tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46789218264735148572024-03-13T21:07:48.816-07:00BLONDE WITH A BACKPACK...and I am not afraid to use it.Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-56881216578787897712011-05-18T22:27:00.001-07:002011-05-18T22:27:22.565-07:00...Like having your secret places massaged with soft butter - AA Gill<link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Csmit9995%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="country-region" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="State" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="City" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="PlaceType" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="PlaceName" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Csmit9995%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Csmit9995%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link><style>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I have just discovered AA Gill. And like the year I lived in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city>, it’s a love-hate relationship. Then again, that ‘calling a spade a spade’ mentality is what makes AA Gill’s travel writing so hard to put down…he doesn’t gush. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And he certainly doesn’t adhere to the unsaid rule of most professional travel writers - that as a guest of their subject they must not pack their cynicism with their coconut oil. No, AA Gill says it like he sees it. There’s nothing brochure-like about his work…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb1v88NXe9I/TdSprXw3VOI/AAAAAAAAAPk/NxBIHFz_61o/s1600/aa-gill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb1v88NXe9I/TdSprXw3VOI/AAAAAAAAAPk/NxBIHFz_61o/s320/aa-gill.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘…<st1:country-region w:st="on">Cuba</st1:country-region> is famous for failed politics, syncopated music, immoral women and cigars, and if an island could be a person, then <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Cuba</st1:place></st1:country-region> would be Bill Clinton.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Then there’s his day job - the food reviews. The Scottish born writer is one of the most feared food critics in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city>. So much so that when his travel column ‘AA GILL IS AWAY’ runs in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place>’s Sunday Times, the city’s top chefs let out a collective garlic-breathed sigh. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In fact, they will soon be able to breathe easy thanks to us, because AA Gill will be jetting off again in May headed for the Sydney Writer’s Festival.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">On hearing this news, I purchased the collection of his travel writings published under the same title as they first appeared in the Sunday Times. And I quickly began to fall head over heals for his writing equally as much as I loathed the author, largely thanks to the chapter following the book’s forward titled ‘How it Works’.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Here Gill lays it all out on the table so those, like me, unfamiliar with his writing know exactly what they are in for. Just like the disclaimer above the ticket booth – there will be no refund offered at the end of the tour, even if you don’t see dolphins.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So you ready? Here goes… Gill declares that he travels to a city and interviews it. He asks questions, he listens, looks, lives with it and then makes observations that have come from his eyes only. And he does this all in just two or three days. He refuses to stay any longer in a destination he is writing about to avoid dulling the senses. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘The more I see the less I know,’ he states. ‘What I write are essentially impressions. I need them to be as vivid and surprising as possible.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And he doesn’t take notes. Not one. He doesn’t collect brochures, maps or receipts and he certainly doesn’t do any research. Nope. And this next declaration is bound to have university writing lecturers around the world banging their heads against their lecterns in frustration… he waits a few weeks after he has returned home before starting to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Arrogance or supreme confidence in his razor sharp sense of recall? Well you decide because he states all of this before you even step foot on his literary tour bus headed North, South, East and West. But from where I am sitting, shaking my head as I angrily thump pages thinking I have been doing everything so wrong, I can almost hear what he is really saying, had his publisher perhaps not stepped in: ‘this is the way I am, this is the way I do it. And if you don’t like it – stop reading. I dare you.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But wait, he’s not quite finished with the declarations. Here’s the clincher. AA Gill doesn’t read anyone else’s work either. Nope. Because that could potentially be classed as research – gasp!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">At least, as I learnt when I finally got to the articles, his self-righteous tone is consistent.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And yet here begins my love affair… his travel writing is truly refreshing. No one seems to view their surroundings quite like AA Gill does. And if they do, they certainly aren’t putting down in black and white…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘(Japanese) Kabuki theatre is only just preferable to amateur root-canal work. The three stringed guitar is a sad waste of cat….the samurai were thugs in frocks with stupid haircuts, and haiku poems are limericks that don’t make you laugh.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Nor as witty…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘It(<st1:placename w:st="on">Grumeti</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">River</st1:placetype> in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Tanzania</st1:country-region></st1:place>) is home to turgid pods of hippo and crocodile you could land small planes on. Each big enough to make a set of luggage that world comfortably take Joan Collins on a world cruise.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">His sentences are packed with so many external references - from literature, politics, popular culture – that you sometimes need to sit and absorb each one for a few minutes to fully understand the meaning.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘Modern Japanese people get born Shinto, married Christian, buried Buddhist and work Mazda. Consequently they believe everything and nothing…. I’ve never come across a place whose spiritual options were so barren. This pick-and-mix theology has stunted <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Japan</st1:country-region></st1:place> like a tonsured, root-bound pine tree.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Or this…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘…Konisberg was the capital of Ost <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Prussia</st1:place></st1:country-region>, a sort of Kraut Kosovo, the spiritual home of the Germanic chivalry and bellicosity. It’s also one of those historically buried fault lines, the scars that crisscross old <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place> and occasionally ache with an ancient, half-remembered resentment.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And other times, you’ll find yourself going back over sentences, just to check you read them correctly …<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘All Ethiopians have infinite reserves of charm. Talking to them is like having your secret places softly massaged with warm butter.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">He didn’t? Yes, yes he did. To gloss over AA Gill’s jam-packed sentences is to miss half of the observations, whether they be shocking, insightful or thought provoking. They say as much about AA Gill and his upbringing, education and views, as they do about the places he visits. Another point he is all to happy to admit…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘I am often being accused of being contentious. I suppose I predictably and rather arrogantly I take that as a compliment. If my articles cause raised blood pressure, then good – that’s what first person journalism in for: we hacks do opposition. But while they may be the start of the argument, they’re never the last word. There is no last word.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And what I came to admire the most about AA Gill’s writing is the element of surprise. Both in his prose but especially in his observations. He comes to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sydney</st1:place></st1:city> to see the Opera House and doesn’t get caught up in the world famous architecture but the shockingly large bats flying overhead that are more often than not reduced only to dark blobs in the starry sky of tourist snap shots.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Only AA Gill goes to Milan to cover fashion shows and writes, not about clothing but about a stunningly dressed woman sitting in stilettos in a wheelchair trying to solo navigate her way up the stairs of Prada while the wafer-thin shop assistants look on bemused, not daring to tread a Prada-pumped foot outside to assist.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">He sees the forest for the trees alright, but AA Gill writes about the bear crap on the forest floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Only AA Gill, while on safari in the Serengeti, would turn his attention away from the ‘teeming animals’ to focus his attention on the normally unnoticed but best-fed beasts of the safari…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘I could sit and watch honeymooners for hours. They are endlessly fascinating and rewarding. The main reward being that I will never ever have to be one of them again. <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> is a perfect postnuptial ecosystem. It has danger, nature, adventure and the Tiffany of night skies. All the subliminal triggers for a really good ‘Me Tarzan – You Jane’ sex life.