Well here we go again. Another couple of weeks of bad spelling mistakes, awful grammar and lost of apostrophes in the wrong places!

International travel isn’t sexy is it? Take this morning, we got up a time that I don’t reckon I’ve ever seen on the clock before, I know the first number was 4, the rest was just a blur. Claire rose first as is the custom in our house. If we had an alarm clock I could hit, I would have hit the snooze button. Instead I clicked the clock icon, put 15 more minutes on the alarm and drifted back to sleep. It’s funny how it seems the best sleep you get is between alarms. And off it went again, I dragged my body from bed, showered, got dressed and we headed out the door and on our way to the airport.

I hadn’t slept that well but do you ever when you know you have to get up at some ungodly hour of the morning? The drive to the airport was uneventful. We were a little anxious, upon checking our flight we noticed there was only an hour and twenty difference between landing at Brisbane domestic and transiting to Brisbane international, through Customs and onto our Canadian bound flight.

The heat as we entered the aerobridge at Brisbane was a relief compared to the cold Melbourne winter, it’s always a holiday thought but we spoke briefly about moving to a hotter climate but then quickly decided we liked Melbourne too much. Getting through the airport was quick and apart from a slight delay at immigration where of course my epassport failed once more, we made the gate just as the plane boarded.

We were lucky enough to have an extra legroom seat against the bulkhead. The last few trips have taught me to seek comfort on the longer legs and pay the extra for it. We learnt from our Berlin trip and didn’t book the outside seat, knowing the trolley constantly hits it on the way down. As usual the stewardesses gave me funny looks as I refused the meals, telling me how long it was till the next meal, I politely declined with “I don’t eat on planes”. Only afterwards did Claire let me know that they were probably making a comment about me ordering beers whilst not eating, but I wasn’t going for Boony’s record or anything. A couple of cans of Coors Lights and a Molson Canadian Lager aren’t gonna get anywhere close and hey, how do I make my money back for not eating.

The trip passed quickly for me. My idea was to try and do at least half my weeks study on the plane and I achieved this by completing all my reading for my course. I could see for poor Claire though the time dragged and a part of me felt guilty about that. I dislike seeing her sad and as soon as I finished my study we plugged in our little joint earphone connector and watched the same movies and shows.

We thought coming into Vancouver we’d have very little time to play with but in fact the opposite was true. Having initially been told by Qantas we would need to collect our bags and re-check them in we were told that they would go straight through to our final destination, Ottawa. We had some unintentional fun at the immigration gate where a machine takes a scan of your passport and then asks you to pose for a picture and prints it out and gives it you. Neither of us could get it right and I was quite embarrassed to take it up and show the officers there this wide eyed crazed grinning face I’d managed to pull.

Vancouver airport was empty and we sailed through and after wandering up and down the shops we decided our breakfast (it was now 8am in our new destination) would be taken at the first one we saw. Pretty sure they were much of a muchness but after not eating for 24 hours I’m not sure anything would have tasted bad. The bacon, egg and cheese croissant went down a treat as well as the regular coffee, which in Australia will be classified jumbo.

I’m finding Air Canada staff different, they don’t really fit the model of Australian air stewards and stewardesses. No blonde hair and tans, more just normal looking people who don’t lay on the pleasantries too much but seem to be very genuine. The descent into Vancouver was impressive over a series of islands, as we first descended through the clouds. Mountains were just poking their heads above the cloud cover, looking like peaks rising through the snow, of course though it is in the low mid twenties so no chance of snow where we are at the moment.

I’m a keen watcher of the flight path on planes, it certainly teaches you a few things. Today I learnt there was a place called Chilliwack! Strangely and luckily enough our only late arriving plane was the one into Ottawa on our final leg requiring no transfer apart from to our hotel. The flight was fairly uneventful. We’d checked ahead and uber was available from the airport so the nice Vladmir came up to pick us up. He wasn’t talkative, which after 27 hours travelling sort of suited us.

Arriving at hotels after long journeys is always a disappointment I find. You form in your mind this picture of a giant room with spas and dressing rooms and when you arrive it’s the size of a large broom cupboard. I think we both felt a little disappointed but that soon cleared and we headed out for a small supermarket shop at Sobey’s Urban Fresh (a bit like a Woolworths metro to us Aussies). It interestingly served a whole counter of hot foods, like a buffet, where you filled your tub with pasta, rice or other dinner treat and pay via the amount of grams you have. Cool idea eh? If we had this in Australia, when Claire was away, I’d never cook. The beer selection as you can imagine was wonderful to me. I hadn’t had 98.7% of it. And the rest were variations of Guiness.

After a quick pop back to the hotel to fill the fridge with our goodies we headed out to a restaurant of my choice. I fancied a burger and I noticed in our Lonely Planet a burger joint called ‘The Works’ closeby. We walked 20 minutes down a road filled with all sorts of restaurants and plastic pubs before reaching it. I’ve never been to an American diner but I imagine if you hipstered one up it would look like this. Lots of wood and industrial piping painted onto the walls. Our waitress came over, introduced herself, like you see on those American movies and asked if we’d been before. I told her not only had I never been before, it was my first night in Canada. She seemed excited. I ordered The Tragically Maple burger, thinking I might as well try a Canadian creation. I ordered their smallest beer, which turned out still to be 600ml, I supped away on a couple until my burger and Claire’s salad turned up. I’m not sure what the chef thought when the order for salad with chicken came through but I can imagine he was disgusted!

