Brisbane G20 - Welcome To The "Hippest City" In Australia

So it's all eyes on Brisbane this weekend as the leaders of the world's twenty most powerful nations descend on the city for their annual pow-wow.  Coming along with them are all the admin, support and security staff and of course no international backscratching event would be complete without the accompanying posse of media.

It's estimated that Brisbane can expect an influx of approximately 10,000 visitors over the next few days.  So, what will they find when they get here?  Lonely Planet recently named Brisbane "the hippest city" in Australia - no mean accolade.  Having lived here for the past two and a half years, I have to say I agree with them.  Brisbane is one cool town.  G20 attendees will find streets with jacaranda and bougainvillea in full bloom.  Having a sub-tropical climate the city is known for its al-fresco dining and it's pretty unbeatable when this takes place along the river such as at the Eagle Street precinct.  When it comes to after-hours entertainment much of the action is to be found in The Valley - home to some pretty cool bars and music venues.



Mural In The Valley

The Brisbane river is the life-blood of the city and affords the visitor one of the most effective and fabulous ways to see Brisbane and to connect up with its many diverse neighbourhoods.  One of my favourite things to do is hop on the Citycat (the highspeed catamarans that go up and down the river day and night) and let the wind tug at my face as we zip from stop to stop, looking at all the amazing riverside properties. 



                                     The Citycat - Brisbane's Premier Mode of Transport

One of my favourite places to head to on the Citycat is the Southbank area with its city beaches.  Yes you read that correctly - beaches in the middle of the city.  Originally developed as part of  Expo '88 the area has since been re-developed and improved and provides an amazing place to meet, chill and relax in the heart of the city.



Southbank and Its Beaches

With Temperatures set to soar to 40+ degrees over the weekend - that's 105 Fahrenheit! - I'd be willing to bet you might find a few delegates cooling off at Street's Beach.  This is one of the things I'm not crazy about Brisbane - the extreme temperatures in summer.  Last summer saw some of the highest temperatures ever recorded in Australia and it looks like this year isn't going to be any different. 

If there is one things the G20 delegates won't find in Brisbane this weekend however, it's a Brisbanite.  The past few months have seen a heavy emphasis on security and traffic restrictions with road closures.  The city centre is on lock-down and the locals have been given the distinct impression to stay outta town! 

6000 Police on Brisbane Streets This Weekend

We even have the day off!  Which means only one thing to a Brisbanite - the chance to get to their beloved beaches on either the Sunshine or the Gold Coasts - which offer an embarrassment of riches when it comes to golden sands.  All roads led out of Brisbane last night and this morning.

The Bruce Highway - Chocca!

And they were chocca - as my Aussie friends would say.  Brisbane city centre is effectively a ghost town.  Realising they may have gone overboard and empty streets aren't exactly the image they want to portray, city officials have recently announced the availability of 1000 free car parking spaces over the weekend.  In a city where it costs $30 per hour for parking - this is rather generous of them. 

That's one thing all the delegates will find in Brisbane - shocking prices for food, drink and taxis.  Then again hip and cool was never cheap.

The Homecoming - Part Three

The sun shone and the country wore her finest colours for the duration of our stay in Ireland.  We feasted on Taytos, black pudding, freshly laid eggs, soda bread, smoked salmon, chowder, boxty, fresh from the earth potatoes, unbeatable Irish sausages, homegrown beef, organic pork, just out of the oven scones and Grandma's apple pies. 

The Best Crisps In The World!

 

Breakfast Is Served - Irish Style
 

New Potatoes - Fresh From Mother Nature



Baking Perfection - Grandma's Scones

We stayed with old friends and even made new ones.....



My New BFF - The One & Only Blossom!



Charley The Lamb & Lala

 



Warrior

We felt the warm sand between our toes and the icy Atlantic chill in our bones.  We had impromptu barbeques and toasted marshmallows.  We built sandcastles and created stone sculptures.  We rock-hopped and paddled.  We planted flowers with Grandad.  We flew kites and kicked balls.  We stuck our heads out the car windows feeling the wild caress of the warm summer air across our faces.



