Life – Page 4 – Musings from the cold

Life

Threads and connections

Posted on July 1, 2024July 2, 2024 by Sharon

This won’t be of any interest to others, but I’m going to blog about it anyway so that I remember this feeling of having my mind just slightly blown.

There are two threads to this story, and I’ll start with the more recent one. The two threads lead to a connection.

In July 2021, while I was working at Deakin University, a new staff member joined our team. I was instantly drawn to her – she was warm and down to earth and just the right person for the role we had.

Airdre, for that is her name, joined our team remotely – we were still in the throes of COVID lockdowns – from Lismore in northern NSW. We finally met in person in Melbourne in December 2021, a month after I’d been made redundant and days after Airdre finished her 6-month contract.

We got on like the proverbial house on fire.

In early January 2023, my mother and I visited Airdre in her beautiful home in Lismore, on our way north to Queensland.

Since then, Airdre has moved to Melbourne and we’ve co-authored a book together, titled Enacting a Pedagogy of Kindness to be published later this year (I thought a little plug wouldn’t go astray).

That was thread one. Thread two is a tiny bit more convoluted. Bear with me.

Some members of the family have been engaged in a photography challenge that’s been going for a few years now. We have a weekly theme, take photos that align (tangentially in some cases) with the theme, post them to our Facebook group and then we catch up over Zoom for a chat each Sunday night. The active members of the group are spread across three states of Australia, with others joining sporadically from other states and the UK.

Our theme last week was ‘flat’. I had taken a photo a few years ago of Pittaway St, in Kangaroo Flat (near Bendigo) and so posted that image. It’s not often I see a street sign with my name on it and I remember being quite chuffed at its existence.

I had done a search some time ago for the Pittaway of Kangaroo Flat the street was named after and had discovered a William Pittaway, convict, sentenced to 14 years in Van Diemen’s Land for sacrilege (he stole some church silverware and was caught pawning it). He obviously moved to Victoria after he’d served his sentence, as many Van Diemonians (as they were called) did, and his wife and children joined him here to live out their lives peacefully.

Turns out he’s not related to us.

Well, not that we know of.

Anyway …

On Sunday night, after our weekly family catch-up, I thought I’d find him again so that I could be sure about the story.

I didn’t find the same information, but went down a rabbit hole and came across cemetery lists of Pittaways around the country. One of them was Alice Pittaway (nee Duroux) who is buried in Lismore. I knew that Alice was my great-grandmother and that she had died aged 47 in 1933. She’d gone out one morning to water the garden, had felt unwell, gone inside and had died before medical attention could be summoned.

I dug out Alice’s obituary and noticed the address of the house she’d lived in. I did a search on Google Maps, but there was no such street in Lismore, so I rang Mum and asked to her confirm the details. Mum is into family history and I knew she’d know.

She did. She also told me that my aunt, Lyn (Dad’s youngest sister) had visited the house in Lismore in 2013. This morning, Mum sent me one of the photos Lyn had sent her.

Standing on the stairs was Colin, Lyn’s husband … and on the verandah … was Airdre!

Airdre, my friend and colleague, the one I’d visited in Lismore, had lived for 20 years in the same house my great-grandmother (and my great-grandfather and my grandfather and his brothers and sisters) had lived in all those years before.

Two different threads … leading to a one slightly mind-blowing connection.

I sent the photo to Airdre this morning, and she was suitably (and appropriately) confused. How did I have a photo of her from 2013 when I only met her in 2021? Who was the man on the stairs? What?

What??

I’m glad I wasn’t the only one whose mind was blown.

Life, Writing

And just like that …

Posted on May 12, 2024May 12, 2024 by Sharon

End of December 2017 – we head to Europe for a cold Christmas. Paris, the UK for actual Christmas, back to Paris, then Venice for New Year, then Prague.

Beginning of January 2018 – we arrive home to the warmth of an Australian summer.

End of January 2018 – Dad passes away.

End of November 2018 – I discover a lump in my breast.

End of December 2018 – formal diagnosis. A trip to Tassie for Christmas with the kids and grandkids.

Beginning of January 2019 – a trip to Queensland for more family, then home for surgery.

February-March 2019 – radiotherapy treatment, confronting and strange.

April 2019 – the beginning of (endocrine) hormone treatment. A pill every day for five years. Regular check ups with my surgeon, medical oncologist, and radio oncologist. Confronting and anxiety inducing. I think I called it being discombobulated back then.

Early December 2019 – a trip to Singapore to attend a conference. My cough and difficulty breathing when I get home a concern but it cleared up after a time.