As I bit into the burger and stared lovingly at the bucket of fries they’d bought me, I realised why it was called the Tragically Maple burger, everything was sweet, the bacon, the potato bits, the few leaves, the bun and the burger. I think they dipped the whole thing in Maple Syrup before bringing it out to me. I quickly came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to finish my first massive burger meal in Canada and for once in my life instead of ordering the fries as a side, I should have taken up the offer of the steamed broccoli.

We wandered back to the hotel in the humid 26c degree heat at 10pm at night, thinking about an ice cream but I reckon that would have knocked me out for a couple of days. I live to see another day and maybe another burger. We start the beginning of 4 full days in Ottawa from tomorrow.

IJS 15/7/2017

So why Adelaide you might be asking. And probably with that somewhat biased Melbourne view that Adelaide is just some sort of backwater. A country town like city where nothing goes on. Well I’ve been to South Australia many time before. Mainly to the Adelaide Hills and the very kitsch village of Hahndorf but I have spent a little time in Adelaide back when the Ashes were here last time and have day tripped in from the Hills.

Well the answer this time was that I was lucky enough to leapfrog onto a conference Claire was at in Adelaide. She flew up Sunday and I joined her on the Tuesday night for the remainder of the week. I suppose were both planners so from originally wondering what we were going to do within a day of arriving in Adelaide we’d already managed to sort out 3 out of the 4 remaining evenings. A play, a comedian and finally a band. The classic trinity.
Claire’s conference took her to the Adelaide Convention Centre and our base on North Terrace ensured she could roll out of bed at 8.45 and be at her conference at 9. But also it proved to be a very handy launchpad for other attractions in Adelaide. It sits right next to the Festival precinct, the Adelaide oval and is only a short walk from North Adelaide, where I’d previously spent my time in the city. The draw was too much and I indulged my walk down memory lane into North Adelaide, past the Adelaide oval. As with most memories, the reality is not quite as good as the memory. Of course I was here with an old school friend of mine then and our lives revolved around beers and sport for four days. The drinking venues in North Adelaide hadn’t changed much but in truth it wasn’t that kind of trip.

I took Claire up there for a walk and we popped into a very noisy pub for lunch. The food was okay, the music loud and I wasn’t in the mood for a beer so a lemon lime and bitters sufficed. I was saving myself though. Before I’d come up a friend had told me about The National Wine Centre which was a bit like a big cellar door with 120 wines to taste.

However the no drinking was only limited to that visit really, my first day when Claire was still on conference I visited an old haunt from last time I was here, The Wheatsheaf Hotel otherwise affectionately known as The Wheaty. I had vivid memories of going her last time whilst waiting for my old school friend to arrive, watching the cricket on some 1980s tv on the bar whilst talking to the owner about craft beer. I remember her mentioning they were setting up a brewery and upon my return it was now in full operation. After reading the full local paper cover to cover (and who does this these days), a chat to the owner again and four beers later I was ready to wander back to our apartment. A bit drunkenly I staggered the 20 mins back to be greeted by big smile as I walked in. Those little things mean so much. A smile, a kind word here or there.
Back to the National Wine Centre though. Our plan had always been to visit for an hour on one of days but it ended up being six hours over two days. I have to admit what pulled me in was knowing I could taste Penfold’s Grange there. I knew a taster would be expensive but I don’t think I thought it would be $37. We arrived I had a couple of wines and debated whether the Grange was worth it. I once told my dad I paid $50 for a beer, he nearly fainted. His very working class upbringing mentality saw it as a waste, so I can only imagine what he might say if I told him a spent $37 on about 5 sips of wine. But sip it I did. I debated a long while but came to the conclusion that this was the reason I came and Claire’s encouragement pushed me over the line. And I’m glad I tried, I mean I’m not exactly going to go out and buy a $850 bottle (2008 vintage for those who care). But it was different from anything I’d tasted. I went through about 10 different flavours as it passed through my palate. There was a lovely smooth richness to it, it sort of tasted a bit majestic although that could have been the news I was watching on Twitter that the royal household had been called in for an emergency meeting. I shared of course, so Claire could taste as well, we both thoroughly enjoyed it.
My view had initially been, one visit to the wine centre and one to Pirate Life Brewery in Hindmarsh but I changed that view after an afternoon enjoying 8 different wines, trying styles I had never tried before. From Barberas to Mataro and Fiano to Picpoul. The atmosphere there was very relaxed which I enjoyed too. You were given a card you then put into a machine and chose what pour of wine you’d like (sample, half glass or glass). On the second day we enjoyed a cheese platter and both days lounged in some easy chairs whilst reading papers and chatting. A perfect way to spend a couple of holiday afternoons.
The play we went to Mr Burns at the Space theatre in the festival precinct, as some might guess from the name was inspired by the Simpsons and was based in a post apocalyptic world with few survivors. This particular group of survivors were trying to recreate Simpsons episodes from memory and later filmed their episodes for people to watch. Not as strange as you might think. And well worth a watch if you get the chance.