Toes In The Sand On Keel Beach



Water Between The Toes - Keel Beach



Toasting Marshmallows



The Three Amigos Stone Sculptures



Rock-hopping



Grandad's Little Helper




Kickabout



Headrush

We came across some pretty heavy traffic.....




Traffic - Island Style

We warmed our bones in the evenings in front of turf fires, as the sun set the sky ablaze with magnificent sunsets.  We woke to gentle birdsong in the morning and the freshness of the morning dew.  We spent our days in the easy company of old friends and family.  Some days it was easy to imagine I was back for good but all too soon the sun went down on our last day, my father stood before me unable to hold back his tears and it was time to leave.  The word "goodbye" isn't allowed in my parents' house.  They come from a generation where goodbyes were very often final and my father in particular watched as his brothers and sisters settled in far-flung places, seeing them only fleetingly for the rest of his life-time.  I hugged him and sent up a silent prayer that he and my mother would be okay until I managed to scramble the cash together to come home again.  And this is the big bogey about living in Australia - it's one damned expensive country to get out of!  I'm going to need about twelve thousand dollars just for the airfares alone for me and the kids.  Throw in the hire-car and living costs and you are looking at fifteen thousand dollars and then some.  I don't know about you but it's not exactly what I'd call spare change. 




Ireland - Time To Leave

The morning of our flights, deep dark clouds gathered over Dublin and I had to smile as La-la and the Dude mused as to whether or not it would rain.  Big fat drops started to fall as we taxied down the runway, matching my mood perfectly.  Sixteen and a half hours later, after a brief stopover in Dubai, we landed in Singapore and were greeted by medical personnel and police.  An announcement had been made on the plane that it was just a precaution regarding some sort of flu outbreak but the looks on the faces of the police said otherwise.  There was no doubt if you so much as presented with a sniffle, you were going to find yourself in an isolation ward pretty sharpish.  No sooner were we deemed healthy enough to pass when the Dude announced he needed the toilet.  Now this is the moment when the logistics of a parent travelling with two children on her / his own and the multitude of hand luggage becomes a logistical nightmare.  Having located the toilets and having dealt with the Dude's objections about not wanting to go into the "giiiiiirrrrllls" toilet, we finally entered the multi-cubicle room only to discover there was no family cubicle.  It quickly became clear that I was going to have to leave La-la standing on her own with ALL the hand luggage whilst I helped the Dude.  In this day and age I don't think it's such a smart idea to leave an eight year old in charge of all the luggage.  We'd already had an incident in Dublin over a toy gun the Dude had smuggled into his bag!  I didn't fancy someone "dropping" something into our luggage when I wasn't looking (I'm ALWAYS looking!)  Now you can call me paranoid all you like but I'd rather be paranoid and free than rotting in a hell-hole somewhere, protesting my innocence.  So I about-turned and headed for the disabled toilet I'd seen on our way in.  And that's when things got interesting.....

