Hanging at the Hut on Australia's Surf Coast

We took our first Australian holiday over J's April school holidays.  We wanted to go somewhere where Murphy could join us because (1) I wasn't prepared to be parted from her again so soon  and (2) I haven't yet figured out doggie care. Though it is Fall, we rented a sweet little villa appropriately dubbed the "Beach Hut" in Apollo Bay on Australia's surf coast about a 3 hour drive southwest of Melbourne.

The drive itself was an amazing part of the journey along Victoria's storied Great Ocean Road.  En route, we travelled through Torquay, considered by many as the birthplace of surfing and headquarters for such iconic surf brands as Quiksilver and Rip Curl.

Apollo Bay is a sleepy, coffee-lingering beach town.  Most people in search of a beach holiday this time of year  have headed north to the heat of the Gold or Sunshine coasts.  We were in search of salt-air, peaceful beach walks, rainforest treks, good restaurants and great coffee.  We found it all!

Beauchamp Falls in the rainforests of the Otway National Park

Rosella parrots

J discovered the joys of boogie-boarding.  We had to buy him a wetsuit as the water was too cold to swim for long.  Murphy discovered the joys of burying then finding her leash in the sand.  A great bonus to being in Apollo Bay this time of year was dogs were permitted on the beaches; and my girl, Murphy, loves herself a beach!

The most amazing part of our journey was a morning we spent at the near-deserted, wildly spectacular, incredibly peaceful Johanna Beach further down the Great Ocean Road.  We walked miles of golden sand to the roar of the pounding surf, watching in awe a clutch of hardcore surfers.    We were each lost in our thoughts seduced by the siren call of the sea.  Mental cobwebs were swept away making room for clean spirit.

We ended that day at the 12 Apostles, a tourist-popular destination close to the end of the Great Ocean Road.  Amazing limestone rock formations created by the restless and relentless pounding of the Southern Ocean.  Impressive for sure, but more touristy than we were in search of so we admired and then beat a hasty retreat back to the calm of our beachy hut, a game of charades, a glass of wine, and a satisfying meal.

Just for Laughs

Spent the day in town today on day two of the April school holidays.  J and I wiled away some time in a bookshop, eating cupcakes, and exploring downtown Melbourne.  On the way back to catch our tram, we stopped in Federation Square to wander around the Melbourne Comedy Festival grounds and experience a really funny maze.

Then I spotted this.  Kinda made real just how far Australia is from everything I used to call home.

Our Picnic at Hanging Rock

Anyone familiar with Joan Lindsay's classic and eerie Australian mystery 'Picnic at Hanging Rock'?  It is the novel published in 1967 detailing the never-solved Valentine's Day 1900 disappearance of a group of 4 school girls plus teacher during a school outing to the mysterious and ever-shifting six million years-old steep volcanic rock formation outside of Melbourne called Hanging Rock.

Part of the intrigue swirls around whether the story is based on fact or lore, and many theories have evolved as to what happened to the girls and why one survivor had no memory of what had occurred when she stumbled back to the larger group.  It is a lasting puzzle whose mystery surrounds and imbues this stunning place.

Armed with delicious curiosity and delightful trepidation, we drove up into Mount Macedon today for an afternoon of discovery and hiking on Hanging Rock.  J was on the other side of a nasty croup and Murphy was still recovering her hiking legs so a short 50-minute prescribed hike was just want we were all craving.  J needed some fresh air, C2 was desperate to get out of the city and I was desperate to see some kangaroos.

We hiked about 40 minutes through Eucalyptus and Gum forests winding our way around looming rock formations.  The trail is riddled with caves, tunnels and overhanging boulders, the enigmatic shapes, echoes and peeling Gum trees all lended to the spooky feel of the place.  Signposts advised that Koalas, Kangaroos, Wallabies, and a wide variety of snakes all called this place home but the only wildlife I spotted was an ant the size of my thumb.

As we approached the summit, it was apparent Murphy would not be able to ascend the steep rocks to the top, so she and I held back to wait for C2 and J.  Thirty minutes later and trying in vain to calm an increasingly frantic Murphy, I was giving some credence to the mysterious disapearances. The two of them finally re-emerged some time later and J returned with me to bear witness to a summit full of barely balanced boulders, caves, ravines, and steep cliffs plummeting hundreds of meters to the flats.  I began to register some ideas of what might have befallen the schoolgirls more than a hundred years ago.

