How we spent our Christmas holiday...

The jetlag has relented (slightly)! This is mostly thanks to B dragging my tired (and often unwilling) self out of bed every morning before he goes to work. I never knew such a concentrated form of hatred existed as that of a tired girlfriend being woken up in the morning, even by a loving boyfriend. Thankfully it passes as the day wears on!

So... here goes. How K and B spent their Christmas vacation.

First of all, someone needs to remind me that no matter how cheap the flights may be, nothing on this earth is worth getting up at 3.30am for. Our first flight (to Frankfurt) was at 6.30am, meaning our taxi to the airport came at 4.30am. Not a good way to begin a transatlantic long-haul flight.

Nonetheless we arrived safely in Vancouver, although disturbingly we couldn't actually see Vancouver until 30 seconds before the wheels hit the tarmac. That's what they mean by poor visibility. Gotcha. The parents were waiting in Arrivals to take us home safely, and to be honest I don't remember much of the rest of the night, except trying desperately to stay awake (with the assistance of much-appreciated coffee!)

Our first day was beautiful - thankfully the rain had let up and the sun was shining, so I began my mission to show B as much of my life as humanly possible in 2.5 weeks. We hit up Stanley Park en route to the currency exchange, and then spent the afternoon wandering around the free highlights of North Vancouver (Cleveland Dam still terrifies me... the Fish Hatchery... not so much fun with no fish...)

And then the snow began. Or as a friend has dubbed it, Snowpocalypse.

Don't get me wrong... I am a sucker for snow. I love looking out the window and seeing the world magically blanketed in crystally white powder. Love it. It makes me feel like a little kid. But man is it a pain to drive in. Thankfully the next few days were mostly spent indoors, but we also had trips to the Vancouver Aquarium (still not the same without the killer whales), shopping for last minute presents, visiting with assorted friends and family, a trip to Whistler that made us re-evaluate our definitions of cold (-42 windchill at the Roundhouse, anyone?)... oh, and a very frosty, but not as cold as Whistler, trip to the Capilano Suspension Bridge.

Little known fact (to me, at least): If you are a Vancouver resident, you only need to pay admission to the Suspension Bridge once, and they give you a free season's pass. Brilliant, yes... except it's non-transferrable and I'm now 5000 miles away. Ah well, they make an effort.

On the 23rd we hit the road in a mini-convoy (B and I in one car, parents in another, and little brother and friend in yet another car) and headed up to the Okanagan. I love that drive. Apart from a few slippery sections just out of Vancouver the roads were fine, and while we didn't make record time (5 hours including stops... that was in the summer), we arrived unscathed at my Gran's house in Oliver.

Over the next couple of days, poor B was introduced to, and inspected by, every remaining family member he hadn't met yet. Thankfully they all love him. Seriously love him. We did some rambling around the town, went down to the orchard, and over to Osoyoos to check out the Spirit Ridge Vineyard Resort and Spa. Oh. My. God. Love it.

Then we headed back down to Vancouver, a trip made longer by a bad accident in the valley. After at least a 2 hour detour, we finally made it home. Our final few days were taken up with last minute people-seeing, frantic (as always) packing, and we flew via London back to Dublin, arriving at our apartment with 3 hours to kill until New Years.

Overall it was brilliant. I sometimes forget just how much I miss Vancouver, and the beauty of BC (they don't call it "Beautiful British Columbia" for nothing, you know). What made me even happier was that B felt exactly the same way. I liked being able to play tour guide, and be a tourist in my own town. I don't think people do that enough, and I am definitely guilty of taking my hometown for granted.

So now B and I have some interesting questions ahead of us... some of which we have already started tackling, and we haven't even been home a week yet! But that may be a post for another day.

Autumn in Quarantine

(photo from Holy Cross, Co Tipperary, 11.10.08)

It was inevitable, really. I knew it as soon as I saw the leaves changing colour outside... as soon as I noticed the days getting shorter and the nights getting cooler... it's finally autumn... and with autumn comes the onset of the menace that is Cold and Flu Season.

