Back on the Workout Regime... Sort Of

After beginning my physio on my ankle last week (consisting of writing the ABC's, making circles and repeating a series of point and flex with my ankle), I was given the go-ahead to do a bit of swimming as well. Eager to for a good cardio workout, I headed to the pool after work today. The physical therapist said I could swim slowly, only if I used a float on my legs to keep my ankle still.

When I first arrived to the pool, it was fairly empty with clearly marked "slow" and "fast" lanes. I met a nice girl (while gathering the courage to get into the water) who was there for a water aerobics class. She also had broken her foot and said swimming was a great workout - this made me feel better about being there.

I hobbled up to the edge of the pool, took my boot off and lowered myself in. With a giant purple noodle in between my legs, I began an awkward, stiff-legged free style down the length of the pool. The few other people in my lane had to swim around me, so I opted to switch to the slowest moving lane (and I figured this much because of the 85 year old lady in her white bikini slowly making her way down the length of the pool doing a frog-crawl. She was zig-zagging across the entire lane, attempting backstroke, by the time I reached her. I tried to stay against the side wall to let her pass all the while trying to keep the noodle from slapping her in the face and despite my attempts to pass by unnoticed, she whacks me with her arm, which startled her more than me. She then proceeds to flail hopelessly for the lane rope while screeching in a raspy voice - "pay attention, I'm old! Why don't you watch out? I am an old lady!" Glaring in a confused and utterly disgusted brow-furring way, I continued my swim and immediately moved back over to my original lane.

I got down a routine, but without using my legs, I was wearing out fast - its a tough workout! Stopping for a rest at the far end of the pool, a guy walking along the edge asked if I would be so kind to move out of the way - his water polo team was now using the far two lanes for water polo practice. If I had to get out of that lane, then the old lady should have had to get out too - she began to squawk at every water polo zipping by her as well! By my last 50m lap, I was having to rest with a little side stroke from time to time. So I hoisted myself out of the water - too tired to move over two more lanes to one of the two free lanes left in the pool - ever filling up with more people who would have to swim around me and my purple noodle. Sitting on the edge of the pool, a nice man retrieved my boot for me - and as I sat recovering and warming up, the cocky water polo coach wandered over to inform the lifeguard that the old lady "had to go."

Leaving to head back to the locker room (and being cut in line for the water fountain by a 40 year old squash player) - I of course got all sorts of looks for my mighty boot - but felt good for having finally done a cardio workout.

Despite a cranky old lady, a pompous water polo coach and a line-cutting squash player, I am happy that I am able to become active again, a little at a time. Here's to recovering and beginning my triathlon training!

Sleigh Bells Ring...Are You Listenin?

Michelle and Eric arrived a few weeks ago. They both know Scott through working at Manhattan and just recently engaged, decided to start their life together, in Australia. Eric had to return to the US for a bit, leaving Michelle behind to find an apartment and furniture. Knowing how hard it is to get all settled in, I decided Michelle needed a nice dinner on the town - and we decided upon Cookie. Situated in a multi-level building, Cookie is one of the 3 restaurants, taking up an entire floor of a building with one slightly hidden entrance. The other floors of the buildings are other restaurants, boutiques, pubs, and a rooftop terrace that plays movies during the summer. Cookie is a Thai inspired restaurant (we order savory and crunchy cabbage rolls to start, then a white fish curry to share - which we both sweat through, so were happy when the waiter brought us cucumbers to cool down our mouths). The bill came to us, not in a traditional waiter book, but in a Little Golden Book! Just another quirky Melbourne discovery.

Leaving my apartment this past weekend, our garden was all abloom, so I am happy I captured this moment before the heat of summer set in and all the gorgeous flowers wilted.

Onto the CBD for the Christmas tour around the city:

Town Hall

The Famous Gingerbread Town

Australia Post HAS to deliver to Santa too

Entering Federation Square - turned Christmas Land

Bourke Street

Myer is the large department store I mentioned in my Horse Race blog. At Christmas, they hire a team to create entire scenes in the store windows (think NYC Macy's). Mid-November, the windows are revealed. This year the theme is "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" - The Nativity Scene takes up one window, then all the others are different scenes of Santa with his elves.