Thirty minutes later, we were back at the Discovery Center drinking coffee and watching the magnificent Rosella parrots chase each other through the Eucalytus trees.

No luck on the kangaroo front though.

A Moment

There we were all curled up in J's newly decorated Australian bedroom.  Stories were finished, songs were sung,  Little Murphy was being hugged to his chest.  It was those last few sweet innocent moments before sleep drooped his wee eyelids.  He looked at me all drowsy and adorable:

J: "Mummy what was your favorite toy as a little kid and as a grownup"

Me: "Hmm, probably the little plastic German Shepard I took everywhere since I wanted a real one.  And as a grownup, ummmm, maybe my iPod Touch"

J: "My favorite toy is Little Murphy"

Me walking out of the room: "I know"  Reveling in the beauty of his childhood innocence, I am now out the door.

From his bed, I hear muttered wickedly.

J: "But my favorite toy when I'm grown up will be my credit card!"


He is his Grandmother's boy!

Welcome to Fall

It's March 24 in Melbourne and it has been Fall for two weeks now.  It feels odd, out-of-kilter; March should be warm breezes, snowdrops poking their heads through the ground, and the last few frantic weeks of skiing.    Fall here feels an awful lot like Summer anywhere else.

I have been told that Melbourne, more than any other city in Australia experiences the closest thing to four seasons (which can sometimes happen in a single day).  Most of the country is tropical or desert-like, but Melbourne, being slightly inland and on an ocean bay feels more temperate and less prone to extreme temperatures.  If this is Fall, I'm curious to experience Winter.  J's school only issues light jackets for warmth so I'm thinking Winter may be rather delightful to this Canadian-girl-still-recovering-six-years later-from-brutal-Calgary-winters.

We are out of boxes now and feeling more settled.  Murphy is doing well, J is enjoying school, C2 isn't travelling, I've figured my way around, and mum has booked her ticket to visit so all is well with my world at the moment.  If only I could figure out how to stop the bats from pooping all over my front terrace at night, things would be pretty perfect.  Though confronted with the horror of the tsunami in Japan, the growing violence in Libya, and a questionable western foreign policy where our leaders never seem to take heed of historical lessons, bat poop seems pretty inconsequential.

J's first school term ends in two weeks and I need to book a Murphy-friendly family holiday.  I'm thinking about a trip down the Great Ocean Road  stopping in Apollo Bay for a few days and visiting some of the world's great surf beaches.  Some hiking, some surf-watching, some beach exploring, and some good eating sounds pretty great to me.  I'll post details and pictures.

The Well-Travelled Dog

It has been five days and I have yet to find the words to describe how complete I feel now that Murphy is back with us.  It hasn't been the easiest of days, however, as she came out of quarantine clearly psychologically traumatized.  She was uneasy on walks, stiff and uncomfortable after short bouts of exercise, slightly aloof, and demonstrating moments of incontinence.  All things completely unlike her.

Murphy and baby J Calgary 2003

A quick trip to the vet, some meds, a lot of affection and TLC later, and a few days have put right most of her anxiety, but I still watch her with concern.  Why why why don't dogs live longer lives.  However, the fact that she has made it this far means that I will devote much energy to ensuring her a comfortable and happy life for how ever many years she has left.  Have I mentioned that I love this dog???

 

 With her two favorite guys Calgary 2004

Unless you are a dog person and I mean REALLY a dog person, I cannot explain the joy brought from her constant companionship.  Murphy follows me from room to room quietly, unobtrusively, content only in my presence.  She looks at every man passed on a walk to check for C2; her disappointment palpable when proven mistaken, her delight physical if she finds him.  I'm not sure that she will completely recover from her experience until C2 returns from his long trip to Western Australia.

Murphy in Stresa, Italy 2006

 C2, J, and Murphy Levanto, Italy 2006

Unlike Geneva, she is allowed into the schoolyard at J's new school in Melbourne.  She happily wiggles from child to child seeking pats and attention but always, always on the lookout for J.  The other day, I turned away to chat with my new Pilates friend, Magella, and Murphy wandered into the after-school care program looking for him.  Most embarressing...especially after she found the cookie stash.

