End of Summer. Go.

A tapestry of stamps and visas litter my passport like tattoos. A catalogue of my travels, over the last few years. Certain pages, resemble what appears to be the outcome of an infant with ADHD and a stamp; indiscriminate and purposeless. Others look more orderly and less interesting. The EU entry and exit stamp make regular cameo appearances, some bold with fresh ink, others starting to fade with time.

I have roughly 4 whole pages left in my passport. Hopefully, I can fill my passport by the end of the year. There's still so much out there that I'd like, nay, want to see. It's time to start finalising the remaining Europes trips for 2010!

Dubai

The Emirates Airline website states, 'Pets are not permitted in the cabin, with the exception of falcons between Dubai and certain destinations in Pakistan'. Strange yet true, this is one of the traditions that remains true in the present day; falcons allowed in aeroplanes. My visit to the United Arab Emirates, or more specifically, Dubai has been one of the more enjoyable trips this year. This is a somewhat partial comment as the agenda was to visit my sister on her last weekend in Dubai.

Not reknown for the sites, it was drastic change in scenary and culture which made this one of the more memorable trips of 2010. I have been meaning to swing by Dubai but given the nature of her job and the unpredictability of her whereabouts it's always a challenge to be able to meet her. The August long weekend proved to be ideal, she had no passport and I had nowhere to go. So with my stand by tickets in hand I headed to Heathrow after work in hope to catch a flight into the Middle East.

Arrived at Dubai International early Saturday morning, the flight had been comfortable but sleep was hard to come by. Greeted by my sister in the 'meeting area', also known as the pavement outside the Airport. It was hot, insanely hot. I could feel perspiration developing on the top of my feet. A short 30 Dirham cab ride and we were soon signing into one of many Emirates crew lodgings in Al Garhoud.

Plenty of activities to keep me busy. Lunch at Pier Chic, accessible by a simple cab, a gondola ride and a golf buggy down the wooden pier. Sister was cunningly encouraged by the restaurant to make the lunch time agenda my birthday which meant I had to pretend I was celebrating my special day all while enjoying the wonderful view of the Burj Al Arab. Being Ramadan, meant that majority of restaurants were not able to serve food until after sunset.

Managed to see most of the sights. At The Top - Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world (100 AED). Ski Dubai the indoor ski slopes at The Mall of Emirates (180 AED) . Dinner at Atlantis at the Palms and the dancing fountains of the Burj. Plenty of international food: Bobotie, Sushi and the traditional Iftar buffet.

Great trip overall. Don't think I've experience such a culture shock in a while. From the rules governing Ramadan. To the way people present themselves outside of the walls of their houses. Public Displays of affection aren't a common site, where even married couples don't hold hands. Yet you'll see grown men holding hands as a sign of friendship. Then there's the mash up of old and new. Men will sport the traditional Thwab or Dishdash, but you can't help but notice the Rolexes, Ipods and Blackberry accessories. The women are far more influence by western trends. Burqa clad women women littered with the latest array of Jimmy Choos and Chanel handbags - the only form of visual individualisation. Then there's the transient lifestyle of Flight Attendants, remarkable. Had to leave Dubai early, but the trip was definitely well worth it. It's opened a new desire to explore more Arabic/Middle Eastern destinations - there's so much out there!

Airplanes

My suspicions lie with the pressurised cabins, the high altitude, the overly nice cabin crew and my appetite for aeroplane food. Whether it is specifically, or a combination of the afore mentioned, there's something about long haul flights that causes my penis to detach and become replaced with a massive vagina. It's only a theory, but the more I fly, the more I subscribe to the idea that airlines are pumping some kind of hormone-laced sedative into the cabins. My perceived estrogen levels sky rocket and I'm reduced to what can only be described as a Spider Woman experiencing her periods (I can only imagine). Spider senses tingle!