The weekend ended with a 12 Pubs of Christmas crawl. A group of us, dressed from head to toe in Christmas attire made our rounds to different locations in Fitzroy, spreading Christmas cheer! (My hat may or may not have sung and danced - it was pretty much the life of the party).

One more week to go of feeling like a cross between an Oompa Loompa and a Christmas Elf (all I have been doing the last 3 weeks is packing Corporate Christmas orders and eating chocolate for lunch because I do not have time to stop to eat a real meal). By this time next week, I will be making my way to Perth for 2 weeks on the beach, celebrating Christmas and New Years, with a trip to Margaret River and Monkey Mia in between.

I will miss home, family, friends and traditions terribly - too much so that I try not to think about it. But all in all, I am happy to start my own memories of the holidays and cannot wait to share them with you!

Springtime in South Yarra

Springtime in South Yarra is well underway and I can't help but feel that I am walking down some quaint street in Europe every morning I leave my house (now that I am walking again!) I wanted to share with you just a few of the great architecture and beautiful greenery I get to see right next door to me.

It might be hard to tell, but also every morning (well, on sunny mornings), there is are streaks across the sidewalk, glistening in the light. Only recently did Bec find out from our neighbors (Dave & Pete - who are both divorcees and obsessed with cycling, hence the reason I have gone to them for bike buying advice) that the same magical creatures who form these glistening lines are also the same magical creatures who have been shredding our mail inside our mailbox: snails. They live in the "garden" around our building and leave a trail behind when criss-crossing the sidewalk down to the mailboxes. Apparently they also enjoy eating paper, especially all the hospital bills that have been coming in.
Despite the snails, I am happy to be on my feet again. To easily walk down to the train station (this morning there were carolers inside the station showering all the train travelers with Christmas Tunes!) It's beginning to feel a lot like April but look a lot like Christmas around here! Christmas pictures to come.

Golden (*Champagne*) Birthday

I could have never imagined in a lifetime that I would have spent my Golden Birthday (turning 24 on the 24th of November) in Australia. (They call it Champagne Birthday in Canada - and Australia just doesn't celebrate such a thing at all). If anything, I had always had visions of going out in Atlanta in some fabulous gold dress with my closest friends. Instead, it went a bit like this:

Wednesday night before my birthday, Bec came home and surprised me with two blue sharpies (thank you KPMG stationary supply room). Over a glass of wine, we proceeded to graffiti my soon-to-be-removed cast with mantras that have become standard conversation since this whole ankle fiasco began. We dubbed this night the "trash the cast, party of two."

Feeling slightly like a 4th grader, I donned a large, black athletic sock up over my cast the next morning to head to Alfred Hospital Round 3. The day of Freedom had finally arrived! Bec and I had a quick pit stop at a cute local cafe right at the end of our street and she treated to a skinny flat white coffee, my new favorite (can't drink skinny caps ALL the time!) We toasted to: A Golden Birthday, American Thanksgiving and Cast-Off Day. What more could I ask for on this very special day!? Literally I day I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa. I was so giddy and happy and the sun was shining, it was a great day.

This Round 3, a slightly more competent taxi driver took me the rest of the way to the Alfred and after a slight panic attack in the X-ray waiting room (the nurse said I might not get the cast off that day), I hobbled over to the second waiting room filled with 100 other patients all sporting variations of bone injuries. A nurse I recognized from the "plaster room" during Alfred Hospital Round 2 came to escort me back to the plaster room where I then had to....remove the sock. Bear in mind, I am now in a small room, with 5 other people, all over the age of 40. So the fact that I am in my 20's, in a cast... which is covered in graffiti, does nothing to help my: "I broke it in an innocent accident" claim.

Waiting for about an hour (all the while being harassed by the 40 year old show off/know it all across from me) the nurse finally wheeled over a large shop-vac looking machine equipped with a rotating saw blade connected to a long tube. This was the cast removal system, the ONLY cast removal system (unfortunately for Mr. Know It All who was keen to just rip it off himself.) She assured me the cast would only cut through the plaster but would stop automatically if it came into contact with skin (how a blade knows such things is beyond me, but I trusted her.) She also assured me that mine was one of the most tame and 'G' rated graffiti job she had seen and sent congratulations my way. A few cuts later, the cast peeled away, I look down to a hairy, pale, crusty, sorry excuse for a lower leg. The nurse brought over a wet towel for me to wash away what grime I could, which really just took off an entire couple layers of skin. To have the cast finally off my leg though felt fantastic.