The second of our nights of entertainment was watching Julia Morris at the Festival Theatre. Neither of us had seen her comedy before, although I had seen her on a couple of TV programmes. The theatre was quite old fashioned but incredibly spacious. For this performance we’d managed to get a seat in one of the boxes which from high up and on the side still had a rather good view of the stage. The crowd was very enthusiastic and in fact one of Julia’s first lines was about how supportive crowds were in Adelaide and we found this out in our two visits to this theatre. Events and performances are sometimes about the atmosphere the audience brings as well as the actual performance on stage and this was definitely one of those occasions. For my liking, the comedy had a bit too much pretend chatter to a production manager off stage as they pretended things weren’t working when of course the audience knows this is just an act. But overall I found it very funny and not really being a lover of live comedy that is praise indeed.

Our final full day in Adelaide was probably more of a day for me, but one of the things I love most about Claire is her willingness to come along to things I enjoy even though I know they aren’t really her thing. She never complains or gives me the feeling she never wants to be there and seems to genuinely give everything a go. I’d noticed in the run up to Adelaide that the South Australian Oaks was on at Morphettville, a track I’d never been too. I like a day at the horses as many of you will know and this was too good an opportunity to pass up. After a big breakfast we caught an Uber and headed out to the track. There was some debate about the Uber and whether the tram would be better (and cheaper) but my anxiety got the better of me and my reasoning came to the conclusion that the Uber would get us there quicker and give me time to figure out the lay of the land, pick up my members tickets and get to see the races I wanted without the risk of being delayed due to public transport.

Unfortunately my thinking didn’t take into account, the Uber driver’s map taking him to the wrong side of the course, the smallness of the track and the ease of getting about and how empty it was. We arrived very early but on the plus side it gave us chance to have a drink and explore the member’s areas.
Like most trips to the track lately however it turned very much into a losing affair and Claire (annoyingly) picked up the only winner of the day. It was however a good day for Victorian trainers picking up nearly all the big races and Claire overheard someone say that all the money was being taken out of the state to go to Victoria. That made me smile.We took the tram back, which was fast and not packed in the slightest. In fact the attendance at the races surprised me with no more people than a Friday night at Moonee Valley. I was imagining their Oaks might be as big as the Victorian one. A quick dinner was had and then we went to our final performance on the last night of our time away.

We’d both only just heard of The Whitlams in passing but never really heard any of their music but this has kinda been our thing in our time together, going to see bands we’d not really heard of before. Both being a little nerdy we listened to a few of The Whitlams top songs via Apple Music in the days coming up to the event. The crowd as the previous night were incredible, the music was amazing and will definitely form part of our numerous playlists going forward. The Whitlams played with the Adelaide pops orchestra supporting them and the addition of strings and brass brought the songs alive. In parts of the music you just imagined would be empty, you heard the orchestra rise up to fill the gap. Performances like that are visual as well as just vocal though and watching an orchestra conducted on stage is a sight to see in itself. It was the last night of their tour and there was a sense of good humour throughout and it seemed like they genuinely enjoyed playing as much as we genuinely enjoyed listening.

We returned to our hotel for our final nights sleep on our rather uncomfortable bed, or should I say beds. In fact they were two single beds attached together. Although this is not unusual, what was unusual was there was two individual mattresses together as well. So when one of us rolled over into the middle, we hit the ridge on the edge of the mattress which made it rather uncomfortable and unless we both squeezed onto one of the mattresses or stuck to our own it was hard to actually sleep. On the plus side it will make me appreciate my own bed so much more on my arrival back in Melbourne where I can cuddle Claire without feeling a ridge pressing into the side of my body.

And so I write this as I sit on the plane on our flight back into Melbourne. Lately I’ve learnt to use my time on planes more constructively. It was with mixed feelings we return, as everyone does from every holiday really. It’s always nice to take some time out from the daily routine and not always have jobs that could be done. But it’s nice also to return home also. We’ve both missed our independent little pussy cat who doesn’t appreciate cuddles and have missed his constant meowing everytime we go near his food bowl. I’m sure after a couple of days though this will be back to being annoying again.

Adelaide was fabulous. A great trip. I’d only been there 4 full days but it felt like a holiday and that’s what’s important. Let’s the holidays continue.

  
I should start by saying, this blog like all of mine are about me. About how events have made me feel. At the end of the day, I can only comment on events from my perspective, I can’t hope (or wish) to be in the mind of anyone else. Our feelings are our own and ours alone. Feelings though are transitional they change all the time. For example how I feel when I first start writing this may not be the way I feel when I finish. Just as my feelings at the beginning of this process are not the same as my feelings at the conclusion. I’ve always found writing quite therapeutic, it gives me a chance to almost stand back and look at the situation as though I’m writing a story about a third person rather than myself. It offers me some perspective and helps me challenge my feelings.

This blog is meant to give an insight into events last year, the breakdown of my marriage less than 3 months after the event and the aftermath.

I was reminded of this a few days ago, when I saw a Facebook memory about a Facebook post I’d made announcing that my ex and I had split up. At the time it caused a bit of furore because it seemed she hadn’t told some of her friends and I was announcing it to them. Some harsh things were said to me, but also some lovely things as well and I will forever remember fondly my friends who jumped into that discussion to defend me. The post was something I needed to do to make the situation real as well as begin the process of recovery. It was very much something for me and maybe satisfied a need in me to wrestle back some control of situation in which I felt I had none.

It worked in many ways, it allowed me to draw a line under things and to start to rebuild my life again. Rebuilding meant a lot of things to me, I’m acutely aware of my age and my past relationship failures. My life over the last few years has really been a pot of insecurity, feeling secure for a few months and then having things blown apart again. More than anything my decision to start dating again was really only to fill a bit of time and distract me a little. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined where it would lead me and I am forever grateful that I made that decision.