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It is also, only fair to add, that the world renown critic isn’t above praise. He does let his guard down from time to time… well, almost.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘I wouldn’t normally mention trees in the city, but BA’s (<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Buenos Aires</st1:place></st1:city>) are spectacular. Jacarandas, eucalyptus, rubber trees, long, shady avenues in gardens, and it’s very Anglophile, which is always a relief.’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So if surprise is the element of success to Gill’s writing, and I long to be as successful as he, then what’s the shocking observation here? Well having just critiqued the critic, here’s my conclusion formed over three days and without notes…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">AA Gill you want people not to like you. The very basis of using ‘AA’ instead of Adrian Anthony may initially have been because it ‘sounds like an aging <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Florida</st1:place></st1:state> interior designer who once did Rock Hudson’s pool house out as a tiki-tiki wet bar’, but it conveniently distances the readers from the mysterious author. And I think this is what you thrive off. It’s the basis for your writing. It’s what allows you to make such searing critiques, it permits you to unashamedly scratch beneath the shiny tourist top layer and then sit there and pick the bits out from under your fingernails.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But this is also where you are becoming horribly unstuck. In a landscape riddled with lofty travel writing, overflowing with glowing adjectives you stands all alone, a top the Sydney Opera House covered in bat crap. There isn’t a travel writer so consistently real.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So I hope I can speak for more than just myself, when I say our love-hate relationship is now over. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Surprise AA Gill, we like you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">(AA Gill is currently in town for the Sydney Writers' Festival. I am seeing him talk tonight...can't wait.) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-16386304041250640642011-05-10T21:55:00.000-07:002011-05-10T21:55:47.905-07:00Scandinavia by SegwayReflections from my visit to Copenhagen in July 2010...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yisBUtY_g_g/TcoVWMUQpSI/AAAAAAAAAPY/FITvrdFj7os/s1600/segway_copenhagen.simone+smith05small.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yisBUtY_g_g/TcoVWMUQpSI/AAAAAAAAAPY/FITvrdFj7os/s320/segway_copenhagen.simone+smith05small.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">City tours can be dead boring. Whether it’s onboard those red double-decker ‘hop-on hop-off’ buses circling most major cities or on a group tour with a guide holding a sign or umbrella aloft - tours can make you feel like you’re back in school. <o:p></o:p></span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There’s often too many people, not enough time and absolutely no room for adventure. However, there is a futuristic new mode of touring that is gaining popularity around the world and in particular, in the Danish capital of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Copenhagen</st1:place></st1:city>…touring by segway. </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Never heard of a segway? Well, neither had I until I signed up for a two-hour city tour and discovered that a segway is an upright, two-wheeled contraption commonly used by security guards in shopping centres and airports due to their manoeuvrability and compact size. They are cheap to run, thanks to the five individual gyroscopes controlling movement, direction and speed, and without an engine, segways are a very green-mode of transport making them ideal in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Denmark</st1:place></st1:country-region>, a country with a big environmental conscience. </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As for sightseeing, they provide a comfortable and easy way to cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time, perfect for taking in a <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">new city</st1:place></st1:city>.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Now I must admit, I was a bit hesitant to step aboard as it seemed like a lazy option to walking. But once I had my two feet firmly planted on my segway I quickly changed my tune because it takes quite a bit of skill to master the art of segway-ing. </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">With no steering wheel, buttons, leavers or brakes the segway can be somewhat of a daunting contraption to begin with, but after a few practice laps around the car park it became as easy as, well, walking. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rrWfqGOhy8s/TcoU8kWB1VI/AAAAAAAAAPU/cZR5p-L23pg/s1600/segway_copenhagen.simone+smith02.small.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rrWfqGOhy8s/TcoU8kWB1VI/AAAAAAAAAPU/cZR5p-L23pg/s320/segway_copenhagen.simone+smith02.small.JPG" width="214" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BDf6zgwR3v4/TcoVq6p0qUI/AAAAAAAAAPc/LKif6VNnnfs/s1600/segway_copenhagen.simone+smith06small.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BDf6zgwR3v4/TcoVq6p0qUI/AAAAAAAAAPc/LKif6VNnnfs/s320/segway_copenhagen.simone+smith06small.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As the guide pointed out, if you ski you’ll be more likely to understand how to control your segway as it is all about balance. A lapse in concentration, or a sneeze, can send you hurtling along.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Copenhagen</st1:place></st1:city> is well and truly designed for segways. It is a pancake flat city lined with bicycle-ways - so we weren’t limited to where we could go. Cobblestone streets did add a little excitement to the ride but in two-hours we managed to cover over 14 kilometres of the city’s top tourist locations including the colourful canals of Nyhavn and the grandiose Amalienborg Palace - the Danish Royal Family’s winter residence. The palace is every bit as fairytale as imagined and with Princess Mary due to give birth to twins in January, there was a definite buzz to the place.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Of course, no visit to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Copenhagen</st1:place></st1:city> would be complete without a visit to the Little Mermaid. But as we rolled by the site you’d normally find the iconic statue we were disappointed to find a movie screen jutting out of the rocks streaming live images of the Little Mermaid in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">China</st1:place></st1:country-region>, where she herself was touring.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As far as city tours go, sightseeing by segway is fun. Not once did I feel rushed or like I was being herded around like one of the flock. And thanks to an audio piece in the helmet, the guide was continuously feeding us information about all the places we glided by. He even accommodated the group’s many photographic urges, plus a few sudden deviations from the planned route to check out something of interest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But despite it’s popularity, touring by segway is still a relatively new sight to the Danish landscape and I was consistently reminded of this by the stares, points and even photographs taken by surprised onlookers on the Stroget. In the ultimate case of irony, the tourists had become the attraction!</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sRQ56qqLyWM/TcoVut_aZiI/AAAAAAAAAPg/LYKhLgmPLQk/s1600/segway_copenhagen.simone+smith01.small.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sRQ56qqLyWM/TcoVut_aZiI/AAAAAAAAAPg/LYKhLgmPLQk/s320/segway_copenhagen.simone+smith01.small.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The only complaint I had was when the tour ended and I finally stepped off the segway back on solid ground. My ankles ached and walking had never seemed so slow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p>(Plans for South America 2013 are under way. In the meantime, I am catching up on my adventures over the past few years. I hope you enjoy heading down memory lane with me...by segway!)</o:p></span></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-37454181519835118332011-04-16T22:10:00.000-07:002011-04-16T22:10:11.180-07:00Remember me...?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pkp-tedQx90/Tap1RQd_AiI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/5blTPzBnYow/s1600/IMG_2831small.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pkp-tedQx90/Tap1RQd_AiI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/5blTPzBnYow/s320/IMG_2831small.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Most of my exciting trips have started at the end. The end of long-term relationship that hurt to stay as much as it hurt to first walk away. Resigning from a job I loved because I worked for a man I hated. The completion of the snow season which sent me in search of sunshine and far, far away from Italian ski instructors and flaming shots of butterscotch schnapps.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">You have to close one door before you can fully open another. A cliché yes, but a familiar pattern in my life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">So when I recently decided to go backpacking through <place w:st="on">South America</place>, with no great trail of destruction and unhappy endings behind me, I wondered whether I had broken the cycle. I was ready to start off on an adventure without packing the emotional baggage. Without the desire to prove I was a strong and independent female. Without looking to replace some long lasting disaster in my life with some short lived joy, or brown-eyed backpacker.