Already discouraged by the state of my leg, the Doctor came back to announce I could keep the cast off but would have to use crutches for 6 more weeks - and then he disappeared (have I mentioned yet though that he is a young, charming, very attractive doctor??) - therefore mustering up every ounce of charisma in me when he returned, I convinced him to let me go straight to a "moon boot" so I would at least be able to walk, on two feet, without crutches - it was "my birthday after all!" (Actually in the back of my mind, all I cared about at that moment was the gathering of friends later that evening for my birthday and seeing all the disappointing looks on their faces when I would walked up on crutches instead of both feet - that would just not do.)

Scribbled prescription in hand, Dr. Charm wished me a Happy Birthday with a grin and sent me on my way to the Ortho equipment rental center to have my 'Cam' boot fitted. 20 minutes later, I was outside, on two feet, with a huge grin on my face.

Meeting at The World Bar was the plan for the evening, arranged by the fabulous Bec. After work, my friends met me here after work and I could not have ask for a better birthday celebration: right on the Yarra River walk, looking out to the water, sitting on the patio with great food, drinks and warm sunshine. It was perfect. Topping on the cake, my Birthday card from the Irish guys (this was inspired by a REAL sign on a tram in the city encouraging passengers to offer their seats to cripples - how appropriate!):

The Packed Car

Celebrations continued on into the weekend (and this time a drawn out Birthday was actually warranted because my birthday in the US was not until my Friday.) After work 5 of us piled into Bec's little Holden Hatchback loaded down with gear for a weekend at the beach in Fairhaven (literally a little strip of beach houses between Torquay and Lorne on the Great Ocean Road.) 12 of us met at a fabulous beach house, in the hills overlooking the water. Although it rained the majority of the weekend we still had an excellent time with home cooked meals, dance parties in the living room, swimming in the ocean (yes, I got in with my boot on - the other option was standing in the rain with FOMO (fear of missing out) and that just really wasn't even an option) and a trip to Koala Cove after a nice brunch in Lorne.

The most exciting part to the brunch (minus my amazing fluffy scrambled eggs on thick cut, grilled sourdough bread) was the people watching. "Schoolies" as they call them here are the high school graduates. (A bit odd to think of high school graduation in November/December, but this is Australia summer time - so their academic calendar follows suit. ) Schoolies are the 18 year old, but "I think I am 25 and cooler than you" type of kids. Donning outfits I that should be illegal to wear (worst offense: high waisted jean shorts with a 1/2 an inch inseam - worn by girls of ALL shapes and sized), these kids come to the beach to celebrate graduation and just wander up and down the beach. Bec and I had to restrain to keep our thoughts and judgements to ourselves.

The Great Ocean Road

Onto Koala cove (and only having to stop once for directions) we finally found the turn off. Rumored to have 100's of koalas sitting in the trees, this is a popular tourist attraction. So popular it even has a cafe named after it at the bottom of the hill required to climb to see the fluffy little guys. After hiking up the hill we saw one, not 100's, and it was asleep. Quite disappointing but after such a tiring weekend, I was envious of the little fella. All I wanted to do at that point was to curl up with him in the tree. Much more exciting were the enormous amounts of colorful birds. Entirely accustomed to tourists, a handful of birdseed would attract one of these parrots and they would eat right out of your hand. We each had a go (Lynsey and Rigel had more than they bargained for with birds landing on their heads), but this brought us entertainment for much longer than it should have.

Koala Cove

Saying our goodbyes then, all three car fulls headed back toward Melbourne, back to reality of Monday work day. I could not have asked for a better birthday. And although I missed Thanksgiving dinner (I had my moments of home sickness - especially after attempting to call my Mawmaw on her birthday, the day after mine and receiving emails from back home about a family effort to make heaps of mashed potatoes and pies), I could not have asked for a better way to spend my Champagne/Golden Birthday.

Thanksgiving

On the most un-Thanksgivingly of Thanksgivings week (based really on the 80 degree temperatures and lack of a huge family dinner complete with a whole roasted turkey and fried okra), we have still managed to bring a bit of the holiday feelings to Australia.

The past two weeks have indeed flown by and the countdown until Thursday is now on. Not only is it my Golden (or Champagne as they refer to it in Canada) Birthday (I turn 24 on the 24th - and I get to celebrate in Australia!) - it is also the day I get my cast taken off and most importantly, it is American Thanksgiving.

