The weather forecast says it may continue to snow into the night and again in the early morning. Unfortunately, this won’t be enough to leave us stranded here. I would love to be stranded! Years ago, this happened to me twice in one season- both times, I happened to be in Providence, Rhode Island at the time. Nasty storms had swept through Baltimore, Maryland, and since I was based there, the closed airport kept me from getting back. Stranded pay is very, very pretty on my paycheck! Maybe I would have gotten my wish had I been here two or three nights ago.
If it weren’t for the cold, I probably would have ventured into the city. I’m not afraid of the harsh temperatures, but I didn’t really bring a large enough jacket with me. Boston is one of the many cities I need to explore. The only time I’ve been to this city was when I was very young. All I remember is visiting the North Church, and I think I recall some statue of Abraham Lincoln that had a shiny nose. The shine was because tourists like to rub the nose for good luck. Maybe we were somewhere else, though. I’m not quite sure.
My flight was from Denver to Cancun and then back up to Austin. I just wish that we could have spent the entire night in Cancun, but we were only there on the ground for just under an hour. It’s so exciting that the company is adding all these new international destinations (Destinations Map: https://www.southwest.com/flight/routemap_dyn.html)! I asked one of our operations agents if I could have a picture with her. I told her this was because she was the first “Cancunian” I’d ever met. She laughed and smiled for the picture.
When we were getting ready for push back this morning in Nashville, one of our ramp agents noticed something “funny” with one of the tires on our plane. Even though we had already closed the doors and completed our safety demonstration, our captain decided that it would be best to have a maintenance person come and take a look.
I’m thrilled that this was his decision! After maintenance took a look, they decided that it was best to change the tire. Even though this resulted in an hour delay from our push time, it sure beats the alternative! Today I’m thankful that they noticed what could have been a significant problem or disaster by the time we landed in Los Angeles.
On our first leg, I spoke with a pastor with his wife, traveling via Los Angeles to Salt Lake City. They have a ten-year-old son who has Downs Syndrome and is on their way to pick up their newborn daughter, whom they adopted through an organization called Faithful Adoption Consultants. I understand that this group works with a bunch of different adoption agencies to help qualified couples find a baby.
This couple has decided to keep the adoption semi-open, so when their new little girl is old enough, she’ll be taught who her biological parents are and may even be able to keep up some sort of correspondence with them. I told the pastor’s wife about this blog, and she shared her own URL with me: http://theupsideofdowns.blogspot.com.
Celebrity sighting: Sitting on our second leg from Los Angeles to Albuquerque, I recognized Scott Wolf (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0937930/) on the front row. I’m not a celebrity worshipper, but it’s still extraordinary to acknowledge them. He looked like he had a lot on his mind, and he was too bothered to stop and ask for a picture with him.
I’m sitting in my hotel room in Albuquerque. I just finished some dang delicious green chili chicken soup from the ABQ Sunport (the restaurant is called El Comida Bueno). One of my crew members commutes from here, so she went home to sleep in her own bed. I sometimes do this when I have Salt Lake City overnights if my overnight is long enough that it’s worth the drive.
I’d like to give a shoutout to my new friend D’Lene, whom I met on my commute flight from Salt Lake City to Denver this morning. She was incredibly nice and even though she told me she was shy, we had a good and long chat about everything from hiking to online dating to driving the Alaska Highway (an item on my bucket list). Our entire conversation was so inspiring. Consequently, she reminded me a lot of my cousin Cathy, whom I haven’t seen in quite a few years. D’Lene was in northern Utah visiting some family but works as a psychology professor at a community college in the state of Washington. Wouldn’t you know, the most affordable way for her to fly from Utah back to Washington was to connect through Denver.
At the moment I’m sitting in the inflight crew lounge at Denver International Airport, waiting for my first plane to arrive. Even though I hate working these PM shifts, it was sure nice to spend one extra night at home. That usually makes it all worth it. I guess I should reserve my judgment until I meet and work with my crew. My coworkers can make or break a trip.
I’m sitting at the crashpad, chatting with Victor, one of our newly hired flight attendants. The boy talks a lot, but he passes the test since he seems to be very kind. This is his second month at the airline, and he was just telling me about his hellish commute from Oakland to Denver last night. The poor boy almost got stranded at LAX. Even though he didn’t land until the wee hours of the morning, he still made it.
His stories brought back many memories from just over 10 years ago when I too was new to this world of traveling for a living. I am the first one in my family to travel for a living and it’s been a great ride. It was new, fun and exciting, but nothing compares to what it is now. Like any job, after awhile the longer you’re a flight attendant, the better things can be. That is the case if you love what you’re doing. As great as it was, I wouldn’t go back to those first days for anything.
My last few days in Brisbane were wonderful! Arron and Brendan took me to a Turkish restaurant, we played a game of barefoot lawn bowling- which was a blast even though I now know of yet another sport I suck at. We went on a short bush walk, visited a fish store, had some overpriced ice cream, went to browse through a swap meet, and just had a great weekend hanging out together.
Fun fact: Did you know that some people (two I know in particular) actually go to bed by 20:00? I know what you’re thinking, but the two people I’m referring to are neither small infants nor are they old/decrepit yet. Does this mean that they’re just giving up? I think so. I gave them a hard time already.
I’m on Qantas flight 15, headed back to the states. I’m sad that this vacation is coming to an end. I guess it’s time to get back to reality. This isn’t so bad, however, because I’ve created a pretty awesome reality for myself. It’s time to get home so I can start preparations for my next adventure.