Late December 2019 – January 2020 – to Sydney for Christmas with Mum and friends. Bushfires. Smoke for air. Death and destruction. Hands being shaken that didn’t want to be. Exhaustion. Logging on to apps we didn’t know we needed, glued to social media. The fires closing in on my sister’s house, then turning away suddenly, not far from the front gate. Her watching on from the UK. Safe. Kind of.

March 2020 – COVID. The world shuts down.

Lockdown #1: Tuesday 31st March to Tuesday 12th May. A total of 43 days that seemed longer in the living of it.

Borders closed. Shortages of toilet paper, dried goods, patience. Working from home. Board games in the evenings. Lives lost, exhaustion, death and disease. Daily press conferences. Numbers, stats, people’s lives … and their deaths. Masks, homemade at first, then N95s. No handshakes. No flights. No gatherings. Dis-ease.

Blur.

Just get through it. Take the moments when you can. Zoom, photography, connection. Wear a mask. Wash your hands. Get tested.

We become ‘distancers‘ … uneasy, wary, but at least our hands are clean.

Melbourne’s Lockdown #2: 9th July to Tuesday 27th October. 111 days of boredom, coping, not coping; working from home, living in trackpants.

Blur on steroids.

Blurgh.

End of October 2020 – the measures are working. Cases reducing. Doughnut days are here (to stay?). Still masking, washing our hands, working from home. But no deaths, fewer new cases. Doughnut shops sell out by mid-morning.

A circle of hope for the weary and un-easy.

December 2020 – a trip to Tassie for Christmas, taking the moments when we can. Family, connection, a circle of hope for the weary.

February 2021 – no more doughnut days. Melbourne’s Lockdown #3: A short, sharp five days from February 13 to 17.

March 2021 … – check ups, anxiety inducing and painful, but necessary and reassuring when they’re done.

53 weeks of distancing, still working from home, still masking on the odd times we go out. The talk of a ‘COVID-normal’ world. No idea what that means.

Melbourne’s Lockdown #4: from May 28 to June 10. 14 days that feel like another lifetime.

June 2021 – Tim goes to the doctor who sends him to a specialist who sends him for tests.

The results come back. It wasn’t the news we wanted to hear.

July 2021 – Melbourne’s Lockdown #5: Friday 16th July to Tuesday 27th.

Tim’s surgery is scheduled right in the middle of those 12 gruelling days. Complications mean his 3-4 day stay in hospital stretches out over 13 gruelling days.

Breast surgeon check up for me. All clear.

August 2021 – Melbourne’s Lockdown #6: Thursday 5th August to Thursday 21st October. 77 soul-sucking days. Seems no end to it.

Tim starts chemo. Eight three-week cycles, with a week off in between each cycle.

Six-months of it.

Blurgh.

September 2021 – an earthquake, Victoria’s largest in 200 years, because … well, why not?

November 2021 – redundancy. Am I retired now? I sure am tired now.

December 2021 – regular mammogram, ultrasound, medical oncology check up. All clear.

February 2022 – Tim finishes chemo. An end to it.

April 2022 – car crash. No one was hurt … except the car.

Blurgh.

September 2022 – the College of Extraordinary Experience, Poland.

October 2022 – Germany, Belgium and the UK. Extraordinary.

December 2022 – regular mammogram, ultrasound, medical oncology check up. All clear.

2023 – retirement? Maybe.

February 2023 – U3A. It’s what retired people do. Photography group. Book club. New views, new ideas. Getting out. Is this normal? COVID normal or normal normal? Who can tell?

April 2023 – new job. Helping seniors with technology. Re-invigorated. Re-energised. Re-connected.

May 2023 – Multiple Births Association volunteer. Cuddling babies. Bliss.

July 2023 – change of direction, this time into real estate. Starts out well enough.

August 2023 – move out of the city into our own home.

December 2023 – regular mammogram, ultrasound, medical oncology check up. All clear.

March 2024 – yet another change of direction. A consultant now. Writing, editing, transcribing, interviewing.

May 2024 – today. May 12. Mothers Day as it turns out. My last day of pills. One pill every day for five years. Today’s will be the last.

And just like that …

Life, Mid-life blogger, Writing

Change part 2

Posted on September 6, 2023 by Sharon

I finished my last post by saying it wasn’t a biggie – all that change at once – but of course it was.

One of the biggest biggies is the decisions about what to take with you to your new place. You look in your cupboards and under the bed, and behind the laundry door and you think ‘what is all this stuff? Do I really need it?’

What do you take? What do you get rid of or give away/rehome/recycle? I have letters – handwritten ones – from my grandmothers dating back to the 1970s. I’ve carried them with me through the countless moves from NSW to Queensland to Tasmania to Victoria. Each time I pack up to move, I come across them and I get a little frisson of pleasure when I see them.

