| 100 in 1000 |
- Spend a week up a mountain learning to ski
- Visit Karoline's place in Moravia
Hold a conversation in Czech (only)- Drink 500ml of each of the following beers:
PilsnerStaroprammen- Budvar
- Velke Popovice
- U Fleku
GambrinusKrusovice
Respond to at least one GOARN request (WHO and MSF are
also acceptable)Travel across the AtlanticReturn to South America- Read a book to, or with, an impressionably aged child
- Participate in one NanoWriMo Challenge and come within at least 10,000 words of the goal length
Have my nose pierced- Have my next tattoo drawn
Purchase the perfect jeans (x 2 pairs)- Attend a spin class 3 times a week for 8 consecutive weeks
- Bake Viv's cheesecake
Make David's casserole Make David's Chicken Cashew-nut StirfryInvite 4 people who don't know one another too well to dinner- Ride from Vienna to Venice on a motorbike (pillion acceptable, those less desirable)
- Attend a book group for at least two books
- Go on a choir weekend (learn and perform difficult piece in two/three days)
- Visit Madame Tussaud's (in London)
- Take an architecture appreciation course
Join an all-girl group and sing a soloPublish in a scientific journal (top two authors)Cook a duck or other 'waterfowl'. Locate the Al-Timimi's from Doha Veterinary PractiseHave a pedicureMaintain a Brazilian (ouch) for three months.Find a trustworthy Czech hairdresser- Treat my inner-6-year-old twice a week (at least)
- Do the liver-cleansing diet properly (12 weeks)
- Don't eat out for one month
Find a flat and flatmate- Purchase one Joseph sweater
- Purchase one of the following pairs of
designer shoes (they MUST also be COMFORTABLE, and be able to be worn with 4
different outfits and 2 types of occasion): Jimmy Choos, Manolo Blahniks,
Christian Louboutin (Ebay or 2nd hand are acceptable)
- Send 5 books to the booksphere and track them.
- Go hanggliding
- Read 10 'classic' books (from 1001 Books to Read before you Die)
Moll FlandersEverything is illuminatedMadam BovaryZen & the Art of Motorcycle MaintainanceCatch-22OdysseusOn the Road
- Run (non-stop!) for 5kms outside (preferably in a street race thingy)
- Send Christmas Cards on time
Make a collage/mural out of street lights on my wallBuy a bed, build it, and sleep soundly in itGo to AfricaHost an 'event' (classified as and when)Organise a 30th Birthday PartyWear a costume- Sing on stage
- Buy a painting that evokes memories of Prague (cannot involve queues!)
Learn a god-damned card game that stays in my memory (other than fish/snap)See sunrise. Be sober. Have woken for it. Excludes months Nov-Mar- Take a walk and flip coins at each intersection
Win something- Draft a will
- Take a roadtrip
Go to Italy already- Sea Kayak around Abel Tasman Park (NZ)
Get plantsTake a train to another Eastern European Destination (accession countries are acceptable) alone preferably.- Get UK to give me a provisional motorcyclists license and simultaneously get a 'card' license.
- Go SCUBA diving again - at least two dives lasting 30mins each.
Go to a dentist. *sigh*- Do a Czech Wine Trail. And live to tell the tale
- Make an 'outbreak emergency kit'.
- Go to bed prior to 11pm every night (inc weekends) for four consecutive weeks.
- Marvel over lack of tiredness
- Dine at a Gordon Ramsey restaurant (or Nobu)- preferably for free.
Bet on the nags- Do something for charity (applying and getting a 'red card' will count)
- Walk along the Champs Elysee
- Do 100 sit ups in a row
- Do 50 pressups (arms in tight)
- Make branston pickle (or nearest substitute)
- Cook something 'new' and 'adventurous' at least once a month
Find a mentorBe a mentorLearn what mentoring is all aboutMeet an online person in real lifeResist the flirt. Once. Just one night. It's okay if people don't immediately succumb to my natural charm. Really it is.Spend time at a spa (spa towns in the CR don't count)- Send a care package to someone
Get a Tata Bojs CD- Take a French/German/Dutch course and SPEAK THE DAMNED LANGUAGE WHEN I HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY EVEN THOUGH IT MAKES ME SOUND
LIKE AN IDIOT!
- Order new contact lenses.
Make a list of things I take with me when I pack for different occasions- Eat lobster. Prepared by someone else.
Back up the blogPut everything onto an external hard drive- Find a DDR mat and console and 'dance, I say dance!'�
- Go to the beach and lie on the warm sand. For an hour. (with sunscreen on, natch)
- Take and complete a course in either: Tango, Salsa or Flamenco
- Join the Municipal Library of Prague
- Move to another country
Go to a live concert of a band I actually like- Pay off debts (student loan excl.)