Last weekend I spent a nice day lounging around one of our local favorite hangout places, The Grace Darling, and then spent Sunday in the park by the Botanical Gardens. The trees in this park are magnificent and provide shade from the sun (or rain - because it does rain often here in Melbourne). I was able to Skype with most all my family members and best friends. A perfect way to catch up before waking up at 5:30am the next morning to Skype with the entire extended family at Grandmother and Granddad Garner's house for the Garner's early Thanksgiving dinner. No worries, I vicariously ate the fried okra through my dearest family members and was able to envision the delightfulness by the seeing the remnants of my favorite Thanksgiving food through the computer.

A long week at work turned weekend again, which brought nothing but rain and more rain until yesterday when the sun shone brilliantly and I was able to venture out to the Vic market for the day. I was able to achieve all my Christmas shopping in one day and felt quite proud on my trek home on crutches, burdened down with a 40lb backpack. After unloading and admiring my purchases, Bec and I piled into her car to pick up new Australian arrivals, Michelle and Eric who work for Manhattan and have been looking at apartments in our part of town. We all headed to Steph & Scott's house for a Thanksgiving/Birthday/BBQ to celebrate all things wonderful this week. Bec and I's contribution: mini Pecan Pies!

The recipe is so easy to make, especially when you buy frozen mini pastry shells. Add brown sugar, butter, vanilla, eggs and corn syrup (Oh, which they do NOT have in Australia by the way. Who would have guessed that everywhere else in the world besides the USA actually uses all natural ingredients and not processed corn product in 99% of their foods!?) - so the closest thing we could find was a sort of molasses syrup called Tassies. Skeptical of  how they would turn out, they were actually quite delicious and a huge hit at our smorgasbord of a BBQ/Thanksgiving/Birthday Dinner.

Two more days to go until I get this dreadful cast off. Wednesday night Bec and I plan on having a "trash-the-cast" dinner party complete with paint and sharpies before I head to the hospital Thursday morning to get the cast removed!

Minus the old man on the tram the other day reminding me of how ugly my leg will look once the cast comes off, not to mention the amount of skin that will peel away from my body, I am actually ecstatic for this momentous occasion. If you were to ask me how I envisioned celebrating my Golden Birthday, I would have never  imagined in a million years it would include: removing a cast in Australia. But the evening we have planned with all my new friends, followed up with a weekend at the beach is more than I could have ever asked for. My leg will have a large bow tied around it, as that is my birthday present to myself this year! Pictures to come...

Moral of the Story

Anyone that knows me will be the first to tell you a few things: I am loud, talkative, don't do ‘alone time’ or even generally sitting in one place for an extended period of time too well and I am a ‘planner.’ Naturally, the last descriptive adjective given to me would be ‘introvert.’

In 2 weeks and counting down the days, I will get my cast taken off and put into a fashionable "space boot" for a to-be-determined amount of time until my ankle strength builds back up. As much as I hate wishing away time, I am hoping the next two weeks (minus the weekends because I do treasure those so) will fly by. Anxiety is an understatement of my feelings at various points in time over the past 6 weeks, especially when it came to situations such as:

1. “Bethany is Too Confident on Her Crutches.”

As an extremely independent person, I tend to think I am invincible at times, leaving no reason to ask for help. This fault of mine combined with no patience for sitting still, filthy apartments or hunger have left me in compromising positions on the floor of my apartment covered in cleaning supplies and stir-fried rice. Let’s just say trying to clean the apartment the day after I came home from the hospital was no the best decision of my life, perhaps second worst to jumping off that balcony. My foot closely resembled an uncooked stuffed sausage and was throbbing with pain, but at least I had a clean apartment! After just a couple weeks into the crutches, I had already learned how to balance a plate of food while supporting myself with one crutch and hoisting the other one as a prob. Slowly but surely I found I could gimp my way into the living room to eat dinner. This method worked beautifully until I tried to not only carry a bowl of rice, but add in a cup of water as well. As one can imagine, I ended up on the floor in a puddle of ricey water that had not only managed to splatter across the hallway but onto the walls, cabinets and kitchen door. Calling my mom while in tears helped calm me down long enough to clean up every tiny grain of rice and by then I had lost my appetite. Moral of this story: hire a live-in housekeeper.

