.

My aversion toward rain and clouds runs deeper than just one day of beach-dreaming, of course. Having spent most of the last four years in Vancouver, Canada, rain and clouds were a big part of my life, particularly over the last two years when the weather has been even wetter than normal. And that is really saying something in Vancouver. It wasn't uncommon to face two-week periods of non-stop rain and cloud in winter. For that matter, it's not even that uncommon in spring or fall.

I now truly believe that every Vancouverite is entitled -- yes, entitled -- to a minimum of four weeks of solid sunshine for every year spent in the drizzle. The B.C. government should be mailing vouchers to every household advertising rock-bottom prices in Fort Lauderdale, Palm Springs, and Puerto Vallarta. Gordon Campbell should be handing out free sunlamps and Vitamin D to the common-folk. This would work miracles in improving the frame of mind and overall temperament of the average Vancouverite, which as it stands, is one of the frostiest, most reserved, and least enjoyable in all of Canada. (Sorry but it's true. Spend a week in sunny Saskatchewan and you'll soon agree.)

I spent a lot of my spare time in Vancouver wishing for sunshine and dreaming of sun-filled countries, like Australia, Mexico and the Bahamas. Perhaps foolishly, I thought that every day would be full of sun here in Sydney. Of course that isn't so (though I've heard that in other parts of the country it is nearly true).

On the bright side (pun intended), I got to see various stuffed marsupials at the Australian Museum, including kangaroos and wombats, and one hell of a gigantic saltwater crocodile, which by the way, is a creature you never, ever want to meet in the wild Down Under. It may be your last memory. Ever.

The museum also allowed me to memorize the sizes, shapes and colours of snakes and spiders that might seriously injure me if I should meet them on the forest floor. And did you know that there is something like 100 different types of cockroaches in Australia? I've already seen at least two or three in some of the hostels. Oh, and I saw a dead rat floating down in Woolloomooloo Bay last week while I was eating a hot dog. That was yummy.

OK, I have vented about the weather now and I feel better. I'm off to eat some watermelon. At least it will be a sunny summer day inside my mouth.

It's that time again!

Time for a bunch of pictures to be put on this page. I'm just going to make this short on words and long on pictures today as it gets complicated to do lots of both. Blogger is a wonderful site but it still has a ways to go, I guess.

The pictures are mostly from the Blue Mountains. However, the first few are from Manly Beach, Coogee Beach (near Bondi), and a lunch I had with newfound friends from Portland, Oregon (and one guy from Spain).

I went to Coogee last week for a morning. Big waves! I thought I was going to be crushed. The waves do not come in this size at Regina Beach, or in Vancouver for that matter. Anyway, very cool and lots of fun.

Enjoy and wish you were here! (Really, I do.)

Blue, blue mountains

Ahhh, all that fresh country air sure does a body good.

I spent the first part of this week on a little getaway to a part of Australia known as the Blue Mountains. Just two hours by train from Sydney, the area is actually made up of about a dozen small towns and a huge national park. The Blue Mountains are not, as the name would lead you to believe, actually a range of mountains. Instead they are a series of sandstone cliffs and tree-lined valleys. It's more like a lush Grand Canyon than the Rockies, just to give you an idea.

I took this picture while doing a big hike on Tuesday called the National Pass.






The hike took three hours and led me through valleys, alongside the cliffs and past 5 or 6 amazing waterfalls. Parts of the Blue Mountains, like the area around the town of Katoomba, are very touristy with cutesy signs and shops everywhere and busloads of Japanese tourists rumbling from site to site. It's nice but can be a bit much after awhile. By contrast, the trails around Wentworth Falls (where I hiked) were almost empty. I think I passed 10 people in 3 hours of hiking. It was fantastic.


Here's a snapshot of Wentworth Falls themselves:

The Aussies didn't call these hills blue for nothing either. As you can see, the hills do indeed have a bluish tinge to them from afar. Why? Because the main tree in the region is the eucalyptus and the oils that it releases somehow appear to be blue. When you get up close, mind you, the trees are as green as any other. Still, it's a nice visual effect. I was half expecting the air to smell of eucalyptus too. It didn't. And this, I have to say, was a trifle disappointing. Imagine entire valleys filled with a scent like fancy hotel spas? I think I would have never left such a place. So, perhaps it's for the best after all.

