I'd rather drink an emu egg

Two trips home to Brissie this month have left this little kitty very homesick. Flying from 45 degree heat into a Brissie winter was just what I needed, and I was delighted that I had to borrow my Mum’s HOT red leather jacket, as I didn’t pack properly. The days were chilly, the nights totally snuggle-up-to-a-hot-boy weather and there was roast pork as well as pea & ham soup on the menu.

Just before touchdown, I caught a whiff of winter, and it sent chills up my spine, as well as a tug at my tear ducts. While I don’t miss hooting from a hot shower to the heater to grab my warming clothes and then jumping into them so fast the buttons on my jeans burn my skin, I do miss the slow lazy afternoons and sun shadows and kitties and puppies sleeping inside.

My youngest cat fudge, who will always be a kitten to me (despite being 10 years old) has a new habit – sleeping ON my pillow. That’s right, she hogs the pillow, just as I’ve been accused of by exes of hogging the bed. She made herself comfy, settled right in and shot me an annoyed look when I tried to shove her over a little! I don’t know if my fear of getting smothered was greater than the fear of catching fleas! She largely ignored me this month, but I was happy to grab a cuddle whenever she was interested.

This trip was a mad rush that began with a train trip to visit the girls, and ended with a visit to Wavell Heights footy club for a quick catch up with Benno. In between there were fish & chips with Jules, farewell hugs & kisses with Jon, movies and shopping with Patrick, cups of tea with Nanna, burgers and chips with Ahmed, hot chocolates and brekky with Mads and Shelby and a delicious roast dinner with yummy salty crackling at home.

As if my belly isn’t fat enough with all the plane food I’m attempting not to eat, I’ve wolfed down about half a large fried rice from the food court in Singapore. This rice is seriously the best EVER, and even my super extended stay here a few weeks ago can’t put me off it!

I’ve got a completely pooey roster next month, and I guess the only upside is that I’ve got three new destinations: Casablanca, Jakarta and Chennai. The downside is that they’re to places I don’t really want to go, so we’ll see how that evens out. The upside to this shithouse roster is that I've got a Heathrow, and while I can hear you all asking "who wants to go to bomb-threat-capital?", I assure you it'll be well worth the scare. My best friend from home, the lovely Flip is now living there and we're having a long-awaited catch up. Jill and Luke from my school days are also working over there and we'll be heading out for drinks. I've got my fingers crossed for Mojitos at Tiger Tiger in Picadilly Circus. No doubt our ruinion will go something like this: the four of us all running from different directions across a deserted British beach ....... yeah right.

While at dinner at Double Decker the other night guzzling fish & chips and happy hour drinks with Jena, we coined a new phrase: "I'd rather drink an emu egg". This stemmed from horrid memories of that TV show Fear Factor, where they made someone drink a raw emu egg. Now, keep in mind that a single emu egg is equal to something like THIRTY normal eggs. And 30 normal eggs drunk raw in one go is definitely a gag reflex activator.

So, now in reference to anything we don't want to do, the new buzz phrase is "I'd rather drink an emu egg".

Which is kind of how I'm feeling about having such a short rest period between Brissie trips!

Does this make me Singaporean?

When I managed to wrangle my way onto not one but two Brisbane trips this month, I was super excited for a few reasons: 1. the prospect of multiple stays in Singapore meant I could get the fried rice fix I'd been after for months, 2. I was getting OUT of Dubai - two weeks on ground was excessive and 3. The first trip was stealth - my Mum and Dad honestly thought they were meeting my bestie Jena for lunch and I showed up!

I can honestly say that after calling sick and spending five days there, I'm so over Singapore now.

My first Brissie trip was going so well - I was home, seeing my cousins, and catching up with my nearest and dearest. Mum and Dad were both stunned when I walked out of the hotel and my brother was equally as excited when I picked him up after school. We had morning tea with Gran and Pop, and Stella and Sienna were there - looking gorgeous in the dresses I'd given them last year. I had presents to unload, cake to eat and news to catch up on.

Gorgeous Jon is heading to the States for a Camp America experience next week and we took that chance to catch up over a few dinners. We had dinner in the valley at a great Vietnamese restaurant with friends and towards the end of the meal a girl who looked very familiar walked in the door - it was Freya!

Due to conflicting schedules, I hadn't seen Freya in ages - she was on a Brisbane trip 5 days behind me and it was lovely to talk for 10 minutes.