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I was in a happy place. So hang on, why did I want to leave my perfect bubble and venture out in to the big bad world again?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Because travel is not the quick fix to life’s little dramas nor is it the somewhat expensive self-help therapy required to put your life back on a more wholesome, spiritual track. Travel is what I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I don’t need an excuse to justify my next big trip. Sure I had some beauties in the past – but were they just a damn good, if not convenient excuse? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Wow…did I really just make that observation? That was heavy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">So anyway, here begins the next phase of the 'blonde with the backpack'. Four years on from my last entry and not much has changed. Yes I am now 28. Yes I have a mortgage. And yes, I have found my best friend in life who I am now engaged to and subsequently, has become my new travel companion too. But it doesn’t mean I have forgotten my old travel buddies either. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Bertha the backpack may be a little dusty and even a tad mouldy on the straps, but she has never once let me down and while I am still fit enough to throw her on my shoulders, I am not trading her in for a Samsonite hard-shell suitcase on swivel wheels. As fashionable as that does sound!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In fact, I hope that as long as I live I will always be plagued with the never ending dilemma of trying to haul my overstuffed pack on to my back as I travel through some of the most amazing moments of my life. That’s what makes travel so rewarding, the struggle, the lessons learned along the way, the mistakes made that hopefully haven’t cost you too much money or dignity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But this time it’s different. This time, I am kicking it off with a fresh start and the end, I hope, is nowhere in sight. Let the journey begin! </span></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-36520862022202776582007-10-29T22:01:00.000-07:002007-10-29T22:33:55.223-07:00Under the sea - diving in Mauritius<div><br /><div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RybAA2PBQ6I/AAAAAAAAAJg/TzWiwtUdNKU/s1600-h/sim+snorkel+blog+size.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126996346598933410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RybAA2PBQ6I/AAAAAAAAAJg/TzWiwtUdNKU/s320/sim+snorkel+blog+size.jpg" border="0" /></a>As promised, this entry is dedicated to my amazing experience diving in Mauritius.<br /><br /><div>Diving is one of those things that you either love doing, have always wanted to do but never got around to getting your flippers on and sitting the course, or have no inkling whatsoever to do even if somebody paid you! Up until two weeks ago I fell into the second category (I still have the brochures next to my bed to prove it!), so seized the chance to do my PADI Open Water diving course on my second week in Mauritius, visiting my Dad who is living and working on this island paradise.</div><br /><div>The course took four days and I instilled (my gorgeous, very calm and patient instructor) Brian with my complete trust. A very rare thing for me to do but I was out of my depths, excuse the lame pun!</div><div></div><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RybAMWPBQ7I/AAAAAAAAAJo/7RIJdf_AjPo/s1600-h/mauritius_19_blog+size.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126996544167429042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RybAMWPBQ7I/AAAAAAAAAJo/7RIJdf_AjPo/s320/mauritius_19_blog+size.jpg" border="0" /></a>So on day one, after a quick rundown of the equipment, it was into the pool for some basic training. The best part was having to walk through the lobby of the hotel scarying the Italian tourists who the majority of, as I later found out, would rather die than go swimming in the ocean letting the 'fish touch them'. And this was coming from a good looking guy, about my age covered in tattoos. Boy, did he soundly seem so unattractive!<br /><div>So out into the ocean we went. Our first dive was a wreck dive but I am buggered if I noticed or enjoyed my surroundings. I was so busy focusing on breathing and what I was doing that i may aswell still been in the pool. But I must confess, after 15 minutes I did the signal that I wanted to surface - and we did. I wasn't freaking out but was short of breath. We got the to top and I was like, right I am ready to go stright back down, much to Brian's shock!</div><br /><div></div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RybAZWPBQ8I/AAAAAAAAAJw/t7OLhKlwRoM/s1600-h/mauritius_15++SH+blog+size.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126996767505728450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RybAZWPBQ8I/AAAAAAAAAJw/t7OLhKlwRoM/s320/mauritius_15++SH+blog+size.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div>I guess my reason was that I just needed to know I could safely surface and get out of there if I had to or even needed to. And well, I now knew I could. Go on - call me a control freak!</div><br /><div>So after that it was amazing and by my third open water dive to 18m for over 40minutes I had completely forgotten I was underwater and was just loving swimming with all of the amazing fish. Brian realised he could now have fun with me and on one of my levitating excuses decide to position me over a live lobster on the ocean floor - unbeknownst to me - until he pointed and I looked down at this poor creature freaking out just 20cm away from my thigh. I had a great dinner that night - lobster! No, not that one but obviously a close relative.</div><br /><div>The hardest part to getting my lisence was the theory side. I had decided to do the course in 4 days so had a lot of reading to do, before sitting the test on my last day. What I found was the more reading I did, the better I understod the situation and my equipment and the more at ease I was. I passed the test despite horrible flashbacks to high school mathematics when it was time to complete the dive table section and am now a qualified diver. Man I love being able to say that!<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RybA72PBQ9I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/RZy5AMjCtWo/s1600-h/mauritius_20+blog+size.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126997360211215314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RybA72PBQ9I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/RZy5AMjCtWo/s320/mauritius_20+blog+size.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>Diving in Mauritius is relatively affordable and my course cost around AUD$450 which is over half the cost of what it would have been at home in Australia. The only major downfall is that most instructors speak French so you must find an English speaking dive centre for when hand signals just won't do. So now I need a dive buddy to continue my underwater exploration in my own backyard now that I am (sadly) back on home soil.</div><br /><div></div><div>Simone x</div></div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-47309777936127118532007-10-17T17:00:00.000-07:002007-10-17T17:13:13.271-07:00Snow one day, sunshine and surf the next<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RxajK8gWULI/AAAAAAAAAJY/eAJ5_dtLHj0/s1600-h/mauritius_1_small.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122461034616344754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RxajK8gWULI/AAAAAAAAAJY/eAJ5_dtLHj0/s320/mauritius_1_small.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;">The 2007 snow season has officially come to a close, but not without drama of course. On the final days, we had 20cm of snow fall, not only keeping most resorts open for business for another two weeks but also nearly forcing me to dig my way out before driving home to Sydney after 4 amazing, fun and hard working months!</span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;">So, after two days at home, I unloaded my winter gear from Bertha the backpack and then reloaded her with my summer gear, leaving a wake of clothing mayhem behind me. It was off to Mauritius to visit my family who are living/working there at the moment and to defrost. </span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;">I had such a fabulous trip that I am going to have to break all my adventures down into a few blog entries as there is too much to write and too many gorgeous pictures to show.</span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;">But for those of you not familiar with Mauritius, it's a small Island off the coast of East Africa, not far from Madagascar. There is a large French/Mauritian population as well as Indian population now too, asthey were originally brought over to help with the sugar can crops, Mauritius' main export.</span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;">So stay tuned for my next blog on scub a diving in paradise....</span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ffcc00;">Sim x</span></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-15806135247200972702007-09-26T13:57:00.001-07:002007-09-26T14:10:16.509-07:00Gone fishin'<div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvrIAcgWUJI/AAAAAAAAAJI/NsUdYfVRNq0/s1600-h/fly+fishing+200+(Large).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114620236810047634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvrIAcgWUJI/AAAAAAAAAJI/NsUdYfVRNq0/s320/fly+fishing+200+(Large).jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#ccccff;">Who says fishing is just for boys? Not me - at least not after going for a fly fishing casting lesson! My boss thought it would be a good idea to write an article on girls going fishing so - guess who wound up (excuse the pun), ankle deep in womabt crap and sitting on an ants nest on the banks of the Thredbo River. Yep, moi!