But back to Wentworth Falls for a moment.

Unlike neighbouring towns Katoomba and Leura, Wentworth Falls is hardly touristy at all. You would think that a town named after a spectacular natural attraction in the midst of a national park might be interested in helping curious newcomers in discovering the town or at least finding the trails/waterfalls. Such is not the case.

I took the train from Katoomba to Wentworth Falls around 10:30 a.m. on Tuesday. Within 10 minutes I had reached my destination. I didn't have much in the way of a map of the town, but since it is no bigger than Lumsden (for those of you in Sask.) or Gibsons in B.C., I really didn't think it would be a problem. You can see where this is going, can't you?

There was an itsy bitsy tourist map outside the train station. I had a gander at it and figured out the way to the falls. It seemed quite straightforward. Well, off I started walking.

I passed the first street on the left but it wasn't named Falls Street, as the map had led me to believe it would be. I kept walking, thinking that it would surely be the next one. You know how crappy these small town maps can be, right? About two blocks later I was still no closer to Falls Street and started to think I should turn back.

Just then a middle-aged couple came strolling down the hill toward me. Perfect! My chance to ask for a bit of direction. The only problem? The couple was from Germany, had obviously never been to Wentworth Falls before either, and didn't speak great English. They let me have a gander at their Blue Mountains guidebook. Again, the book told me to hang a left on Falls Street and continue straight on down. Can't miss it.

I backtracked a little bit and still did not see a Falls Street. I did find a Sinclair Crescent.

Perhaps that's what they meant. You know how crappy street naming/signage can be in small towns, right?

So down Sinclair Crescent I went, past a number of picture perfect bungalows and green, green lawns. Within 10 minutes I stumbled upon Wentworth Falls Lake. This must be a good sign, surely. Round the bend in the road I went. This was a crescent after all.

Ten or so minutes later, that lake was a distant memory and I began to wonder why there were no roads intersecting with Sinclair Crescent. There was nothing but bush on my right and a long, 8-foot-tall fence on my left. I could hear traffic. I could see cars rushing by. I could sense buildings and people nearby. I just could not get to them. This was the bloody longest crescent I had ever been on in my life!

Well, imagine my total shock when about 40 minutes later I found myself on the Great Western Highway, no longer in Wentworth Falls at all but back in Leura, which I had actually passed through on the train on the way to Wentworth Falls. There was no sidewalk anywhere in sight and no way in hell I was walking back down Sinclair Crescent to the station. So, I waited for a sufficient break in traffic and skedaddled across the road. There really wasn't that much traffic so it's not as dangerous as it sounds.

Down another long road toward Leura Town Centre I went. This, depressingly, was not nearly as short of a walk as I hoped. At least another 30 minutes passed when FINALLY I saw Leura train station and its main street up ahead. There was a visitor info centre next to the station where I promptly made an appearance. The kind woman behind the desk had not only maps of Leura and Wentworth Falls but a bus timetable (where she clearly underlined both my stop and destination) and hiking maps for the area. Loaded with information, I happily went to the bus stop and waited patiently.

At 12:50 p.m. I made it to the start of the trailhead and began my hike, a mere 140 minutes after I started in the first place.

Ahh, the value of a good map and a bit of advance planning. Lesson learned!

I start my job as a server tomorrow. They have given me shifts for Friday and Saturday night so far with the promise of more to come. It's a temp agency so I'll be working in hotels, theatres, bars, restaurants and cafes all over Sydney. More to say about all of that (including Australia's fantastic wages for servers -- I'm not being sarcastic about that) soon.

Ta-ta.

My two cents

The Australians, I have to confess, could teach us Canadians a thing or two when it comes to money.

First of all, they have rather ingeniously made the choice to include the GST right into all prices that you see. Your BLT sandwich says $13 on the menu? Then $13 is what you'll pay.

Bananas at the grocery store going for $3/kilogram? Then $3 it is. No more, no less.

A night at the hostel comes to $26.50? Then all you have to do is hand over the cash.