It's finally been raining in Brissie - a solid day and a half while I was there had me so excited I could have jumped in the puddles. When I left the grass was greener and I'm sure the birds were chirpier! My cat and I had some good cuddle time, but I had to call it quits when she decided to camp out on my pillow while I was asleep. Talk about a pillow hog! I was worried she'd either smother me or give me fleas.

It wasn't until the last day that I started to feel fluey. A quick stop to the chemist to grab some cold & flu meds and then back to the hotel to get ready for the flight to Singapore. I felt a little sniffley and had a scratchy throat and the beginnings of a phone-sex voice, but other than that I was ok. By the time we were preparing to land in Singers, my head was so congested, my nose rubbed raw and the pain in my sinuses increasing. I took a seat in the cockpit for landing, knowing it wasn't going to be pretty. I sat, head in hands, from about 26000 feet to the ground with tears pouring down my cheeks. The perplexed pilots could only rub my head and murmur condolences occasionally, as they had more pressing work to do. My exit from the cockpit might have been subtle, but my eyes gave me away as either a crier or a druggo! They were red and bloodshot, but my mascara stayed in place - good old clinique!

I'd been rabbiting on about raisin toast on the bus out of Brisbane and David our pilot was telling me about the best fruit & nut loaf that he's found in Singers. I passed out as soon as I got into bed, but evidently David did not. I woke many hours later to find a little care package of that bread and some milk hanging on my door, with a 'hang in there' note attached. It was so touching - there are still some nice, polite, genuine pilots out there.

I got in touch with a doctor through Emirates and he tapped on my face, poked my sinuses and then said 'no flying for three days'. This was starting to sound like my last sinus issue. Little did I know it was much, much worse. He started pulling all sorts of drugs out of his little briefcase and before I knew it, I was dosed to the eyeballs and pretty much slept through the next three days. In my lucid moments, I wandered down the road for more rice and a subway sandwich. By the end of my stay, the boys knew what I wanted before I'd even asked for it!

The good doc returned in three days and peered in my ears and asked how I felt. I told him that I didn't feel much better and that my left ear had blocked up the day I first saw him and I still couldn't equalise it. His response? 'You coming to the hospital with me for an ENT review - get changed'. I followed him downstairs like the off-balance little lamb I felt like and was amused to find an ambulance waiting for me. Yes, an AMBULANCE. We travelled all of 5 blocks and I swear when we arrived the lights were flashing! How ridiculous. Typical of Asia's obsession with cute and small things - the ambulance was pint-sized. I sat squished up in the back with the stretcher, feeling like something was slightly amiss.

Next stop - the ENT department where the doctor who saw me had a mole on the side of his face with more hair extruding than my armpit could probably produce in a month! He also poked and prodded and then announced 'I'm going to spray anesthetic up your nose and then look up there with a scope'. Great - invasion of my nostrils. In the meantime, they hooked me up in a booth and I sat for a hearing test. I must say that the scope up the nose was far more uncomfortable than everyone made out. As a child it used to take 3 adults to restrain me for a simple blood test. Yeah, drama queen.

I'd say I made a few sputtering sounds as the scope was threaded up towards my brain - I must say that the pictures of the inside of my sinuses aren't pretty. The results? Great news - some possible treatment options - steroids, a sinus flush OR (my favourite) sinus surgery.

After getting the all-clear two days later, and having Freya's flight catch up and then beat me back to Dubai, I was finally allowed to leave! I was dead-headed home (flew as a passenger) and almost squealed in delight when I was handed a business class boarding pass. I promptly fell asleep and arrived to a 32 degree morning. Returning the duty free float I'd held captive for five days, meeting my manager and then heading to the clinic today have all taken they're toll.

It's time to rest up and in three days I'll be heading back to Singapore, en route to Brissie for the second time!

13 Days in Dubai

When I started my reserve month, which comes around once every seven months, I had the idea that I'd get worked to the bone and spend only my eight legal days off in Dubai. Not so. Counting today, this is my 13th consecutive day spent in Dubai - doing nothing.

Well that's not strictly true. I've spent 5 of those days on standby - sleeping through most of it and watching more episodes of Six Feet Under than I can remember and fighting off what I thought was malaria. We've also done a few buffets, and gone clubbing a few times. The rest of the days have been spent stalking the rosters, trying to find flights to get myself on in order to escape the boredom that exists in my apartment.