I have a basketball pennant from 1973 when I played in the Shoalhaven ABA Miniballer winter comp, my Year 12 highschool reference from 1983, and my acceptance letter from 1993 when I applied to university (plus my very first university student card).

I have airmail letters from my sister who lived in England for a year in 1992 (apparently I made a tape for them – I’d just started working in radio so probably thought I was very professional!). I have a newspaper clipping from 1994 when I interviewed Jeanne Little and copies of run sheets from the Kick Arts show I used to do on community radio in Launceston in the early 2000s. I have a letter from the Tasmanian Department of Tourism, Parks, Heritage and the Arts thanking me for agreeing to be part of the media team for the Olympic Art event in 2004 which I wouldn’t have remembered if I hadn’t kept the letter. I have letters and cards from former students that bring back floods of memories.

I could throw them all away and no one else would be any the wiser. And I came very close to doing that yesterday when I found them again. But they are documents of a life. Of my life.

When my children are going through my things after I die, I’m sure they’ll ask, ‘why did Mum keep this … and this … and this?’ But I hope they’ll read some of those letters and cards and documents and get a better sense of the life I’ve lived.

One thing in particular I came across yesterday was the script of a speech I gave when I was involved with Toastmasters in the early 2000s. I started with a story of a bird I’d set free when I was five years old and finished with the story of setting myself free many years later. It was a cage of “you can’t” – you can’t go to university, you can’t go to work, you can’t make it without me, you can’t live outside this cage.

But what had been called stubbornness in my youth developed into an ocean of resilience. I believe that the bird I set free when I was five made it … that its resilience and determination to survive allowed it to enjoy its freedom … just as my resilience and determination have allowed me to.

So while lots of change at once is a biggie, I have an ocean of resilience and determination to help me weather it.

And I have documents of my life to remind me of that.

Life, Mid-life blogger, Writing

Change

Posted on September 5, 2023September 7, 2023 by Sharon

Change can be challenging. Not the small stuff like my Pop used to jiggle in his pocket, but the big stuff … location, house, lifestyle, job, hairstyle, friendship group … that kind of big stuff.

Doing one change at a time can be stressful. Have you ever been to the hairdresser and she suggests you have a fringe? The decision can be agonising and you’re under pressure to say yes or no and you don’t have anyone you know close by to advise you and you just do it and everyone says it looks great. And you realise that the decision was stressful but the outcome wasn’t. It’s just a hair cut. No biggie.

Doing more than one change at a time can be ultra stressful. Your hair starts to fall out, and your stomach is upset more often than not, and your legs ache and you snap yes please when your husband asks if you’d like a cup of tea rather than being polite about it, and your mind whirls at a million miles an hour all night or at least until 5:55am and then you fall into a deep sleep and don’t wake up until 7:30 and that means you’re late and the stress builds all over again and even more hair comes out and suddenly you don’t even want a cup of tea and you wonder what’s happening to you and you suddenly realise, three weeks later, that you’re stressed because there’s too much change happening all at once.

Please tell me it’s not just me.

We bought a house. We sold a house. We ended our lease on a place we’d lived in longer than we’d ever lived anywhere. I got a job. I completed a Cert IV in Real Estate Practice. I commuted three hours a day for a month. We packed. We moved. We unpacked*.

Change of job – in a whole new field (so much to learn).

Change of house – no stairs, a garden, loads more room (so much to arrange*).

Change of location – out of the city (so many places to explore).

Change of friendship group – no more U3A photography group, no more U3A reading group, no more baby cuddling, no more oldies at Tech Tip Tuesday (yet to be replaced).

Lots of change.

Lots of stress.

And then you search for something and find something else instead, and the something else you find is so interesting you sit on the bed in the spare room and read it and your mind goes back all those years and you understand afresh that it’s just a new job (and a new house, and a new location) and you’ve done it all before.

It’s just change. No biggie.

* thanks to Emma, but that’s another story

Life, Photography, Travel

Berlin – Leipzig – Rothenburg ob der Tauber

Posted on November 25, 2022 by Sharon

My castle experience ended much as it had begun – a 5 hour bus trip in which I sat quietly watching the countryside and distinctive architecture of the buildings flash past. On the return journey I reflected on what I’d just experienced and knew that I’d be mulling over it for some time to come.

Here is some of the Polish countryside that flashed past as we made our way back to Berlin.

It was an early night for me, then a trip into Berlin the next morning. I headed to the Checkpoint Charlie Museum, to learn more about the wall that divided a city overnight. I admit to not knowing a lot about it before my trip to the museum – but it’s so full of stories, artefacts, information, and photographs that I now know a whole lot more.