</span></div><br /><p><span style="color:#ccccff;">But much to my shock and horror, I had a great time. Fly fishing is quite an art and actually requires some skill, unlike normal fishing which requires only patience and a good book in my opinion. Plus, there's a crafty element which is right up my alley and involves making your own flies using animal hair, feathers and whatever materials you dig up from Lincraft. Now this is my kind of sport!</span></p><p><span style="color:#ccccff;">My teacher, the very patient Haig, told me that girls generally make good students because we listen as opposed to boys who just want to cast the bloody thing as far as they can. And well, in no time I was on the village green casting like a pro and the old pitching arm from my softball days came in handy, once again!<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvrJccgWUKI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/B0aqRMALUIY/s1600-h/fly+fishing+085+(Large).jpg"><span style="color:#ccccff;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114621817358012578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvrJccgWUKI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/B0aqRMALUIY/s320/fly+fishing+085+(Large).jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span><span style="color:#ccccff;"></span></p><p><span style="color:#ccccff;">Unfortunately, all I caught was a twig. And don't scoff - it was a pretty decent sized twigs as far as twigs go but I threw it back because it's all about catch and release! Wouldn't have tasted too great either!</span></p><p><span style="color:#ccccff;">But seriously, the fishing season doesn't officially open until this weekend so it is illegal to fish in the National Parks before then. So for the next few days I guess it will be back to the village green, practicing my technique. Hmmm... maybe today I might catch a frisbee or a small child?! x</span><br /></p><div><br /></div><br /><div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-47052188539358416802007-09-24T14:05:00.000-07:002007-09-24T14:20:31.318-07:00Quarter of a Century and Not Out!<div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvgnWMgWUHI/AAAAAAAAAI4/8fqHxzA4yvo/s1600-h/n680464202_320838_1734[1].jpg"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113880639146709106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvgnWMgWUHI/AAAAAAAAAI4/8fqHxzA4yvo/s320/n680464202_320838_1734%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#ff6600;"> Last Saturday I turned the ripe ol' age of 25! As per usual, it just meant another excuse to go out and party - drinking far too much and dressing like I don't own a mirror!</span></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span> </div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;">It just so happened to be Fiona's birthday 3 days later (we are 3 years and 3 days apart) and so we had a combined retro 80s ski wear party since we are both 80s babies, at karaoke. And let's just say that when we arrived the bar it was packed but after just 2 songs, there weren't many people left! Gotta love how you sound like Whitney Houston after 2 drinks - or is that just me? We rocked the casbah, watched in awe as here came </span><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rvgnv8gWUII/AAAAAAAAAJA/RL0CQwtxx0c/s1600-h/P9220306+(Large).JPG"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113881081528340610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rvgnv8gWUII/AAAAAAAAAJA/RL0CQwtxx0c/s320/P9220306+(Large).JPG" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#ff6600;">the hot stepper and remembered the summer of '69. It was all class, all the time.</span></div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rvgnv8gWUII/AAAAAAAAAJA/RL0CQwtxx0c/s1600-h/P9220306+(Large).JPG"><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></a> </div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;">We had an absolute blast - which was the main thing. With the gorgeous Helen and Lauren coming up from Sydney just for the party - thanks guys. Hels, you did that bib and brace proud and Loz, no one will ever do justice to those tight, flouro lycra tights like you did! Amen for St Vinnies!</span></div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rvgnv8gWUII/AAAAAAAAAJA/RL0CQwtxx0c/s1600-h/P9220306+(Large).JPG"><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></a> </div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;">And a special thanks to Fifi, who I know will be reading this because as she confessed, she loves reading about what she gets up to on my blog. The treasure hunt in the morning was gorgeous - thank you fo making my day and night super special.</span></div><div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvgnB8gWUGI/AAAAAAAAAIw/P7pSn_XPZTg/s1600-h/_9220297+(Large).jpg"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113880291254358114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvgnB8gWUGI/AAAAAAAAAIw/P7pSn_XPZTg/s320/_9220297+(Large).jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rvgnv8gWUII/AAAAAAAAAJA/RL0CQwtxx0c/s1600-h/P9220306+(Large).JPG"></a></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;">OK, back to the embarrassing stories. So I have had many flashbacks of what happened that night, ranging from mounting the bar with the microphone to serenade the guy behind the bar (cringe) and running through Thredbo village (fully dressed) saying 'we are all going streaking, to the quad - come with!'. Oh, too funny. Lucky I am leaving this village soon!</span></div><div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvgnB8gWUGI/AAAAAAAAAIw/P7pSn_XPZTg/s1600-h/_9220297+(Large).jpg"><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></a> </div></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;">Sim x</span></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span></div><div><br /> </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvgnB8gWUGI/AAAAAAAAAIw/P7pSn_XPZTg/s1600-h/_9220297+(Large).jpg"></a> </div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-7956868977269880522007-09-18T13:45:00.000-07:002007-09-18T13:49:42.251-07:00Shagwell by name, shag very well by reputation<div><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvA5MqVmpwI/AAAAAAAAAIY/of_OIsyofjA/s1600-h/yeah+baby+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111648466751629058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 205px" height="214" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvA5MqVmpwI/AAAAAAAAAIY/of_OIsyofjA/s320/yeah+baby+(Small).JPG" width="288" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#cc33cc;">So my latest batch of incriminating photos come from Monday night when it was the lifties party. It was fancy dress and my old flatmates invited Fiona and I. Scooter went as Austin Powers (he makes a great Austin!) and so I went as Felicity Shagwell just in case you can’t figure it out from the pics – ha! It was cheap and easy – OK.<br /><br />So Fiona, at the 11th hour decided to go as cat woman much to Luke’s horror who had hoped she would tramp it up and be his Bond girl. But I think she looked puuurrr-fect if trampy enough in her fire engine red lipstick! </span><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvA5WKVmpxI/AAAAAAAAAIg/-m9ZgEn3jhY/s1600-h/DSCF0689+(Small).JPG"><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111648629960386322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="250" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvA5WKVmpxI/AAAAAAAAAIg/-m9ZgEn3jhY/s320/DSCF0689+(Small).JPG" width="180" border="0" /></span></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">So people went to a lot of effort for the party, one guy going as Borat in the green man-kini. He pulled it off well, we thought at first. But on closer inspection at the bar he had a very pimpley bum! ‘You - not so good!’<br /><br />It was a sit down dinner but well, Fi and I managed to get food poisoning. And no, it wasn’t alcohol induced! We only had a few drinks as we were still recovering from our HUGE Saturday night two days before. </span></div><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span> </div><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;">And I know I seem to always say what a huge night I had, but they seem to, somehow, be getting bigger and bigger as the season comes to a close. Thank goodness there is only 2 weeks left – I don’t think I can take anymore partying. </span></div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvA5g6VmpyI/AAAAAAAAAIo/slB75uRl2to/s1600-h/shagwell1+(Small).JPG"><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></a> </div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvA5g6VmpyI/AAAAAAAAAIo/slB75uRl2to/s1600-h/shagwell1+(Small).JPG"><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111648814643980066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="241" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RvA5g6VmpyI/AAAAAAAAAIo/slB75uRl2to/s320/shagwell1+(Small).JPG" width="170" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;">I never thought I would say that! </span></div><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span> </div><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Sim x</span></div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-59368529593923975212007-09-13T18:52:00.000-07:002007-09-13T19:05:50.829-07:00Over & Out - but not without drama!<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RunpaqVmpvI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/rkfP8gFikgA/s1600-h/tree+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109871896479311602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RunpaqVmpvI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/rkfP8gFikgA/s320/tree+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;">I just completed my last TV report for the season which will air on Sports Tonight, tonight. There is now on 2 weeks left of the ski season, with everything wrapping on the October long weekend! Time has absolutely flown by!