It takes all that irritating guesswork out of the process that we're so familiar with in Canada. There is no need for mental calculations. No reason to stand in line and think, "$149 plus 6% GST, oh and 5% PST . . . should make it roughly . . . " and then be totally wrong when you get to the till anyway. Math was never my strongest subject in school so I greatly appreciate the help.

Taxes aren't the only area of Australian innovation. They have also done away with the penny! That's right, no jingling copper coins rolling around uselessly in your pocket or piling up in the piggy bank. This means that you'll never pay $1.99 for anything in stores. Let's just make that $2 instead. If your bill total comes to say, $16.22 for groceries, then you just round it down to an even $16.20.

It's nice and straightforward. Kind of like Australians themselves. And I like that.

On the other hand, there is one area of Australian coin-dom that I find a bit puzzling, and that's the sizes of the coins themselves.

To begin with, the 50 cent piece is gigantic. We're talking huge here. And it's got like 13 sides to it, like a crazy stop sign.

Next down the food chain is the 20 cent piece, about the size of a Canadian or American quarter. Nothing wrong with that.

The 10 cent piece is somewhere between the size of a dime and a quarter. Again, not a trouble. Lastly, the 5 cent piece is the smallest, more like the size of a penny back home.

Here's where things get confusing: the Australians also have $1 and $2 coins. For some reason, I can't quite figure out why, the $1 coin is larger than the $2 coin, which is almost exactly the same size as the 5 cent coin, except that it is gold instead of silver.

This has meant I've almost paid as much as $1.95 too much a couple of times recently when I mistook a $2 coin for a 5 center.

Well, at least they don't call their coins "loonies" and "toonies." I mean really. That's just lame.

On the Rocks

Note: I am in an Internet cafe as I type this and I may get cut off at any moment. This could be short.

* * * * * *

I spent most of yesterday touring around a part of Sydney known as "The Rocks."


Funny name, you say? Well, they call it The Rocks because it is . . . rocky. How bizarre, no?


The Rocks is the site of the first permanent European settlement in Australia. It's where shiploads of convicts banished from England set up shop. It is from this area that Sydney grew and expanded. This is nothing short of remarkable if you stand on Sydney's Harbour Bridge and look at the sheer size and beauty of the city today (population 4 million). See picture below:

I find The Rocks very quaint and intriguing. It is as though you've stepped back in time 150 years to a small village. Heck, you could be in England for all the Victorian architecture, pubs, and fish 'n chips shops. It is only Sydney's palm trees (and remarkably sunny weather) that gives things away.

After climbing part way over the harbour bridge for photos, I set back about The Rocks for a stroll. This is when I noticed a fenced-off area that looked like an archeological dig. Lo and behold, it was an archeological dig. None other than the site of the very first European settlement, started in the 1790s. To my amazement, there were posters announcing a special day of tours on the site for the general public. And it was today!

I hurried over to the other side of the fence and managed to get a spot with a tour group that was just leaving. This was the first time in eight years that the site was open to the public.

While it was the hottest part of the day and a bit exhausting to stand out in the sun, the tour was possibly the most interesting 3o minutes I've had in Sydney. . . yet. There I was standing on the spot where modern Australia literally began. Remnants of the settlers' houses, water wells, and cobbled lanes were beneath our feet. Here's an example:

Most of the site was excavated years ago and something like 150,000 (?) artifacts were dug up. These can be seen in a nearby museum in The Rocks, a place I must check out another day.

* * * * *

On another note: I had the job interview today. It was such an easy interview. No tough questions, it was over quickly and the editor was fairly nice. She told me she'd prefer to hire someone who could work for her for longer than six months (not a surprise to me) but that she may have casual work/vacation relief in the coming months. It's like she read my mind!

Right now I'm trying to decide if I want to stay in Sydney much longer or head off to other parts. Sydney is so expensive that I really can't stay here for too much longer without working (maybe a couple of weeks).

There was a woman from a recruitment agency at my hostel when I got back from the interview. She asked me to send her a resume. She said they may have office/marketing work. I sent her an email tonight so let's see what comes. Could handle doing something for a couple of weeks before leaving Sydney.