2. “Be a Sweet Roommate and Make Bec Dinner Night.”

Similar to story #1, I apparently don’t truly learn my lesson, but just alter the situations I put myself to try to avoid the same incidents. Craving veggie curry after work one evening, I decided to surprise Bec with dinner. With crutches propped up in the corner of the kitchen, the space is small enough that I can hop on one foot to move from fridge, sink and stove without them. Fragrant red curry simmering on the stove in our fabulous wok I turn to hop to the fridge when I hear metal sliding. My crutches decided they did not want to be propped up anymore and had slid along the counter top, catching the handle of the wok, spiraling red veggie curry into the air and onto not only the entirety of the kitchen but onto my plastered leg as well. Cursing the crutches, I grabbed the spatula to try to salvage the pile of veggies now resting in the middle of the kitchen when I hear the front door open. “BEC!” I yelled out. Running to the rescue, Bec got me off the floor and onto the counter with my curry soaked cast in the sink. In rapid speed she had cleaned the floor and moved onto using a scrub brush to eliminate all traces of curry smell and color from my cast. The last thing I needed was to show up to work the next day reeking of Indian food and having a stain as witness. Moral of this story: Order Delivery.

 

3. “I Want a Normal Social Life Back.”

Because this cast situation occurred shortly after we moved into our new apartment, purchasing small household items including a TV remote got pushed to the back burner. Normally this would be no fuss, but when you are couch ridden with no TV remote or easy way to maneuver manually changing the station AND Australia is infamously known for their worse than terrible television programs (that’s why they just steal all the American shows like Two & A Half Men and Modern Family), the no TV remote situation turns into a painful 30 minutes of succumbing to an Australian attempt at sitcom.

Step 1: Ask Bec to buy a TV remote.

Step 2: Find a way to get a social life back. Never wanting to turn down an invite, I mentally prepare myself ahead of time before heading out on crutches and I for the most part go pretty well. Minus falling on the stairs at our local pub, The Arcadia Hotel, perfect strangers referring to me as Hop-Along Cassidy and over confident boys at horse races using pick up lines somewhere in the vicinity of “Aw she can still look great even with crutches. What happened?” social situations have been completely normal. The topping on the cake though had to be the taxi driver who was pulling into traffic while looking at me in his rearview mirror, shaking his head and asking in thick middle eastern accent, “I tought de girls wit de beauty also had de brains.” Moral of this story: Buy a moped.

4. “Work.”

My co-workers have been more than amazing with this entire situation especially when it comes to having a ride to and from work every day. I can officially say every member of my office has now driven me to or from work, but not having to use public transport while on crutches has been a godsend. This is the one time in my life I think I will say I am happy to have a desk job. The only obstacles I have encountered are the steep stairs leading up to my desk and sorting through tube upon tube of last year’s Christmas posters for the shops while sprawled out in my work clothes on the warehouse floor and trying to delegate those sorted tubes to the corresponding shop palates for delivery. Moral of this story: Learn to drive a forklift with poster-tube-grabbing capabilities.

5. “Rain.”

Waiting for a cab or ride to work in the rain has topped my list of least favorite activities of all time. Not only is the slight slope coming out from our apartment deathly slippery which has led to a couple of plastered ankle-slamming-against-concrete incidents, there is also no way to balance on crutches while holding an umbrella (believe me, I have tried.)  Instead I don my purple raincoat and hope the ride is not too far off while balancing on slippery crutches under a tree attempting to keep myself, my cast and my purse as dry as possible while watching out for any sign of a lighting strike. Moral of this story: Buy an umbrella hat, preferably with primary colored stripes.

6. “Ugly Foot Etiquette.”

The question of the hour is: ‘What are the rules of etiquette for a bum foot in public?’ On Several occasions I have hiked a large soccer sock over my cast, to not only keep my toes warm (most of the time they are frozen solid), but also to attempt to hide my toes from sight (most noticeable when wearing dress pants with the other foot in a closed-toe shoe). Restaurants are always an interesting situation as well. Many people in this world have a strong aversion to feet and the thought of nasty toes propped up on the chair next to them while they attempt to choke down their meal is not the most pleasant of dining situations. Therefore, I try to keep my foot on the ground for as long as I can stand to without my foot swelling too much. The most memorable of ugly foot etiquette will be the timing and process of removing 8 weeks of ashy skin and leg hair before promptly arriving at a spray tan appointment to even out the lower leg paleness (since yes, I do already have a tan line) and then onto have a pedicure. I am thinking either an entire pack of razors will be necessary, or might just go straight for clipping shears. Moral of this story: Research and write my own “Ugly Foot Etiquette” Book.