</span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;">Anyway (before I get all teary), in typical Simone style even my last TV report was full of drama! Our tripod carrier/camera assistant called in sick today so they got one of the ski instructors to fill in, since there seems to be alot of them and not many punters today. So out of the hoardes of instructors, who did they get? The Italian stallion I was 'kind of seeing' who got angry at me last weekend and we had a fight and I walked off and had a great night (i.e. read between the lines... met someone else). So anyway, I hadn't spoken to him since then and today he has to stand next to me and watch my report, throw snowballs at me for the report and be on panda eye alert (why didn't I wear waterproof mascara today?). Typical! It was awkward beyond belief!</span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;">Attached is a gorgeous pic our resort photographer got ealrier this week. It's a stunner and I had to share it with you.</span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;">So, I guess for the last time... "This is Simone Smith with the latest snow report."</span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;">xx</span>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-88318201997555405142007-09-12T19:04:00.000-07:002007-09-12T19:22:10.983-07:00The past can be haunting...<span style="color:#cc66cc;">It's been one of those weeks where the past has been catching up with me!</span><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;">It all started when, on facebook - the website I love and hate simultaneously yet can't seem to get off - I recieved an e-mail from 'The X'. It had been a blissful two-years and well, it was a shock to say the least to see his picture and name pop up in my inbox.</span><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;">And then today, I recieved a message from a friend saying: Oh man, oh man Sim. Go to </span><a href="http://www.news.com.au/"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">www.news.com.au</span></a><span style="color:#cc66cc;"> . Which of course I then did, only to see that picture of me with my blow up kangaroo taken by a photographer when I was in Germany at the World Cup last year flash on screen next to a story on the 'Aussie Cultural Cringe - Loud and Proud!' Wow - I am now the unofficial poster girl for cultural cringeing the world over. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;">That damn photo has haunted me for a year now, running four times (that I know of), in The Times, the London paper twice and once in the SMH and now this. Actually, one of them is quite a funny story.... I had just started work at the Arts Council England when I was working in London, 3 weeks after returning from Germany. My first job on day one was to go through the paper and cut out cultural clippings. So pretending I was a civilized, arts-savvy Aussie (trying to shake all convict stereotypes the poms like to mutter at us whilst looking down their nose), I opened the newspaper to see this same picture staring back at me! I screamed and of course my new employer asked if I was OK and despite my efforts to prevent her from coming over and assuring her it was nothing, she came over to see what was wrong and she couldn't help but laugh at the pic of me with the blow up roo - musttering as she looked down her nose at me! Damn it!</span><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Then, since things always happen in threes, I went to work drinks last week and ran into a guy up at the bar who I had snogged when I was 17. It was very random to bump into him 8 years later and when i got back to the table I relayed this story back to the people at my table, not realising that he was actually part of the table - dating the girl sitting one chair up from me! It was a big table, OK!!! When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?</span><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;">So, hopefully all of my skeletons are out of the closet for now - I don't think I can handle anymore surprises, just yet.</span><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Lots of love, </span><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Sim x</span>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-82584565289415812442007-09-11T15:02:00.001-07:002007-09-11T15:10:38.112-07:00Home Sweet Home<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RucQikGUAkI/AAAAAAAAAII/avH6-nOoziA/s1600-h/Simona[1]+(Small).JPG"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109070488266867266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RucQikGUAkI/AAAAAAAAAII/avH6-nOoziA/s320/Simona%5B1%5D+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#ff0000;">I am sure everyone will agree with me that moving house sucks - well, I have now done it twice in one week. Well, I did it once and then poor Fiona and Marty had to pack up all my stuff and do it the second time when i was back in Sydney! If you are reading this owe you guys, BIG TIME!</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">Now, the first move was from Royal Bogong Number 4, out of the room I had shared with the snoronator for 3 months into a room nextdoor with Fiona. My first night I had a wonderful, sound sleep but the second night we had a visitor who entered the room when we where dead to the world and let's just say, he made himself at home! This was one of the other flatmates who was, well, completely out of it! As this was the second time this had apparently happened to poor Fi, it was now time to get out of this place.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">So now I am happy to announce Fiona and I have our very own, one bedroom place which is completely free of snoring and pant dropping flatmates!</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">Last night we cooked dinner in our CLEAN kitchen and even made dessert - it was bliss. Unfortunately, the eggplant we were using was off so we found other things to do with it!</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">Sim x</span>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-28718132466360410402007-09-10T17:46:00.000-07:002007-09-10T18:01:27.781-07:00ALL NIGHT LONG...<div><div><br /><div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RuXnjUGUAgI/AAAAAAAAAHo/AkCN2ctLHdw/s1600-h/big+air+finale+062+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108743946198319618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="250" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RuXnjUGUAgI/AAAAAAAAAHo/AkCN2ctLHdw/s320/big+air+finale+062+(Small).jpg" width="277" border="0" /></a>OK, so I have hit an all time low. After an awesome, relaxing weekend in Sydney seeing the family and my gorgeous friends I headed back to the hills fully recharged. So what did I do - I had an all nighter - going straight to work at 5.30am without having a single zzzzzz. OK, so i think I actually passed out for 10minutes before my alarm went off.<br /><br /><br /><div>You see, it was the final of the Australian Freeride Series and the comp was at night, under the big lights with the hip hop act The Herd playing on the slopes straight afterwards. They were awesome and we had a great night. Then it was straight to The Keller night club for far too many drinks (yep, it was a liquid dinner). As you can see from the pics, it all got a bit loose in no time at all. As for the headband - don't even ask. </div><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RuXnrkGUAhI/AAAAAAAAAHw/NLOzZUYPPaQ/s1600-h/sim,maka,lynch&fifi1+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108744087932240402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 211px" height="217" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RuXnrkGUAhI/AAAAAAAAAHw/NLOzZUYPPaQ/s320/sim,maka,lynch%26fifi1+(Small).jpg" width="287" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div>It was an incredibly fun night though - with the whole village out celebrating and with not long to go until the end of the season, everyone was out in force to end the season in style - or lack of style for some!<br /></div><div>So the next day, as I sat in the office all alone pumping out radio and written reports I was feeling very sorry for myself. Very, very sorry for myself. I then proceeded to have 3 peices of cold pizza for breakfast, a breakfast burger at about 9am and then a kebab for lunch. Yes, my head was hung in shame all day. Oh, and did I mention potato gems at 4am!? My stomach is churning just thinking about all of this.</div><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RuXoh0GUAjI/AAAAAAAAAIA/S99wDpo8q24/s1600-h/dom+and+sim+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108745019940143666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="214" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RuXoh0GUAjI/AAAAAAAAAIA/S99wDpo8q24/s320/dom+and+sim+(Small).jpg" width="276" border="0" /></a> <div>Needless to say, I slept soundly for 16 hours that night! And it's off to the gym tonight to try and redeem myself and get my body back on my side again.</div><br />Lots of Love,<br /><div>Sim x</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-37036366397025761272007-09-04T14:09:00.001-07:002007-09-04T14:19:36.348-07:00Total Eclipse of the Heart<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rt3JykGUAfI/AAAAAAAAAHg/1xL6S3c6aS0/s1600-h/top+to+bottom+and+GI+dominator+029+(Small).jpg"><span style="color:#33ccff;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106459423028806130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rt3JykGUAfI/AAAAAAAAAHg/1xL6S3c6aS0/s320/top+to+bottom+and+GI+dominator+029+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#33ccff;"> I am slightly slow in getting this entry up, but last week we had a lunar eclipse. This photo doesn't really do it justice because the moon actually was a peach/pink colour for most of the eclipse and it was just beautiful but it gives you an idea nontheless.</span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;">I love looking at the moon at the best of times, but this was simply wonderful to witness. And what was even nicer, was seeing everyone brave the cold and stand outside in groups with drinks in hand, watching the eclipse. It was very cool.