My favorite part of the Mona Gallery is this picture of the big-bad-wolf eating grandma. Yes, it’s graphic, and yes, there’s a boob there, but look at the wolf’s eyes. Isn’t it spectacular? Either that or I’m going to have nightmares tonight. I’m not sure which one. Ignore the boob. Look at those eyes! Brilliant piece!
I’m on the ferry that is taking me back to Hobart from Berriedale. For some reason there is a cow made of something like fiberglass and well I’m going to say it: There should be more fiberglass cows on ferries. There are also some sheep nearby but they’re hardly worth taking a picture of… stupid sheep.
<14:30>
I just woke up from a deep nap- I was exhausted! I just introduced myself to a new hostelmate who is from Essex and he had the exact same experience at Mona today. He said he was there for only a few hours and feels like he really needs a nap. There is just too much concentrating- it wears a guy out. Some of the artwork I really like and appreciate- and some of it doesn’t seem like an ounce of talent. This is just my opinion- you may disagree. I’ve said it before: If it looks like it was drawn by a 3rd grader, maybe that artist needs to reconsider his or her life choices.
I have just purchased tickets to the Mona Gallery. This is one of the things that the flight attendant who brought me down here from Melbourne told me I had to see. She told me to make sure I come with an open mind. That makes me wonder what she’s talking about.
My mind is open to a whole mess of things (probably more than it should be) as most minds are open in this day and age. A small part of me wants to jump online and find out exactly what she was talking about. But I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
<10:16>
I am standing on a memorial walk at the Hobart Botanical Gardens. This walkway has been planted with so many trees. Each tree has been placed for a soldier who died in the first world war- it’s very moving. Some of the trees are younger because the original tree has died, but they keep replanting new ones when that happens. I just came across a plaque/ directory of the names of these soldiers. My eyes scan these names for someone who might possibly be a very distant relative. The directory tells me that tree #160 has been dedicated to Spr. Alfred Ernest Watson.- that’s the tree I need to find.
For some reason, I’m very emotional while I’m looking for this tree on the memorial walk. I am wondering who his descendants are and if they’ve come to visit him lately. Is someone bringing him flowers? As I approach the plaque, there is a black and white bird perched atop it. I tell the bird that he needs to leave because I’ve come to speak with Alfred. The bird looks at me and understands and leaves (ok I know the bird actually was afraid of me, but I’m choosing to believe he was flying away because Alfred and I needed a moment).
Alfred (who I’m nicknaming Alf- since I have now decided that he is family) was a carpenter by trade. He was the son of Joseph William and Very Mary Gaunt Watson and his brother was Charles Watson of Port Esperance (later Geeveston). He was a Roman Catholic and he enlisted the 5th of January, 1915, embarked on April 19th of that same year. He was with the 2nd Tunnelling Co. Aust Mining Corps and was accidentally killed on the 17th of September, 1916.
Accidentally killed? What happened to him? Maybe some sort of mining accident? Did a tunnel collapse? Further investigation tells me that he was accidentally killed on railway line near Laventie.
I’m reading this information and for some reason, I’m close to tears. This is stupid. I don’t know this guy- maybe I feel this attachment because he’s the only Watson on the list. That must mean his is/was a good person. All of us Watsons are great- some greater than others. I need to know all about this man for some reason. I need to do some digging. I wish I would have brought flowers to leave next to his tree.
I had set a goal to climb Mt. Wellington today. I’ve set this goal half-heartedly because according to Google Maps, it’s about 12 miles from the hostel one way. Therefore, I have updated said goal to at least walk toward the mountain. I’ve seen pictures from the top and it’s a great view of Hobart from above.
I didn’t sleep too well last night. I now have a roommate who snores. He’s a tattoo artist from Perth. He’s down here for work and is sharing a shop with a local friend. He showed me some pictures of his work and he seems to be really, really talented. I’m not into the whole tattoo thing but if you’re going to have it done, make sure you get an artist who has talent! This guy seems to have it.
<10:35>
Road kill here is like road kill at home- only the conversation I have with myself goes a little like this… What on earth is that smell? Something must have been hit by a car! I think I’m going to gag! Oh man, that’s strong- I may get sick! Oh look, it’s a pademelon! How cute!
It’s Easter Sunday. I figure the least I could do on this day is attend church. I check the internet, and it looks like the nearest chapel is about 4 miles from the hostel- I’m glad that I was in the mood for a walk. I stop several times on the trek to make sure I wasn’t going in the wrong direction. When I arrive, I’m greeted by a heavy-set man who is ‘jolly’ for lack of a better word. He seemed very welcoming and excited that I’m here.
We end up in the chapel, and I sit on the back row, trying to blend in with my surroundings. The problem I have is that it’s a small congregation- if you’re not in attendance every Sunday, they notice. I guess it doesn’t help that the hair on my head has been bleached blonde and that the sides are growing back brown. Maybe I look rebellious to them and am sticking out like a sore thumb.
A little old woman sits by me and asks my name. She then asks if I’m related to “those Watsons.” I tell her I don’t think I am. After the 7th or 8th person asks if I’m part of the ‘Tasmanian Watsons’ I have decided to change my introduction to, “Hi, I’m visiting from the States on holiday, but I’m not related to ‘those Watsons.'” Everyone that I say this to seems to understand.
Now the little old woman has taken to doing the introduction on my behalf. She is such a sweet thing and reminds me so much of my departed Gramma Bess. I want to hug her, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. I’m so blessed to have this temporary Gramma Bess sitting next to me.
Finally, the meeting starts, and so I don’t have to introduce myself anymore. It’s a good Easter service, nothing special or out of the ordinary. I’m glad I went, however. I always feel at home when I make it to church.
DavTravels 