New York - Strawberry & Field's forever

New York - home to yellow taxis, Central Park, The Statue of Liberty, and Patricia Field. Well maybe, for some of you, that last one may not rate a mention in your list of iconic images of the big apple but it certainly does in mine. If for only my parent's benefit I will quickly explain that Patricia Field was responsible for the cult following and adventurous creations (as Costume Designer) on Sex and the City, and was more recently the stylist for the film The Devil Wears Prada. Visiting the Patricia Field store in Greenwich Village was officially my first Sex and the City experience and was it fabulous? *insert SATC reference* Abso-*@#$-lutely ;)

My first early morning glimpse of NY always fills me right up to the brim

Finding the tiny boutique on such a sultry day was in itself an adventure. After some subway navigation issues I eventually honed-in on my destination and walked completely past the shop and thankfully so, because I came across the best food store ever! Whole Foods Market for those playing at home. Aisles and aisles of every imaginable gourmet offering, utensils and fresh food. Now for some numbers....

1 = the number of hours spent in the said supermarket
16 = the total number of fresh bread roll varieties I counted on offer in their bakery section
$US50 = how much lighter my wallet was after the visit.

Phew! It was time to walk back to Patricia Field after such an expensive, but wonderful, detour.

Walking into the boutique I was greeted by girls dressed in oh so chic punk attire - short shorts over black fishnets, obligatory rock-group t-shirt, heavy eyeliner offset by some incredibly cute accessories. I had a couple of friends who were not far from my thoughts during the visit, most especially my *insert American slang* BFF Louise who is perhaps a bigger fan of Sex and the City than me, and I just know she would have been salivating over the Carrie-esque bling and clothes like I was. Fast forward the purchase of a pair of gold sparkly hooped earrings and a pretty blue dress, I was again zipping across Manhattan towards the upper West Side to visit a good family friend and his cute as a button daughter Emma who had recently turned four.

The three of us walked around the corner from their apartment to a lovely retro diner which looked just like a movie set, with seats at the counter and pots of coffee on the warmers. Lunch (of American sized proportions) was followed by scoops of homemade strawberry ice cream (with chunks of real strawberries), a big frothy milkshake and two rides on the Donald Duck musical sidewalk ride. All in all, a pretty good afternoon for two girls that day in Manhattan!

Emma, wearing the Moomin hair clips and matching hat which I brought back with me from Finland

Jyväskylä, Finland

A few days ago I returned from 8 days of annual leave visiting my very good friends in Finland, Mij and Troy, for the mid-summer celebrations. The mid-summer festivities are almost a bigger deal to the Finns than Christmas, and for the two day public holiday most families will retreat from the city out to their summer houses which are typically positioned right against a lake with not a house or person in sight. So this is exactly what I did.

On my first night in Jyväskylä, Troy's Finnish Cousin Janne and his wife Maria invited us to their place for a truly heavenly BBQ grill dinner. Admittedly Janne is a published chef, but I don't think I have ever tasted vegetables so full of flavour, and this was the case with every meal during my visit - packed with such intense flavour I just wanted to cram my suitcase with fresh fruit and vegetables - and a few dozen sausages. With the sun still up I was a little embarrassed to be suppressing yawns after dinner over glasses of red wine, until I realised it was close to 11pm! I had been warned that it was 24hr sunlight at this time of year, but I thought it would be more like dim twilight!

The next day it was off to a place I had heard so much about, Troy's family's summer house. I can remember on a few occasions over morning tea at work, Mij showing us holiday photos of this little forest retreat and speaking so fondly of his memories there, so I was most eager to see it for myself. Just as I had suspected, there could be no photograph which could do this place an inch of justice. From the lusciously dense flowerbeds and patches of deep green grass to the cute winding path down to the sauna and clear lake water I could feel the immediate onset of holiday relaxation.

The outlook from the summer house with the children's cottage in the background

The fireplace inside was crackling and glowing with heat waiting to cook the sausages which we had skewered onto big iron forks. With a generous amount of mustard and some fresh Finnish bread to wrap our crispy sausages in we scoffed down our lunch quicker than you could say sauna - which is exactly what we did after a post-lunch walk. I wasn't completely confident that I was going to enjoy the Finnish sauna experience given my dislike of swimming in water anything colder than a tepid bath, but I was more than happy to give it a go. After the first round of the process (5 minutes of sitting in the intense sauna heat, swatting yourself with branches of birch leaves, then running outside along the jetty and jumping straight into the lake) I was completely converted. I also took my most memorable shower ever - out on the jetty looking out over the lake with just simply a big bucket of hot water, a scoop and soap. I had never felt so invigorated and full of energy, the only thing which stopped me from enjoying another round of sauna was when i burnt my leg on the searing heat of the stove inside. Thankfully we had some medicinal ingredients for cocktails on hand which came along with us for a midnight row boat excursion out on the big glassy lake.