Filled with information, I wandered outside, into the light rain, and watched as people lined up to have their photo taken at Checkpoint Charlie. I then made my way to one of the last remaining remnants of the Berlin Wall … it was much more confronting than I had imagined it would be.

For those of you who, like me, don’t know much of the history …

The Berlin Wall was a guarded concrete barrier that divided Berlin from 1961 to 1989. It encircled West Berlin, separating it from East German territory. Construction of the wall was commenced by the German Democratic Republic (GDR, East Germany) on 13 August 1961. The Wall cut off West Berlin from surrounding East Germany, including East Berlin. It included guard towers placed along large concrete walls, accompanied by a wide area (later known as the “death strip”) that contained anti-vehicle trenches, beds of nails and other defenses. (Wikipedia)

You can find more information here: https://www.britannica.com/topic/Berlin-Wall

I discovered that the hotel in which I was staying had been part of East Berlin and that’s why the stop and go figures on the traffic lights were so distinctive. You can read more about their development here.

From Berlin I made my way to Leipzig for an overnight stay. I was there less than 24 hours – it was really just a stopping off point for my trip to Rothenburg ob der Tauber.

In the limited time I had, I managed to climb to the top of the tallest building in Leipzig – the Panorama Tower. When I say ‘climb’, I mean I took the lift and then walked up two flights of stairs to get to the very top. I was surprised to find that the ‘top’ was outside!

Back on solid ground and not having to worry about the little kids sitting on the edge of the building, I wondered past the Opera House, through Market Square, past the old Town Hall – the foundation stone was laid in 1556 – and had a look around the farmers market. It was a lovely evening, but once the rain started I ducked into a jazz bar for dinner.

The lift in my hotel was interesting, although the sound of running water wasn’t something I really wanted to hear after a long afternoon/evening of wandering around the city!

A good night’s sleep, and then series of train trips – from Leipzig to Nuremberg (Nurnberg), then to Ansbach, then to Steinach bei Rothenburg ob der Tauber and from there to my final destination in Germany: Rothenburg ob der Tauber. I had learnt to take screen shots of the trains and walking directions from my first experience in Berlin and it’s interesting going through my phone now and reminding myself of my journey. Each train was smaller but all were clean and comfortable.

I had found Rothenburg by doing a Google search for old cities in Germany. I’m so pleased I did. I’ll write about it in my next post, but here’s just a taste of the city and its surrounds.

Learning, Life, Travel

An extraordinary experience

Posted on October 28, 2022 by Sharon

The day has finally arrived. I’m off to the castle. It’s a little bit exciting and a whole lot scary.

Tim asks ‘are you excited?’

‘I actually don’t know if I can do this’

‘Of course you can’, he said. ‘You’ve got this’.

I head downstairs for breakfast and try to identify other conference participants. WhatsApp is pinging away – people still arriving, COVID tests to organise, where is Starbucks at Berlin airport, who’s in the hotel restaurant for breakfast, anyone want to go for a walk before we catch the bus?

I don’t respond to any of them, even though I was having breakfast in the hotel restaurant at the time and then heading out for a walk before the long bus trip. I am full of anxiety.

One of the things that amazes me about being in Europe is that you can be on a bus driving through Germany and next minute you’re in Poland. No flashy signs, no big announcements … just a whole different country. There are bigger signs saying ‘Welcome to New South Wales’ than there are announcing ‘You’re now in Poland’. The language changed on the town names and that was the only indication I had that we weren’t in Germany anymore.

After a five hour bus ride we arrive at the castle.

This 13th century castle was all I imagined it to be

We arrived around 5pm, were shown to our (shared) rooms and told to meet in the Knights’ Hall in ten minutes. My roomies (Kim and Claudia) and I chose beds, found a space for our bags, checked out the (huge) bathroom and headed back downstairs.

Claus, one of the conference directors, addressed us and said some pretty important things:

‘I gotta go’ – if anything became too much, we just had to say those three words and leave the session. No explanations, no judgement, no feeling bad about leaving.
‘Love of missing out’ – it’s much more usual to talk about a fear of missing out (more commonly known as FOMO), but in this instance there was so much going on we couldn’t do it all. We were encouraged to be comfortable knowing we would miss some things.
‘It is now 6:14. In 9 minutes you will be back here wearing shoes suited for outside and something to keep you warm […] It is now 6:42, and we are precisely on time’. Things would happen at precisely the right time.