I might take off this weekend to the Blue Mountains, a range close to Sydney that (supposedly) is full of great hiking, wildlife, waterfalls, etc. Sounds like a good time to me!

It's very early on Monday morning for those of you in North America (11 p.m. Monday night for me). Time for me to hit the bed and you to get up out of it. Have a super-duper week.

One more pic for fun (a beach towel I picked up the other day):

A nice surprise

Had a bit of good news this afternoon when I checked my email:

I applied for a job with a local newspaper last week, just a few days after I got here (a medium sized weekly paper). I was flipping through the paper and saw that they were looking for a journalist. I thought what the hell, why not go ahead and apply. Really didn't think that I'd hear from them as I figured they were looking for a local, someone who knows the city better and probably has more than a working holiday visa.

Much to my surprise, the editor emailed my yesterday and wants me to come in for an interview!

I'm not even sure that I want the job as I plan to leave Sydney soon and travel to other parts of the country. But I called her back and set up an interview for Monday. Who knows if this will even go anywhere or maybe just lead to casual/part-time work. I could live with that!

Bondi beautiful

This, my friends, is Bondi Beach.

Rather impressive, isn't it?

And it's just eight kilometres from downtown Sydney (a 30-minute bus ride).

I made it out to Bondi last Friday for my first taste of the South Pacific (it's just as salty as in Vancouver in case you were wondering).

As you can see, there are some huge waves on Bondi. This makes for a lot of fun jumping into the waves and having them crash over your head. The water is a bit colder than I expected but nothing you can't get used to in 30 seconds or so.

A lot of people also surf at Bondi. I think they offer group lessons so I might just have to take one. I think I'll go stay at Bondi for a week just so I can really work on my tan.

Of course, many people just want to soak up some sun on the beach. Can't really blame them, can ya?

Later on today I am off to Sydney's harbour to take an adventure tour. You get into bright red speedboats and they whisk you around the harbour to look at the sights, all while jumping over waves, making wild turns, and sudden stops. It costs about $45 but I can't resist. It just looks too fun.

Check it out: www.ozjetboating.com

That's all for today. Have a good one wherever you are!

From 0-100 km/h in a day or two

My feet hurt.

Seriously.

This surprises me for several reasons.

i) I am relatively young
ii) I am in good shape
iii) I have not owned a car for four years and got used to walking everywhere when I lived in Vancouver, sometimes as much as 60 minutes per day and biking up to 20 km per day in summer.

Let's just say the last few days have been busy. On Saturday morning I woke up to a beautiful, sunny day and decided I had to go for a run.

The man at the hostel's front desk told me about a shortcut nearby to get to Sydney's Royal Botanic Gardens (kinda like Stanley Park) and the harbour. Just a couple of minutes down the street there is a long stone staircase (about 100 steps) that takes you from Potts Point, where I am staying, into neighbouring suburb Woolloomooloo. What a name, eh? Australia is full of quirky names but I'll save more on those for another day.

Woolloomooloo is one of Sydney's oldest area's and the architecture is great. To me, the houses are a cross between London (in style) and Tokyo (because they're crammed tight next to one another and have tiled roofs like you see in Japan).

So I had my run through the Royal Botanic Gardens and enjoyed a good workout, topped off by climbing back up that long staircase.

Next I decided it was time for a haircut so I went downtown to the one barbershop I had seen that I thought wouldn't charge me an arm and a leg for a cut. Surprise! They are closed on weekends. What a waste of time.

But since I was already very near Hyde Park I decided to pull up a piece of grass and wait for the night's Mardi Gras parade to begin.

Mardi Gras is what they call Sydney's gay pride parade. It is a huge event that draws all kinds of people. Tourists, locals, young, old, etc. By the time I got to the parade route at about 2:30 p.m. there were already several hundred people lining the streets and the parade didn't start until 7:30 p.m.!

So there I sat for a couple of hours, snacking, reading and chatting on my cellphone for a few minutes to my sister, who is currently teaching English in Korea.

Around 5 p.m. I started to wonder if I really had a good spot for parade viewing or if I shouldn't try wandering down the street to Taylor's Square to see if the views were better.