J and Murphy Aix-en-Provence, France 2007

J and Murphy Puplinge, Switzerland 2007

Unless you are a dog person and I mean REALLY a dog person, you cannot feel the warmth and contentment from the trust and unconditional love of a dog, her unwavering gaze as you move about your business.  The sound of her happy sighs after a good walk, her dinner, or a treat of grilled salmon skin.  The frito smell of her feet as she rolls on her back during a good belly rub always brings a smile to my face.

 

Murphy Les Gets, France 2008

On the shores of Lake Geneva 2009

Murphy is a part of our family, a meaningful and real member.  We plan our vacations so that she can be included.  Living in Europe for the last five years meant that we drove on most holidays and we always chose places where she could join us.  Experience taught me that renting Provence and Tuscany villas meant sourcing places with stairs into the pool for her.  She has been to Lago Maggiore on both the Swiss and Italian sides; to Burgundy, France; the French Alps; Cinque Terre (five times); Tuscany; Provence, the French Ardeche, and throughout much of Switzerland.

Les Gets France with J  2010

Tuscany, Italy 2010 

Murphy is a well-travelled dog.  She was born in 1998 in Kingston, Ontario and at 8 weeks of age, we flew her to join us in Calgary.  She has been travelling ever since, from the foothills of Alberta, to the Rockies in eastern British Columbia, across the Atlantic Ocean to Switzerland, and now after the longest journey of her life, to Melbourne Australia.

On St. Kilda beach, Melbourne on the first day of freedom following her release from quarantine, 

March 2011

Unless you are a dog person and I mean REALLY a dog person, you will think I am waxing nonsense, but if you are, you get it.

Australia Week 4-3/4

Much to report during the last 10 days or so.

Let's start with Murphy who thankfully seems to have recovered well from those hot hot days last week.  She has a new neighbour, some kind of mastiff-cross whom I have named "She-who-needs-to-take-a-chill-pill".

"She-who-needs-to-take-a-chill-pill" and Murphy's neighbour on her other side "Boo-from-Revelstoke" (only people familiar with the Royal Canadian Air Farce and Mike-from-Canmore will get this reference), spent the day barking madly at one another across her kennel; each one setting the other off time and again.  Poor geriatric Murphy looked at me with a martyred expression as if to say "those younguns have been doing that for days now, can you please make them stop!"  She's ready to come home and I am more than ready to welcome her.

Eight more days...

Next, we happily received our sea shipment which finally cleared inspection and quarantine.  I remember clearly C2 commenting as we were preparing to leave Geneva:

"We have next to nothing to ship...what do we have?  A couple of beds, a dining room set and some living room furniture".  I laughed at his righteous certainty.

 Remember that six years ago, we left a 3000 square foot house in Calgary for a 2000 square foot house in Geneva and have now taken occupancy of a roughly 1500 square foot house in Melbourne.  You do the math.  Day 3 post-shipment and our house still look like a hurricane hit it.   Hope to make more progress this weekend before C2 leaves for a 3 week sojourn to Western Australia.

One interesting tidbit to setting up the new house...now don't get grossed out people.  In Geneva, we never had our lovely carpets professionally cleaned as the average cost was in excess of 300 CHF per item.  My succession of crappy vacuums also left much to be desired.  So imagine 5 years of dogs and cats, less than stellar though frequent vacuuuming, and 8 weeks stored in an airtight container.  Suffice it to say that the perfume of wet dog and musty dust isn't entirely masked by mandarine-cranberry candles.

On the J front, things are much improved.   Nascent friendships are budding and the school appears to have taken my complaints seriously and have addressed the bullying issue thus far to my satisfaction.  I am increasingly impressed with the school; with their celebration of multiculturalism and multilinguism as well as their progressive pedagogy.

With respect to our social life, last Sunday, we drove to Portsea, a tiny seaside town sandwiched between the calm and passive "front" bay beaches of Port Philip Bay, and the wild rip-filled 25 foot wave crashing "back" or open sea beaches.  We spent the day with Kellie and her family.  Jack and I ran up giant sand dunes at the back beach and got knocked off our feet by a powerful incoming wave while standing watching them.  Much fun was had.  I think I have found a kindred champagne drinker to boot!