At this point the Dude was doing his, "I'm about to burst" shuffle.  So before the door was even closed I told him to "just pee!"  The door, which seemed to be moving in slow motion, finally slid shut - after a helping shove from yours truly.  Believing my privacy was assured, I decided to avail of the facilities myself.  So, I took up residence on the throne.  Someone on the other side tried the door and I spotted a "push to lock door" button beside me, so, wishing to pee in peace, I pressed it.  And as soon as I did, the door started to slowly but surely OPEN!  I now know that it obviously meant "push to operate door" but that wasn't much good to me as I watched my own personal window to the world gradually opening and revealing my compromised position.  La-la was the first to spot what was happening and made a panicked dash for the door, frantically trying to push it in the opposite direction.  The Dude just stood there - horrified.  And I sat there as second by inexorable second another face was revealed.  It was obviously "toilet rush-hour" in Singapore because I have never seen so many people waiting to use a toilet.  I think I counted ten in all - mostly Asian.  Now for those of you who haven't lived in an Asian country, let me tell you that "loss of face" is a major concern.  And this term is applicable in many situations but mostly applies when you compromise yourself - as in losing your temper in public or offend another, for example refusing food that has been specially prepared in your honour.  Revealing yourself, whilst sitting on the toilet, with your trousers around your ankles and your Nora Batty's (support tights) around your knees - well that goes way, way beyond losing face.  I had nothing left.  My audience were in such shock they didn't even have the presence of mind to look away.  Mercifully, I had realized at this point that the blasted button obviously operated the door and punched it as hard as I could.  Slowly - oh ever so slowly - the door started to close.  Ten horrified faces later I breathed a sigh of relief.  La-la sank to the floor and the Dude announced, "I'm not going out there!"  I have to admit, I was in no rush either.  Funnily enough when we eventually emerged, only an annoyed cleaning lady stood there.




Nora And Her Lovely Leg-wear

Thankfully the rest of our journey was uneventful and eight hours later we landed in Brisbane.  Our perfect holiday was over.  Hell-week - that's jet-lag by three for me - was ahead of me and I still don't know when I'll be home again. 

The Last Sunset

 




Into The West - The Homecoming Part Two

Anyone who lives in Ireland will tell you we have a little weather issue - it rains a lot.  However, the same people will tell you, when it doesn't rain - there is no other country in the world they would rather be.  Ireland is quite possibly the most beautiful country on the planet but when the sun shines it is simply spectacular and the west of Ireland in particular is sensational.  For it not to rain for five weeks in  a row is nothing short of miraculous and I will be forever grateful to have been in the country when she shimmered at her amazing best.  I'm going to let the photos say the rest.



The Minaun Cliffs, Achill Island

Keel Beach, Achill Island

Barr na gCappall, Achill Island

An Sliabh Mor, Achill Island

Traffic

Inisgalloon Island from Keel Beach

Midnight Sunset

Keem Bay, Achill Island



Wild Rose

Bonfire Night

Boats In The Bay



The Holy Mountain - Croagh Patrick


 

Leaving On A Jetplane......The Homecoming Part One

There's no doubt when you take children, especially those under the age of ten, and confine them in a small space for any extended length of time that you increase the probability of drama and disaster proportionate to the size of space and length of time.  Car journeys, for example, soon fall into the category of, "is it really necessary?" and, when undertaken at all, suddenly include all the weapons of mass distraction you can think of such as - portable DVD players, crayons and colouring books, a stash of biscuits, an endless supply of drinks, cuddly toys, books and the failsafe in the world of childhood bribery - chocolate.  Flying anywhere, is generally regarded as something best engaged in by the truly desperate or insane.  Flying long-distance, and it doesn't come much more long-distance then Brisbane to Dublin, would only be considered something that the desperately insane would consider.  To decide to do it on your own, well I don't think there is a category for that.....



The Sun Rises On a Pretty Big Day

And so it came to pass on 29th May 2014 the Mad Mammy and her crew of two boarded one of Emirates Airline's flagship new aeroplanes - the A380.  Oh and what a magnificent ship of the sky she is!  Euphoric on excitement, the kiddies quickly got to grips with the in-flight entertainment, sorted out their blankets and pillows  - like we were on a camping trip - and snuggled down into their pillow-pets.