Airport standby the other night was an interesting experience. We have to get all frocked up in uniform, complete with tarty red lipstick, pack a suitcase for any weather possibility and any length of flight, catch a school bus and hope that it delivers you to the airport on time. My airport standby started at 7.45pm and after waiting for 20 minutes for a bus, I was told that there was no bus coming. See, when there's a flight, a bus arrives to pick up the crew - but when there's no flight, there's NO BUS. I was told to catch a taxi (which if we catch to work, we're not covered for lateness) and discovered that the taxi driver had NO IDEA how to get me to the crew airport. I usually sit with my eyes closed on the bus with my ipod on, so I also had no idea how to get there. With my blood pressure quickly rising and only 40 minutes to get through peak hour traffic to work, I started to panic.

I was smack in the middle of Sheikh Zayed Road, in the middle of all the beeping, swerving, jolting action and I was FREAKING OUT. The driver could obviously sense my levels of extreme nervousness, had a chuckle and asked what time I needed to get there. He then scoffed at my reply and informed me I had no chance. Lateness for a duty usually results in being marked absent, or worst case scenario - a month of can use, which is reserve.

With horrid thoughts of yet another month of no flying hours and an endless summer not filled with surfing, but with standby, I was completely on edge and hooned into work 15 minutes late. And you know what? No one even cared! I guess if there's no bus, they can't blame us for being late. So I did the rounds of work, visited the mail room, the staff shop, bought a juice, finished a book, kicked off my shoes and listened to my ipod and lounged on the couch. NOTHING. No one was called at all. We all sat there like shags on rocks for three hours and then got driven home in the audi's that are usually reserved for the pilots. All in a day's work!



While I've had ample time to work on my ever-deepening tan, I do feel a need to be productive and actually do some work. Which probably explains why I turned into a domestic goddess yesterday and baked a batch of banana muffins with lemon icing and a batch of vege muffins as well. For any of you who are languishing in Dubai on endless reserve days or are just bored, here's the recipe for banana cake/muffins:

* 2 teaspoons of lemon juice
* 3/4 cup of milk
* 2 1/4 cups of self raising flour
* 1 cup of sugar
* 1 teaspoon bi-carb soda
* pinch of salt
* 2 tablespoons of soft margarine or butter
* 2 eggs - beaten
* 3 large mashed bananas

* Optional: 1/2 cup of chopped macadamia nuts & 1/2 a cup of sultanas

Thicken milk with lemon juice, sift flour into large bowl. Add sugar, soda and salt. Add butter, milk & mashed bananas and mix well. Add eggs & optional nuts / sultanas.

Bake in a moderate oven (140 degrees) for about 30-35 minutes.
____________________

My roster stalking has paid off - I've managed to claw my way onto a Brissie trip that leaves Dubai on the 2nd, and then another trip home that leaves here on the 17th. Two trips home in one month is absolutely unheard of, so I'm counting my lucky stars and planning all the Aussie things I'm going to buy when I get there. Bed sheets, perinaise sauce, hair bands - all the boring stuff you can't get in Dubai. Then I've got cuddles with the cats, cool winter mornings and walks with Rusty my dog. I can't wait!

Team Ghana

My eagerness to start my 6am standby in the hope of the Brisbane that I was so legal for didn't go quite as planned. Let me set the scene:

Having packed nothing in preparation for whatever trip I didn't yet know that I was going on, I went to sleep at 11pm and ring ring ring, was woken up at 6.15 the following morning. Truly delighted by the time I was woken, I grabbed the phone and greeted crew scheduling with a very eager 'hello, am I going to Brisbane?' I was met with silence, then a not so apologetic 'no my dear, you're going to Accra'.

My first thoughts? THIS is the trip that everyone tries to avoid on standby and reserve and I got landed with it at the fantastically early time of 6.15am. I managed to get a few details out of scheduling, including my return date and to my further delight was told I'd be coming back in FIVE days.

My next thoughts? MALARIA. Need to pack. I have no hairspray. Are my uniforms clean? Where are my togs/swimmers? Pretty much in that order.

So, I ran around like a headless chook, managed to miss my bus and was on the next one 10 minutes later. I waltzed into briefing having comforted myself somewhat on the way to work with the thought that least it wasn't Lagos (think armed escorts on the crew bus & no leaving the hotel) and discovered that the briefing room was buzzing with that rare atmosphere that comes with an awesome crew.


Although our flight was delayed and we had to do not only a flight to Accra, but Accra VIA Abidjan because someone's captain had called sick down route (thanks captain), we all laughed and joked and before we knew it we were all aboard and I was queen of the galley.