I’m sure I would have been the centre of everyone’s discussion at one point in time and especially my willingness to get back to dating so fast. I’m sure there would have been comments that I needed time to recover, to take stock before I got to that point. But in my defence I would say, people recover in different ways. There is no rulebook for how we get through these things, there are just opinions. It can be all too easy to criticise what we don’t truly understand. The only person who ever really understands is the man in the arena, fighting a myriad of emotions while attempting to function as normally as possible.

I was proactive in other ways, primarily probably my best action was to seek psychological therapy and quickly. And I lucked out in that respect. I found a psychologist I actually connected with. One who I felt, could understand my situation, who listened. She never led me to any conclusion, she just gave me food for thought, made me understand my repression of certain emotions was damaging and encouraged me not to be so hard on myself. To sit with anxiety, to imagine these feelings as waves crashing over me, to understand these feelings wouldn’t last forever, just like the waves themselves, they stop and the sea becomes calm again. We worked on proactively summoning the emotions and then concentrating on nothing else but them. To avoid my usual route of distraction and instead let this anxiety consume me. In retrospect unless you are used to this, it isn’t an easy route to go but in the long term its been very beneficial. I learnt how to self soothe. At one point in our therapy, she said something I have always remembered, “you’ve suffered more loss in the last few years, than many people have in their lives”. It made me see myself in a different light, to stop fighting and feel a little sad for myself. It was quite an insightful statement for me.

The breakup itself came as a shock. I’m not sure anybody would expect a relationship to fall apart only a couple of months after a marriage. One minute things seem to be flowing along nicely, a few arguments here or there but nothing earth shattering. I recently thought, maybe I’m kidding myself and there were signs it was coming so I flicked back through social media to try and find events close to the end. To my mind they all seemed normal events in some cases happy events. I’m not going to go into specifics because I don’t think that’s fair but I can’t really see how I could ever have seen it coming. That in itself should illustrate what a shock this was. One day I was sailing along thinking all was going well, the next, the future I was thinking of the day before was gone. The world quite literally collapsed, everything I held true suddenly was no longer.

In a strange way, in the aftermath, I didn’t have time to think. My thoughts were all about self-preservation, looking after number one. I did what needed to be done. Suddenly the one person I thought had my back, didn’t. There was such a feeling of loneliness and a hopelessness about the future. Layered on top of this was a fear that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, something that came out of a period of insomnia a couple of years before.

But sleep I did and for me that was reassuring. Next came the process of moving out. An emotionally charged process that speaks not just of the change of location but about the change of everything. I was lucky enough to find somewhere relatively fast and have some good friends who agreed to help me move. The day itself was all about excitement, about starting over, about camaraderie with people helping out. I distinctly remember going to the soccer after I’d moved all my belongings and actually enjoying the day. But then, I went home to this new house and in spite of having a new housemate, I was suddenly all alone in a strange place and a new area. The excitement faded and the worry began. Was this just a transitional phase or was this truly my lot for my lifetime. I tried to be pro-active, I tried to keep my social life going, my friends were amazing, they seemed to make an extraordinary amount of time for me. Time away from their families, which I appreciated and still do to this day.

Life evolved, I started to date but of course there were still things to sort out from my old life. All of those things that on paper look transactional (splitting of assets, post redirections etc) are all highly emotionally charged because they aren’t just about those things, they are about a former life and the mourning of that former life. Contact with an ex became ridiculously painful and provoked emotions that could continue for hours if not days at a time.

But changes come over time. The past is only the past we view at that point in time. I think the immediate view is a very black and white one, a very angry one. But as my therapist at one point explained, anger is very much about self-protection and is there for a reason. It can be a useful emotion. And perhaps one I’ve struggled with and find it hard to bring out. Much of our work was about bringing that emotion to the fore and admitting what the emotion was. What once was anger though turns into something different and over time realisations are made.

I don’t think there is any set time for these. I’m sure people stay angry about breakups for the rest of their lives. But gradually as time went on I came to different points. One of my first ones was I forgave my ex for what she had done. Even typing this sounds very self-important and even though I came to this conclusion at one point it took a big conversation with my therapist to get me to action it. My view was my ex wouldn’t necessarily think she had done anything that I needed to forgive her for. A long discussion was had around the reason I wanted to forgive, was it for me or was it for her. The conclusion reached was, it was for me, so did it really matter whether my ex thought she had something to be forgiven for? I promptly sent an email to her letting her know I’d forgiven her for the hurt I’d felt she’d caused with the breakup. On a side point, I’d actually had a discussion with a friend about exactly this and when I told them I had forgiven my ex, they actually shed a couple of tears and said what a fantastic thing to do it was. I found that quite touching and it certainly reinforced the gravity of the action of forgiveness.

The next stage was, I thought it was the right thing to do to tell my ex about my new partner. I didn’t really want her finding out about it via other people and I’d prefer if I can to try and do what I consider the right thing (it might not always be). Another email was sent off.

I suppose at this point you might be questioning why I favoured email correspondence. I suppose from my point of view its very factual and provides a good record of a conversation. It doesn’t tend to lead to emotional charged conversations and overall, although maybe some people would view this type of conversation as spineless, I believed it provided me the medium which suited my message the best. I couldn’t be interrupted and could make the point I wanted and not drawn off onto tangents.