This evening, we had drinks with our charming neighbours, Michael and Ann, native Melbournites who welcomed us into their home for a lovely couple of hours of gin and tonics, and conversation.

All in all, a pretty good report I'd say.  Stay tuned...

End of Week 3

It's Friday night and we've just finished dinner.  A roast chicken bought from the free-range organic chicken vendor on our high street and roquette salad.  Outside at dusk, to the scent of mandarin-cranberry candles on the dinner table, we chased possums through the trees with flashlights, then threw our heads back to witness a lengthy flight of fruit bats or flying foxes soaring overhead.  Flying foxes are an impressive species.  According to Wikipedia, "On average, P. vampyrus is the largest species, with a wingspan of up to 6 feet (1.83 meters) but a weight of only 1.5 kg (3.3 lb.).

J had a rough week at school, his second full week morphed from his first week marred by bullying from the same boy he had initially befriended during his first few days of friend seeking.  To his credit, he recognized and acknowledged our initial trepidation of that child and sought out the boy's mother to complain of his treatment.  It didn't stop the bullying and by the middle of this week, I had to formally complain to his teachers.  Not a great way to start a new school and there were many tearful days this week.

However, today, seemed a turning point.  Today, he marched into school without tears triumphantly grasping his first birthday party invitation; always a measure of a child's acceptance amongst his peers.  I exchanged dinner invitations with the first family who extended immediate kindness to us in the school yard, a French-Australian couple by the name of Marco and Marie-Pierre whose 6-year old daughter Amely is in the same CEP/CE1 class as J.  

It was another very hot day today, hitting 35c in the parking lot of the quarantine kennel.  Murphy was not dealing well with the heat.  I found her subdued and a little gurgly today.  That is concerning since the facility is dealing with an outbreak of kennel cough.  I took her to a grooming room for a good brushing and she was clearly desperate for a walk.  Poor girl, she is confined to her kennel and away from the exercise yards due to the kennel cough issue.  I left her this afternoon unusually passive and not her usual self.  Not a great way to spend 4 days apart, sigh.  Still, one of the principal attendants, checked on her twice today owing to my concern and promised to check on her regularly over the weekend.  Hopefully, it is just a heat thing, and a forecasted cooler weekend should help.  At 12 years old and confined to a kennel, I fret over her physical and mental health. Thunderstorms are also predicted which she hates, and I abhor the idea of her enduring them alone.

16 days and counting...

Grateful

Today was a day where I thanked my lucky stars, celebrated every bit of good karma, wished hard on a wish bone, and felt gratitude way deep into my soul.

Last Friday morning, J had a rough start at school being transferred three times into different classes.  He was stoic but tearful.  I fretted all day that his initial nervous excitement would be dampened but he emerged at 3:30 smiling and happy.  He has shown nothing but gumption, positive energy, and optimism through all of the last several weeks.  He finds beauty in everything he sees, is eager, brave, funny, profound, insightful, and I have learned much from him this week.

I worried all that day about Murphy's long journey through the day, night, and international date line.  From Geneva to Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur and finally to Melbourne.  Surely, some critical document would go missing, a file misplaced, a flight delayed or missed.  But thankfully that night both C2, from Perth, and my Murphy flew into Melbourne on the tail of the immense Cyclone Yasi; they landed late but safely.   At last, we were all in the same city again, though separated by quarantine for 30 days.  I feel like I exhaled for the first time in months.

Quarantine has very strict visitation rules and today was the earliest I was allowed to visit.  I mustered all my backbone (no left-side driving was going to get in my way today!), and drove to the far side of Port Philip Bay to the rather dodgy area of Spotswood.  I was there at 10:20 for the 11:00 opening.  They took pity on me and let me visit my girl right away (sshh don't tell anyone, or that I convinced them to let me spend extra hours with her during the week).  She was so happy to see me, she didn't stop crying and whining for several minutes.  Then she happily let me throw her kong for her to chase before taking me into a little protected area to show me her bed.  The whole experience was somewhat reminiscent of a Prison Break episode, but truth be told, Murphy appears much better than I expected.  I am dancing from one foot to the next in anticipation of her emancipation so that we can celebrate with a long walk on the beach.

