Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Oh the places you'll go

 I love to travel. Being from New Zealand, there’s not much down our part of the world, except Antarctica and Australia. I won’t go to the frozen continent, not because I don’t want to hang out with penguins because I do.
How freaking awesome are penguins? 

 I don’t handle the cold well. When we lived in London, the Fake Gordon Ramsay insisted he would suffocate if he didn’t sleep with the window open. In Winter when it was minus four hundred degrees. Sleeping in a balaclava isn’t sexy. Believe me. I digress, one of my favorite trips was to Tonga. 

Beautiful Tonga
It's exquisitely beautiful. The people were the friendliest ever, and you could see the stars for miles. There's something about a place that doesn't have the internet, newspapers or a radio. Hanging with the kids who didn't want to hang with us was refreshing. And normal. I remember trying to ditch my mum and hang with the cool kids at the beach and pretend she didn't exist. Ah, karma. How I wish I could take that back and have a do-over. 
And how can forget the Tongan flag bearer at the Olympics? 

I know right? 

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Road Trip Baby! What I learned about New York

What I learned about my recent weekend getaway with the fake Gordon Ramsay.

New York is amazing. It doesn’t stop. Twenty-four seven there are people and apparently rats, but I didn’t see any or you would have heard me from your part of the world.

I’ve been lucky enough to live in a few countries, and guess what? All places have people who argue with themselves in their heads and would like you to know about it.

People are kind. They will stop when a fool (me) asks them where the ticket machine is at Penn Station when I’m standing beside it.  

You can have amazing conversations with complete strangers in elevators. Thanks to this conversation with an English couple we headed to a deli for a sandwich which was out of this world.

In New York, a pie is a pizza. I was a little confused. I think of pies are like this. FYI: The pizza was excellent. I crammed an indecent amount of it into by gob.
A Kiwi standard

Central Park is an oasis. There was a Japanese choir singing gospel, (I teared up they were so good). A dance crew throwing in the moves, people in boats, about twelve good citizens who thought I need exercise (they are not wrong), as I needed to hustle by butt onto one of their bikes and ride around the park, pronto.

The twin towers pools. I can’t put into words. More tissues.

New York, I love you and can’t wait to get back and love you some more.