The final realisation I’ve come to just recently came from a piece of music. One day as I sometimes do, I plugged my headphones in and found myself listening to ‘Fun’ by Coldplay. I find when I have headphone in I really listen to the words instead of just the sounds. The song is about a breakup but refelecting that ‘didn’t we have fun’. It got me thinking. I realised that sometimes in situations like this, we think of a break up and we attach in our minds that all experiences we had were bad ones because the breakup itself was traumatic However the more I pondered that the more I realised there were plenty of good times, in fact the majority of the relationship was full of good times and easily out-weighed the bad. I can now finally look back on the relationship with a bit of fondness.

The process has been a very valuable one in many ways and has taught me so many things. Its taught me how resilient I am and have been over the years. It’s made me realise that I am so much stronger than I think. Its taught me I’m very tough on myself at times (I still sometimes today think what I failure I am after two failed marriages and think there is so much stigma attached with that). I’ve become so much more reflective about my life and experiences and tried to understand why I feel a certain way instead of reacting to the that emotion or trying to distract myself from it. I’ve learnt that maybe it’s not my failure with relationships, it’s a failure in the dynamic between two people. I’ve very much learnt to check in more often, to use my therapist as a sounding board for things and not be concerned about asking for my needs to be met.

The friendships I’ve had have strengthened through this all, my close friends have surrounded me, checked in and been there when I needed them. My new relationship is built with a good solid base, potential problems are discussed and talked out before they become issues. Communication has very much become the key for me.

My world and hence myself have invariably changed. Getting through this all has not been easy at times. Its felt like I’m banging on a door trying to get someone to open it, only realising with time, that the key was in my pocket all the time and I just needed to open it when I was ready.

I’m sure the future holds great things. I’m forever hopeful.

IJS 19/04/2017

 
   
Well then. It’s been over 5 years of effort, commencing with a competition between a couple of friends to drink a different Australian beer every day of the year but morphing into drinking 2000 unique beers.

Its with mixed emotions that I finally reach this goal. There have been times along the way where I’ve enjoyed sampling so many different tastes, some I’ve liked, some I haven’t liked so much. Its confirmed what styles of beer I love, which I’m happy to drink and which I will going forward try to avoid. This comes with it downsides as well, as I’ve hit milestone number (1000, 1500, 2000) I’ve moved to reach each goal faster and that has meant at times drinking beers I knew I wouldn’t enjoy (although some have surprised me) and having a focus on the numbers rather than the beer itself.

I reached a conclusion recently that when I hit the 2000 figure, I would go back to beer purely for the enjoyment and nothing more. Also now my home brewing operation is regularly churning out beer, I’d like to finally reach the stage where I’m self sufficient at home instead of buying beer and just basically buying beers when I’m out and about.

In all truth I’m not really sure it’s a milestone to be proud of. 2000 beers in the last 5 years sounds a bit extreme really. But when you consider most of the beers i’ve drunk have been unique it doesn’t sound that bad. It’s not like I’ve been drinking slabs of beer and then individuals on top. I can’t honestly remember the last time I bought a six pack of the same beer or wandered into a bottle shop without my phone out checking Untappd to see whether I’ve had a certain beer before. It will certainly be nice not to hear after 5 minutes of me standing there looking, “do you need any help, can I recommend something?”. Because I will no longer be spending more time in bottle shops than I do book shops.

This drive has lead me to trying different beers not just here in Australia but in fact around the world. Throughout Vietnam, Berlin, New Zealand and Malaysia I’ve spent time tasting and recording new beers. One thing I’d wish I’d done more of was comment on them and rate them properly. Unfortunately over the last few years, I’ve seen Untappd as just a tool to record how many beers I’ve actually drunk instead of the quality of these beers. What would have been nice, would have been to finish up and then go back over the ratings and buy six packs of the ones I loved. Unfortunately that won’t be happening and instead I will probably focus on the styles I’ve come to love.

My taste for IPAs since the very popular days of IPAs have waned and I often think now, that bar maybe one or two IPAs you can get, these are very much one beer drinks that play havoc with your taste buds and anything drunk after doesn’t quite taste the same. I suppose in truth I like an old plain run of the mill Pale Ale, not too highly hopped but nicely balanced, a beer I can sit with a six pack on a lazy Sunday afternoon and just enjoy whilst reading a book in the afternoon sun in the backyard.

I do though enjoy a good dark ale as well. Browns, Porters and Stouts have formed much of my winter drinking for the last few years now and I think will continue to. I love the richness of them and the images they conjure in my mind, maybe I just think a lot of Guiness adverts when I think of dark beers. I definitely think of days gone by and the memories those tastes stir up. Sitting in pubs with friends drinking pints whilst the smell of stale pub carpets wafts up to your nostrils.

And of course there are some beers I’ve definitely grown not to like. Maybe I just have a rubbish palate and can’t appreciate them however people should drink what they enjoy eh? And not what they think they should be drinking because it’s the latest trend. On my list of not enjoyable beers is mainly Sours and Berlinweisses . I’ve even tried a Berlinweisse in Berlin and I still didn’t like it. I suppose for me the traditional taste of beer, the one I grew up with is the one I still like. In spite of my dad feeding me crisps (chips) in a beer garden when I was younger dipped in lager, I still appreciate that bitter taste and the Sours and Berlinweisses are just too sweet or not what I really consider a beer.