Finally today I was grateful that I drove from Spotswood to downtown, without so much as blinking (though not so grateful for the $20/hour parking charge), to meet a friend of Sher's (from my Geneva Writers Group) for lunch at the Oriental Cafe.  She was funny and effusive and welcoming.  A lot like our initial impressions of Melbourne.

The Australian Welcoming Committee and Part of My Heart Gets on a Plane Today

We are well into our second full week down under and things continue to move slooowly but surely ahead.  C2 has been been travelling for about a week now but J and I have been managing.  We took the tram from our high street up to Glenferrie Road about a kilometre away to wander it's busy high street.  Another day, we took the tram all the way downtown and spent a couple of hours at the magnificent Melbourne Aquarium and then wandered a bit around downtown before stopping for coffee in one of Melbourne's famous laneways, Degreves St., for a coffee and lemon tart.  Don't call a tart a pie or you'll get something of the savoury variety.  Pie is savoury, tart is sweet.

We've also visited the beach a couple of times, and today spent the day with Kellie, the sister of Sheila's great friend Gina, at the Prahan market, a wonderful fruit and veg destination and a Melbourne landmark.  Then she made me drive around our end of town, practicing right turns and pointing out furniture and appliance stores.

It has been HOT!!! to put an emphasis on it.  Hovering around 40+ degrees for the last several days.  We've largely been immune to it at the beach or in the car, or at the mall (getting hair cuts and school shoes) but upon returning to Kel's today, my car thermostat was stuck solidly at 40c.  J insisted on going to the park in front of her house,  I limped over beside his quivering little body and posited myself on a bench while J played like it was no big deal.  At precisely 2:34pm, however, I perked up to feel a cool breeze pass over me, and a very very brisk wind.  And just like that, the temperature plummeted to a civilized 26c.  Melbourne is apparently like that.

I had been warned about the spiders and snakes in Australia.  We know to be particularly watchful for the redback spider, and in general to give all of them a wide berth.  Poor J exited his bath this morning, reached for his towel, dropped it and hollered for me.  This is the fellow we trapped and carefully tossed from our balcony watching him gracefully spin his web down to the ground.  To provide some idea of size, Spidezilla was the full size of my hand.  J made sure he was dressed properly for Spidezilla's forced removal from the bathroom.

All good thoughts, wishes, prayers or whatever positive energy you can muster would be appreciated over the course of the next 48 hours.  Murphy gets on a plane today from Geneva bound for Melbourne via Amsterdam and Kuala Lumpur.  I am resigned to live with what will be but a big part of my heart is getting on that plane today.  Watch this space.

Our First Week Down Under

In general, our first week as been pretty good, fantastic 28+ sunny days, cool mornings and evenings.  Our long plane journey from Victoria to Vancouver to Los Angeles to the 14-hour non-stop to Melbourne was completely fine.  We all slept adequately enough to hit the ground running.  Rented a car with C2 behind the wheel accompanied by my constant refrain of 'keep left keep left'.  We found the estate agent, got our house keys and headed Home.

The reality of our new Home, thankfully, is better than our scant memories.  Lovely old house with soaring ceilings, architectural moldings and arches, and large-scale rooms which are perfect since this is a fairly small house.  The neighbourhood seems great, our street is quiet and populated by gorgeous old homes with one end adjacent to the Hedgley Dean gardens.  These gardens are like walking through a tropical botanical park.  The other end of our street is Burke Road, our high street, and also a major throughway, but across it is Central Park.  This amazing place has a running oval, off-leash dog park, play park, gardens, fountain, conservatory, and all of next week is hosting 'Jazz in the Gardens'.

Most of our first week has been caught up in the 'hurry up and wait' phase (to quote my good friend Melissa).  Hours spent at Telstra trying to ride the red tape and 100 points of identification necessary to open accounts for phone lines, internet, mobiles, cable.  Opening our bank account was easy by comparison.

C2 has been doing most of the driving as we get used to driving in the right-hand side of the car on the left-hand side of the road.  Yesterday, however, I figured I should get at it since it was a 'quiet' Sunday.  Apparently 'quiet' Sundays only exist in Switzerland, Sunday in Australia is more like a day at Nascar.  It wasn't completely pretty and there was a lot of tense intakes of breath from C2 but it was a first step.  Biggest problem for me is how large the left hand side of the car seems when the wheel is on the right.