Midnight delight - cocktails and shouting directions at our rower Troy, it was all class

It was such a wonderful holiday and I was so pleased to be Mij and Troy's first visitor since their big move to Finland. I miss them so much already and would love to visit again in winter for some more laughs, cocktails, drinks at the Helsinki frozen ice bar and more Moomin paraphernalia

Sailing in the Seychelles by the sea shore

A week before my rostered flight to the Seychelles I received an exciting text message, along with the rest of the crew, from our captain proposing that we hire a yacht and spend three of the four nights sailing around the islands of the Seychelles!

Of the 11 of us only one was an experienced skipper - our Irish captain Chris - so you can imagine the follies that took place over the course of four days and certainly the wrath of mother nature didn't help matters. Day one we set sail from the Seychelles marina just after lunchtime with ice cold eskys full of beer, champagne, wine and ginger beer for the Pimms!! Music immediately started filtering through speakers and toasts were made to smooth sailing as we each reserved a spot on the netted flooring at the front of the catamaran, breathing in the oncoming ocean breezes and the gentle sound of breaking waves from underneath. Then, as if someone had flicked the 'off' switch for clear skies, sun, fun and laughter it was clear we were heading directly into an impressive storm. After two hours of nauseous wave riding through grey skies and pelting rain we were jubilant sailors to be finally reaching a protected harbour for the night.

Our victory unfortunately was short lived. In order to make our way onto the mainland for dinner we had to rely on the small six-man inflatable dinghy to take us to the refuge of steady ground, however after watching Captain Chris yank on that motor chord with impressive gusto for ten minutes we started to face the realisation that we would not be walking on land that night. With limited food supplies and a diminishing stock of seasickness tablets I knew it was time to open up the sausages which I had bought along in my mini-esky bag. No longer were the crew mocking my domestic organisation, instead they were lining up to get their ration of two sausages and tomato sauce. The remainder of the trip proved to be much smoother - picking star fruit from island trees, meeting some lovely local people at dinner and as each pink sunset fell over it became customary to sit on the front deck to pop corks and marvel at the incredible view around us.

Living off the fat of the land with fellow Aussie Melanie, and those knock out sunsets!!

On our third afternoon six of us jumped into the waters for the final time, with our snorkels and flippers to check out the marine life and it wasn't long before we came across an extremely friendly and equally curious yellow turtle. We just could not believe our luck at not only finding a turtle, but to have him stay and swim with us! We formed a circle around our new friend and he casually inspected us each, looking directly into our eyes. He let us get so close we were able to touch his slippery mossy green back. It will be a moment I will never forget and if it's possible to get underwater goosebumps, I certainly had them!

Kyoto

Most of the meal services we do are relatively similar in content and style except that is for our Japanese routes. During my Business Class upgrade at training college almost half an hour was devoted solely to learning the intricacies of delivering and presenting meals on our Japanese flights. The food is of course different (sushi, rice, noodles, miso etc) as is the crockery (Tokkuri - the flask used to serve the sake, chopstick holders, beautifully coloured glazed square sushi plates, tiny pint soy sauce bottles with matchstick sized corks, green tea cups with matching wooden saucers etc). Then there are the details such as how to serve warm sake as opposed to cold sake, and how one must never plate only four pieces of sushi as this number is considered diabolic (because the pronounciation is the same as their word for death - shi). So with all these minute details and the possibility of sending grim reaper style messages from behind my trolley I was slightly nervous about doing everything correctly, but I needn't have been as it was a great flight and a treat working with all the beautiful traditional Japanese crockery.

The morning after arriving into Osaka I woke up, studied the train information then ventured out walking along the river in the warm sunshine towards the station. I bought my ticket and in just over half an hour I was pulling into Kyoto after a journey which took us at reasonable speed along the sides of endless apartments and (the further out we went) alongside empty fields of green. I was interested to see so many futons hung over (the majority of) the apartment balconies like horse saddles basking in the morning sunlight, waiting to be returned inside later that evening.