</span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;">So, I am terribly excited to be flying home to Sydney tonight. I haven't been home (or further away from here than Cooma) , for the last three-and-half months and am seriously craving some big city action. Of course, I am flying back for the APEC weekend chaos which is just typical and is foiling my plans of a dose of city night life on Friday night. But I am sure it will be great still and I can't wait to see my gorgeous puppy, my family and my friends (in no particular order - ha!).</span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;">But on the APEC note, check out the latest in the series of advertisements for here. It is very timely and very funny. It's good to know I am not the only one enjoying the slopes at the moment! Check it out and you will see what I mean...</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.thredbo.com.au/about/Bush-Pulls-Another-Snow-Job.asp"><span style="color:#33ccff;">http://www.thredbo.com.au/about/Bush-Pulls-Another-Snow-Job.asp</span></a><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;">Lost of Love,</span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;">Sim x</span>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-9917244139551413632007-09-03T13:46:00.000-07:002007-09-03T13:54:31.299-07:00My Best Blue Steele<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rtx0LUGUAeI/AAAAAAAAAHY/GwA2vZrfd3A/s1600-h/IMGP8410+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106083815253869026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rtx0LUGUAeI/AAAAAAAAAHY/GwA2vZrfd3A/s320/IMGP8410+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#33ff33;">So, I have only just stopped (somewhat embarrassedly) laughing after my last achievement award on the snow. So this blog is to help my bruised ego and tell you about my first official - modelling assignment.<br /><br /></span><div><div><span style="color:#33ff33;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#33ff33;">I have attached a few pics of Fiona and our friend Gianluca (a ski instructor from Italy) doing our very best to drink cocktails and eat meals as naturally as possible without wondering where on earth these pics may turn up and haunt me down the track, and do I have a double chin from that angle. And might I add, the food was stone cold and the drinks, non-alcoholic. What tight-ass'!</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#33ff33;">So I guess if all else fails in my ski racing career, I can become a Big W catalogue model, well maybe! Gosh, the things Fiona and I will do for a free</span><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rtx0DEGUAdI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/dePqpHZwOgA/s1600-h/IMGP8486+(Small).jpg"><span style="color:#33ff33;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106083673519948242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rtx0DEGUAdI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/dePqpHZwOgA/s320/IMGP8486+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#33ff33;"> meal.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#33ff33;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#33ff33;">Look out for us in a ski resort catalogue direct to you next season.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#33ff33;">Sim x</span></div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-23960209890185024902007-09-01T14:58:00.000-07:002007-09-01T15:05:04.552-07:00I WON... well kind of!<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rtnh8EGUAcI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Dk29pxGxMrU/s1600-h/DSCF0649+(Small).JPG"><span style="color:#993399;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105360074609787330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rtnh8EGUAcI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Dk29pxGxMrU/s320/DSCF0649+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#993399;">Oh, I am still laughing and it's three days later but I actually won at the staff ski race I wrote about in my last blog. Well, when I say won I don't mean the event, nor my age group (as originally thought!), no, no I won the... wait for it... encouragement award! </span><div><br /><div><span style="color:#993399;">In other words, nice try but man you sucked! I checked my time and I turned out to be in the middle of the field but I think the fact that on the day I stood at the top of the course freaking out, asking everyone around me what I am meant to do and how am i meant to do it may have assisted in the award - I was clearly a first timer! Although, I reckon the red headband saying 'feelin it' and the hot pink one piece ski suit didn't hurt either.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#993399;">But wait, it gets better. Do you know what I actually won? A day's ski hire so I can actually learn to ski properly. Oh, I have never laughed so hard in my laugh. This is one award going striaght to the pool room.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#993399;">I always thought I was special, but not in the 'special friend' way! Oh well, there's always next year.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#993399;">Love, </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#993399;">'Slow and Steady Smith' xx</span></div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-24412848647228105292007-08-29T22:56:00.000-07:002007-08-29T23:08:25.727-07:00I've got a carrot in my facsinator... darlingk!<div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104370866332107122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtZeQkGUAXI/AAAAAAAAAGg/5X46JY0KoD8/s320/Roving+Cams+30-08-07+028+(Small).jpg" border="0" />So today was the annual staff memorial day ski race. Now I will admit it, I am not a fabulous skier and even after 3 months down here I am no where near hot dogging it down the slopes just yet. But my boss convinced me to go in today's race which is more<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtZebEGUAZI/AAAAAAAAAGw/b8R9CIQ3YwU/s1600-h/Roving+Cams+30-08-07+058+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104371046720733586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtZebEGUAZI/AAAAAAAAAGw/b8R9CIQ3YwU/s320/Roving+Cams+30-08-07+058+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a> of a laugh then anything, but still involves going down a ski course (the Rosi Racecourse) one at time, through 12 gates with everyone watching. How it works is that you do the course twice and you have to try and do it in the same time. You are in a team of 2, and so the difference in your two runs are added together to get your final score. This is my kind of race - they don't call me slow and steady smith for nothing!<br /><br /><div>I went with Haig, our wonderful sticks/tripod carrier who is a fanatstic skier. And when I say went, I mean I entered him and I last night at 4.55pm (the shut off for entry forms was 5pm) and told him this morning. His reaction was - we don't have to actually ski together do we?! After from being completely offended, i laughed and then told him he had to wear a dress too in the 'racing theme'. Me on the otherhand, res<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtZeWEGUAYI/AAAAAAAAAGo/exdn6dEvihs/s1600-h/Roving+Cams+30-08-07+029+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104370960821387650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtZeWEGUAYI/AAAAAAAAAGo/exdn6dEvihs/s320/Roving+Cams+30-08-07+029+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a>urrected the old hot pink one piece and added a fascinator to the outfit. The funniest part was that I made it down the run safely and poor old Haig stacked it - so I don't think I will be drinking from the cup tonight!</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104371192749621666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtZejkGUAaI/AAAAAAAAAG4/SZrHrSgmfRc/s320/DSCF0648+(Small).JPG" border="0" />So the results still aren't in just yet, but I am not holding my breath. But as you can see from the pics it was a really fun day with everyone dressing up and the Ouzo was flowing straight from the bottle to the lips at the starting line!<br /><br /><div>Sim x</div></div></div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-50567137440056787682007-08-27T16:18:00.000-07:002007-08-27T16:23:06.512-07:00Cabin Fever – CURED!<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtNcRkGUAWI/AAAAAAAAAGY/tMDpvi6AnwM/s1600-h/canberra%20aph[1].jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103524259558588770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtNcRkGUAWI/AAAAAAAAAGY/tMDpvi6AnwM/s320/canberra%2520aph%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#9999ff;">So after moaning about suffering from a severe case of cabin fever after being in the village, living on top of people 24/7 for 3 months, I finally escaped and feel 1,000% better. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t love this place because I absolutely do but when you know every person you pass on the street, including their family lineage, then it becomes a bit much. Beside, my house has turned into a junkyard thanks to the two lifties and ski patroller I live with. I now refer to it as the 'bog of eternal stench'. But I can’t get into just how bad it is just now as I might cry and spiral back into my bout of cabin fever.<br /><br />So when I escaped, I jumped in the car and drove to Canberra. Who thought Canberra would be an oasis of entertainment and a shopping mecca. How my perspectives have changed! I briefly saw my Mum who was taking her class to Questacon and then I shopped until I literally dropped, mostly due to being weighted down by bags and credit card receipts! What can I say, I had three months shopping down time to catch up on.<br /><br />Then it was back to my gorgeous hotel room (courtesy of my boss who had been witnessing my downwards spiral due to lack of sleep and household hygiene) and after swan diving onto my big queen bed like a true princess, I ordered room service and watched TV (something I hadn’t done in ages) and ate my citrus cheese cake whilst painting my toe nails. It will go down in history as the best, most self-indulgent day I have had all year.