When you’re living in a youth hostel with a toddler, even the smallest things become complicated operations. Take bathing, for example. We’re currently sharing bathrooms with the rest of our floor, and you kind of need your own bathroom with a little one, so we’re forced to get creative.
After much deliberation, we decided the most effective course of action was for Hannah to go in the shower with Sarah, who got her clean while I waited outside the women’s bathroom door with a towel. After my ten minutes of playing the Creepy American Guy…
Take a look at a map of Australia. The country is big and solid and resembles some kind of tubby beast, grunting and straining and drawn into itself. Tasmania is the reason it is grunting. It looks like a very small dropping out the back end of the beast—the sad, unsatisfactory result of much intestinal exertion.
Though it appears you could get a running start at Victoria and jump there, Tasmania is actually 150 miles from the mainland…
This morning I was awakened by a kick in the nose from my daughter. On the continuum of Ways I Don’t Want to Wake Up, this falls somewhere between uncontrollable bed-wetting and involuntary abscess removal. Hannah is obviously no longer sleeping in the tent on the floor; that experiment ended quickly. And even though she’s only two feet tall, she has managed to take over our bed with a fury seen before only by Australian Rules Football—a game which the Australians, in their typical quaintness, refer to as “Footy.” Footy would be a nice way of describing the dropkick beatdown wake-up call my kid gave me…
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Right up there with Waikiki, Copacabana, and Venice, Bondi Beach is one of the most famous beaches in the world. Pronounced “BOND-Eye", this less-than-a-mile expanse in Sydney’s eastern suburbs has a rich history as a hardbody hangout and a surfer’s paradise. Though we are neither hardbodies nor surfers, for some reason we felt it necessary to check out Bondi…