My lounge room

Yesterday I inserted this photo of my lounge room in an attempt to portray me resting in a time of restlessness, the Sunday Sentence theme. Then I realised how funny it must look to those with a savvy sense of style in interior decor.

For those who don't know, I live a very bohemian existence. We reside in what were once offices above a factory. My brother lived here several years ago and converted it into a living space. After he vacated, it was used to store all my grandparents belongings when they were relocated to an aged care facility.

Because Patrick and I are transient, we've never taken our abode too seriously. There are many tongue-in-cheek touches to amuse ourselves and bemuse our guests. The space is now a combination of old, new and completely bizarre. It is extremely kitsch, makes me giggle and I love it.

Since all my grandparent's have now passed, I feel comforted by being surrounded by their stuff. Just like smells take you back to your childhood, so too does an old photo or piece of fabric. Our place is by no means minimalist and chic, but it has soul - and a fabulous sense of humour.

Until tomorrow, never be too chic and loose your soul.

Grace xx

PS. The photo hanging top left is of my family's hometown in Italy. It was taken around forty years ago by Giuseppe Bonfito, my father's godfather, and is framed in a masterpiece lovingly crafted by my late Nonno. The painting top right is called 'Traffic Jam' by Australian Artist Samantha Lord. We purchased it the night after we returned from travelling 355 days around the world.

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The Climax Scene Really Got To Me

Last week I was introduced to Zuiikin' English, a Japanese television series launched in 1992.

This quirky program combines English lessons with tragic, not-quite-aerobic, exercises to repetitive hypnotic synthesised tunes (if you can call them that).

What I found most interesting was the bizarre choice of phrases.

Unlike Coffee Break French lessons that are full of practical questions and statements, Zuiikin' English will have you saying things like,

• Spare me my life (you'd hope you'd never have to say that)
• I was robbed by 2 men (too bad if you're robbed by 3 women)
• How dare you say such a thing to me (useful)
• Leave me alone (somewhat useful)
• It's your fault that this happened (very useful)
• I can't stand the sight of you (most useful)
• You drive me crazy (imperative)
• Let's go Dutch (no comment)
• I have a bad case of diarrhea (oh dear)
• Hasta la vista, baby (what the?)

The one that completely fascinated me (and had me perplexed as to why I was never taught this in French class) was, "The climax scene really got to me." Yes you read it correctly, the climax scene really got to me. And you know what? IT DID.

Since that fateful day, I have not been able eliminate those words from my vocabulary. You can hear me sing them in the shower, as I prepare meals, during trips to the water closet and when I ready myself for bed. In truth, I have been singing them in almost every waking moment.

I have now reached a point where I am bordering insanity. In such trying times I turn to Kylie Minogue for answers and the words 'I can't get you out of my head' came to me. The solution became clear - I had to get these words out of my head and onto paper (or in this case, my blog).

I trust the healing process has begun and I can get on with my life without climax scenes (or that friggin' song) ever getting to me again.

Until tomorrow, learn to get things out of your head and onto paper (or into a computer) to save yourself from going insane.

Grace xx

ps. I have embedded the infectious video below for those who are daring enough to watch it (email subscribers, click here).

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What the Carcassonne!

We are just on the outskirts of the medieval citadel Carcassonne, where I'll be getting close and personal with it tomorrow.

After a squishy night in the back of our van in Millau, we were rewarded with an amazing route through the Gorges du Tarn (stunning), Mende (quaint) and Béziers (a poor man's Paris - amazing).

We ended the journey at a Formula 1 hotel less than 5km (3mi) from the fortress town. As we were checking in, I discovered this most bizarre tourist brochure (pictured right).

Out of all the things I imagined I might find in an ancient UNESCO world heritage site, Le Parc Australien was not quite what I had anticipated. Needless to say I have no interest in exploring the parc as I didn't come a gazillion miles away from home just to be transported back there in a cheesey touristic experience. Non merci.

So it's off to be I go and pray for a cool change. We've had temperatures in excess of 37°C (98.6°F) and I'm a wilting.

Until tomorrow, stay cool.

Grace xx

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Packed like Sardines

We have been flat out doing our rekky (reconnaissance) for the upcoming tour and last night culminated in a Joseph and Mary moment on Christmas eve.

We had a day of woes, too many to tell, and by the time we pulled into the town of Millau past midnight, all the hotels were 'closed'.

Despite driving around for over an hour we decided our best (and only) option was to put all our stuff in the front seat, which included three bikes.

Why three bikes? I hear you ask. Because we are travelling with Pat's mum and dad. It's a National Lampoons vacation on steroids!

So we ripped the back seats out of our Ford Galaxy hire van and the four of us squeezed in for the night. Packed as tight as a tin of sardines. Luckily none of us ate onions, cabbage or beans or we could have been in for one gut wrenching night. Phew.

So here I am at Millau McDonalds for their free wi-fi and clean bathrooms. The things we do, the things we do.

Until tomorrow, be grateful for all the space that surrounds you.

Grace xx

ps. This photo was taken from David Wray's blog because I love it.

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Tired? Stressed? Swisse?

If yesterday was crazy, then today was INSANE!

After a mere half hour shut eye I was up and out the door waiting for my cab by 4:25am.

Turns out that the Paris metro doesn't open till 5:30am at some stations, AKA ours, and that's simply not enough time to make check-in curfew.

Had I arrived one nanosecond after said curfew, I'd have been reduced to tears - and Tight Arse Airways would've no doubt been in cheers.

No thank you.

I thought a cab fare would be cheaper than another airfare - but after a rude $55 shock, perhaps not.

After a short flight I landed in Geneva and commenced making my way to the French speaking village of Champéry in the Swiss Alps. This is where it gets interesting...

I must have dozed off at my connection and started getting suspicious when the voiceovers and station signage had changed from French to German. After a panicked enquiry to a neighbouring passenger, it was revealed that I had indeed travelled 40 minutes past my stop.

Scheisse!

I changed trains and before long Herr Kondukter wanted to fine me $50 for falling asleep. Okay, not quite, he wanted me to pay for my unplanned journey. I felt sick at the thought. First the cab driver who I'm sure took me for an extended tour of Paris en route to the airport and now this - NO!

So I elected to get off at the next stop (apparently it's cheaper to purchase tickets at the station than it is on the train) and he let me go. I boarded the next train and the rest is history, I am here.

My eyes are blurry and my brain is completely fatigued. It reminds me of that advertisement that's being run in Australia - you know the one? "Tired? Stressed? Swisse?" - my answer to that is yes, yes, YES!

(I just re-read my post and laughed out loud. I think my husband will like the sound of that after being away from each other for 10 days - gosh, I'm delirious!)

Until tomorrow, may all mishaps lead to funny stories and a yes, yes, YES!

Grace xx

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