<br /><br />The next day, after doing the walk of shame by myself to the breakfast buffet – ALONE – I met up with my gorgeous Aunt who drove down to see me and had lunch and another round of shopping.<br /><br />So am back now, staring out at the slopes, feel like my old self again. And the best news… I am moving into the flat next-door with the stunning Fifi my partner in crime in absolutely everything in a few nights. Amen, the accommodation god hasn’t forgotten me after all!<br /></span><br /><div><span style="color:#9999ff;">Sim x</span></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-22857464739820946002007-08-25T14:45:00.000-07:002007-08-25T15:00:17.876-07:00Reliving the World Cup – Germany 2006<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCl6EGUAUI/AAAAAAAAAGI/G2fKVdXEJUk/s1600-h/roo_1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102760794761986370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCl6EGUAUI/AAAAAAAAAGI/G2fKVdXEJUk/s320/roo_1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102760880661332306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCl_EGUAVI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/eRlf6-qGHmo/s320/roo_3.jpg" border="0" /><span style="color:#ffcc99;">True to her word, the darling Michelle posted the pics of our beloved blow up Roo who fearlessly followed us around Munich for our World Cup antics (R.I.P.), on facebook following the recent spotting of my roo’s relative on the slopes here in Thredbo the other day. So, I thought I should share these with you because he was one of the best travel companions I have had, he didn’t whinge once and was always pumped for a good time (OK, lame joke alert!).<br /><br />This Roo knew how to have a good time, and sure he may have drunk too much at the Australia vs. Brazil game but he bounced back (lame joke two, one more and I will quit writing altogether, I promise). And then he w<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCjQ0GUANI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/gRVJpqlKn1o/s1600-h/roo_2.jpg"></a>as there with a broom, ready to right his wrongs. But unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and he became more than a little deflated when Australia didn’t make it past those nasty, cheating Italians (OK – I am out).<br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCjaUGUAOI/AAAAAAAAAFY/a5LHpHGyyc8/s1600-h/roo_3.jpg"></a><br />So rest in peace Roo – Shell, Ray and I will never forget you.<br />Sim<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCjzkGUAQI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Aq2H6adQ5SM/s1600-h/roo_5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102758484069581058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCjzkGUAQI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Aq2H6adQ5SM/s320/roo_5.jpg" border="0" /></a> xxx</span><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCjrEGUAPI/AAAAAAAAAFg/XL7TdQUukd0/s1600-h/roo_4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102758338040692978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RtCjrEGUAPI/AAAAAAAAAFg/XL7TdQUukd0/s320/roo_4.jpg" border="0" /></a>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-38353577332190650252007-08-21T14:01:00.000-07:002007-08-21T14:04:57.860-07:00Famous Faces from the Slopes<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RstS_EGUALI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Pk8Iu1S-AQE/s1600-h/IMGP5573+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101262246312673458" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RstS_EGUALI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Pk8Iu1S-AQE/s320/IMGP5573+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#ff99ff;">Just a quick one today, but I have had numerous celebrity sightings on the slopes lately which I thought I should share with you. The first is the gorgeous, Sally Stanton from Saturday Disney who I have had the pleasure to work with in the past. Sally is former snow reporter herself and was so lovely in sharing all her best kept secrets about what to expect down here before I, rather hesitantly, packed my bags and headed for the hills in May this year (wow – has it really been that long?!).<br /><br />Now, yesterday I walked past Andrew O’Keefe of Deal or No Deal fame in the village but my highlight would have to be when Charlie from Hi-5 skied up to me when I was doing a report up at Karel’s to say she always watches my reports before skiing straight off again! By the time I realised who it was she was gone, but I was chuffed nonetheless.<br /><br />Now I also have to mention spotting Cate Blanchett at Thredboland last week, dropping her kids off before hitting the slopes herself. I just adore Cate and can’t believe how stunning she looked, even with a beanie on and sans make-up. It’s just not fair! Unfortunately, my inner groupie was suppressed long enough to prevent me from running up, gushing about how much I admire her and asking for a photo and makign a right idiot of myself.<br /><br />So that’s all my celebrity spotting for now. Stay tuned for more stars of the slopes.<br /></span><br /><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;">Sim x</span></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-90305215294587250242007-08-20T14:09:00.000-07:002007-08-20T14:25:43.079-07:00Rip Curl Pro Freeride Comp<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RsoFTEGUAKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/P5ysCWj7Acw/s1600-h/DHP_1400_jesse+houghton+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100895353026379938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RsoFTEGUAKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/P5ysCWj7Acw/s320/DHP_1400_jesse+houghton+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#6600cc;">I have just a had a few big days at work covering the Rip Curl Pro Freeride Comp here in Thredbo. Despite the crap weather, and I mean crap (which is bad coming from the keyboard fo a snow reporter), the event was a 'great success' and with $25,000 worth of cash and prizes there was huge international and local interest with the likes of Andy Finch, Chris Booth, Andrea Berchtold and Russ Holt competing - not that I knew who they were.</span><br /><br /><div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">But all SERIOUSNESS aside, I was left to report on an event I knew very little about so I did some 'research' and 2 minutes before the comp plonked down in the snow next to a bunch of boarders to pick their brains about what the hell a sitchback 9 was? After a crash course in freeride and slopestyle moves I was starting to question my sources... 'was there really a move called the truck driver? And was I prepared to say that on national and cable TV and try and sound convincing?'. </span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">My answer came (as a big fat no), when I was told one of the riders just pulled off a 'PHat Kanga-Wallaby something, <a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RsoFKUGUAJI/AAAAAAAAAEw/4SN9wg3lv3s/s1600-h/DHP_1145_andrea+berchtold+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100895202702524562" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RsoFKUGUAJI/AAAAAAAAAEw/4SN9wg3lv3s/s320/DHP_1145_andrea+berchtold+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a>something'. Yep, this was never going to work - these guys were clearly having a lend! So I decided to join in and inspired by Roy and HG's 'battered sav' commentary of the Olympic gymnastics I decided to make up my own, so next season look out for the 'Greasy DimSim Reverse 9'!</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">So two days later and many reports later I am much more informed in the art of slopestyle and freeride and can pick a fake trick name from a mile away. Yep, who said blondes weren't SMRT?!</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">So there were some pretty cool tricks to come out of the event and a whole heap of drinking to happen afetrwards. I am still recovering - seriously. My other lesson learnt was that if anyone offers you a shot of Glecier Ice, walk... nay run... far, far away preferably in a 'Backside Pluto-pup Tuck' position.</span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Lots of Love, </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Simone x</span></div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-16027658826477133372007-08-19T22:00:00.000-07:002007-08-19T22:04:44.233-07:00Sunrise in the Snowies<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RskgXUGUAII/AAAAAAAAAEo/1omW1fD17Cc/s1600-h/sunrise+in+the+snowies+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100643637878063234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RskgXUGUAII/AAAAAAAAAEo/1omW1fD17Cc/s320/sunrise+in+the+snowies+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#993399;">I have finally come to terms with the early morning starts here at work as a snow reporter. After two months you’d certainly hope so, but I never professed to be an early morning person. OK, maybe that’s a slight fib and in fact in my job interview when asked whether I was an early morning person I smiled sweetly and said, ‘of course!’. Well, the job interview was at 7.30am in the city so surely that proved I was a morning person because not only was I on time, could string a sentence together and was looking presentable, except for that pillow-case crease mark running down my left cheek, but I was obviosuly convincing enough to get the job! So what more screams ‘morning person’ than all those things, oh and maybe a gym bag to prove I’d already squished in a gym session’ at some crazy hour. But the truth of the matter was that not only did my alarm not go off that morning (clearly not a user error!), leaving me running ridiculously late but then I had to get a lift to the train station from my mother (god love her, who drove me in her pyjamas like only a mother would), so I didn’t miss the train altogether!