The 8.5 hours to Abidjan flew by (literally!) and before we knew it, we were there. A short stop and refuel later and we were Accra bound and due to the 40 minutes flight time, there was nothing to do. We hit a big mamma of a storm just out of Accra and it was serious enough for the captain and those with window views to be saying their prayers. I was luckily sitting in the back galley with only a view of my feet and the bars that could potentially pose a danger to my life if they weren't secured properly and wasn't privy to the huge bolts of lightening, pouring rain and dangerous dips from side to side that our little old scare-bus airbus was doing. There were squeals and gasps from the cabin as we lurched and dropped, lurched and dropped. I get motion sickness, so was more concerned with my stomach contents.

Thankfully we landed in one piece and opened the doors to more rain. I was happy to stand at the doorway and farewell passengers, getting rained on in the process.

We soon found ourselves at the Golden Tulip, our home for the next 5 days. An instant millionaire, I was in possession of 1 595 000 Ghanian shillings or something as ridiculous and wearily headed to my room for a quick shower and change before dinner, drinks and obligatory clubbing.

I was dismayed to find I had no towels, and waited for 40 minutes before falling asleep on my bed in full uniform - minus hat, jacket and shoes. I woke at 1am, clearly having missed dinner and drinks. It turned out to be the biggest night of the trip and I was disgruntled with housekeeping for not giving me my towels in the first place. As we find that some things are 'only in Dubai', clearly some other things are 'only in Africa'.


The next day was spent baking by the pool, followed by a ripper of a pool party that involved not only our crew, but the crew who's shuttle we'd just done. I was delighted to find the lovely Katja, flatmate of my friend Angela, who's birthday we'd just celebrated at the Shangrila. Our party organisers were Lebanese guys who live in Ghana and are apparently so bored they throw parties for the crew. Think pool party in hot Accra sun, with unlimited booze, food and great company. Well, needless to say we rocked it till about midnight. There was dancing, swimming and dirty drunken pashes galore. I'd gotten rather scorched that morning and decided not to take my togs. Well, who needs swimmers anyway??? I was thrown into the pool fully clothed. Charming.


The rest of our days were spent lounging by the pool, consuming litres of water and vanilla milkshakes lovingly prepared by Gladys our waitress, and going to some great restaurants for dinners. Hot tip of the week: for those of you heading to Ghana in the near future, check out Mamma Mia's for pizza - the Quattro Formagio is a MUST TRY and the Ostrich at Monsoon is equally as wonderful. Just ask for it to be medium-well done, as medium is still moving a little too much for this girl!


Sad to leave, but all sporting fantastic tans, we all piled into the little inadequately air-conditioned bus and headed a whole 5 minutes to the airport, where we waited in an oven-like terminal before being let loose on the aircraft.

Back to Dubai we went, sad that our adventure was over. So sad in fact, that we planned a catch up for that night at the Shangrila to taste the Peking Duck in the upstairs restaurant and then drinks at Barasti and onwards to Zinc for end of the night dodgy dancing and drinks.


A fantastic evening was had, which prompted us to plan for a trip to the beach today. I tell you, Team Ghana is just never-ending! And after such a great trip with a great crew, why would we want it to?

With bags bulging with Lebanese food, we hit Jumeirah public beach and settled in with a million dollar view of the Burj al Arab and swam the afternoon away. There were waves, lots of laughs and very very full bellies. An post-sunset evening dip was essential and then we packed our bags and went home. But not before planning more clubbing for tonight!


Sadly I have airport standby tomorrow from 6am and can't go. But something tells me that Team Ghana wont be retiring any time soon!

Another night..........another buffet

Yes, it's true. We've hit another buffet.

The occasion? My lovely friend Angela's 26th birthday. This called for a fantabulous celebration, and after a strenuous day, those caprioscas tasted wonderful!

The day started with a trip to the mall, to organise our driver's licenses. As Aussies, the process of getting a license in Dubai is pretty easy. You simply go in, take some money, take some passport sized photos, take your passport, take your original license, sit an eye test, pose for another photo and BINGO, you're legal to drive!!!

We'd heard some nasty rumours that this process was coming to an end and that it would be a matter of sitting through twenty, yes TWENTY lessons before you'd be the proud owner of a sparkly gold, holographic license. In order to avoid such a rip off, we bounced in there, toting our bits and pieces and within a short time had the cards in our hot little hands.