We've discovered during our exploring of this part of Melbourne that we live about a 13-minute drive to the main strip of beaches on Philip Bay.  Yesterday, we spent from 3:00-5:00 at the beach much to J's delight, and in spite of 30+ sunscreen and hats still managed to burn the bits that were not fully blocked.  Guess the sun really is incredibly strong down under.

C2 went to the office for the first time today, turns out it is about a 30-minute commute.  Long by our historical standards but overall not too bad.  I spent the morning making lists and priorities.  Glancing at it now, I haven't checked much off of it yet.  J needs to go back to school, he is getting cagey and stir-crazy.  He has been a great sport through everything but hasn't played with another kid his own age in almost 6 weeks.  I think I am starting to bore him, and a bit of lego-building frustration almost sent him over the edge.

POSTSCRIPT
Today is Day 6 for us Down Under, and in the spirit of all things Australian, on the menu for dinner tonight chez les Hendricks:  Kanga Bangas...yep you read it right and they weren't half bad!

Next Chapter

It's Friday morning, C2 returns tonight from his trip to the U.S.  The weather looks ok so not anticipating our usual weather delays.  We have the weekend in Victoria with Phil, Marge, and my mum; and then C2, J, and I embark on our next chapter.

There is much to do in the coming days, we depart for Melbourne January 17, arrive on January 19, must collect keys from the house agent and open our new house.  Feels a little odd since we only actually visited this house for about 10 minutes and largely forget what it looks like.  Is there a downstairs bathroom?  Is there an upstairs shower?  How big was the garage?  We've got to get bank accounts opened, money transferred, two cars and GPSs purchased, and figure out how to get around on the dang wrong side of the road.

This is the only part of relocating that I am not particularly fond of.  The figuring out of new services, finding the nearest grocery store, feeling like the only one in the city perpetually lost, and perhaps most profoundly, feeling like a visitor waiting to go home.  I remember from our relocation to Geneva that most of this uncertainty passes in a couple of months as familiarity settles in.  Just kinda wish I could fast forward to that part.

I am also trying to be very zen about Murphy's pending journey.  She is scheduled to ship in early February out of Geneva to Zurich then to Amsterdam where she will overnight before transferring to Malaysian Airways to Kuala Lumpur, changing planes, and carrying on to Melbourne.  She will be met by the Australian Quarantine Inspection Service upon arrival and driven to the quarantine facility for a 30-day stay.  She is a healthy 12-year old Labrador but still a 12-year old dog.

I expect a minor miracle if she survives the journey with her health and complex documentation intact.  I would expect a second minor miracle if she survives the quarantine.  I fret about her distress and feeling of abandonment.  This is a dog used to sleeping in our bed and receiving much love and attention.  My heart gets stuck in my throat every time I think too much about her.  I am trying very hard to acknowledge that between myself,  Nathalie (who has her in Geneva right now), our wonderful Genevois vet, and our Melbourne-based pet relocation agent, we have dotted every "I", crossed every "T" and done everything in our power to ensure her a safe experience.  She will soon be in other, and I hope, equally compassionate hands.

A New Year and A New Start

Well, didn't mean to leave you all hanging since my last post.  We did, in the end, make it to Victoria after a three-day delay and via Amsterdam instead of London.  For the last two weeks, we have been heavily immersed in family time, Christmas time, New Year's Eve time, and intense down time and it has been wonderful and rejuvenating, and refueling, and happy.

C2 leaves for the U.S. tomorrow on a somewhat unexpected 10-day sojourn to the mothership.  Not the greatest of timing as we were hoping to leave for Australia in a couple of days but, in the spirit of silver linings, it's all good to hang with the family for an additional couple of weeks.

There has been much letting down of hair, letting loose of anxieties, and letting go of old attachments.   I find that I have hid myself in the embrace of my family's love, breathing in their support, and temporarily removing myself from the minutia of detail that has been our existence for the last three months.  It is Monday night, newly into 2011, and time to re-engage the detail, remind myself whom I have left behind and of what is yet in front of me.

 I have been dreaming about missed buses, missed trains, missed cabs and missed flights, all of which I guess relates to my anxieties over the very protracted and emotional exit of our old life and the start of our new one.   Still, Victoria has been a profoundly satisfying limbo, where I can mourn the old, celebrate the now, and anticipate the new.