7. My Happy Place

So all these stories over the past weeks have really one underlying moral. The extrovert Bethany has had to learn how to be an introvert. Never in my life would I have told you that I would sit on a couch for an entire Saturday with no plans and be perfectly content with it. Believe it or not, for once in my life I am comfortable with reading books, writing, watching movies, alone. My happy place is in my living room on my bright blue couch with the sun shining, French doors wide open (I am now an expert at propping these open on crutches) and happy music playing. If this was some sort of sick joke to force me to reach this point with myself, then the joke worked. I surrender!

The 5 Minutes That Stop A Nation

Race week is one of the most exciting and anticipated weeks of the year for all of Australia, but in particular for horse trainers from around the world, and most importantly for the state of Victoria. The annual Melbourne Cup at Flemington Race Track is a tradition dating now 151 years and is the richest handicap race in the nation, and with prizes and trophies combined makes it one of the richest in the world. Bringing in over $200 million in betting dollars and over 350,000 spectators, the Cup is nothing but a high grossing gathering of some of the wealthiest and most influential high class of Australia (and a few world visitors as well).

Although Cup day is the biggest race, traditionally held on Tuesday of Melbourne Cup Carnival Week, there are 3 other large race of the week: Derby Day, Oaks Day and Stakes Day. Meyer, one of the largest retailers in Victoria is a main sponsor which lends itself to having to come to the races dressed to the T complete with to-die-for fascinators, exquisite cocktail dresses, funky jewelry, mile-high stiletto heels and the men in finely European tailored suits. The whole city of Melbourne turns up to not only watch the horses, but to strut their brilliantly pruned plumage and judge others’ ensembles simultaneously.

Derby Day, the “kick-off celebration” to race week is the day a group of us headed to the races. This first race of the week is traditionally known for all the women dressing in Black & White and then men wearing 3-piece gray suits. Think a My Fair Lady cocktail dress party and that is exactly what I walked into, on crutches. No stiletto heels for me, but I did my best to dress from heel to toe in a gorgeous white fascinator with black feathers, a slit-back dress and a black sock to cover my cast! We had a fantastic time watching and betting (I wont $20!) on the races, and just people watching, looking over all the other outfits keenly put together. 

The second race, always held on Tuesday of race week is the event of the year and a public holiday (because everyone would have taken the day off from work anyways). For a bit of Melbourne Cup history:

Ever since the running of the first Cup, the race has been popular with the public. Melbourne gives itself a holiday on Cup Day (as hardly anyone is likely to turn up to work) and a strange, eerie quiet settles over the city while the race is being run. The Melbourne Cup is rare among famous horse races for being a handicap event. This means that the best horses must carry not only their jockey, but extra weight in the form of lead bars in their saddle bags. Horses with a lesser chance of winning carry only their jockey. This has always been part of the Cup's popularity because it means, in theory, every horse has an equal chance, so it's possible for an unknown horse with a lightweight jockey to streak past the post and beat the favourite. It sits well with our national philosophy of giving the "little Aussie Battler a "fair go".

Although we did not attend the races again for the Cup, we did watch it on TV along with everyone else in all of Australia. After all, the Cup race has become to be known as The 5 Minutes that Stops a Nation. Every television set was tuned in, restaurants and pubs had race day specials, and the spectators at Flemington Race Course were wildly ecstatic as 24 gates opened and those 24 horses bolted out for a 2-mile sprint valued at $6million. Americain was favored to win, yet placed 4^th and the race came to end with Dunaden beating Red Cadeaux by literally a hair. The anticipation while the judges were gathering the photo finish images was painfully slow. As soon as the image flashed up on the television, not one spectator cheered because it was that close of a race, it was still yet to be determined. After deliberation, fill-in French jockey, Christophe Lemaire began to cheer as the announcement cried over the loud speakers that Dunaden, favoured 3^rd in the race had indeed won. Dunaden’s usually jockey, Craig Williams had to back out in the last minute due to legal issues, therefore Lemaire stepped in after flying into Australia the night before from Tokyo, and won!  This race certainly will go down in the books as one of the closest races of all time.