There was then a trip to Krispy Kremes, who've recently opened a store (hello diabetes as Ash says) and we were treated to a hot-off-the-belt doughnut soaked in sugar. I swear NOTHING has ever tasted soooooo goooood! We bought a couple to go, scooted to the tailor with a few things to be altered and then headed home for a cup of tea with our sweets!


We got ready, popped over the road to the buffet in the Shangrila and proceeded to chatter and gossip and eat (of course!) for the next 3.5 hours. Ange and I met on a Singapore/Brisbane trip last December and retold the story of drunken soccer with Xmas decorations up and down the street in Singapore at about 2 in the morning. There was a short detour into a garden that night and a few rather unflattering photos that sadly won't be posted today as Ange would have my guts for garters if I dared do so!

It seems that each time we've done this buffet there are different drinks on offer. They are of course included in the price of the buffet, as is the red and white wine and so far we've tried strawberry mojitos, appletinis and last night, the capriosca.

While we were looking forward to the chocolate fountain and all the damage we could do to chocolate covered strawberries, we were sad to see it wasn't there. However, there were delicious little sweets on mini dishes and in shot glasses - my favourite tasted just like a lamington!


All in all, it was fabulous night. Happy Birthday Ange!!!

On a more dapper note, reserve month has started for me - this means a month of being on call, at the mercy of crew scheduling and so far today, after a quick trip to the gym to rid myself of tuckshop arms, I've spent the past four hours sitting on the couch waiting for the phone to ring. Our other flatmate has the same ringtone on her home phone, so when hers goes off, I jump and imagine a horrid trip to Cairo!

I've been given two days off after this, which means that I'll be very legal for a Brisbane trip (or any other Aussie trip for that matter) on the 10th!!!

Fingers crossed - it's time I got home for more cuddles with the kitties and more bbq shapes and Arnott's creams.......mmmm x

DISCLAIMER

Just a short note to say that the contents of this website are solely my own opinions, thoughts, feelings, observations, stories, travels and photographs. They do not in anyway correlate with the company I work for, nor does the company endorse or have any association with this website.

Stories and people mentioned here are real. Some names, places and dates may have been changed.

Air Force One

Earlier this year, through a mutual friend, I became friends with a rather cute guy called Mike in the US Air Force. It was decided that he and his friends would show me a good time in San Fran and that I'd be more than welcome to stay on the base. Talk about an adventure! I was met at the airport by two of his friends, welcomed to the base and settled in my apartment-like room before I knew it. There was Mexican food for dinner, a nanna nap and then drinking in the dorms till about 4.30am!

Mike arrived the next day and in true gentlemanly tour guide form showed me the sights and scenery around San Fran. I was in awe of the massive Golden Gate Bridge and when I first saw it I'm sure I squealed like a girl. We took a boat cruise that went under the bridge, which also gave us a bird's eye view of Alcatraz, the renowned prison island. Home to Scarface and also Al Capone during its working years, we were sadly unable to do the tour as they sell out quickly. However, our boat was so close that we could see people walking around, see the old mouldy buildings and read the sign that warns against procuring the escape of any inmate. A pesky group of seagulls were following the boat the entire way and had all of us on the back deck in fear of getting pooed on. They swooped overhead and squawked and made a great racket. We pulled back into the dock, passing a group of merry barking seals, all basking in the sunshine and frolicking in the frigid water.





Pier 39 is certainly the tourist spot! Majorly amped up for tourist value, it had all sorts of shops and restaurants and attractions. There was a shop dedicated entirely to fridge magnets, much to my delight. We're all aware of my love of magnets, but the only one I liked I didn't buy. Shaped like a breast cancer ribbon, it was pink and said 'support shopping'. It seemed a bit flaky but now I wish I'd bought it. We did a cable car tour and headed up and down some of the steepest streets in San Fran, home to scenes from many a movie. I tell you what, I wish I'd had a few days staying in the actual San Fran area, as the shopping is AMAZING. Chinatown had so many little shops crammed with paper lanterns, cute little slippers and all sorts of goodies. The real shopping district boasted many famous labels, had its own Tiffany & Co. (always a winner!) and was brimming with people looking for the perfect purchase.