Send thank you cards for every gift I receive (other than the gift of happiness, blah blah blah).- Get an agent (literary or theatre)
- Go to a sports bar without cringing, by personal choice
- Ride a rollercoaster
- Hold a snake
Spend a day wandering around a museum (not art gallery!) |
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| Pudong...so long! |
| Thursday, 20 March 2008 |
The suspense of standing by a luggage carousel is far greater than that felt in any Alfred Hitchcock movie. Multiply this by the slight dislocation of “should I really be here?” when you know you’re only in the country for a matter of hours – and not likely to breathe any other than the stale airport air – and you’ve got my basic internal feeling in Shanghai.
Shanghai Pudong airport may win the Most Boring Airport In the World (a little known competition, where airports are judged on their merit by a select panel of expatriate brats with snobbish tendencies and low boredom thresholds). There is a coffee shop of the Starbucks feel (though not actually a franchise) where eagle eyed baristas, waitresses and ‘stand-arounders’ leap at you the moment you blearily cross the threshold and simultaneously chorus “gud mawniiinnk”. If THAT isn’t enough to shake the long-haul-daze from your shoulders, then perhaps the peculiar music will sink through the befuddlement.
On the OTHER hand, you CAN find some extraordinary things there. On my way TO New Zealand, I saw signs indicating the presence of a ‘foot massage’. One arrow went to the right. I walked that way. The next arrow I saw indicated I must turn left. There had been no left turn. I had missed it. Somehow.
But, on the way FROM New Zealand, I was more thorough in my search (one might say determined, or perhaps, obsessed, but that’s semantics). Whereupon I did stumble across that which I sought. Only, it wasn’t going to open until an hour prior to my flight. And the foot massage (said the sign) took an hour.
I loitered, flicking through overpriced American magazines at a rack to prevent DVT from pulsing through my veins while in transit. Then…voila…it was opened, in a flurry of efficiency and too many staff. Little did I understand how popular this place was, however, as a bevy of travellers descended, having circled like sharks similar to myself.
I negotiated a better price for a shorter massage – and was shown to my seat. A lady in a cheongsam approached with a menu of ‘foot massage options’, pointing at option D3 (similar to a Chinese restaurant – interesting) which had the ominous title “fish treatment” and declared it the ‘best’. I nodded, shrugged and waited.
A bucket was brought to me. I was informed to sit on the stool and put my feet in the bucket. Buttons were pushed on the side of the bucket for heating the water to a continuous 35oC. And I lowered my slightly abused feet into the water.
Whereupon a shoal of small fish did assume ravenous appetites for my skin.
Seriously. There was I, with my feet up to my calves in a bucket of hot water, with fish nibbling at my feet.
I’m ticklish. I don’t like feet. I didn’t realise I was going to have a hand (foot?) in Piscean cruelty before 9am. And after 15mins of alternatively attempting to mind-over-matter the little gawping guppy mouths into harmless gaseous byproduct bubbles, or concentrating on the shoulder massage I was receiving simultaneously, I had brand new feet.
One fish was dead.* RIP foot-eating guppy.
*in my defence, it was DOA. I did not have a foot in killing that fish. |
posted by Nomes @ Thursday, March 20, 2008   |
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| And so I'm back, from anti-space... |
| Tuesday, 11 March 2008 |
It feels as though it was a fleeting visit, but I remember at the time, feeling like I was doing nearly all the things I wanted to. I had a list. I ticked things off.
Number one on that list was getting a tan. Yes – get all up in arms, those of you who’ve lost someone to melanoma, or had bits cut out of themselves to guard against. Then shut the hell up. I’m one too: I’ve had moles removed, and now have weird skin puckers in odd places.
But when one lives in the northerner parts of Europe (i.e. not Cote d’Azur, the Balearics or anywhere south of Marseilles), one simply doesn’t have much opportunity to get rid of the ‘bone damp’. I no longer fluroesce at a disco. In fact, I’m darker than The Fella – who’s half black – so I reckon I did well.
Besides, I only burnt once, and once I’d finished peeling the resulting sheets of skin off my shoulders and décolletage and discarding them for feline consumption (sorry 9!), the resultant skin was too pretty for self-flagellating.
The holiday was sensational. And since I’ve been reprimanded for blog entries of an abominable length, highlights will be imparted to you in drips and drabs.
Piqued? I do hope so.Labels: Travelling |
| posted by Nomes @ Tuesday, March 11, 2008 |
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