Oaks Day at the races is the ultimate fashion day of race week, therefore fittingly known as ladies’ day and is held on the 3^rd day of the Melbourne Cup Race Carnival Week. More about fashion than the actual races, all attendees are more concerned about winning the prize for their ensemble than betting on the horses. This year the big trend to follow is all about color blocking, the bigger and bolder, the better. We are talking, neon heels, different neon colored skirt, top, fascinator and lipstick! I cannot wait to see pictures from all the outfits from this Thursday.

Stakes Day is known as “family day” and is the ending event of Race Week. Activities are always planned for all ages throughout the day. This is also the day to see Black Caviar, the world champion’s sprinter horse run.

Being able to be part of such a spectacular event is a wonderful experience. The fact that a public holiday is based around a horse race still baffles my mind, but having a Tuesday off was quite refreshing (although I made up for it at work today with the amount of work I had to do).

Here’s a toast to Dunaden wining the 151^st Melbourne Cup, to Race Week, to great friends, beautiful fashion and gorgeous weather for the races!

Torquay

 It’s been two weeks on crutches and I am already ready to be rid of them, but alas after my doctor’s appointment today, I still have 6 weeks to go. Thankfully I am pretty agile on them and am increasing my upper body strength by the day. There have only been a few mishaps involving wet concrete and stairs, but other than that I have managed fairly well.

Today’s follow up appointment at the doctor deemed no different than the first go around at Alfred Hospital. My day started by walking outside into a cold and rainy day, slipping and landing on my bad ankle on the way to the taxi (this time, the driver knew the route to the hospital which made it a bit better), arriving at 10:45am at the wrong side of the hospital and making my way on crutches down the long hallway to the right side of the hospital. I escorted myself to the “plaster room” to remove the first cast, down the hallway to get an x-ray and then back to an examination room to have a new cast put on. Leaving after 3:00pm, I was exhausted by the time I took a taxi to work for 1.5 hours. Everyone was extremely friendly, but slow as molasses and a bit unorganized.

Days like today though are completely made up for by days like yesterday. A Sunday day trip to Bells Beach in Torquay (Aussies pronounce it “Tore-Key.” The weather was perfectly warm and sunny. Bec and I woke up early and picked up our friends Ryan and Rigel and headed out toward the Great Ocean Road. Blasting road trip tunes with the windows down and singing off-key at the top of our lungs, we were flying down the road, anxious to get the beach. About half way into our journey, we pulled off to buy some mangoes and bananas (only $4.85 a kilo! – this is a record low price for bananas that topped at $15.99 a kilo this winter). Back on the road we drove the second 45 minutes and made it to the beach about lunchtime.

Settling onto a grassy hill overlooking the beach, I was perfectly content reading my book, listening to music and people watching and soaking up some sun. (Yes, I do already have a cast tan line!) The boys and Bec headed to rent surf gear and ran out to catch some waves. About an hour and half later, they were exhausted and I was fending off spiders, (apparently I was lying on a nest in the grass and didn’t realize), so we moved down to the sand for a bit. My sweet friends hoisted me down and created a footrest made of sand. A bit more sun bathing and we were all ready for some food. 

We ended up of Growlers, a cute beach shack restaurant overlooking the water with a huge patio. With no questions asked, we opted in for the $25 cheese plate and bottle of wine combo, along with other tapas served at that time of day. It was relaxing and delicious, and the best possible ending to a beach day.

Well, almost the best, because straight from the beach we headed to our favorite local pub, the Arcadia Hotel to watch the New Zealand All Blacks take on France in the 2011 Rugby World Cup final. The match was close, but the All Blacks pulled out the win in the end. It was loud and energizing watching amongst all the fans.

I didn’t want the day to end. It was relaxing but an escape from the ordinary weekend and a chance to not have to think about my foot for a bit (minus the excursion to find the public washroom on the beach and getting a sympathy look from every passer-by). Back to the grind this week, but get to supervise my first Chocolate Box photo shoot tomorrow, which is exciting. Then this weekend commences 2011 Melbourne Cup (the annual, largest horse races), beginning with Derby Day on Saturday. I can’t wait!