Transit days are the worst

When you're travelling, transit days are the worst. The days you're going from one place to the next with all your bags.

Today we traveled from Lake Biwa to Tokyo, via two normal trains and one Shinkansen. 

My day started like this.

 

At 6am, gazing across the tatami at the sight of KB's pudgy little arm cuddling his Cookie Monster toy (not pictured). 

The hours between then and now have involved a lot of tears, a lot of confusion and a lot of inadvertent pissing people off with our huge load of stuff and our general cluelessness. It's also really hot. At one point I stopped by a bubbler in a park to have a sip of water but instead got a powerful jet of water squirted straight into my eyeball. It would have looked totally hilarious but I couldn't appreciate it because it hurt so much .

But now we are at our beautiful airbnb in ebisu with this shit hot view across the city.

 

I've got a belly full of delicious ramen and as soon as KB is in bed I'm going to sit on that balcony and have a convenience store beer. 

I may have lost the Cookie Monster toy at some point on the journey but heck, we made it. 

Do not touch these buttons!!

You guys, I'm in Japan!

We arrived last night after a whole day in a plane with a two year old. This morning, we hopped on a train to Kyoto and that's where I'm writing this from.

After two days in transit I'm feeling a little fragile. But there have been lots of good times already. Like the time that qantas sat us in a row of three and didn't book anyone in the third seat so KB basically got a free seat. The time when KB poked his head over the top of his train seat and said to the stranger behind him "What are you doing?". This is the first sentence he has ever uttered, apart from "more cake!" and the like. 

The time when I got this magical coffee that made me feel like a million bucks.

 

And this sign on some miscellaneous electronic thing at our airbnb.

 

Tomorrow we start exploring in earnest. Right after another of those magical coffees. 

Cool facts about KI

Wikipedia has taught me some cool facts about Kangaroo Island. 

1. It's Australia's third largest island after Tasmania and Melville Island.

2. Previous indigenous populations left the island due to sea level rises. Apparently.

3. Early settlers of the colony of South Australia wanted to make the capital of South Australia on KI. Others didn't, and in the end the others won. 

4. It has sea lions and penguins and awesome birds of prey. 

5. It is home to many Ligurian bees, also known as Italian bees. I don't know what makes an Italian bee different from a regular bee. Do they use their hands a lot when they buzz? 🐝 🇮🇹 🤷‍♀️

Cold comfort (PM)

Travelling + babies + baggage = a total effing drag. That is for sure. When I am travelling I try to only pack in carry-on size bags but even then, if I have the option of check-in, I will check in my carry-on just so I can be as far from my bags as possible for as long as possible. It may mean I have to wait at the other end but I don't even care.

Also, I put off unpacking for as long as possible. I hate it. I love the bit where you pull out the new stuff you bought but I hate the bit where you have to do heaps of washing or stuff your clean clothes into already overstuffed cupboards. I hate that bit. So in many ways I'm all over what K was talking about this morning. But on the other hand I am totally at odds with it.

For one, why did K have to lug all the stuff and baby across town to meet Appleheart at the car hire place? Why couldn't he get the car and pick her up? That would never happen in my household. Not because I would refuse to do such a thing (though I would voice my objections) but as much because when your boyfriend comes from the driviest family in Australia he will just make it so he can pick you up. (Don't get me wrong, he would just pick me up from anywhere. Oh no, there needs to be a good reason but bags and babies and cleaning would be reason enough.) I know K and Appleheart would have had their reasons and I hope to god those reasons never force me to cross town in the freezing cold with all that stuff.

Second, pilling. I hate it. And I hate cleaning pill balls. Maybe it would be ok if I had a lint shaver, but manually, I just find it so thankless. I feel that no matter how many balls I pick off there are still a million more to go. Just thinking about 6 hours of pill-picking is making my fingers feel irritated. Ugh.

Wow, I guess it's our differences that make the world go round, right?

Cold comforts (AM)

I unpacked my case yesterday, something I had been putting off because I couldn't face spending any more time with it. The mountain of shit one has to lug around when traveling for 2.5 months with a four month old baby is eye watering. It makes days spent in transit deeply unpleasant. 

Every time we moved cities I had to repack that fucker and doing so was a reminder that travel was imminent, and therefore deep unpleasantness was imminent. The time, after Appleheart had been in Munich for three days, I had to pack my bag, Appleheart's bag, KB's bag and portacot, clean an entire apartment while keeping KB entertained then travel across London with all bags and KB in order to meet Appleheart at a car hire place so we could drive for six hours down to Cornwall stands out as particularly effed. Though I was in no hurry to go near my case again, I'm glad I've done it and now it's finished I feel quite a bit lighter.

Unpacking meant putting away my favorite cardigan.

It's a woolly number that I got from Alpha 60 a few years ago. It's super warm and served me very well during those cool northern days and nights. 

But it also served another purpose. Because it's pure wool, it pills like a motherfucker. I hate pilling. But I love getting rid of those tiny little wool balls. I find it soothing, relaxing and comforting. And it's perfect activity for occasions like the time we drove to Cornwall in the rain over six hours and I had to sit in the back seat to ensure l was able to put KB's dummy back in his mouth whenever it came out and avoid extreme hysteria. 

Look at all those grubby little balls! It kept me going for hours. And almost as soon as you wear it after de-pilling it, it gets covered in pilly bits again. It's a gift that keeps on giving. I guess i'll have to find a more seasonally appropriate source of comfort now. 

Into the fog (PM)

Sheesh, according to BOM it’s only 14.7 degrees outside right now. That is not cool. Although, literally it is very cool. I wouldn’t know, I’m at work but it looks pretty miserable outside.

I always find myself a little anxious before any kind of travel, even the minor kind, and an overseas trip is attended by a lot more pretravel anxiety. Throw in a baby and some really cold weather – total fog wandering. When Baby was 8 months we went to USA. I’ve probably told you this before, but as we waited in the dark cold night of a February NYC, very underdressed for the weather an apparently homeless man saw my bundle of baby (the warmest dressed of the three of us) strapped to me in a BabyBjorn and said, “You got a baby in there? Get that baby inside!” Believe me, I wanted to! But the guy who was meant to meet us and let us in to the Air B’n’B apartment we’d booked wasn’t answering his phone. Eventually we ended up in the same place as that homeless guy, a McDonalds around the corner, and not long after that we were let into the apartment. Oh, God, I remember how happy I felt, being in a warm apartment, with a couch and TV and bed and kitchenette. It  made me the happiest girl in the world.

I guess what I’m saying is that there’ll be times when a stranger yells at you on the street as you stand cold and homeless and there’ll be times when you are ensconced in a warm happy home. You know, like life. But better. And sometimes maybe worse.

London calling (PM)

I haven't been to London since I was a kid and my memory of it isn't that great. That is to say I have little memory of it, not bad memories. Basically my memories involve Indian  restaurants and delighting in the fact I was where Stefan Edberg lived. So those are two pretty positive associations right there.

I'd quite like to go there again. I hear it has excellent food and museums. But lord knows when that will happen. Europe is so far away and expensive and once you get there there are so many excellent places to visit, would I prioritise one where people speak a boring language like English? With such a grey reputation? But K loved it. And Pickle loved it. So maybe I should prioritise it!

No point worrying about that now though. I'm always promising LB that out next overseas holiday will be Indonesia so I guess I better come good on that one if these days. I hear it has excellent food.