There were elements of ceremony and ritual built into each experience. On that first evening when we had something warm on and shoes suited to the outside, we went through the courtyard, past one of the spirits who told us to be silent, through another door that felt more like a portal, to stand silently in a semi-circle in the forest, just outside the castle walls. It was a powerful moment – standing silently with a group of stangers, listening to the beat of a drum, the darkness closing in around us.

Elements of ritual and ceremony on our first night

The power of shared moments, combined with ritual and ceremony, continued across the next four days.

This ‘conference’, on experience design – attended by folk singers, magicians, escape room designers, CEOs, marketers, immersive theatre directors, actors, artists, experience designers, economists, food scenographers, lawyers, visual artists, academics, composers – was unlike anything I’d been to before. This one walked the talk. We didn’t learn ‘about’ experience design – we ‘experienced’ experience design.

We had the castle complex to ourselves, which meant we could go anywhere – from the torture chamber to the tower – and were free to explore the passages behind any number of bookshelves in the dining room and the library. We wore black robes (much like academic gowns), were sorted into houses according to the colour of the ribbon on our lanyard (no sorting hat!) and had house captains who were our ‘go-to’ people. I was in the purple house; Divine and Katya were my house captains. Spirits slipped amongst us whispering clues to puzzles or reminded us that there was fire twirling in the courtyard later that evening, or an event happening in the tavern. A team of chefs, fermenters and foragers had spent a month in the castle before our arrival sourcing and creating ingredients for all our meals. No meat products and no alcohol were allowed. Photographers, videographers, and visual artists roamed the castle capturing the experience in a variety of ways. Teams of others laid down clues to puzzles, treasure maps, potions, wisdom cards to be collected, reminders to check in with others, reflective tasks to complete. It was immersive, challenging, at times confronting, and I loved every minute of it.

The library was designated as a silent place to eat – no eye contact, no talking. On the third night it was also designated cutlery free. Acelyna made it look so elegant but with what was on the menu that night (noodles) I wasn’t about to try it. Eating in the dining room, on the other hand, was social and over the four days was the place for many rich and diverse conversations.

Each morning I’d get up early, trying not to wake my roommates, grab my camera and wander around the castle. The mornings were cool and crisp and it was a lovely way to start the day. I often felt like I had the whole place to myself.

If you get the opportunity to spend a week in a castle in Poland, I can highly recommend it.

Life, Travel

Marathon experience

Posted on October 25, 2022 by Sharon

I planned but I didn’t prepare. And that had consequences for later.

I’d arrived in Berlin on Saturday afternoon, and on Sunday morning it was time for the Marathon.

The Berlin Marathon is a big event. Huge. So big that the accommodation reserved for us was about an hour out of the city by train, all other city accommodation having been snapped up months earlier. Much of the public transport was disrupted on Sunday morning, especially closer to the centre of the city and even the hop on-hop off bus wasn’t running. Ironic really.

I was leaving by train the following weekend and wanted to make sure I knew how to get to the Berlin Hauptbanhoff without the issues I’d faced the previous day. So I thought I’d have a practice run. On Sunday morning. While the marathon was on and public transport was disrupted.

No tram for me today – train all the way. The train station was a mere 500m from the hotel, it was a crisp, clear morning and a walk in the fresh air would help blow away some of the remaining jet lag. One train from Spindlersfeld Station to Schoneweide (2 stops – the bonus being how lovely that word is to say), and then another train (10 stops) to the main station. Easy.

I bought my ticket, marvelled at the lack of ticket barriers, and enjoyed the train ride(s). I saw runners on the marathon route as the train drew closer to the main station and so once there and familiarised with the route and the station, I followed the noise, over the Spree River, through the Spreebogenpark, to Otto-von-Bismarck-Allee. Crowds of people lined the street, cheering on the runners. They had all kinds of noise-makers – one woman was banging two saucepan lids together – and they weren’t afraid to use them. I walked in the same direction as the runners and soon came across the 7km mark.

Crowds lining the streets to cheer on the runners

I kept walking, not at all sure where I was going or what I was doing, but it seemed like the right thing to do. I came across the 8km mark. I was a bit like Forrest Gump at this stage, although with less facial hair, and just kept walking.

More runners than cheerers at this point

Near the 9km mark there was a man standing on the side of the street holding a punching bag out in front of him. On the punching bag was a photo of Vladimir Putin and an invitation to punch it. Many runners used a little bit of their precious energy to give it a good wallop.

9kms and still going strong – the runners that is. Me, not so much.

I wonder if the smiling man had seen the sign on the window.

