The Bloody Long Walk was bloody painful

When your friend says she's doing a 35km charity walk and that you should join, you should really have a (bloody) long think about it before agreeing. 

Walking isn't hard, you say.

I love to walk, you say.

I can totally do that, you say. 

Sign me up, you say.

Training? I don't need to train, you say.

Ha! 

Just an FYI, walking 35km (21 miles) is not, by any means, easy. 

Things started off fine; I was enjoying the scenery and was concentrating on telling my feet to behave themselves and not hurt. Then the aches kicked. Then more. Then, 30km in, there was crying over the aches and pains and wondering if I could make it those last 5kms. 

Well, I did. Feet, legs, hips all screaming in pain. I had a hard-earned cider and giant bowl of chips, then proceeded to lay on the couch for the remainder of my day. 

I'm glad I did it, just to prove I could, and the company was lovely. But if you have any "fun" charity walks coming up any time soon, count this girl out!! 

Our team was called Unhappy Feet. Little did we know how appropriate it would be! 

You may call me Little Bo Peep

We spend a lot of time out at the farm. It's beautiful, peaceful, and there's always wine and homemade bread readily available.

In the seven months I've been here I've been able to do a bit of actual farm work, which is a sentence I never thought I would utter. 

But alas! I have, and I like it. Let's be honest, my favorite part about it is getting to pat lambs and try to make them love me. But there's also something calming about it, not to mention I like feeling like I'm actually contributing and being useful.

Some skills I've learned that may impress some of my friends:

1. How to drive a four wheeler

2. Mustering sheep with said four wheeler

3. Droving sheep, also with said four wheeler

4. Marking lamb ears

5. Giving innoculations

6. General pushing/moving/interacting with sheep

7. Becoming an expert lamb holder (this is not a useful skill, just something I like to do if a lamb isn't fast enough to get away from my cuddles)

And I'm off to the races

Picture a college football tailgating situation. 

Now replace F150s and RVs with Range Rovers and BMWs. Get rid of that Lonestar and Bud Light and bring in the bubbly. School colored attire is replaced with a nice frock, and baseball caps become outlandish hats or fascinators.

And that is a Melbourne Cup "car park".  

The Spring Racing Carnival is a huge deal here in Melbourne. There are four (I think?) races throughout the week, with the biggest one being the Melbourne Cup. Everyone even gets the day off to attend or partake in other activities! 

For someone who had never been to a horse race, the whole experience was quite interesting. Wearing a pretty dress and fascinator while sipping champagne seemed like a pretty good way to spend a day, in my opinion. 

It also didn't hurt that I won some money on a couple races, which if you know me then you're aware what a big deal it is that I even entertained the idea of betting money. Side note: I feel very conflicted about the actual sport of horse racing, so I am choosing to focus on the champers, fashion, and classy day drinking situation. 

The day started with a big breaky consisting of things that Australians are sadly not very familiar with: breakfast casserole and mimosas. I mean the casserole, fine, but mimosas?! For a country that loves to drink, they're severely lacking in that area.

After a crash course in how racing odds work, I placed about five bets throughout the day. My biggest win was picking a horse called Hijack Hussy to win a race, which she did. The ticket below won me a few bills for the horse getting third place in the big cup race.

We left the safety of our car park area to venture out to the actual track so I could see one of the races. It was basically a writhing mass of well dressed, drunken humanity. 

But it was fun to see my winning horse prancing by!

Dolla dolla bills, y'all.

Needless to say, it was a lively rain ride back home. My chins had a great time.

In which I prove I am not a snow bunny

At the end of August we were able to catch the last of the snow season for a day of skiing. At just three hours away, this was an easy little trip to take.

I will preface the following story with the fact that I just KNEW that something was going to go wrong. Every bone in my body told me that I would probably break said bones. But off I went!

Check out those matching jackets. For the record, I got my jacket first!

Things started off easily enough. It had been about four years since I last went skiing, but I was able to pick it right back up on the tame green slope. At this point I thought I had conquered the world and sang my own praises to Will. I even joked about how I was sure he was relieved that I was a decent skier and he didn't have to babysit me. Then I said for probably the millionth time that I had never taken a spill while skiing (all two times I had been skiing). 

Famous last words.

The group decided a blue run was feasible, so despite my horror at how steep it looked on the map, off we went. 

Things went badly. Quickly.

Because it was the end of the season, the snow conditions weren't great. This particular run was a mix of ice and random piles of snow. It was also pretty steep, though I'm just a baby when it comes to heights. As soon as I started making my descent, I knew I was a goner. I was completely out of control, flying  down the mountain at a speed I didn't know I was capable of. Because I typically enjoy fast skiing (on green runs only, mind you), I had never truly learned how to turn slowly and control myself. 

I flew past all our friends, and finally past Will, screaming all the while. I knew the fall was coming, I just didn't know when. When it did happen, all I felt was cold, wind, and like someone had punched me in the chest.

According to witnesses, I looked like a snowball. Apparently I went prettyyyy far down the mountain. Will was sure he would come to me and find broken bones or worse.

But nay. My some sort of miracle, I was fine. Scared as shit, but fine. And some really lovely strangers helped gather all my equipment (it was scattered all around) and stayed with me until Will was able to make it over. 

Needless to say, the green run and I were BFFs after that. Luckily I had some lovely friends who also decided the green run was more appealing, so we ended up having a great time.

I ended up with a few battle scars and some killer soreness that gave me an excellent excuse to not exercise for a few days. While I will certainly go skiing again, I must admit that I'm glad summer is coming so I won't have to do it again for a whole year!

The measures a crazy cat lady must take

When I found out a Cat Cafe was opening in Melbourne, I added it to the many reasons why my move to this city was meant to be. 

I'd of course heard of the Cat Cafes of Asia where patrons happily sip lattes while patting friendly felines. Obviously this sounded like a dream to me.

Yours truly booked (yes, you must book to visit the cafe) a time with the kitties straight away, as absence from my beloved Chester and Henry was starting to weigh heavily on me. 

Because of Australia's strict food service laws, this is not your typical cats-all-over-the-tables-and-on-your-lap-while-enjoying-coffee Cat Cafe. Instead, there were separate rooms upstairs where the cats roamed freely and waiters brought you vending machine coffee from downstairs. Not fancy, but whatever, I was finally around cats! 

It was lovely being able to socialize with my favorite animal, but I'll be the first to say that this was a weird place to go solo. I felt like a creepy woman wandering around from cat to cat, taking pictures here and there. As everyone else was there in a group or with at least one other person, I stuck out like a sore thumb. 

Lesson learned: Bring a friend.

This might be the most pathetic blog post I have ever written.

The end.

Meow.

Around Hamilton Island...and that time I cuddled a koala

When we weren't cruising out to white sand beaches or snorkeling in waters I was sure I'd be attacked by a shark in, we spent lots of time just exploring the island.

There was even a nice hike up to a lookout point that provided 360 degree views of the island.

Aaaand then I fulfilled my dream of cuddling a koala. 

Her name was Lola, and she was a sweet 18 month old tiny girl. Her sleepy little face was just the cutest!

I wish this moment had lasted more than 30 seconds, but alas there was a line of other people after the same experience.

Shortly after this picture was taken, I proceeded to pick up pretty much every shell on the beach. Apologies for the lack of shells, Hamilton Island.