Riding the Wet

The tin, sitting innocently in the centre of the room. Gleaming metal seal with the sunlight coming through the window glinting. Last nights satin sheen coating the side, roughened by the pouring of last nights paint into pots. The white satin coat on the walls reflect placidly against the paint tins subtle hue with the bright red carpet adding a slight pink sheen to it's lower region.

Inside, the paint sits quietly, patiently awaiting the onslaught as it is prepared for application. It's visualising it's application, the sudden lurching feel as it's lifted of the ground, the disorientation as it's swung towards the sink, and then the best bet - the violent gyrations as the pigment is reintegrated into the whole.

Then, the discovery of the world outside as the seal is lifted, the world revealed. The sensuous pouring into the paint pots, and finally, and most of all, the firm but loving massage. Will it be the tender, tickling brush strokes onto the walls with delight. Or perhaps the firm smooth massage of the roller with long relaxing strokes. And then finally, the relaxing, basking in the sun, adding its white hue to the colour of life.

Inside the tin, unknown to the world around, the paint gives a small quiver of anticipation, over before it began.... before anybody could see.

Why is this important? Because at the moment, I'm doing quite a substantial amount of training and I'm really really struggling to find places that know how to make a proper banana smoothie. I mean really know how to make a proper banana smoothie.

The banana smoothie

The fundamental principles of making a banana smoothie are as follows

1. You have to be able to drink it fast!
2. It has to actually taste like banana
3. It has to be full of natural goodness
4. It's got to be thick enough that you have no inertia in the straw, but not too thick that you've got to be able to suck the chrome off an exhaust pipe to get at it

The recipe

1. Take two bananas. Not one, not three, but two. Two is the optimal number. One banana leaves you with the chance that it won't actually taste like banana enough, and three bananas is just being stupid.
2. Add milk. Real milk. Not that low fat coloured water jippo shit. Real milk. It has to be creamy. In fact, if you can get it non-homogenised - even better. And don't even think of using soy milk!
3. Add one scoop of extra creamy vanilla ice cream. Once again, low fat ice cream can piss off. Creamy ice cream is the way to go. Don't go cheap on the ice cream, it's more ice than cream.
4. Drizzle in some golden syrup. Honey works also if you don't have golden syrup - but golden syrup is better. Nothing like that hint of caramelly molasses.
5. Add yoghurt. Go to town. Strawberry, mango, peach, it doesn't matter - you've got two bananas in there so you can't destroy it. You can only make it better
6. Blend it.
7. sprinkle nutmeg over the top.
8. Drink... fast

Note that quantities of the other ingredients really don't matter - as long as you use two bananas. In fact, the more of the other ingredients the better - it means there's more to drink... which helps rule 1. This recipe meets all the rules because...

• It's not too cold. Some places blend ice in. WHAT??? Why ruin it. First it makes it too cold to drink fast, violating rule 1. It also ends up diluting the banana therefore violating rule 2, finally - if you've added ice, there's less room for natural goodness, destroying rule 3.
• You can drink it fast because if your quantities are high, you don't have to worry about savouring it, you can go back for seconds. And because you've used two bananas, it STILL tastes like banana
• It has the correct amount of ice cream. Too much and it's too cold which means you end up with a splitting ice cream headache, and you can't drink it fast then. Too little and it's too warm. Note - if you don't have ice-cream - freezing the bananas achieves the same result. (Peel them first though)
• Nutmeg gives it that little bit extra je ne sais quoi. - basically, it appeals to the "I've got to add something to this, it can't be that simple" crowd

Yes - it really is that easy. Now there is no more excuses for a crappy banana smoothie.

It's been one hell of a tough start to 2009.  First, a complete clean of our house was needed to remove some mould.  This means emptying the house, and then the chemical warfare guys come in and scrub the place down with vinegar, and vacuum the bejeezus out of the carpets.

Following that I cracked a rib at a mates go-karting bucks night (but I won).  Then, a week layup due to a chest infection as a result.

Next, I came down with salmonella poisoning, which necessitated a week in hospital, a 10kg weight loss, and then another week recovery (loss of three weeks work - and pay - OUCH).  By the way - I blame Nic for this - first, I wanted fish and chips - she insisted on roast chicken.  I suggested she get it from the charcoal chicken shop across the road, she went to the Belgrave Safeway.  Finally, when we sat down to eat it - she said she wasn't hungry - so I ate the whole thing!  (If she's not hungry - LET ME HAVE MY FISH AND CHIPS!)  So - no matter what happened - I was destined to get food poisoning.

And if that's not enough, I've got to deal with issues at work, a temporary house move to Elwood, and renovations.  Good grief.

Last of all, some idiot lit a fire a few days after Black Saturday at the end of our street - quite literally, nine houses away.

I still have to retrospectively post our New Zealand trip too.