Another Christmas Another Cancellation

Global warming, global shwarming bah!  It has been an INSANELY emotional week of tear-filled goodbyes, farewells, stay-in-touches, and we'll miss yous.  Leaving Murphy with Marc and Nat was wrenching and I feel like I left a part of myself behind.

I have been frantically watching weather forecasts all week with one eye on anticipated heavy snow all over Europe.  We have been down this road before with cancelled Christmas plans thanks to snow and I was not eager to repeat the experience particularly since this will be a unique holiday as we head directly to Australia in early January to begin the next chaper of our lives.

Sure enough on Friday, Geneva airport closed for snow, Saturday, Heathrow airport closed for snow and British Airways subsequently cancelled our Sunday flights to Vancouver.  After spending hours on hold with agents to rebook our flights along with thousands of others, we are going nowhere until Tuesday morning on KLM through Amsterdam and even then must overnight in Calgary.  Maybe that will be a slight silver lining since we can spend the night with our great friends Jeff and Jen.

Oh but with more snow in the forecast, C2 is ready to bail and head straight to Bali.

Everyone's a Critic

It was the end of a busy Thursday.  C2 and I had spent the day at our house helping the movers identify, inventory and pack all our wordly possessions, manage our freaked-out dog, and move 9 suitcases plus groceries to our temporary Geneva apartment.  J had a full-day of school, Judo including a test to move up on his belt, and a 7:00pm public piano recital.

At 8:30, we hauled our tired selves to Da Paolo's for a meal.  J was so tired, he almost fell asleep in his plate.  Driving the short distance home after eating, the following conversation took place as we passed a 'happening' Geneva nightclub.

J:   "Mummy" what is the V-e-l-v-e-t   N-i-g-h-t   C-l-u-b

Me: "A nightclub is where people in their 20s and sometimes older go to have a few drinks, meet new people, have a good time, dance a lot and then hopefully make a new girlfriend or boyfriend".

Pause...

J: "Mummy, you must have been a better dancer back then."


For the record, I dance like nobody is watching.  Guess it was a good thing my first date with C2 was for coffee.

An Epic Goodbye

I am not good at goodbye's.  I studiously avoid them.  I run out the door or drop at the airport with an over-the-shoulder quick "call you soon, e-mail me!"  My feelings run deep for the people that matter to me and to let my welling feelings show as I take leave of someone I love risks some epic emotion so instead I do my best to suppress those feelings until alone.  My friends and family know this about me...the more quiet or removed I get, the more they know something is amiss.

This past weekend, my oldest friend in the world, Sheila, and I met in Paris for a 48-hour meeting of our minds and hearts in an effort to minimize that inevitable goodbye.  We have been so blessed in the last five years to have seen each other as often as we have and for our children to have bonded.  For the previous 18 years, we had lived oceans apart, so these last few years have felt like we were 14 all over again.  With our move to Australia, however, the oceans will separate us once more.

I took a morning TGV from Geneva and Sheila a morning Eurostar from London, and we met at a small hotel in the Latin Quarter on the left bank.  We spent the rest of that day wandering St. Germain and stopping on boulevard Mouffetard for a coupe de Champagne before discovering a charming little resto behind St-Germain-des-Prés, the oldest church in Paris for dinner.

After dinner, Sheila indulged my desire to sit at the nearby Café de Flore which like its' neighbour the Café des Deux Magots, was the favorite haunt of intellectuals and ecrivains like Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, and Ernest Hemingway immediately after World War II.  Being intoxicated on friendship, laughter, and the kinds of conversations that only people who have know each other for 30 years can have, we barely blinked at the 32euro charge for two coffees and two glasses of warm grog (warmed rum sweetened with sugar and lemon).

The next day, we explored the alleys and charming squares of the Le Marais district pausing for steaming cups of café au lait whenever we felt like it; perched on straw chairs at round tables at typical Parisian cafés watching the impeccable Parisian world wander by.  We later followed some locals into a small Brasserie for a wonderful late lunch of an omelette and a glass of chilled Pouilly-Fume.