Over the past year, various members of the family have been involved in a weekly photography challenge. We catch up on Sunday evenings to chat about the photos and how our week has been. 7:30 on Sunday evening in Australia translated to 10:30 on Sunday morning in Berlin, so as 10:30 approached I searched for a cafe. I found one – the Röststätte, on Ackerstraße – which just so happened to be on the other side of the road.

Yes, that meant crossing the road. Yes, crossing the road down which hundreds of runners were running. Crossing in front of them. Cutting through them to reach the other side. I had seen a number of people step nimbly across the road, not getting in anyone’s way, so knew it could be done. I started out confidently, timing my not-so-nimble steps with what I thought was a gap in the group of runners. It turned out not to be a gap, and so I got half way across the road and stopped. They ran around me like I was a boulder in a stream. One man kindly told me I was going the wrong way, but I could tell already that a marathon wasn’t for me (sorry Jen).

I eventually made it across – hoping I hadn’t cut time off someone’s personal best in doing so – and found a quiet corner in the cafe.

After our catch up, I kept walking until I came across the U Rosenthaler Platz (an underground train station). I slowly made my way down the steps to the platform, got off at Brandenburger Tor, made my way slowly up the steps to the street, and headed towards The Brandenburg Gate – which was very close to the finish line.

The Brandenburg Gate – only a km or so to go at this point

When Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline played over the loudspeakers the whole crowd, including many runners, joined in. It lifted their spirits in a way that few other songs did and seemed to give many an extra boost of energy as they drew close to the finish line.

By the time I got back to the hotel later that afternoon, my right knee, which is problematic at the best of times, my feet and my calves all let me know, quite forcefully, that I had overdone it.

I walked over 12kms that Sunday – nothing like a marathon, but it was a distance I had not adequately prepared for.

I had also, I realised with a big dose of ‘I can’t do this’, not adequately prepared for the reality of meeting a group of strangers, travelling by bus with them to a different country, and then spending 5 days with them at a conference. WhatsApp messages had started coming through earlier in the day – of people’s arrival times in Berlin, invitations to meet up for a walk/drinks/dinner, information on COVID testing centres. Dinner was arranged for 7pm for those staying at the hotel, and in a fit of bravery (of course you can do it Sharon!) I headed for the meeting place in the lobby.

As I headed towards the group I noticed they were all men. At that point my bravery jumped ship and I veered off into the hotel restaurant to have dinner on my own.

What had I done? Why had I said yes to this when I so easily could have ignored that particular email? Two years ago I’d been all for stepping out of my comfort zone, but now, right at this minute when I was on the cusp of stepping out, I wasn’t so sure. In fact I was positively sure that stepping out was something I definitely could not do.

It wasn’t only the knee, calf and foot pain that kept me awake that night.

Life, Travel

The beginning experience

Posted on October 24, 2022 by Sharon

In my previous blog post, I wrote:

I’m heading for what I hope will be an extraordinary experience, with people from around the world and from a range of different fields.

I’m ready to do something that challenges me … to be brave!

I might even blog about it.

I did not blog about it.

It’s now a month later. I’m home, my bags are unpacked, my washing is drying, and the fridge is heavy with new magnets. The plane touched down at 10:50 last night, we were home by 12:14, I was asleep by 1:43 and awake at 7:04 this morning. It’s now after 5 in the afternoon and I can feel the drowsiness washing over me. To stave it off for a few more hours I decide to write.

I was systematic and thorough in my planning, choosing wisely when buying new tops, underwear, shoes; planning which countries/cities/towns to visit, where to stay, and how to get from one place to another. I chose the seats for each flight carefully with attention to where the toilets were and where young babies were more likely to be (close to one, avoiding the other). I did a practice pack two days before to ensure my backpack did not go beyond the 7kg limit (my suitcase was never going to get anywhere near the 30kg limit). I packed slowly, methodically, over a number of days. I didn’t make decisions based on rush or the ‘oh my goodness I’m going in an hour, have I packed …?’ panic.

6:30 Friday 23 September

Time to go. Only one, slightly anxious ‘I-have-to-repack-my-bag’ moment, an hour or so beforehand. The bags stood ready. Little anxiety, less fuss, no stress. It felt easy to pick up the bags, load them into the car, and head out.

Smooth …

It was a theme that continued through the drive to the airport. Calm, no stress … smooth.

Smooth packing.

Smooth trip to the airport.

Smooth passage through check-in, bag drop, security and passport control, boarding.

Bumpy flight.

I was in the back row, no one in the middle seat next to me so I could stretch out a bit. The 13 hour flight didn’t even feel that long.

Doha – smooth transition: off one plane (6am local time), time for a cuppa, onto the next (much shorter) flight.

Berlin. I’d been travelling for over 24 hours by this stage. It had been amazingly smooth. Not that anything major happened at this point, but things began to feel slightly less smooth.