Big mistake! It was a total madhouse everywhere I went, especially at Taylor's Square. The street was barricaded and I could only cross at a couple of locations. As a result I spent more than an hour trying to get back to a decent spot AND had to walk at least 3-4 km through big crowds.

By the time I got to Taylor's Square the crowd was lined up 5 deep. I ended up standing on a railing about 50 feet from the street but the views were just so-so. I didn't even get to see Rupert Everett, the parade marshall. Damn. Oh well, at least I met a cool girl from New Zealand, a teacher from San Francisco and a university professor from Simon Fraser University in Vancouver who were all next to me.

So by 9 p.m. I had been on the go for about 12 hours and had walked/run at least 10 km. It was time to head back to the hostel to shower, change and then head to a big Mardi Gras party that was happening. This involved another 45 minutes of walking and probably 4-5 more kilometres.

I could NOT believe the amount of garbage on the streets as I walked to the party after the parade. There were piles of bottles, paper, food all over the place. The Australians do not seem to have any laws against drinking on the streets, meaning at least 50% of the garbage was beer bottles and cans (it was a strange experience asking a policeman for directions earlier in the day while holding a can of beer in my hand, by the way. Couldn't get away with that one in Canada). It's amazing that the city supports something that causes such a big mess, not to mention major disturbances to traffic for the entire day. But think of all the tourist dollars spent. Businesses must be very happy indeed at this time of year.

I made it to the Mardi Gras party at about 11 p.m. What a total blast! There were 17,000 people and seven different venues. The party went from 10 p.m. to 10 a.m. DJs from Australia and all over the world were on hand, including Boy George. My energy was fading but I did my best to pull through and have fun despite tired legs. I managed to meet a few people: one from Atlanta, one from Sydney and one from Fiji. That made the night more interesting as we all danced together. By 4 a.m. I was ready for bed but faced with the daunting prospect of walking 5 km back to the hostel. Dear God!

I bought a hot dog and sat down for about half an hour to gather some strength.

It was a long, slow walk home, spiced up by a few encounters with interesting people. I started chatting with a young Aussie guy on the way out of the party venue. He was a bit of an oddball. I said "Hi, how's it going?" and he said "I walk alone because I choose to."

OK then. I was prepared to just keep walking when he started telling me about what a crappy night he had, how much his life sucked, etc. All I could say was I was just happy to be wearing shorts and a tank top at 5 a.m. on March 4th and that there was 3 feet of snow on the ground where I grew up right now. That kind of shut him up for a moment.

Eventually we parted ways and I was getting closer to the hostel. As I passed a group of 4-5 people, a fight between two guys (friends, I think) spontaneously broke out, for no apparent reason. Here's how it went down:

Guy 1: "So you had a good night then?"
Guy 2: "Are you trying to start a fight?"
Guy 1: "What?"
Guy 2: "Stop trying to start f*ing fights!"
Guy 1: (stunned silence)
Guy 2: (swings a milk crate in the direction of Guy 1.)
"F*** off!!"
Girl: "Tom! Stop it. Tom! Come on. Tom! Don't fight.

Just when it was about to become a bloody mess, Guy 3 stepped in and told them to stop. I was only about 10 feet ahead of them and decided it was best just to keep walking, thinking the fight was settled.

About a minute later I hear screams and yelling 100 feet behind me and see Guy 1 chasing Guy 2 down the street, swinging the milk crate in the air. The girl just kept screaming "Tom!" over and over again. It was all kind of comical and ridiculous. I'll just assume no one got seriously injured.

Finally, at almost 6 a.m., I was just steps from the youth hostel. Three young guys (maybe from New Zealand) walked past me and said something I couldn't understand in a heavy accent.

Me: "What?"
Kiwi dude: "Where's the rub and tug at?"

I just laughed and shrugged my shoulders, and they simply carried on. Thank god. I really didn't think I could take another fight.

Pack of pics

Today is officially photo day on my blog. Wheee!

I had to get up early today in order to check out of one hostel and into another across the street, so I don't feel like typing much. Besides, you're really here to see fabulous pics of gorgeous Sydney, right?