My only intention that day was to make my way to Kiyomizu temple which (from the pictures I had seen) looked to be one almighty temple, but as I had almost the whole day to explore I walked with little purpose and it took me first up to Kennin-ji, the oldest Zen temple in Kyoto. It didn't take long before I started to feel relaxed and Zen like myself, looking at the impeccably kept lush gardens with flowing wave formations in white stones and bamboo water features. I was very careful to obey correct shoe etiquette in the various areas of the grounds. Some parts I had to swap my shoes for cute little red ones and in other parts it were plain brown versions (which were much more Crosby-like). One such custom which took me a few minutes to absorb was the one which applied to walking from one part of the grounds to the other, which was separated by a small driveway. To go through one gate to the next, one was required to exactly obey the order of written instructions so as to not disturb the Dragon Art...or so the English translation told me.

The rack of little red shoes, and the instructions for correct gate entrance

After the Kennin-ji Temple I began to walk up the streets towards the top of the hill where Kiyomizu sits. The walk there was almost as good as the destination itself. Along the way I met two beautiful Geisha girls who kindly let me take their photo and so obviously marvel at the opulence of their costume. I saw three cheeky boys each giving rickshaws rides to people through the narrow streets of Kyoto and I wished I knew what these boys were saying because each time they rushed past me their passengers were always giggling uncontrollably at what ever they were hearing.

Kiyomizu temple, perched on top of a mountain, was teeming with people most of which were school students. I couldn't believe how gloriously green and dense the mountainside backdrop was and at just how high up above the city the temple was. There was so much more to see besides the temple that I didn't even make my way inside! I watched young girls walk with their eyes shut laughing at themselves while trying to make their way (unharmed) from one 'fortune' rock to the next for good luck; people drinking cups of mountain fresh trickling water which is believed to be cleansing and purifying; and students getting their fortune read from a lucky-dip style container of numbered sticks, each digit holding a different outcome of their fate! While I was watching this and trying to work out what was going on, a group of three school girls came running around the corner and stopped right in front of me, smiling from ear to ear at me. They wished to practice their English on me and have their photo taken and I was only too happy to oblige, I think the interest was quite mutual! After writing my name and country in their autograph book we waved each other good bye and I walked back down the little streets stopping off for a bowl of noodles and then jumping back onto the train heading back towards downtown Osaka.

All Aboard the Steamboat

Yum! It had been quite some time since I enjoyed a delicious Chinese meal at the Cheung family household, which is nestled deep within the suburbia of my hometown (Brisbane), and on my recent visit home I was able to once again enjoy an afternoon of steamboat.

A few years ago I lived with my very dear friends Wah and Man (who are twins) for a little while when I first moved out of home, and some of my fondest memories are of the heavenly authentic Chinese meals which they would cook for me. It opened my eyes to what I had been missing out on, and most certainly this education would make for slower business with my previously favoured Chinese takeaway restaurant. Our kitchen was always perfumed with Chinese five spice chicken, bubbling buoyant dumplings or some kind of seafood steaming sensation on the stove.

It had been over a year since my last Cheung family meal and I couldn't get to that house fast enough! Man had the day off work and in typical fashion he had organised a large variety of ingredients to be sacrificed in our bubbling pot of liquid stock. His parents were both home this day and joined us at the table for the feast of beef, mushrooms, chicken, prawns, tofu, sauces and vegetables. Mrs Cheung's astute sense of humour and (certainly for me) her laugh kept us all entertained, it's indescribable but highly contagious and more than makes up for any language barriers. After watching Man single handedly finishing off every last morcel of food on the table and then rubbing his taut round belly we cleared away the evidence and during this process I couldn't help but marvel at the bulging contents of their fridge! On top of this Mrs Cheung had been busy earlier that day making dozens of wontons and their freezer was also positively crammed with many trays of the results.

Mumma Cheung helping with preparations. Look at that gas bottle! Steamboat is serious business


These dainty white stalks are a variety of mushroom! And check out that fridge....

A Day in the Life of.....

I am occasionally asked by friends and passengers about how a typical day off in Dubai would be spent by the average Flight Attendant living in Dubai. While i can only answer for myself I think it would be safe to say that there would be no such thing as an average day. I will take my day off today as a fine example.

