#22 Monuments and Memorials in Photos

#21 Where did all the time go?

Not only have I not been finding the time to write, I also haven't found the time to read your blogs..... for a really long time.

I hereby pledge that I will do my utmost to begin re-reading your blogs - one per day.  So if you have a blog and the link is not attached to your avatar, please add the link in the comments to this post.

Not only that, but I am also going to comment - in a meaningful way.

Before I do that, I'd like to send a shout out to all of my followers.  All 30 of you.

Rocky

Michelle Faithfull

Al Redfern

Lynn Proctor

Christine Harris

Tim

Kerry

Teresa Coltrin

Mare Ball

Sylvia Ney

Ida Chiavaro

Acadia 1997

Sally Stackhouse

Aunty Amo

Donna Gotlib

Betty Alark

Mary Hill

Vicki Paulus

John Ivory

Andrea

Judy

Elli4Him

Bames

The Wicked Writer

Dot Hearn

Heidi Mannan

Rhondi

MOV

and last, but not least, Tim Riley

You'll find each other in the right hand menu.

If you don't hear from me in the next month on your blog, please give me a gentle nudge!

Happy reading.

xo

#20, The Final Nip and Tuck

It's been a rather large week for me.  As well as losing my Grandad, I also had my latest, and hopefully final breast surgery.

This one was a simple day procedure, that has still resulted in a large amount of swelling and discomfort and an inability to shower properly for a week.  You should see my hair.

The benefit will hopefully be that I will now have two even, level, similar looking breasts.  Although the scarring on the outside remains, the amount of scar tissue within the breast has been reduced which has to improve the appearance and comfort factors.

It's an odd sensation to feel as though a part of your body does not actually belong to you.  Instead, an odd sort of numbness takes its place.

The final task once my scar heals will be nipple tattoos.  Can you even imagine how much fun that might be.  Thank goodness for the numbness.

And then, they will be complete and as perfect as they can be.  It will have all been worth and the circle will be complete.

Feeling blessed.

#19, A Gold Tooth and A Glass Eye

It was the best of times and it was the worst of times.

It always feels that way at family gatherings.  Particularly as now we only ever seem to gather at someone’s funeral. This time it’s for my Grandad.  Jock.

Jock had three kids, two daughters and a son, my Dad, in the middle.  They each had their own families and all lived in different cities.  Each of them carried their own set of values and moral compasses along with very individual methods for coping with life’s ups and downs. 

Grandad’s funeral was yesterday.  A stranger spoke about his life based upon stories his two daughters told her.  She couldn't pronounce Leven, where he was born, so she just said Scotland.

I didn’t have a close relationship with my paternal grandparents, although Gran and I mended ours just before she died.  So blessed.  That doesn’t mean I don’t have fond memories.

I adored our trips to Tumblong to stay at the green house with the chicken coop.  Grandad and Laddie would always be wandering around fixing something.  The bakery truck would come right to the door to sell us fresh made pies for lunch.  I can still recall the smell if I close my eyes.  Gran would sing old Scottish songs to us, with us.  Grandad would tell us tall tales about his glass eye and gold teeth that he was going to leave us when he died.

His hair was always shiny with bryll cream and their toilet had WC written on the door.  Their house was where I learnt what that stands for.

One phone call, after my Nan had died, my Gran and I talked about our difficult relationship.  She summised that she felt it was because we were so similar, that we often butted heads.  Gran then told me that she thought I was much braver than she was.  I laughed at that suggestion.  She was referring to the time I moved to Spain to live.  I told her that she and Grandad were much braver than I.  They had moved their young family to a country on the other side of the world, sight unseen, with very little money in their pocket.  That was brave.  And they built a life here, giving us the privilege of being born in such a lucky country. 

We are all proud of our Scottish heritage.  And no matter what else, I’ll always be so proud and so grateful for two forty year old Scots, for taking such a risk and for being so hopeful about their future and the futures of their family.

Rest in Peace Gran and Grandad.

Vale Jock Fleming.

#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.