San Fran is a beautiful city. Flooded with light, reflecting from the white buildings, it seems like the perfect summery place to be. It was absolutely freezing cold with the bay breeze, but in the summertime it'd be teeming with people and the atmosphere would be outrageously fun! We couldn't resist a drive down the world's most crooked street, Lombard Street. It has 8 turns in it, all within a very short distance! The hill Lombard St was built on was too steep for driving straight down, so was designed this way to reduce speed. The result? A massive $3 million for a home on the street, heaps of traffic all wanting to drive down it and a need to have your foot stomped on the brakes the entire time to prevent scratching the paint off your bumpers!



Heading home that afternoon, we drove over the Golden Gate Bridge and as usual, when in the presence of a major landmark, I was in awe. The bridge is MASSIVE, and while not as large as the multi-level Bay Bridge across the bay, it is a construction to behold. Each year, 5000 litres of 'county orange' paint are used and similar to the Sydney Harbour Bridge, it's constantly being painted. At the end of the bridge, there's a viewing park and we got out and took some great shots . We were up high, had a bird's eye view of the bay, the bridge and Alcatraz.



An afternoon trip the next day to Napa Valley was gorgeous, and just as picturesque as I'd imagined. The afternoon light made the leaves glow, the mountains had a romantic feel about them and the whole area seemed like the perfect little sleepy country town to set up house in. We went to Rubicon Estate, formerly known as Coppola's. Owned by Francis Ford Coppola, it has a great display of his Academy Awards, and also costumes from some of his movies. Sadly, these items aren't available for viewing anymore, as Mr Coppola wants his patrons to visit the winery for the wine, not his accomplishments. Have a look at the website www.rubiconestate.com to read up on the history and see how gorgeous it is.





The winery is beautiful. Set down a long driveway with row upon row of trees stretching away on either side, the building is grand and covered in vines and climbing leaves. We were greeted at the foot of the red carpet, handed passports, and directed down the carpet and inside. The fountains out the front give it a regal air and the wines for tasting were superb. After the tasting, we sat outside with a glass of delicious Zinfandel and enjoyed the slight afternoon breeze and rustling of the leaves. I didn't realise how large Napa Valley actually is, and was amazed that there were so many little vineyards dotted all over the place. With a few bottles of the delicious grape juice in my possession, we headed back to the base.






Having no idea what a real air force base is like, I was surprised by the sheer size of it. Set out like a town, it has everything anyone could need: massive grocery store, bottle shop, dorms, housing, gym, church, aircraft simulators, museum, cinema and even a bowling alley. We bowled a few games and then some more drinking took place. I was surprised at how normal it felt to be on the base, like being in a suburb at home - minus the massive jets taking off overhead every few minutes, people wandering around in uniform and the sleep interrupting renditions of the Star Spangled Banner at something like 4.30am each morning! There were large stretches of the greenest grass I've ever seen, flowering rose bushes, stray cats and bbq's outside the dorms.




One of my favourite parts of my trip was being allowed into the simulator and getting to refuel some jets. The simulator I was in is the one that is used to train real air force crew and is just like a video game! There are seats for the instructor and trainee and there are buttons, handles, something like a joystick and also a huge viewing window where the jets needing fuel appear. I got to have a go at the following: F-15 F-16 B-52 C-130 F-22 and KC-10. It all seemed fairly easy, but that's in the sim, not at night or in the wind or with turbulence and my complete lack of knowledge of what all the buttons, handles and other gadgets actually do!



While it all seems like fun and games, and when I fly it's all about the destination and gobbling lobster and pavlova up the front, there's a far more serious side to the job of these men and women and an incredible amount of skill is involved. For some great pictures and videos, take a look at Mike's website www.kcboomer.com

My room boasted a view of the running track and the back of the gym and while there weren't groups of chanting men running in formation in white shirts and sweats and gleaming dog tags (like in my hopeful imagination), I feel motivated to visit our gym more regularly. California is home to the JELLY BELLY - those delicious little jelly beans of many yummy flavours and I was amused to find little packets of them on my pillow when I checked in, instead of the obligatory hotel chocolate. We had a funny jelly belly experience, but will leave it at that.

On my last day, I visited the museum on the base and was able to get up close and personal with some very ancient looking aircraft. There were B52's and many others that I can't remember, including what has to have been the ugliest aircraft EVER - it had an oddly rounded shaped tail and almost looked like it had a nose on its pilot end!



All in all, it was a fantastic trip - perhaps my best leave trip yet. California has lots to offer - fantastic wine, spectacular vineyards, beaches (didn't see any), clam chowder (didn't try any!), sunny days and sexy men in uniform.



What could beat that?