There was a long, long wait for the luggage to arrive – time I spent wisely, hooked up to the airport WiFi, planning how to get to the hotel by train. Once my bag had arrived, I headed for the train station, remembering to buy a ticket at the top of the stairs. I clunked my bag down the stairs to the platform, boarded the train when it arrived, went to hook up to the train’s WiFi only to discover the train didn’t have WiFi.

I remembered that the first step in the journey was to get off at the Terminal 5 station. I imagined that the Terminal 5 station would be somehow connected to the airport and so would have an airport-style station.

I blithely got off the train and found myself here:

It looked to me like a Soviet railway station that had been abandoned 50 years before.

I remembered that I had to catch another train, but I couldn’t remember which one/where to … and searching the map I – eventually – found, wasn’t a whole heap of help to me.

When the next train arrived, I got on. The map had mentioned something about Adlershof and so when we arrived there, I got off, clunked my bag down the stairs and wondered ‘what now?’.

Adlershof train station – Source: Wikimedia

I crossed the road, seeking out some free WiFi but there was none to be found. A toilet would have also come in handy, but I couldn’t see one of them either.

I had no idea where I was, no idea where I was going, and even less idea about how to get there.

I suddenly remembered International Roaming. I turned it on, went back to Google maps and put in the name of the hotel. The recommended route was the 61 or 63 tram, but I couldn’t see a tram stop – or tram tracks even – anywhere.

When I asked Google for directions from my location to the tram stop, it told me to cross the road to the station and keep walking. When I was halfway through the tunnel (shown in the image above), it told me I had reached my destination. I didn’t feel – in any of my bones – that I had in fact reached any destination.

I took a punt and walked to the end of the tunnel – to what had appeared as a wasteland – and lo and behold there were tram tracks and a tram stop. Within moments a 63 tram arrived and I got on. It turned out, to my great relief, that I was not only on the correct tram, but that I was also going in the correct direction.

It was now 3pm local time – I’d given up counting how many hours into my trip I was – and I was getting a little more than just a little weary. I checked in, walked miles down the corridor to my room, had a shower, a rest, a chat with Tim, booked a COVID test for the next day, then decided to get out and about and explore the local area. The local area happened to be the old city of Kopenick.

There I came across a COVID testing centre that was offering far cheaper COVID tests, a 10-miunute turn-around time, and was available right then and there.

And so I had my first ever COVID test – standing at the window of a shipping container otherwise known as a Corona Testzentrum. Luckily my grasp of German was strong enough to know what that meant.

In my wondering I came across the local fire department family day and so popped my head in – bouncy castle, bbq, DJ, lots of kids – and continued on my way.

Dinner at the Rathaus … and then it was time for bed. Luckily I was within walking distance of the hotel otherwise I might have had to find a park bench for a quick nap.

Life, Travel

Ready for an extraordinary experience

Posted on September 23, 2022 by Sharon

It has to be said that the last few years haven’t been easy. In early 2020 I wrote a post – A (brave) new year – thinking that after the year we’d had in 2019 and the bushfires of that summer, I was going to turn a corner … I was determined it was going to be my year.

The universe had other plans.

As you know, 2020 was not a good year and 2021 wasn’t any better. Along with the pandemic, we were also hit with Tim’s cancer diagnosis, and then my redundancy.

Putting them into the same sentence does not mean they’re of equal weight or significance, but it’s safe to say we’re still coming to terms with both situations. Luckily, we haven’t had to personally deal with COVID, which really just means we’ve remained relatively isolated.

I’m quite proud to say that I haven’t ever had a COVID test. Getting close to three years into a pandemic and no need for a test.

Well, that’s about to change.

I’m heading to Germany – flying out tonight as it happens – to attend a conference, and one of the requirements is that all participants have a COVID test before attending. I figure it’s a small price to pay and am determined not to let it put me off! I wonder if the fear of COVID should be stronger and that I should remain in relative isolation?

Too late … my bags are packed, my passport has been found, and I’m ready to go. Two weeks in Europe and then two weeks in the UK … yep, I’ll be away for a whole month.

My sister recently spent a month in the UK visiting her daughter and grand-daughter and was so concerned about the lost luggage situation at the time that she decided to take only carry-on luggage. Yes, only 7kgs worth of gear for a month.

I’m not doing that! I’ve packed my bag so it’s almost at the limit. Deb went in summer and apparantly autumn is coming in fast in Europe. I’ve been told to expect chilly weather … and so a bigger bag is required.

I’m heading for what I hope will be an extraordinary experience, with people from around the world and from a range of different fields. I’m used to attending conferences where most attendees work in some form of educational field. But this is going to be different.