And it's hit me full force.

Sadly, despite a relaxing and beautiful weekend down in Roscrea with B's parents, who kindly stuffed me to the gills with food in lieu of my traditional Thanksgiving at my gran's house in Canada, I now have a horrible, wretched cold.

And I am going stir-crazy.

I'm not one of those people who handles illness well. Ongoing illness, yes (see previous posts about being resigned to the fact that I have a bad stomach). But silly little colds that knock the wind out of my sails and leave me quarantined in an apartment by myself? Not a chance.

I admit I've managed the odd cat-nap, particularly yesterday when from 3am onwards I had a constant "I have to sneeze" feeling in my nose, blocked ears and a rattling cough. But now, after two and a half days of living in my pjs, alternating between bed and couch, watching terrible daytime tv (Crossing Over with John Edwards, anyone?) I'm going a bit mad.

Needless to say I still feel weak and feeble, and it's currently raining torrentially outside, so the thought of even venturing to the shop is none too appealing. But I need to do something. I've read an entire book, two magazines, checked various websites compulsively (Hotmail, Facebook, Flickr...) and now, short of watching random videos on YouTube, I have no idea what to do with myself.

Hmm... only 5 hours til B gets home. Plus I think I hear Sneezing Panda beckoning from the YouTube vaults...

Wish me sanity...

Wanderlust

With the absolutely rubbish summer that we've had over here this year, I must confess that true to form, my feet are getting itchy again. I think it must be a combination of things that are pushing me to pick up my passport and my traveling backpack and get on a plane to who knows where.

For a start, as of... well, as of last year actually, Ireland is now the place I have lived in longest since I was 17 years old. Now in my mid-to-late 20s I have close friends who have not known me to be anything other than a vagabond... wandering around the world on a whim. In my own defense though, I should point out that most places I go to LIVE, rather than just to travel for the sake of traveling. Although I've done my fair share of that as well.

The second "push factor" is my current employment situation - namely, I'm almost due to be made redundant, which means either an unlimited "vacation" or at the very least a couple months' holiday before making the smooth transition into another job. So either way, I'd be looking to go traveling. :)

I've managed to save up a fairly respectable amount of money which I can't even use to buy a house or anything (not being an Irish citizen or permanent resident I'm not allowed a mortgage), so I figure why not?

The problem is that I want to go somewhere different. I recently came across a company called Wild Frontiers, who specialise in small group tours to obscure destinations. What appeals to me is that they give a decent percentage of their profits to the local communities - so, for example, a local driver will make enough money in one 16-day trip to send 2 children to school for a year and feed his family for 4 months. I like that.

My top destinations? Syria, Jordan, Egypt, Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Yes... they'll take me there. Brilliant. Where's my passport?

Wrapping up loose ends...

(the "before" edit)

Ahh another Tuesday in the universe.

Last weekend was a flurry of activity, starting with K&B's bright idea to go looking for home furnishings (ugh... so domesticated). So we hopped on the Luas and went off in search of random apartment-y type things. After discovering that big box stores really only cater to people with cars we somehow managed to get everything back home on the Luas (ordeal and a half!) and in to the apartment. Phew.

Sunday I managed to get everything that was left in my old place over to the apartment, and did a bit of a blitz clean so that it's ready for inspection by my old landlady (I need my deposit back!) So that is a small relief.

Then, in an attempt to be a gold star pupil for my photography class, I went in to town with B and spent 6 hours (!!) in the office editing photos in Photoshop. Ugh. Our project was to do 10 "before and after" edits, and I managed to get through 9 before my eyes started to fail me. Too much staring at a computer!

But it all paid off! Last night it turns out I was the only one who actually DID the project and the instructor loved what I'd managed to accomplish. (his hopes were quite low for me as after the second class - the one dedicated to Photoshop - I'd left nearly in tears of frustration at "not getting it" - oh how I have progressed!)

So that's that, I suppose.


(the "after" edit)