Two Slightly Excited Children

The time was nine o'clock in the evening and I was betting on them falling asleep as soon as they'd had something to eat.  Deciding to take the 9pm flight out of Brisbane had formed a crucial part of my plan for as smooth a journey as possible.  This was the longest journey I had ever undertaken with them and I was on my own - forward thinking and planning - even for someone who is clearly insane, were vital.  However, I am well aware, oooooh sooooo well aware that when kids suspect you have a plan, they feel obliged to wreck it.  Actually, take it and rip it asunder, jump on it till it's completely unrecognizable and then flush it down the toilet, would be more of an accurate description of what kids do to parents' plans but it doesn't stop us fools from making them anyway.  However, so far, this particular plan of mine was working out perfectly, even down to the fact that the Dude fell asleep before he could finish his meal which, fortuitously, meant I could nick it.  Unfortunately my precaution at ordering the gluten free meal hadn't worked out so well for me - eurrrrgh!  However - Mad Mammy Travel Tip Alert!- if you can invent some sort of dietary special need, the benefit is that you get your food first - which is brilliant because it means you've finished yours by the time the kids get theirs and your dinner doesn't sit there getting colder by the second whilst you sort out the kiddies, which, as every mammy knows, happens all too often anyway.  However, the one drawback to this plan is: if your food is half-ways edible, your critters just might "help" you eat it whilst waiting for theirs to arrive.  Both La-La and The Dude looked on sympathetically as I put half my meal to the side of my tray.  The Dude felt it necessary to confirm that he wasn't, "getting that!"  As he snored contentedly beside me, I happily polished off his "chicken something or other" with mashed potatoes and carrots.  The big A380 sailed upwards and onwards like a giant, graceful eagle of the sky.  La-la was snuggled up to her pillow-pet and doing a good job of trying to catch any stray high-altitude flies and somewhere throughout Kellan Lutz doing a mighty fine job of being "Hercules", I dozed off.



Up, Up & Away On The Big Ship of The Skies - The A380

Fourteen and a half hours later we made a dawn landing into Dubai. The only fly in the ointment at this stage was a throbbing pain in my mouth where I'd had some recent dental work done.  Also, the Dude had hardly slept, such was his delight at an endless supply of movies and video games.  However, he seemed to be happy enough and we toddled around Dubai airport for two hours before boarding our flight to Dublin.  At this stage the pain in my mouth had reached unbearable proportions so I knocked back a few Codapane tablets and it is just as well.  At this stage the Dude was starting to look a little frayed around the edges.  His eyes were bloodshot and looked as if they were being propped open by invisible matches.  I quickly settled him into the window seat and set him up with a movie in the hopes he would fall asleep.  My plan was going perfectly until the stewardess appeared beside me with kiddies' blankets cutely rolled up and each held together with a cuddly toy.  Now, I know what you're thinking - how lovely - and to be honest I was thinking the same thing too.  La-la (the family's resident cuddly toy aficionado) eagerly stuck out her hands and joyfully took ownership of the newest member of her collection.  The Dude eyed the steward with suspicion, like her cuddly-toy blanket thingys were some sort of trick but grudgingly took one anyway.  And that is when ALL. HELL. BROKE. LOOSE.

"I don't want this one."  came the wail.  I instantly caught the hysterical, slightly maniacal vibration in those ominous words and swiveled my head in the direction of the steward, my hand out-stretched, in the hopes of grabbing her and garnering a replacement toy but she was nowhere to be seen.  She'd obviously got the "kid about to kick-off"  alert and ran as fast as her standard issue stilettoes would carry her.  I slowly turned to face a rapidly developing situation.  His face was scrunched up into a defiant snarl, his red-rimmed eyes blazing and the toy was having the life squeezed out of it between his clenched fists.  "I don't want this one," he growled.  I opened my mouth to speak, to utter some sort of nonsense about it being a lovely cuddly toy, that it was a special one just for him, blah, blah, blah......  But I was shot down by an ear-piercing, "I don't waaaaaaant this one!"   All around me hands flew to cover shattered ear-drums.  And so it began - two solid, hair-gnashing, teeth-pulling, hours of crying, shouting, screaming, pouting, kicking and head-banging.  After much abuse of the assistance button, the steward finally made an appearance in the middle of it all.  I explained the source of the problem and she promised to return with another cuddly toy blanket thingy.  I suppose she would have come back much sooner if she hadn't been subjected to the Dude's death-stare.  As it happened she returned approximately an hour later  - not with the promised peace offering but with breakfast!  And before I could warn her she had deposited it in front of the Dude, whose only response was to announce, "I don't want any crappy aeroplane food" and to send his orange juice flying up into the air.  Oh happy days.......  I sat there, incredulous, as orange juice dripped into my eyes.  La-la was soaked.  I didn't dare look behind me.  Now, up to this point I reckon the combined powers of paracetamol and codeine had kept me calm but two hours had passed and their calming effects were obviously starting to wear off as a red mist descended upon me.  I had tried placating him. I had tried cajoling him. I had tried to understand that he was just a little six year old boy who didn't know which way was up after eighteen hours of travelling, two hours sleep and very little to eat.  But now I was done!  I shot him the death glare and went straight to threat level one -  "I am taking La-la to the toilet to get changed, you eat something and don't move from that seat and no more screaming and complaining or you will never go to K-Mart again for the rest of your life!"  I spat at him.  Now, you might think the K-Mart threat is strange but the Dude loves nothing more than cashing in his good behavior beads in the toy department at K-Mart.  He blanched.  The threat and the death glare combined to bring him back to some semblance of reality.  "Okay," he agreed, albeit through gritted teeth.