Above, the airplane that delivered me from Vancouver right through to Fiji. The pic was taken during refuelling in Honolulu at about midnight. At first I was a bit worried that the aircraft was only the size of a WestJet plane. Is that thing gonna make it? Then I remembered that Brad and Angelina must jet to and from Africa in far smaller private planes and they seem to be just fine.

I was totally delighted to find a sunken outdoor garden in Honolulu airport that anyone just bumming around can go outside and check out. It's a bit hard to see in the pic but there's palm trees a-swaying in the breeze.

As for Sydney, I'll just upload a mish-mash of pictures so you can get a sense of what the city looks like.

First off: my room at the hostel. Ain't it grand? I have no clue why there were two TVs. Only one of them worked.

A lovely fountain in the middle of Kings Cross. I wanted to dive right in.

First glimpses of the famous Opera House. I have always wanted to see this building since Blaire, Tootie, Natalie and the gang went to Australia on a special edition of The Facts of Life TV show back in the 80s. (You can stop laughing now).

Inside the Opera House. There is a lot more concrete than I expected and the decor is definitely modern/abstract from the 70s. The building is an engineering marvel and it's a miracle it was ever built. According to my tour guide, if the Opera House were built today it would cost more than $150 million.

View of Sydney's Central Business District from my room.

This is a very busy weekend in Sydney with the huge Mardi Gras parade happening on Saturday night not far from here. There will definitely be some pictures posted of that.

That's all for today folks!

Here goes nothing

At long last, the moment you have been waiting for: my blog is officially up and running!

OK, so perhaps you haven't been waiting that long for this moment after all. But I sure have.

It's been a little over 48 hours since I got to Sydney, Australia, and more than four days since I left home. In some ways it feels like it's been weeks, such are the joys of jetlag. I feel like I've done so much since I got here. Every little outing is a wee bit of an adventure, from buying bread at the store (which damn coin is which?) to finding a payphone to call home (how do these things work?)

The first day was the hardest in terms of dealing with jet lag. By the time I got to Sydney it was 1 p.m. local time. That's 8 p.m. the previous day in Saskatchewan. I was ready for bed.

Instead, I was thrown into a tiny airport shuttle "bus" (it was actually a van) and driven into the city. The driver drove very quickly down the "wrong" side of the road and there was so much traffic. Around the time that he swung out behind a stopped bus and into the parking lane, cutting back into traffic just a few feet from the rear bumper of a truck, I decided it might be best to put a seatbelt on.

Ha! There were no seatbelts.

Just a few minutes later I was at my youth hostel in Kings Cross. The hostel is on an amazingly pretty sidestreet lined with trees, Victorian-style buildings, coffee shops, restaurants and, of course, about 8 other hostels. Checking in was a breeze and I felt once-again blessed to have gotten a private room for the first couple of nights. No snoring strangers to contend with. The room is out back and even offers views of Sydney's Central Business District (that's the "downtown" as we say in North America).

By 5 p.m. I felt dizzy with jetlag, dehydration and hunger. I tried a bit of food and juice but that only holds for a short while. By 6:30 I passed out on my bed, totally unable to stay awake any longer (remember that I started the day at an airport in Fiji at 5 a.m.) Three hours later I woke up, slightly refreshed. Not having a cellphone or Internet connection really does me over in terms of keeping track of time. I ventured outdoors after watching some TV for a bit longer. It was already midnight somehow!

I ambled down the streets of Kings Cross for awhile. There were some bars and clubs open as well as a surprisingly high number of strip clubs (this is historically Sydney's red light district after all. Thank you Lonely Planet for filling me in.) I bought a popsicle as the night air still felt warm on my Canadian skin. Lucky me, there was an Internet cafe open until 1 a.m.

By 1 a.m. I was more than ready to crawl back into bed. I popped a couple of melatonin pills and pray for a good night's sleep. Those pills really do work, in case you were wondering.

Eight hours later I woke to a bright and sunny day. As I poked my head out the door and looked down the street I saw schoolgirls in their funny (to me) uniforms hurrying down the street to get to class.

Yup, I am really in Oz now.

More to post soon. . . .