And so begins, Miss Boo’s party circuit AGAIN.
Boo has had a handful of birthday parties to attend since February, though for some bizarre reason the majority of children at kindy (and our non-kindy friends) celebrate their birthdays between August and January.
We arrived at kindy last Monday and Boo was handed four envelopes – each with a party invitation, thus filling our weekends until the 1st weekend in September, and we have already attended 2 parties since 1 August.
Which brings me to the question – what do you buy 4 year old boys?
We pick up where I am sleeping across the Hungarian border in a train carriage with a dubious lock…
It is the early hours of the morning when we reach the Hungarian border control. I am awoken by two burly, border guards grunting at me to pass them my backpack which I am using as a pillow!
The next thing I know, my limited amount of clothing is strewn about the carriage… I begin to string some colourful language together… I get the idea that even if they don’t speak English they know this is unacceptable language as they begin to empty all of my Estee Lauder face powder all over the floor, followed by other lotions and potions. This was followed by more expletives! As they leave I see the sleazy conductor loitering and looking smug, and I cannot but wonder if this is payback for my rejections???
My journey through western Europe to London (to see The Cure) and back down to East Germany was non-eventful. Unless you want to know that a night time Channel crossing is more nauseating, and induces more up-chucking than a daytime one :(
Apart from ending up near some military place, where I shouldn’t have been in East Berlin in the dark, all precarious situations seemed to be momentarily averted…
My mum was born in a little village, Trinum right as the war ended, before Germany was separated. I wanted to go there (as you do). I arrived by train at the nearest station, which was about 10 km away (I think) and headed for the bus stop. The bus would be another hour or so, I decided to walk. As I was walking, the travel books suggesting hitch hiking being relatively safe in Eastern Europe, was competing with the NEVER.EVER.HITCH. HIKE instilled into me since forever…
I decided to hitch hike, and within a few seconds of making my decision a car stopped, and I was delivered safely at my destination which consisted of not very much. The house my mother was born in was now a Christian Community/sect???
I was in two minds about hitch hiking back to the train station town, but my mind was made up when a car pulled over in front of me offering a lift. Boris and Andre, were huge. They were Russian and we communicated in the minimal German they spoke and the minimal German I spoke, and in charades!
We arrived back in the train station town but not at the train station, in the Sunday afternoon, deserted town square. Boris or Andre (I have no idea which but let’s say it was Andre) got out of the car. I went to get out… the central locking went on! At that moment I felt the blood drain from my face, I remembered why I should not hitch hike, I thought about being raped and murdered, I thought about my family and friends having absolutely no idea where in the world I was… I thought I was dead!
Boris continued to attempt small talk, mostly about the music on the radio.
I was planning how I would escape!
After a long while, Andre returned handing me a kebab, and off we continued down the hill to the train station, where I was hugged and wished well… I was never happier to get back on a train in all my life!
I have had many adventures since then. I like to think I am more travel-wise now but unfortunately I still make the odd few stupid decisions and still find myself in some precarious situations… just not so many in the same trip :)
I would love to hear about some of your adventures now, and I know there are at least a couple of you out there with a good travel story :)
Last night on ‘The Amazing Race’ the racers went to Brasov in Romania, it took me back to when I backpacked on my own through Eastern Europe, and the troubles I had. Being vampire obsessed Brasov and Transylvania were my main reasons for going to Romania.
Back then, the Iron Curtain had just been raised and tourism was only beginning in these former Soviet countries. There were no backpackers or cheap hotels in Romania, staying in people’s spare rooms near the train station was flavour of the day. There were lots of people vying for your attention at the train station. I got robbed! I was angry with myself for not being more alert. No-one spoke English, and there was nothing really that could be done. It was at this point I really felt alone. I’d been on my own for nearly 2 weeks in Czechoslovakia and Hungary, I wanted to talk to my mum, there was no internet or mobiles back then and to book a call to Australia would take 4 days.
To top this off the transport police harassed me for my passport and money at some point of my Bucharest stay for not punching a hole in my tram ticket with the hole punch hanging from the roof of the tram by the door! Who was to know you were supposed to punch a hole??? After harassing me for an eternity (thankfully my money and passport were hiding safely in a secret compartment of my bum bag), and lots of tears from me they let me go.
I ventured on my travels through Romania, and Bulgaria and arrived in Istanbul, Turkey where I had a fabulous time. I stayed longer than I planned. I had a date with The Cure in London and needed to find a faster route than my loosely planned itinerary allowed. Air travel was not an option due to the previous robbing in Romania!!! I decided on the train through Yugoslavia, back into Hungary, on to Austria and a nice fast modern train all the way back to France and another seasick filled Channel crossing (remember we are talking pre-Chunnel).
I procured the necessary visas, and hoped a train trip through Yugoslavia would be non-eventful (there was a war on after all). There were 3 of us who boarded the train for Belgrade, two men and me. The train carriages did not lock (they were all broken). I spent about 24 hours moving carriages to escape the sleazy conductor.
Eventually we reached the Yugoslavian border post entering into Hungary. The customs official came to see my passport, he disappeared with it, and the sleazy conductor was milling about while I was stuck in the same carriage hoping and praying that my passport would be returned. After what seemed like an hour and the train was already in motion my passport was returned to me with an explanation that the boys back at border control had never seen an Australian passport!!! Sheesh…
I found a carriage with a lock that semi-worked and managed to get a little bit of a sleep before we hit the border post of Hungary
To be continued (because there is still more precarious adventures to be had)
The days are getting warmer and longer, though the evenings and mornings are still quite cold.
The daffodils in my garden are even alluding to spring
I planted some more strawberries… there are never enough strawberries for Boo!
Now I am waiting for everything else in the garden to burst back in to colour.
The roses are transplanted, pruned and beginning to shoot.
The camellia is full of buds and one or two giant red blooms are already there.
Bring on spring time!
In July last year, my work place was rocked by the death of a wonderful midwife in her 40s from a heart attack (here). Staff were low, and shocked by this tragedy for a long time.
My work place again has been marred by tragedy in July. Last Friday night, one of our beautiful registrars was killed when her car hit a tree on a country highway. She was 30 and had a wonderful career ahead of her. In her short career, she had gained the respect of the medical profession nationwide (and beyond), and achieved so much. She was definitely one of the good ones.
There is a memorial service on the beach on Saturday morning. I cannot make it but I will be thinking of her, her family and friends.
Rest Peacefully Doctor C
Today at 9am (in whatever time zone in the world they were in), 1000+ people sat the annual International Board of Lactation Consultant Examiner’s, IBLCE exam.
Many people for the first time, some for the second or third time. Some for the second or third time because after 10 years you must re-certify by sitting the exam… or some people (like me) re-certifying by sitting the exam after 5 years because they were a) too lazy; b) too time poor; or c) too disorganised to attain the number of credit points required to re-certify without doing the exam!
I’ll have you know, it wasn’t because I was too lazy, and probably not that I was too disorganised, I’ve just had a lot going on in the past 5 years!
It was the day after I first sat this exam that I found out I was pregnant with Kai. The results came out in October… Kai was born in October. It was not until after Christmas of that year that I chased up my results which had been sent to Abu Dhabi, and then returned to the European IBLCE office.
The lead up to this exam was not your run of the mill procrastination… it was more a case of emotional avoidance!
I’m pretty certain I passed, and can safely avoid the exam for another 5 years.