The Little Guy Who Created Such A big Fuss

Myself and La-la returned five minutes later to find him munching on his bread roll and giggling away at something on his screen.  Snuggled into his chest was the offending cuddly toy.  He turned and smiled, "It's okay, I like it now Mummy," he announced.  I stood there dumb-founded, resisted the overwhelming urge to unleash a string of expletives at him and took in a breath so deep I'd say the oxygen masks were close to being released.  I sank into my seat, a half an hour passed and I watched as his eyelids started to droop, my breathing normalized and  I even entertained the idea that I might get a bit of shut-eye myself.  Then it happened.  Someone released the fart equivalent of the atomic bomb.  This was no mildly unpleasant gaseous interlude but a full-on toxic assault and the first person in the line of fire was, you guessed it, the Dude!



Fart Alert!

"Oh God!" he shouted in alarm, "oh God, what is that smell?  Oh God, oh God, I think I'm gonna die!"  he wailed as he then proceeded to gag and choke.  To be fair to him he was soon joined by the rest of us.  La-la was even trying to stuff her cuddly toy up her nose.  All around us hands covered mouths and eyes watered as people fought the urge to puke.  After about five minutes the air cleared and I'm sure we all collectively thought we were safe as we considered the fact that no human being could possibly produce another fart of such over-whelming putrid stench and magnitude so soon.  We were wrong.  The second atomic fart was so powerful the lady across the aisle from me heaved.  The Dude really thought we were under some sort of gas-attack.  "Jeeeeezus!  Mummy, they've done it again," he wailed as he jumped up and stood in his seat, in full-on ninja mode.  His rabid eyes scanned our section of the plane as he shouted, "who is it?  who is doing all that farting?" At this stage people didn't know whether to puke or laugh.  It was obvious if this kid found the culprit then he or she had done their last fart - EVER!  I started to laugh and thought I might not be able to stop such was the furious indignation on my son's face.  I got him to sit back down and prayed for a reprieve from the frightening flatulence.  The Dude wrapped his blanket around the bottom half of his face and proceeded to watch whatever was on his screen.  The guy sitting directly in front of him (and my main suspect as the master-farter) got up and went to the toilet.  Thankfully he must have undertaken a complete evacuation of his bowels as no more toxic gas-clouds were released. 

The Dude soon fell into an exhausted sleep, joined by La-la who proceeded to fall asleep with chocolate in her mouth which she then managed to dribble onto my top.  To say I was something of a disheveled mess on arrival in Dublin is probably the understatement of the year.  But all that and the drama of the flight was forgotten at the sight of Aunty Helen's beaming smile as she waved a bunch of flowers at us in the arrival's area.  After two very long years and an interminable amount of time in the air, I was home.