As for the whole craft vs mainstream argument, I’ve come to the conclusion after many years of being a beer snob that maybe people should just drink what they really enjoy. Whether that be cans of VB or bottles of Temple Bicycle beer it shouldn’t really matter. I suppose I resist the attitude to a degree that says I just drink one thing without trying anything else but if you’re happy you’re happy and who am I to tell you otherwise.

It’s a rather blurred line nowadays really on what is mainstream and what is craft. I’m sure people out there have a definition but with the larger beer companies buying up Mountain Goat and Little Creatures, two flagships of the craft industry, the question is about what are we being snobbish about? The ownership or the beer itself. I have to admit, I still enjoy a Carlton Dry or a Wild Yak when I go to the races and I’ve learnt a new found appreciation of them because that basically is all I can get but you know what, they aren’t bad options and for everyone who would turn their nose up at them there are probably five times the amount that would be happy to drink them.

I mean it’s not like I’m about to stop drinking beer. Its part of my cultural heritage really. I still very much do a lot of my socialising in pubs and generally enjoy that atmosphere because it is one I am intimately familiar with. But saying that it might be nice to start having more alcohol free days a week that alcohol days and indulge some other passions, such as running which has been sorely neglected lately. It might be nice when considering a venue for dinner, considering the food and not the beer list and it might be nice not getting my phone out every time I drink a beer to record the next one. I genuinely look forward to not have new beers be my driver in where I go and what I do. And I look forward to refocusing the efforts of the last few years into something new.

Its been a great effort to get to 2000 and I’m proud of getting there, its quite an achievement. Its nearly up there with running a marathon for me, but its time to focus on something else. It shouldn’t be about the numbers which is what it became it should be about the beers and the taste. I mean saying all this, I’m not going back to drinking cans of VB but instead of drinking individually different beers maybe I’ll spend an evening drinking the same one, or maybe just a couple instead of 6 or 7 different ones.

So what did I finish on, what were my last three beers. Well, they were all from New Zealand. I like to make pivotal moments relevant, and with my beautiful partner being a kiwi I decided to pay homage to that country in the best way I know. 1998 ….. Garage Project Venesian Pale Ale…. 1999…..Funk Estate Stacking Cash…… 2000 Epic ‘Eric the Red’.

Bring on a few alcohol free days…..I don’t think the last month has had hardly any. And look out for some proper reviews from me, once that speak about the beers I drink, what they say to me and what they mean.

2001 was a space odyssey….2000 has been a beer odyssey.

IJS

  
So what are my aspirations for the year ahead? What do I want to achieve? Do I believe in setting New Year’s Resolutions?

I’ll take the last question first, I believe in them as long as they are realistic and not that life changing. I’m not sure people change too much over their lives and although we can start new hobbies and set new targets our overall disposition in my view tends to remain fairly constant over our lifetimes. This is of course unless we suffer some sort of traumatic events that completely throw us. I suppose I can only really cite one of those in my lifetime and that was 16 years ago when I first visited this country, a brake adjuster off a truck smashed through the windscreen of the car I was travelling in, flew between the front seats, hit the middle of the back seat and re-smashed the windscreen on the inside. Nothing like an event like that to remind you of your mortality. Prior to that I suppose I had quite an anxious disposition and I tended to worry about a variety of things. Since that point, I’ve learnt to let go of many of my worries and just enjoy where I’m at.

Whenever I think of this my mind turns to lyrics from ‘The Sunscreen Song’, there is a verse in there that goes:

“Don’t worry about the future or worry that know that worrying

Is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation

By chewing bubble gum

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things 

That never crossed your worried mind 

The kind that blindsides you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday”

I suppose I really try to rationalise most of my worries away by working out what are the real odds of some of these things actually happening. And anyway most of the big events in my life have been the kind that blindside me at 4pm on an idle Tuesday and not the ones I ever worried about in the first place.

Well that was a huge digression, anyway back on topic.

Yes I do have things I aspire to this year. More happiness is always a general aspiration but that’s an incredibly macro aspiration hey, and the devil would be indeed in the detail.

Firstly I’d like to get my lower back pain finally sorted. I’ve come to the conclusion over the last few months, that it maybe something I always have to live with from now on. It’s not particularly disabling but it does restrict me in a few ways and is particularly frustrating at the moment where I have to rely on Claire to do most of the heavyish lifting around the house in case I manage to aggravate my back again. Its only happened once since it started playing up but it is always a concern. Having never experienced back pain before I’ve found it particularly galling and find it hard to comprehend that in three months it hasn’t resolved completely. I continue to work with my physio week after week to build it back up. At times it seems like we’re getting nowhere and other times I notice the progression. I’m religious with the exercises I’m given and I hope I can get it back to a state where I’m advised I’m able to run again.

To run again would be my second aspiration for the year. It’s something from the last few years which has provided me some of my greatest achievements and given me some of the best relief in stressful times. I have indulged swimming and cycling a bit more, but in my view they are poor replacements for something I’ve come to truly love. Indications are currently I might be able to jog by the end of January, my challenge will be to ensure I don’t overdo it.