Well - we're home now.  It's ridiculously early Sunday morning, and we had a nightmare getting onto the flight in Dubai.  Nic saved the day because this time, I couldn't work my charm and dodge the excess baggage.  In the end, after complaining and whinging and moaning and holding up the queue, Nic came through.  (I got banished to the naughty chair because I was tired and was loosing my cool).  The flight itself though was a lot of fun.  But I'm gettiing ahead of myself.

Arriving in Dubai we got a cab to our 5 star resort.  Not really knowing quite what to expect other than it would be good, when we arrived we were astounded.  After spending the last six weeks living out of a tent (except a few days in a hotel and one night at Patrick and Paulettes) anything was going to be good - but the Kempinski was superb.  Suddenly, we didn't have to carry our bike boxes!  Gold Jerry.  Ushered to our rooms, sans suitcases, our porter showed us where everything was, took us on a little tour of the resort and made sure we had everything.  The room was magnificent - and even had one of those things that sit next to the toilet to "wash your feet in".  Very French.

After my flight to Dubai I was exhausted (I had to sit next to Mr. Fidget the whole way), so Nic and I grabbed a quick shower and crashed on the bed.  About two hours later, we were interrupted by a knock on the door (mental note to self - remember the do not disturb sign) , as the room service guy came in to change the towels.  It wasn't even the next day!  How'd he know we'd had a shower?  Apologising for interrupting our sleep, he gave us some chocolates, and headed off.  Nice work.  We spent the rest of the day down soaking in the hotel pool.  Luxury!

The next day was off to Wild Wadi.  Getting there was a little interesting.  The taxi driver only spoke Arabic, funnily enough, and couldn't understand our English.  Even funnier, Nic decided that perhaps he'd understand English if she spoke it in a French accent.  Combine that with agreeing with the few words he spoke of English by using the French "Oui" and it's a miracle we arrived.  Probably put the taxi drivers English back two years too if the truth be known.

Wild Wadi is very cool.  It was 47 degrees celcius that day, and we spent the entire day floating around in tyre tubes.  Brilliant.  It has a maze of interconnected waterslides and uphill watercoasters.  You get on at any number of points, and you rocket up the coasters into different holding pools.  From each pool, you can go down any number of slides.  And with that, you can navigate your way around the park.  The only time we got out of the tubes was to eat. There's also a really cool waterfall where you can take your tube and just sit underneath the waterfall.  Tonnes of water fall down on you and it's like getting a massage as it pummels the back and shoulders.  By the time we returned to the resort, we were feeling decidedly relaxed.  We kicked back and drank wine and ate cheese in the resort pool.  Beautiful.  The last day was more of the same.  Relaxing in the hotel pool, eating and drinking.  We also managed to make it past the hotel pool and into the beach, but that didn't last too long.  The water temperature was 32 degrees celcius.  Too hot!  Amazing - the water was too hot to swim in.  Was good fun though, and returning to the hotel pool was heaven.  That evening Sujatha, a friend who lives just out of Dubai came and took us out to show us the sights.  Saw the old 'dhows' and a lot of the older parts of the area.  She also showed us one of the more traditional style souks.  Finally, took us back to her place where we had a meal fit for a king.  Apparently, that's normal eating for them.  Wow!  About midnight, she drove us back to the resort (it was still 37C outside!) as we had to leave early the next morning.

As I've alluded to up top, getting onto the plane was an exercise in frustration.  One of the reasons we flew Emirates was because after discussions about sporting equipment, the Emirates lady in Australia informed us that bike boxes travel free as they are an item of sporting equipment.  Sure enough, checking in at Melbourne, no problem; Dubai transit, no problem; Paris, no problem; Dubai on the way home - big problem.  Apparently in Dubai a bike isn't an item of sporting equipement.  This was extremely disappointing.  The lady behind the counter immediately abdicated all responsibility for decision making, instead deferring to her supervisor.  Nic volunteered to handle it, and upon speaking to the supervisor it became abundantly clear that he was unable to make a decision either.

So, Nic went higher.  (She would have to to Sheik Mohammed in the end!) This time, the guy still said no.  I was getting hot under the collar by now, as the rest had all proceeded smoothly, and after interrupting one to many times (creating a scene of course) I was banished to the naughty chair.  Nic got ready to jump the counter and show the guy on the website where it said "Sporting Equipment" and explain about the Olympic games and how one of the sports was cycling.  After 30 minutes of arguing, discussion, constant "No", the guy ended up relenting, accepting that "as we hadn't paid it before and as we were in the middle of our trip, it was OK".  Now - if he'd just made that point earlier and listened to us, it would have saved EVERYBODY some grief.  Just before I get off my high horse - my bike weighs 7kg.  It's packed in an "airline" happy size box, and weighs less than the golf clubs or scuba equipment that IS explicitly listed.  Why the discrimination?  I'm all for Ben's idea.  Have a max weight limit for everybody.  You and your bag stand on the scales, any amount over - say - 110kg, you have to pay for.