After our meal, we strolled through the grounds of the Louvre to the Musee d'Orsay, home of the bulk of impressionist art in Paris.  I had been before but had wanted to revisit many of the Monets after just completing the beautiful novel Claude and Camille. Unfortunately, most were on loan to the Grand Palais for a special Monet exhibit, and I had been unable to secure tickets. 

We ventured out late in the evening for a wander around the circuitous alleys of busy and boisterous St. Germain, stopping for a glass of wine before finally settling on a charming Brasserie for dinner where I indulged in a perfect entrecôte à point, and we shared a bottle of Nouveau Beaujolais whose season is currently being celebrated in Paris.

Sunday dawned grey and wet, so we opened our umbrellas and wandered to the Pantheon, final resting place of great and honoured French, such as Pierre and Marie Curie, Louis Braille, Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, Voltaire, and Rousseau.  We made our way into the Luxembourg gardens, and around it's great palace before again stopping for hot fragrant coffee and croissants to warm our chilled bodies.

All too soon, came the time I had been dreading.  On Friday afternoon, I had tried to cling to the anticipation of two delicious days ahead to swap enough stories, share enough soul, and store enough memories to last until our families meet again.  You know what, it wasn't enough, it never would be, but I'll take what I got and feel blessed for it.

Long Time No Talk but Much to Tell

I really need to get back to blogging more regularly.  I am out of practice, rusty, pre-occupied and other-wise distracted.  Why you ask?  Well, for those of you not part of my Facebook world, Swiss Family Hendricks is moving...and for added drama...to Australia.

Ok, first things first.  What in the heck am I going to rename my blog???  I need help and suggestions.  Hendricks Down Under?, Kangaroo Hendricks?, bah too pithy, I need something a little more clever.  So throw your ideas my way.

I must confess when the word first came down, I didn't deal so well.  The two reasons I had been opposed started with my aging beloved dog Murphy and ended with my aging beloved mum in Alberta, a long way from Melbourne.  However, with the benefit of some perspective, and a house-finding, school-finding trip in October to Melbourne, I am reminded that with the beauty of rapid air travel, the world is indeed a shrinking place.  Also, did you know that there are International Pet Relocation Companies? And for the price of a second-hand car, they will do their darndest to get Murphy successfully to Australia and through 30 days of quarantine.

So not to bore you with the minutia of details invested in a move of this magnitude, let me summarize our current state.  We have rented a house in Malvern East, a leafy south-east Melbourne suburb, and a few minutes drive to J's new school, l'Ecole Francaise de Melbourne.  That was a VERY big deal, J sat on the EFM's wait list for a couple of months, but a bagful of Swiss chocolate and many many pleading phone calls, and personal visits later, he's in!  Poor C2, however, faces a brutal and long commute to north Melbourne.  He hasn't commuted more than 15 minutes in his entire life.  Still, in general, this part is all good.

The icky part, however, is the exit from our house in Geneva, with all the fun that is wrapped up in a system that gives all rights to the owner and virtually none to the renter.  Suffice it to say, it will cost us the price of another second-hand car to vacate this property in a state that will satisfy our impossible owners.  Then there is the selling of two cars, outdoor play equipment, excess furniture, electronics.  C2 straddling two stressful jobs and travelling during 2.5 weeks of our remaining 4 weeks here.

The even ickier part, of course, are the good-byes.  Ick Ick double Ick!  I have already bid farewell to dear friends who have moved on with their own lives (Melissa, Jawahara, Elin, Lavi) but still had the comfort of remaining meaningful friends.  Leaving my remarkable writers group, Katie, Sher, Tima, Sharon, Paula, and Moyette (Jawahara relocated to Boston last week); my book group, Kathy, Kathy, Helen, Barbara, Barbara, and Lula; my fantabulous neighbours, Ioli, Marlys, and Amelia; my dog walking posse; and my only remaining fellow expat soulmates, Nat and Cindy will be wrenching.  The ripping out of tender roots hurts.  Extremely difficult will be the renewed physical separation between Sheila and I and our very-attached children; so used are we to the quick journey between Geneva and London.

I am torn between the wanderlust inside of me, and the desire for a moment of permanence.  Still as long as I have my immediate family beside me, my Canadian family supporting me, and my far-flung network of friends and fellow wanderers to talk to,  I hope all will be good in my world.