#18 Home Sweet Home

What is it about travel the older you get that makes shorter trips preferable and the desire to return to the comforts of home appear much, much sooner?  Or is that only if you feel unsafe in your new location as I did in Lima?

I have to say, my visit to Machu Picchu by far redeamed my entire trip, but for the first week I was counting down the days till I would be travelling home again.

My flight over was amazing, and despite a sprained ankle, I managed to see a tiny bit of LA and enjoy the Summer sun.  I don't know what travel karma was bestowed upon me, but I was upgraded to Business class on the way over - ooh la la!  It was difficult going back, let me tell you!  I'm still sleeping in my Qantas pyjamas.

The arrival into Lima marked the start of my long term anxiety.  Several stories were passed on regarding the dangers of taking a taxi from the airport into Miraflores and they all had me on edge.  It was past midnight as we drove through the almost desserted streets of Callao under the weight of anticipation that I would be kidnapped at any given moment.  Luckily all that came to pass was that an extremely religious taxi driver attempted to suggest that I had many problems and should convert to his religion.  "I don't have any problems!  I'm great!" I exclaimed as I lept from his cab at my destination.

There, I felt like a prisoner.  Single, female travellers it seems, should not venture out of Miraflores.  I did not see Lima.  That still astounds me.  Luckily, I was able to experience some fabulous Peruvian food and hospitality in my neighbourhood, including the Independence Day Parade on my first day there.

The return trip to the airport was taken with extreme trepidation.  This time the driver avoided the eery beach route in the middle of the night, and I arrived safely (and cheaply!) once again, this time on my way to Cuzco.

The flight in Cuzco is simply breath taking.  And actually, literally breath taking.  The altitude sickness took a little while to hit, but only knocked me off my feet for a couple of hours before my tour of the city began.  The following day, the Sacred Valley wowed me, whetting my appetite for the piece de resistance - Machu Picchu.   There are no words to describe this wonder of the world. 

So, here are some photos.

The opening ceremony for the conference I attended had a series of traditional dances and costumes and music.  It was amazing.  I love this photo - the colours are so typical.

I waved my flag proudly at the Independence Day parade. Viva Peru!

Hello Machu Picchu.  Can you believe they built this in 50 short years??  Many hands make light work.

The view from Ollantaytambo in the Sacred Valley.

#17 Photography... my other love and frustration

My mind is very good at capturing images that will last a lifetime.  Creative, brilliant shots that would amaze even the most established photographer.

Unfortunately, my camera operating skills do not translate from my mind to my finger.  Nor do my photo editing skills.

Regardless, I trudge along to Camera Club on freezing Thursday nights and I persevere.

The next competition I am entering is titled "Performers".  I managed to coax two friends - one a Julia Gillard impersonator and the other a budding magician - to pose for me.  Here are some of the results.  I'd love your comments. 

Which four would you enter?

#16 Peru Countdown

I began this post when my iPhone app told me there were 28 days to go before I fly to Peru.  As per post #15, my iPhone no longer tells me anything, but luckily for me, I can count.  In thirteen more sleeps, I'll be flying to Peru!  

Flying, aside from turbulence and plane crashes, would have to be one of my all time favourite pasttimes.  It combines all of my favourite things:  sitting down; warm socks; food and drinks; movies; and, sleep.  There is no guilt when you fly.  You can't be doing any housework; exercise; work; visiting elderly family members.  All you can do, is sit.

Today I packed.  Packing helped me procrastinate from writing or editing photos.  I love packing.  It means I'm going somewhere.  Packing also starts me imagining all of the situations I am going to find myself in while I'm away - all of them exotic, cultural and exciting.

I have 24 hours in Los Angeles to rest up and soak up the atmosphere.  I've been planning my Hop On/Hop Off stops and where I'll shop and eat dinner in Santa Monica, not to mention where I'll have breakfast on the beach before flying to Lima in the afternoon.

I'll be able to explore Lima over a week in between my conference workshops which I am really looking forward too.  And then, the highlight of my life.  Three days in Cuzco including my day trip to Machu Picchu.  I literally stop and sigh every time I think of it.

My hosts in Cuzco have organised my entire three days and have proudly informed me that by the time I leave I will have seen 85% of the region.  I think I'll be in need of some of that Coca tea!

Ah travel.  You complete me.

#15 Careful what you wish for......

I spend the majority of my Friday nights wishing for a weekend to myself, to write.  Fortyeight hours without human contact, not leaving the house, cosy, comfortable and content.  That's my fantasy.

Now don't get me wrong.  I love my friends and family and I adore spending time with them, which is why I say yes to every invitation that comes my way.  Unfortunately, it doesn't take many yesses to fill a weekend and before I know it, I haven't written a word.  Again.

Last night, I had similar thoughts.  Imagine the bliss of a telephone that temporarily didn't ring.

For the most part, I can be fairly absent-minded but after my 'man flu' the week before last, I feel as though I have coasted through the past week in a haze.  Not quite sure how I made it actually.  That is my excuse for what happened this morning.

Bounding out of bed (not!) I scooped up my doona cover and swiftly deposited into the washing machine and set the cycle in motion.

It wasn't until about an hour later that I went looking for my phone and realised the unthinkable.  My phone entered the spin cycle about the same time.  Time cannot pass any slower than it does when one awaits the end of a front loader washing cycle.