Anyway, the upshot was, we flew home without paying excess baggage, and arrived today at 5:00am to a wet, cold and grey Melbourne morning.  Welcome home.  All in all, an absolutely sensational trip which was a real eye opener for me.  Great fun, great riding, great hiking and great food.  Can't wait to go back!

Parking in Paris is an interesting experience.  We found the hotel, and even found a car park opposite.  Nic looked at it and determined there was no way we would fit in.  I looked at it and concurred.  The hotel manager looked at it and said "No problem".  That comment preceded an 15 point park, nudging our little Kangoo into the narrowest of spots.  And you know what?  The manager was right.  The Kangoo fitted in.  Just.  With 2cm to spare at the front and 5cm at the rear.  Fantastic.  Had to get a photo of that!  Best of all - free parking in August!

The Hotel we stayed at, Hotel College de France, was awesome.  The manager brilliant and as helpful as every other person we'd encountered, and right in the heart of the Latin Quarter.  Five minute walk to Notre Dame, ten minutes to The Louvre.

That day we trundled down to The Louvre and, because it was tourist season, it was packed.  And free entry.  So wandered in, along with thousands (quite literally) of other people to see the Mona Lisa.  I can't say I was disappointed, but Nic kind of hit the nail on the head when she asked "Was the atmosphere generated because of the painting, or because of the number of people coming to see the painting".  Funny how it's built itself the reputation.  I'd love to have spent more time in the Louvre, but for some reason, I was hating being in the crowded areas and was pretty tired.  We left there and headed through the gardens at the back, making our way back to the hotel to get ready for dinner.

The next day in Paris was Nics opportunity to do some shopping, and my opportunity to do my "jobs".  Unfortunately, after the trashing of the bike boxes when we arrived, we had to find new ones.  This entailed first - finding a sports store.  Second, trying to ask, in French, for a cardboard box for the bike, and then third, finding a hardware store and getting some packing tape.  This was no mean feat.

The sports store is a "Go Sport".  It's located in the forum des halles, which, unless you know where it is, can be a little difficult to find.  I was told that it was a huge shopping complex.  So, heading towards it and expecting a Myer or maybe a Melbourne Central style of shopping centre, I was somewhat suprised to see a big open space where it was meant to be.  Somewhat confused I asked a local "Ou est forum des halles s'il vous plait?" and was pointed to a somewhat dingy set of escalators heading downstairs towards the metro.  Heading down was a bit of a disappointment, and I have to say that the shopping malls in Australia are definitely better.

Into the Go Sport I went, and bumbling in my worst French ever I tried to explain that I need a "carton" or cardboard "boit" for my "velo".  First they tried to sell me a soft case.  Then, they realised I wanted something different, so they tried to sell me a hard case.  Finally, after pointing to a cardboard box that contained a ceiling fan and being told my bike wouldn't fit in that, they realised what I was after.  As soon as they realised, they called the manager, got approval, raced upstairs and told me to meet them at the front of the store.  From there, they dragged out two cardboard boxes, exactly the right size for me.  Perfect.  I'm sure they were amused watching me try to cart those two boxes all the way back to the car.  It was a long journey.

In the meantime, Nic was back burning the clothes in the local laundry clothes dryer.  Finally we caught up, and decided that it was time to go for a wander to get some dinner.  With that in mind, we decided that the metro out to Montemarte would be a fun way to do it, and sure enough, that's what we did.  (By the way, the train had tyres!  Weird!)  We got to Montemarte and headed up to see Sacre Coeur and the Paris skyline - for me - a highlight.  Then headed down from there and through the redlight district to find a place for dinner.  The little cafe there served up a treat, with the waiter explaining that he'd arranged the sunset just for us.   But it was definitely a bit of a battle trying to find a place to eat that was away from the tourists flooding in to see the Moulin Rouge and the other cabaret shows.

The last day was hard.  First, it was a case of finding the local Bricolage to get some packing tape.  Then it was off to the airport.  Once again, driving through the centre of Paris, although by this time it was significantly easier, and then on the autoroute out to the airport.  The guys at Eurodrive were brilliant.  We met up again with the guy who helped us the first time, and once we'd repacked the bikes, it was time for him to drive us to the airport.

They say you speak your best French on your last day in France.  They're right.  Flirting with the lovely French lady behind the counter checking our bags in, I was able to distract her long enough to not notice that we were checking in 90kg of luggage.  With that done, (and not quite getting her phone number - thanks Nic) we were through and onto the flight out of Paris.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a tear in my eye.  A fantastic holiday in France, and I just can't wait to come back.

Next stop - Dubai - rest and recuperation at Wild Wadi.