<br /><br />So you get the idea of how much of a morning person I am NOT, right? Right. So starting work at 5.30am four times a week has been challenging to say the least, especially when you are on local radio and national TV starting from 6am. Well, this is why this picture is so special as I snapped it at work of the sun rising over the snowie mountains just as a crow flew past (also photographic evidence of my being a morning person now). It’s so wonderful to be up at this crazy hour of the day and get to witness the start of a new day – wow was I missing out before. I never thought I’d say that.<br /><br />Anyway, I miss you all heaps and am coming back for a few days to Sydney soon so hope to catch up then. </span><br /><span style="color:#993399;"><br />Sim x</span>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-74192143628228657452007-08-13T22:55:00.000-07:002007-08-13T23:08:00.109-07:00Why Mountain Men and Me Don't MixSo I have avoided talking about my personal life on this blog for a long time. And when I say 'personal life' I really mean love life. But after a few big nights out and my very dear friend and regular confidante, Rachel, begging me to write something about it on my blog, here goes...<br /><div></div><br /><div>I have discovered that mountain men and I don't mix. Mainly because there are far too many of them to choose from and I have a hard time making decisions at the best of time. So my latest story happened to a very good 'friend of mine' who happened to have a party pash with a hot italian stallion ski instructor, only to do the same thing a few nights later (no, she really isn't a tart!) only to find out that not only do the two guys know each other but they live together. But wait, it gets better... they share a room together! So despite the abumdance of mountain men, I... I mean my friend, kisses two guys who live in the one room.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And if that's not bad enough, she then has to throw a coat over her head and run out of a night club when she spots one of them a few nights later due to 1. pure embarassment and 2. because she was with another guy! What a shocker. So that's why mountain men and<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RsFGoWnVvOI/AAAAAAAAAEg/EXX8yIomQXI/s1600-h/DSCF0559+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098433912239406306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RsFGoWnVvOI/AAAAAAAAAEg/EXX8yIomQXI/s320/DSCF0559+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a> I don't mix. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The attached picture is from my night out last night to a party at the Eagles Nest restuarant at the top of the mountain. It was a great night but my head still hurts today as I sit here at work. And it's really not surprising just check out the calibre of photos to come from last night. And for the record, that's not me in the pic. It's 'my friend'.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Lots of Love, Sim x</div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-43287767142276395722007-08-10T19:37:00.000-07:002007-08-10T19:43:53.800-07:00What does your beanie say about you?<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rr0iMGnVvNI/AAAAAAAAAEY/ihY8CMExPt4/s1600-h/roving+cams+12.06.07+038+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097267944582659282" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rr0iMGnVvNI/AAAAAAAAAEY/ihY8CMExPt4/s320/roving+cams+12.06.07+038+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#339999;">One thing I have discovered as I sit here and day dream out the office window at the skiers and boarders on Friday Flat is that you can read lot into what people wear, especially on their heads. After hours of contemplation, this is what I have come up with. I warn you now, this is deep beyond belief and may make you think twice before you reach for a beanie…<br /><br />HEADBAND – GIRLS<br />I have nice hair, I want you to see my nice hair because it took me two hours to straighten my nice hair to make it look nice. If it rains and my hair goes frizzy I will just die!<br /><br />HEADBAND – BOYS<br />One of two scenarios: I have big ears and nice hair, or I think that I am cool enough to pull-off girls’ headwear without looking like a chump.<br /><br />BEANIE WITH POM POMS<br />I had such a good childhood that I want to dress like I did when I was 5 years old. Anyone for a cordial?<br /><br />BEANIE WITH EAR-FLAPS<br />If I wasn’t wearing a beanie I would probably be wearing a trucker cap or an akubra – now watch me crush an empty beer can on my forehead.<br /><br />BEANIES WITH A VISOR<br />I am hoping everyone will follow suit, making this the fashion item of the season - if only I could see where I was going.<br /><br />FUR HAT<br />I didn’t have enough money for a trip to St Anton’s in Austria and in my tantrum-like state when my sugar daddy said we were only going to the Australian ski fields I forgot to pack my Prada beanie so this dead possum on the side of the road was all I could find to keep my head warm.<br /><br />HOODIE <a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rr0h2GnVvLI/AAAAAAAAAEI/orPx1i_hshQ/s1600-h/Roving+Cams+260607+011+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097267566625537202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/Rr0h2GnVvLI/AAAAAAAAAEI/orPx1i_hshQ/s320/Roving+Cams+260607+011+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br />You can find me at the terrain park 24/7 and chances are my pants will be sitting awkwardly around my waist showing just a hint of boxer and an inch of butt crack to entice the ‘ledies’.<br /><br />POINTED BEANIE<br />No, I don’t think I am Noddy, I just couldn’t find a mirror to check my beanie fit when I bought it, or it was a gift from my girlfriend who is skiing with me now.<br /><br />NO BEANIE<br />I have never been skiing or boarding before. You will find me at Friday Flat, on my butt and freezing cold.<br /><br />HELMET<br />My mother/father/girlfriend/wife said I couldn’t go riding without it.<br /><br />FUNNY HAT<br />If I am over the age of 10, I must be working with kids, on a bux weekend to the slopes or the world’s biggest attention seeker.<br /><br />And for the record, I am a proud owner of just about every single type of beanie described above – except for the Fur Hat as that’s just ridiculous. So what does that say about me? If I was being objective, I’d say that maybe it means that I am indecisive and haven’t found my niche on the slopes but truthfully it means I am ‘huge girl’ who likes to shop and colour co-ordinate at all times.</span><br /><div><div><br /><span style="color:#339999;">Sim x</span></div></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-15152526456877234942007-08-09T21:14:00.000-07:002007-08-09T21:16:12.883-07:00Crazy Weather on the Slopes<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RrvmbGnVvKI/AAAAAAAAAEA/TeNrgTgyb5E/s1600-h/IMGP5564+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096920756606319778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RrvmbGnVvKI/AAAAAAAAAEA/TeNrgTgyb5E/s320/IMGP5564+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a> The weather over the last few days on the slopes has been crazy, almost as crazy as my love life but that’s a whole other story that I am not going to share with you right now.<br /><br />The last three days, gale force winds have swept through the mountains, pretty much sweeping away everything else with it. I thought our roof was going to blow off the other night with winds measuring 140km and with most chairlifts being put on windhold.<br /><br />However, there was one day between all of this crazy weather where the sun came out in full force and shone down on us – as in the picture. Only problem is that it was so hard packed that I picked up a nice momento from the slopes at the bottom of my stock!<br /><br />And on other pressing news, I have finally bit the bullet and joined facebook much to my own disgust. I have held out this long but could no longer stand my friends constantly send those e-mail reminders to join. So see you on Facebook, unless of course you have more will power and haven’t succumb yet!<br /><br /><div>Simone x</div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678921826473514857.post-85997732151620948042007-08-06T14:38:00.000-07:002007-08-06T14:42:44.509-07:00Snow shoeing – one snowy step at a time<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RreVRmnVvHI/AAAAAAAAADw/qkv_ZjvvK4I/s1600-h/snowshoeing-sim&ross+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095705633048870002" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_At4uBcS6rUE/RreVRmnVvHI/AAAAAAAAADw/qkv_ZjvvK4I/s320/snowshoeing-sim%26ross+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#3333ff;">My folks recently came down to visit me in Thredbo. I think it was also just a really good excuse for a weekend away but that’s fine with me – it was great to see them and to dine out for a change. My meagre budget usually limits me to one night at the pizzeria or kebab shop per week! Nay, make that per fortnight!<br /><br />So Mum and Dad had never skied in their life which left me wondering what we were going to do for three days in al Alpine resort. You have to hit the slopes in some capacity if you come all the way to the snow. So I strapped my thinking cap on and enrolled us into snow shoeing.<br /><br />It was such a magic, blue sky day and we had a blast. Sadly Mum got sick and had to pull out but Dad and I unleashed our inner Antarctic explorer and strapped on our snow shoes which I was relieved to find our much more fancy than the tennis racquet-looking contraptions from once upon a time. We had a blast and I cannot stop recommending it to everyone down here.<br /><br />I think the best part was going backcountry and being away from the hoards of skiers and boarders. There was not a soul around and we could see all the way to Mount Kosciusko. It was easy to become snap happy – it was so picturesque.<br /><br />The brochure claimed that if you can walk, you can snow shoe. There’s really not much more to it than that!<br /></span><br /><div><span style="color:#3333ff;">Simone x</span></div>Simone Smith...http://www.blogger.com/profile/05189115825208777274noreply@blogger.com1