Thirdly, some stability. In the 11 years I’ve now been in Melbourne I’ve moved 7 times. Whilst it’s been nice to explore so many suburbs and parts of Melbourne, I’m not sure anywhere has really felt like home. As much as anybody ever can, I’d like to think about the future, to be in some part assured that I could plot the next few years out and build towards the things I want to achieve without having to deal with unexpected events. I sometimes sit there and think how I envy the lives of people who seem to be on a clear path forward but then maybe those people sit there and envy my chaotic path of the last few years. The uncertain shouldn’t always been seen as bad though. For me its cemented a lot of my friendships and made me realise how much people actually care for me and are there when I need them.

I’d like to brew more beer. It’s something I let go of last year but in the final couple of months I got off to a good start. I want to progress with this, I now have the perfect space for this and the only thing that can stop me really is my laziness. On paper the four/five hours of brewing can seem a daunting use of time but the results lately have been good and it would be a dream of mine to actually get to a point where I’m basically self-sufficient.

I need to be kinder to myself. I’ve heard this from a few people now and it’s something I’d like to try. I’m not completely sure I’m capable of this one, that in itself may already be a bit of defeatist attitude and it may relate back to my point about dispositions. When things go wrong, I tend to blame myself and I tend to be very hard on myself. I certainly relate to the statement that no one can be as hard on me as me. I’m unsure how I go about sorting this one out, but that in itself sounds like a challenge and a challenge has certainly been something that I’ve always been up for.

Lastly to appreciate those around me more. I have a lovely partner in Claire and it’s always so easy in life to not appreciate what you have and not show appreciation for it. It’s all too easy to take you eye off the ball to take things for granted to think that relationships will just be without any work. But in my view that’s a myth. Relationships take work to build and flourish.  And that is a lifelong job.

That’s quite a list. I’ll keep you updated with how it goes.

IJS

  
Last days are always strange. You’re sort of in between two places. Ready to get back to your normal life but also having to say goodbye. There are such a mix of emotions and that is what today will be. I came over here having met none of Claire’s family but I go home having met most of them.

 The experience has been lovely and it’s been nice to get to know the people who have had such a huge effect on Claire’s life. I’ve heard many of the voices over the telephone but now I’ve actually spent considerable time with them. So it will be sad going home too. 

 I had my last wander around the mean streets of Onehunga this morning and finally found the second hand bookshop id been told about which was a maze of shelves and stairways with books quite literally lying all over the place. It was quite an experience. In fact when I left I walked past a woman walking in who just said ‘wow’ when she saw the inside of the shop. 

 Onto lunch and to meet the final one of Claire’s friends for this trip. Our venue was the Garden Shed Cafe in Mt Eden Village. Again struck me as rather Melbourne with a cafe that adopts a theme. This one was full of plants and even have shovels for the beer taps. The burger though was my first of the week so I can confidently say it was the best burger in New Zealand.

 The afternoon passed fast. We chatted and ate for an hour or so. Went to a bottle shop to grab a couple of good beers to bring home and then quickly to a cake shop. We returned home to have a quick afternoon tea with Claire’s parents before them driving us to the airport. 

 It was a sad farewell but all farewells tend to be. But I did appreciate having so much time to spend with them and for what on paper looks quite a apprehensive filled situation I genuinely enjoyed all my time spent with them and found communication easy and natural.

 We aced extra legroom seats on the plane somehow, I’m not sure how, we checked in just in the morning and two were free. When both of you are around 6 foot this is a bit of a god send even on a four hour flight. Plane rides are always pretty boring though but I do appreciate sometimes not having the chance to do anything but playing games on the iPad or reading. 

 By the time we’d touched down in Melbourne and my epassport through the egate had failed for the third time in a row. I was beginning to get a bit grumpy. Especially with it being 9 pm at night as well. When we walked to get our cases from the travelator, there was no-one at the customs check but by the time we’d finished, the line was about a hundred long. Although it did move pretty fast.

 We exited the airport into the warm Melbourne air. Still about 25c outside and a complete change from the weather we’d come from. As with everything else the taxi line was pretty long but we made it home by about 10.15 pm. It’s always nice when you’ve been on holiday, come home and open the door. The smell, the sights it’s all about being home. The feeling of comfort. We sat up for a little while, it’s something I’m learning as I’m older when I come in I don’t go straight to bed like I used. We sat down had a hot drink and relaxed.

 It felt like I’d never been away and the holiday was a distant memory. I just remember the thought of how comfortable our own bed was before drifting off to sleep.

 IJS

Coffee and look round the mall, a bit like my grandfather. In many ways we never forget, they live on through Us. The way we treat people, the things that interest us, the way we are. He liked to walk, as did my dad and so the traditional carries.

I wandered up to explore the Onehunga mall. I suppose the only way you really appreciate a place is walking it. You miss so many things when you drive through areas in a car. Like a mural I found on the wall, I’d never have it if I hadn’t walked. After touring the shops, I briefly wandered over to a walkway by the Auckland harbour. Beautiful views back over Onehunga but also out to the harbour.

This afternoon we headed out to Pukekohe racecourse to indulge in one of my passions, the horse racing. It’s been in my life a long time and something I used to enjoy with my maternal grandfather as a child. Many an afternoon were sat in front of the TV with him watching. I never got to go to the track with him and always wished that I had before it was too late. But alas it was not to be.

Pukekohe was just on the outskirts of Auckland and had the feel of a countryish track. More so from the people and the age of the facilities. The TAB was strange too and seemed rather labour intensive as opposed to the Australian one which is very automated. Pukekohe racetrack also had a car racing track round the outside so you got nowhere near the horses. 