I’m ready to do something that challenges me … to be brave!

I might even blog about it.

Family, Life, Photography

I got out!

Posted on May 13, 2022 by Sharon

In April 2021, which seems like years ago, I went to Tumut in NSW. My youngest son and his two children were visiting my mother and as I hadn’t seen them for over a year, I thought I’d make the five hour drive north.

I thought I’d be back in Tumut within a month – Mum’s birthday is in June and I thought I’d at least go up to sing her a tuneless but enthusiastic happy birthday.

Alas, it was not to be. 2021, in case your memory doesn’t stretch back that far, was in a time we still considered to be ‘during the pandemic’. In 2022, with COVID deaths higher than they’ve been since the start of the pandemic – a seeming-decade ago in 2020 – we are considered to be living in ‘post-COVID’ times.

2021 was not a good year. We still had active COVID mitigation strategies in place – lockdown being one of them. I can’t remember all the lockdowns, but lockdown was one reason I couldn’t return to Tumut. There were, of course, others.

As we are now living in ‘post-pandemic’ times, travel is unrestricted. I had planned to head to Tasmania in late April, a place I hadn’t visited since early January 2021, but a car crash put paid to that plan. No one was hurt in said crash, apart from the car, but it meant no Tassie trip for me just yet 😦

While Tim has finished his treatment, been jabbed with the COVID vaccine for the 4th time, and had his flu shot, he is still not sufficiently recovered to travel long distances. I, however, felt it was safe for me to leave the state.

Yes, dear reader, I got out.

Mothers Day was as good a time as any for me to head five and a half hours north to see my mother. And my sister and brother, and uncle, and niece, and great neice and nephews.

I stayed in Tumba with my sister because Tumba is a town where things happen. The Snowy Valleys Sculpture Trail is one of those happening things.

Saturday morning was cold. Icily cold. The thermometer inched towards 8C during the day, and then, having hit it, rapidly fell to near zero. You can imagine how cold it was as we headed out the door around 10am, rugged up beautifully. Deb made sure her gloves matched her beanie, channelling the spirit of our grandmother, who used to do the same in the 1950s and 60s (but never with a beanie). Nan would have been very proud of her.

Our first stop was at Forage (rhymes with porridge) for a hot chocolate and a wander around the market.

Mum arrived, the hood of her coat giving the impression she was off to the Arctic, and we wandered down to the creek which was looking decidedly autumnal, to engage with the sculptures.

Mum ditched Deb and I to have lunch with some of Deb’s friends, so I attended a workshop facilitated by Japanese sculptor Keizo Ushio who uses the mobius strip extensively in his sculptures. We made mobius strips with paper and then attempted to carve a bagel – I’d love to see how he does it using stone. You can see Keizo’s sculpture at Tooma if you’re in the area (we didn’t get down there, but I’m very keen to see it).

Sculptor Phil Spelman then led a tour of the Tumba sculptures and we learnt a lot along the way.

Together we are strong – sculpture by Danish artist Keld Moseholm

Together we are strong is a work gifted by the Denmark-based Denmark, New Zealand and Australian Friendship Society.

Pipe and fittings … many cubes – by WA artist Jennifer Cochrane

Jennifer Cochrane works with cubes. They fascinate her. Picture a cube rolling and you’ll see the movement and energy in this work.

Marcus Tatton is a New Zealander living in Tasmania, where chimneys dot the landscape. When a house burns down, they are generally the only thing that remain standing. This has inspired Marcus’s work.

Arrowhead Dark Night Shine – Takahiro Hirata

I think this is one of my favourites. This is a piece of granite which is second only to diamonds in terms of its hardness. Takahiro Hirato, a Japanese sculptor, has hand carved and polished this arrowhead. It’s a truly gorgeous piece. The arrowhead sits on a basalt plinth.

Lumina Folds – by NSW artist Philip Spelman

This work by Phil Spelman certainly generated lots of discussion. It’s an abstract work with as many interpretations as people on the tour with us. Some see an ant, others see a bike, I see someone praying … that’s the beauty of abstract work. It doesn’t have to have just one meaning.

There are other sculptures in the area and I’m hoping to get to see them all eventually.

Off to Tumut on Sunday afternoon for a fabulous Mothers Day lunch with my brother and his family. There was so much food they came back for dinner. I must add they they provided all the food … Mum and I just had to turn up!

Later in the afternoon I caught the end of this beautiful sunset.

Monday morning and a quick visit from some kangaroos before I headed home.

It was great to catch up with family again after such a terrible year … let’s hope I can get back there within the next one.