This afternoon I went to lunch with my friends Dan and Freya, to a large corporate building which we had never been to before, right behind our own 53-storey building. Unsuspectingly this building housed a number of very impressive restaurants and among many things - a newly opened unisex beauty/hair salon. After unashamedly licking our fingers and remnants from our plates of quite possibly the world's best (Angus Beef) burger, Dan asked Freya and I if we would mind waiting while he went and tried the salon next door for a quick trim, to which of course we were most happy to oblige.

They quickly ushered Dan through the waiting room and behind a frosted glass door into the secret-men's-business style hair salon. Freya and I began to use this time wisely, assessing and objectively scrutinising their retail stock of nail polish brands and colours. Reading loudly to Freya the more humorous nail colour names "I'm not really a Waitress..........My Chihuahua Bites!" a slightly older, distinguished well dressed man interrupts, grinning at me - me who was possibly a waitress in denial who owns a rabid mongrel. "I notice" he begins, talking over the top of his glasses "that you are both new to this salon. I am the owner and I was wondering if you would like to enjoy a free hair hot oil treatment and blow dry while your friend is having his hair cut". At this point I notice him using the unfair advantage of height to eye off our untended tresses "perhaps you will be impressed by what you experience and one day will return" he finishes with. Being the more sceptical of us both I try to subtly give Freya the "nothing is for free" eyebrow raise at the very same time the words "why not!" escape out of her mouth. Then I remind myself that this was Dubai, and I had been shown before that it was possible to enjoy something for nothing in this city (ie cocktails on a ladies night, the Bollinger champagne give-away at the Easter brunch, grocery home delivery, a night at the Burj, golf cart transport etc etc).

Side by side we were eased into our basin-side reclining chairs before our friendly hairdressers started massaging us into a drooling comatose. After gently prodding us awake we were then escorted to some more seats for our hot oil hair treatment facilitated by a state of the art steaming machine. The hair oil ingredients (we were informed by the owner) was his own concoction and contained so many secret herbs and spices that even the Colonel would have had heart palpitations over (not his words). As Freya and I resumed our chatting over steaming cups of tea, and under our visibly steaming hair machine, I couldn't help but notice my feet were being lowered into a warm body of water. Looking down and to my left it became apparent that we were also being given manicures and pedicures!!

Unaware of this insane series of events, Daniel walks into the salon to find his patiently waiting friends being waited on (quite literally) hand and foot!! He shakes his head and starts laughing at the scene in front of him, I can see the question marks plastered all over his head and we gently advise him that it would be best if he continued on home without us while we see the rest of the treatments out.

An hour and a half later we both emerge from the salon with twinkling fingers and toes and seriously shiny hair. Of course the two of us were suckers to both a good deal and amazing service, and walked out armed with a wad of their business cards and a three month membership.

* Photos will be posted as soon as they come to hand!

A Day at the Races

On the weekend Dubai's glittering social event of the year once again graced its shores - The Dubai World Cup. The theme this year had been deemed (by a few of us girls) as being English garden party inspired. Using this vision as her tool, my friend Jessie played the role of perfect host by holding the pre-race drinks in her apartment with champagne, flowers, candles and lots of pink and white touches around the place. My contribution was home made smoked salmon blinis - which were eagerly received by the well perfumed and suited up attendees.

A picture perfect scene of pre-race festivities

No sooner had we all stepped out of the taxis and in front of the venue had Jessie decided to take a short cut downhill, off road, into terrain of quicksand consistency which devoured her dainty white peep toed silk shoes as easy prey. Holding dangerously still with her hands up in the air reaching for imaginary rope, and resembling something similar to that of a street performance artist, our friend Daniel precariously tip toed across and took Jess by the hand leading her with great chivalry back to the safety of bitumen. A quick footwear brush-off against the lush green turf and we were off and racing once again, clicking our heels through the not so festive metal detectors and baggage scanning points.

(L-R) Jess, Nat and I

First stop was the Ahlan tent/studio - Ahlan being Dubai's conservative answer to a trashy gossip magazine. Like well trained monkeys we (Jessie, Natalie, Dan and I) proceeded to snap into an array of poses as instructed by our follicly challenged European photographer on the count of each "THREE!!". The contorting and pouting in our heels was all très tiring and as such we continued our search for a well populated watering hole. After establishing our base camp and ascertaining that the closest bar did indeed stock Pimms we began to survey the immaculately dressed punters (I use this term loosely as betting in Dubai is illegal). One major difference I noted at these races compared to the ones I had been to at home, was the absence of actually being able to see the horses race in front of the masses, this would require entrance into a dry area. Needless to say I saw no horses that day.