Luckily I've had experience with this kind of thing and was prepared with my bag of rice.  Approximately 12 hours have passed now and I have resisted all temptation to see how it's going.

I found the majority of the day to be relatively peaceful with my reason to disconnect, but to be honest, I'm feeling a tiny bit lonely now.  I tried to watch the Paper Boy.  What is that all about?  Then I watched Safe Haven and enjoyed it.  Can't be a good sign.  Now I'm writing, but not really writing what I want to be writing.  I'm such a procrastinator.

The irony is that instead of fantasing about a phone that never rings, I'm not starting to fantasise about a time my phone will ring again...... hopefully in about another twelve hours time!

#14 Gratitude

One of my friends, Carla, has been writing a daily Facebook post on what she is grateful for.  Just recently, she wrote about how grateful she was to feel well and healthy, stating that it is usually when she is unwell, that she remembers to be grateful for feeling good.

Since recovering from cancer, or more importantly, chemotherapy, it has been relatively easy to embrace feeling good.  Even throughout treatment, perspective of what it meant to feel good changed.  When you can go days without being able to lift your head off the pillow, being able to move your weary body from the bed to the arm chair for 30 minutes can seem like heaven on Earth.

Imagine what it must be like to fully recover from the damaging effects of chemotherapy!  You feel completely invincible and so, so grateful for every second and ounce of energy you have.

This week I had a reminder of what feeling unwell was like.  I have been unlucky enough to catch this monster cold/flu that is going around and actually had the whole week off work to recover!  Taking time off work does not sit well with me.  I don't think I even took a week off at a time through chemotherapy, much less for a common cold, but this week I needed to.

Up until today I forgot what it was like not to have aching bones and joints or a throbbing head.  I couldn't sleep and I couldn't taste anything, not that I had much of an appetite anyway.  But today, my head felt clearer, and my headache went away with some aspirin and I had a reprieve.  What a relief.  Oh the joy of feeling (relatively) well again.

I am filled with gratitude.

#13 Scrivener and the Scaredy Cat

This week when I picked up my nephews from school, I became the victim of that familiar childhood taunt "Made you look, you big fat chook, hanging on the butcher's hook".  They thought it was hysterical.

It reminded me of another childhood song we had:

"Scaredy cat from Ballarat
Went to school and got the strap...."

Which brings me to the topic of today's post.  I am indeed, despite my Leoness-ness, a scaredy cat.  What am I scared of?  I'm not sure it's any one thing, but the likely candidates are: hard work; being overwhelmed; not knowing where to start; and perhaps even that old gem, failure.

When I'm scared, I procrastinate and that's exactly what I have been doing since finishing my last writing class.  Procrastinating. 

Until today.

Armed with my cup of tea, the print-outs of all 24 assignments I've written in the Literary Kitchen and not to mention Scrivener, I have started organising my book - ready to write draft 2.

Scrivener is a software program I have downloaded for a free trial.  It's a virtual binder/cork board/note book that allows you to take the first draft of your manuscript and begin to format and organise it into something more.  For the next step in the process.

I have to say I'm finding it incredibly user friendly.  It has allowed me to take chunks out of existing chapters and move them around freely within my 'binder' - much more user friendly than a Word document.  I have even been able to separate my book into sections and chapters.  Scrivener even allows me to see how often I use particular words!

This is particularly useful to me as my writing friends often pointed out my overuse of the word "was".  It's incredible how annoying that word becomes once you are made aware of its presence.

So, I am ready.  Ready for Draft 2.  Encouraged as ever by everyone I love, and especially by my new writing family. 

Here we go!

#12 Salsa, Ricky and Sue Mc

Is time really passing by faster than it used to?  It sure feels like it.  How is it we are already in June of 2013?!

In January this year, I attended my first salsa lesson and had the time of my life (insert Dirty Dancing soundtrack here).  Ninety minutes of laughing, smiling and dancing like nobody was watching had me in heaven.  I vowed then and there to attend every Thursday night.  Salsa = therapy.

Last night, Thursday June 13th, I attended my second salsa lesson for the year.  FOR. THE. YEAR.

The blur that the first six months of this year have passed in has left me feeling as though I am wasting my life.  At Fiona's 5 year celebration last weekend I caught up with another fabulous friend and fellow cancer survivor, Sue Mc.  We spoke of this urgency we have to fit as much into life as we can.  Actually that's incorrect.  We have an urgency to fit more into life than we possibly can and we constantly feel as if we come up short.  It's exhausting.  Vicki Paulus, I'd love to know if you feel the same way.

Sue mentioned she'd begun salsa lessons as a part of her post 50th birthday life philosophy to try new things.  That was all I needed.  I committed to salsa-ing the night away with her.

Together we turned up to our hour long lesson that turned out to be half merengue and half salsa.  Ricky Martin played (not in person) all of my favourite songs that I know word for word in Spanish.  Seven men and seven women of varying skill level bonded over a mutual love for stepping out of our comfort zones, meeting new people, and doing something for ourselves - something that makes us feel good.  It was the best.

And so here I am again, vowing in public, I intend on attending more salsa lessons.  Salsa = therapy.  The kind of therapy I need!

What's yours??