oh, sharon

Before we went to Buenos Aires we were given 2 pieces of advice (well several really but 2 that seemed to count).
one: never go to a cafe on a corner
two: cleavage helps get dances

There was third but I’ll get to that later.
Cafes on corners? Every cafe is on a corner. Well no, we did go to Cafe Tortoni which is NOT on a corner. But it’s famous and pretty touristy. Nice though.
Cleavage? Turning up to the local dances in full cleavage would have been very embarrassing, so I’m pleased I used caution and tested the waters.

And the third? Ah yes. The third.

The day before we left the news about Sharon Armstrong broke. So the hilariously funny advice of course was along the lines of not carrying anyone’s suitcases. It caused me to stand in the local dairy and declaim “Do I really look that stupid?”

So was Sharon? I feel for her on the issue of hope and the internet. We all hope that who we are talking to is real, and we hope (it’s hope after all that keeps us going) that ‘something good and exciting’ will happen. But hope must have been on overdrive when she contemplated a suitcase (not hers) that she knew had a false bottom while she sat in her hotel in BA. And hope ditched her at the airport.

Hope. Love. Trust. Powerful motivators.

Being a cripple

Since this blog essentially was started when I was severely crippled I wanted to do a little post about being a cripple and travelling.

And yes, I’m being indulgent but in this pic you can see my stick.

It was pretty much ok. I used the stick just about everyday except when there was a kind friend to lean on. I even managed to walk in Amsterdam and Brighton without the orthotic which was very good but needed it most days. Yep, it got very hot and sticky but some very good Italian socks helped relieve the stickiness.

It was good to be able to use taxis when I needed them and not to have to rely on public transport.

The trains in Italy were easy to use and frequent and people were helpful with bags and such. Same for buses and trams in Amsterdam.

Walking was ok and I walked and walked in Rome which was really easy – wide streets, plenty of room and the traffic stopped on cue. Naples was interesting and having the stick helped. Crossing the road with a nun or priest also helped. In Naples pedestrian crossings and red lights are optional in terms of stopping.

The cobbled streets were ok and boats and other means of public transport easy to get on and off within reason. The buses in Procida were a trial. Only once was I stopped and cried over for my infirmity but in general being a cripple in south Italy is not so good and I freely gave money to all the cripples begging in the streets.

Athens, alas, was hardest as the cobblestones were quite small and thus more difficult to manage, and the visit to the Acropolis (see other post) nearly did me in. Pompeii, too, was hard mostly for the cobbles and the heat.

Airports, however, were another matter. I had to take my shoes off in Bangkok and Sydney going over but not coming back, and at Heathrow I had to show them my scars and get swabbed all over. The Aussies, bless them, were least sympathetic and the English the most. The security team at Gatwick were very funny, singing all the while.

Security at every airport is entirely different and the Greeks were very interested in the amount of coffee and halva I was carrying. Airports in general are difficult as the floors are often very slippery and the concourses very long.

It’s good to be back in good ol’ NZ where I can walk sans stick, and sans orthotic. My special shoe has worn out and the plan is not to get a new one but to persist in being orthotic free so that I can make my appointment to dance in Brisbane in March and be a free woman when I work in Greece next year.

Crippled? Go for it.

I hope the punctuation in this meets the required standards.

Airports and train stations

Mulling it over today – they are the worst. Excepting of course all buildings that have tiles and exist in wet climates.

Qantas wins slightly over AirNZ for ease of use, and because when staff do offer help it’s just slightly less patronizing. AirNZ, however are good once you are on the plane. It’s the getting on to the plane that’s the bugbear!

The worst is the AirNZ Hamilton gate at Wellington airport.  It takes ages to get to, the walk is downhill (really annoying on a crutch) and there is no hope of assistance, it being a long lonely walk. Then, on the day I was there I walked onto the tarmac (no help thanks) and was nearly blown over by a plane taking off. Help! Welly airport is bad enough on a good day!

The help thing is fraught, I admit. Over do it and I’ll whack you with my stick. Underdo and I’ll moan all the way down the walkways.

However, folk in Rarotonga and Aitutaki seem to manage it just right.

Trains. Tried it once. Too hard. Too scarey.

No photos of planes but a nice one of me left with the cigars and booze while friends explore a very nice (I’m told) sculpture garden.

Cheryl