Always an ingenious idea, I used this occasion to break in a new pair of towering black high heels. Thinking that my gel insert "party heels" would provide me with cushy satin like comfort all day I was sadly mistaken. Note to self: blisters cannot be numbed/prevented by marketing ploys involving pictures of masseuses and phrases like walking on clouds and floating on air. Instead my feet were making it clear by the end of the evening that walking on glass, fire or cactus plants was now an enticing option.

Rather than run the risk of perpetuating any race-day barefoot cliches, Natalie and I accosted the one-eyed driver of a passing golf buggy to give us a lift to the nearest first aid tent for some medical attention. We may or may not have stretched the truth somewhat as to my condition (ie glass wedged in foot) but what ever we said (or didn't say) worked! Our visually impaired driver took us with great speed and accuracy across grassy knolls and through the clusters of glossy girls and well dressed men until we reached an oasis of medical supplies. We were understandably met with some raised eyebrows and looks of disappointment from the first aid team when presented with the situation at hand but I was a desperate desperate woman - who was laughing uncontrollably at Natalie who was now getting trigger happy with her camera pointed squarely at me! With shoes firmly on, and blindingly white plasters beaming away from my feet we ended the day via our final golf buggy ride to the exit. Waving like two beauty pageant runners-up on a float, we stood perched on the back of the cart clinging onto the vehicle's roof frame giggling like a couple of school girls.

Me getting plastered

NY - Breakfast at Tiffany's Smith's

The beginnings of this, my second visit to New York started off on a somewhat debaucherous note. During the bus ride from the aircraft to our hotel it became apparent that there was a common goal among some of us - to have a big greasy breakfast at an all-American diner in downtown Manhattan.

Myself, another Australian girl (Natalie) plus three of the cockpit crew jumped on the subway and before we knew it we were seated at a 'classy' diner/bar/establishment by the name of Smith's Bar perusing the greasy alternatives for brunch. All three of the men (Canadian, American and Kiwi) decided two jugs of American beer would be the perfect accompaniment to our artery hardening meals, this suggestion was met by an encouraging response from the two of us girls. The amber ale cascaded (a little too easily) into our glasses and sure enough it was indeed an excellent addition to our late morning feast. It wasn't long before the liquid gold started to drape a relaxing blanket of impaired judgement over me, but alas I had to put an end to the bender and pull myself together - it was essential I was of sound mind for the very important purchase of a fascinator for the upcoming Dubai races. I knew the address of a little hat shop near Greenwich Village that sold beautiful hats, and my intuition told me there was the perfect number waiting to be bought back to Dubai with me.

Smith's Bar - a rather bold statement

Natalie and I walked through the streets on the way to our destination, we were frequently distracted by gorgeous little boutiques and funky vintage shops - it was a much softer side to New York that I was seeing this time. People were sitting on park benches talking, playing board games, laughing and eating in the unseasonal warmth of the day. I felt like I was in one of those places where I wanted to look at everything but my eyes couldn't move fast enough! We entered the gorgeous little hat shop and the first thing I noticed was a sharply dressed lady with snow white hair seated inside on a stool wearing a black top hat.

Dolores introduced herself with exaggerated hand gestures and a very thick New York accent before making quick work of placing a number of fancy feathered, felted and netted alternatives on my head in the quest to find the right one to wear with my race day outfit. Natalie and I couldn't stop giggling at Dolores, who was small of stature but certainly not of personality. She had so much character we could have sat there for the rest of the afternoon while she entertained us and lead us around the shop (literally) by the hand, describing each of the one-off pieces on display and getting us both to try her favourites on. Natalie fell in love with a big floppy Sienna Miller-esque hat, parading around the little shop in the jaunty piece with extremely positive reviews from her fans (ie me). Apparently this hat was an example of how they start off, before any bells and whistles (or hat bands for that matter) are added. It wasn't long before I was walking out of the store holding a round black hat box, quite satisfied with my (sober) decision.

The beautiful Ms Dolores

Natalie and I then met up with one of the pilots which we had farewelled at breakfast. We strolled around the suburb marvelling at how hot the day was (easily around the 25degree Celsius mark), a world away with what was to come three days later when JFK airport would be closed down following a winter storm, leaving 5" of snow and ice across the Big Apple. How lucky to have visited on such a summery day, despite swealtering in our layers of winter woolies, I can't wait for my next date with New York - I think I might have just fallen in love this time!