There wasn’t a large attendance and we didn’t win a lot of money but it was fun to visit a racetrack in another country. And in spite of the lack of wins, the appalling weather and the scarce attendance I thoroughly enjoyed it. I’ve always felt very at home at the racetrack. To me it’s a place of many rules and regulations, from which stand you can go in to where and how you bet. It’s something that suits me. 

After a 40 minute trip to Auckland. We had an appointment to take Claire’s parent’s out for her dad’s 70th birthday. We went to a little place called the French Cafe in Mt Eden. From the row of shops it was in, it didn’t look much however inside was a completely different experience .

It was subtly decorated with a couple of pieces of art covering the scant cream walls. Each light, of which there was about 20 hanging down threw out a dim glow that created quite a cosy atmosphere. The service was attentive but not too much so, the food was good and the beer and wine lists were substantial. It was a beautiful dinner and nice to sit down with everyone and just chat. Something we haven’t had a chance to do since our arrival.

It really brought to home to us that tomorrow we head back to Melbourne.

IJS

Galbraiths. A lunch time event to meet Claire’s best friends family. Arranged at a craft beer bar. The bar had a range of craft beers and I remember counting at least 12 before leaving the establishment. A definite draw back for future trips. The bar was decorated in a typically English style and of course I have a few problems with this because I question the authenticness of it and whether it as just in Australia, just a bar pretending it was english/Irish.

My thoughts are if you brew your own beer, you should be authentically local and not really pretend to be something else. Your selling point is indeed, at least in my eyes that you are local and you brew locally brewed beer. I suppose it poised a bigger question and that is, what is the kiwi identity? From my point of view I understand this question from the pubs I drink in and so far, I haven’t been able to establish it. The Aussie identity seems to be sports bars with cheap drinks and gambling machines. In the higher class venues, maybe a range of craft beers and a rusticy feeling bar although maybe this is just a world wide theme and maybe no country any longer has that sort of identity. Maybe it’s a sign of the times. 
The beers however went down well. I wouldn’t say they were earth shattering or whether I found my favourite drink in the world but they were at least nice. And 12 beers in there was quite a nice haze going and one that was lasting into the afternoon.

Claire’s mum suggested a walk into Auckland, I readily agreed because I really needed one. We walked for around 20 minutes and hit the Main Street of Auckland. At this point my interest in any sort of shopping has wained and what I most appreciated was the walk. We wandered around the Britomart precinct which was in my mind so much more than it actually was, a glorified DFO.

People wander by. Some run, some walk and some even dance. You sit and wonder what everyone is doing, what they’re motivations are, where they are going and what they’ve done. Shop workers, children, tourists. The guys doing the treasure hunt that sit on the beanbags in the square, take a picture and then run off elsewhere. Everyone has something else to be doing, and nothing that links in with what we are. 

People smiling at their phones, couples hand in hand, shoppers with lots of bags looking shopped out. Time ticks on, I wonder where Claire has gone. I realise ten minutes is never ten minutes though.

Claire wandered back about half an hour later and we headed off for our second Vietnamese meal of the holiday. This one was more of your inner city Vietnamese rather than the suburban one we had last night. The food was good about on par with the previous night and we then decided to finish the day by visiting the theatre to watch a play called Perplex and perplexing it certainly was.

I’m unsure really what it was all about. The characters weren’t static and everyone swapped roles. The play wasn’t linear and there were lots of corny jokes. Mix that in with s fair amount of male nudity and I’m not entirely sure what you have. I’m glad I saw it but I wouldn’t see it again.

Our return trip home in our uber was relatively uneventful and out Friday was over.

IJS

We both woke up like two hobbits who had enjoyed a massive banquet the night before. Both rubbing our stomachs and thinking it might be a good idea if we skipped breakfast and just headed on to elevenses.

We rose pretty slowly this morning with thoughts of that American guy singing the song from the Green Dragon on our walk back to the bus, the English guy who asked way to many questions and the girl who dressed up in a medieval outfit and claimed it was one from The Shire.

Today was all about making our way back to Auckland and Claire’s parents. Although a stop in Hamilton on the way was being made to meet another of Claire’s many friends. We arrived in Hamilton quite early and has a wander down to the river. Our initial thought was we would take a stroll into the botanic gardens but seemingly the weather system of this week has been sun for 10 minutes, rain for 15. Repeat. So we managed to park in the car park of the gardens but never got out. Our river walk was interrupted as expected by rain and we took shelter under a portion of the boat shed whilst watching the rain yet again stream down.

We visited the art gallery, or in fact the art gallery shop. We tried to enter the exhibitions but we’re told they weren’t ready until tomorrow. The museum though had an interesting exhibit in Maori culture and the sacrifice of NZ in the First World War.

Lunch was then eaten in a portacabin cafe whilst chatting to Claire’s friend from med school. Lunch over we made the drive back to Auckland.
Having not seen many shops yet I asked Claire to take me to see some. Due to the increasing traffic as we got closer to Auckland, we pulled into a Westfield like shopping centre at Sylvia Park. Quite like a Westfield it felt like being in Australia with all the shops basically being the same.

We then decided to see a movie. For how long we’ve been together we’ve seen very few so Nocturnal Animals was our choice and it was a real cracker. One of the best films I’ve seen in a while with lots of meanings not exactly obvious and a story within a story.

A Vietnamese restaurant on our way back to Claire’s parents and our day was done, we head into our final weekend in NZ.

IJS