There's something about flying that makes me react to the following scenarios in the same manner. A young infant with no desire to sleep but to make as much racket as humanly possible. An elderly couple sitting together holding hands on take off. Or even the simple smile of a stewardess. It makes me smile and think. So with this hypothesis, I decided to test this out. I sat through the following: How I Met Your Mother, Date Night and She's Out of My League just to see how I would react to each. Sure enough, each and every one managed to make me tear up; much to my own resistance. The conjecture being, that two of the three were Rom-Coms, but How I Met Your Mother? C'mon now!

The sample space is hardly warranted and you could easily argue that this is far from conclusive. It could have benefited with perhaps a different genre of movie. Unfortunately, I don't have the attention span or the willingness to concentrate on anything more than a comedy. Especially when an action or thriller would only be dealt an injustice on the 6 inch entertainment unit. Perhaps it's a coincidence - business trips, my initial flight out from Sydney, my flight to Singapore, my flight back to London. One thing for sure, I can honestly say I've welled up at some point in time to something insignificant and probably less stimulating on the ground.

It must be noted, this is not a symptom exhibited by short flights through Europe. The early morning starts, the group of familiar faces and the excitement of a new country coupled with the sheer fatigue of traveling weekends overwhelms all emotions. Invariably, it is the trips between home, family and old friends. Perhaps it's not the actual flight, but the transient nature of flying from point A to Point B. Where at some point there is an emotional attachment to the destination. It reminds us of who we will see, or alternatively, who we are leaving behind.

"Can we pretend that air planes in the night sky, are like shooting stars, I could really use a wish right now." - Hayley Williams

Long weekend: Flame on!

Departing London with the 4 day weather forecast of:



To hopefully, something a little toastier:



Screen shots courtesy of BBC Weather (source: http://news.bbc.co.uk/weather/).

Wee!

Continuing with the theme of things to do in London, I finally decided to register with an NHS doctor. First things first, I need to fill this cup with urine. This is not as easy as it sounds.

I tried to get a photo of the finished result, but somebody had walked into the bathroom and I didn't want to look like a weirdo. The good news, there's no sign of diabetes or kidney failure (yet).

Is that it?

After 2 and a half years, I've decided to go a head and complete my London bucket list. First thing's first, Green Park, Buckingham Palace and the traditional Changing of Guard.

This also marks two years of working in London.

Same, same but different

The artificial glow emanating from the TV blankets the front of my face. Slouched, I reach for another Mint Slice. Crunch. The biscuit breaks, crumbs falling from my mouth onto my belly. Blindly my left hand pats the couch like the Adam family's Thing. The movements can best be described as haphazard as I desperately search for the remote. My eyes fixed on the TV. Crunch. Still my hand searches, it passes a half eaten packet of Oreos, through a litter of Caramello Koala wrappers before my fingers jam unexpectedly into the missing remote control. Crunch. I flick through the channels. Friends, Big Bang Theory, Holly Oaks. I feel an itch on my toe, but the laze overwhelms me. I sit, with an itchy toe, and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm a slob, at least I feel like a slob. Crunch.

Ok, perhaps that was somewhat melodramatic. It's been an entire 3 weeks free of physical activity. Physically induced elevated heart rates are but a distant memory although the mere act of climbing three steps leaves me short of breathe. The last three weeks have been spent eating out, I must have consumed 90% of all Chinese dishes known to man. It's time to break this unhealthy lifestyle. First thing's first, it's time to re-vamp the diet.

I am a Weetbix kid and have been consuming this cereal since I was just that, a kid. I still remember the day Brett Lee came out and advertised the Australian Public with his 7 Weetbix a day. "How many do you do?" he queried. I accepted this has a challenge and immediately set out to beat him. 10 Weetbix in one sitting is still my record, eaten with almost 1 litre of milk and out of a punch bowl. I remember, I skipped lunch that day and only regained my apetite come late afternoon. That's besides the point, suffice to say, Weetbix has been a staple breakfast fixture in my life for the best part of 20 years. That was until I got to the UK. You see, the English don't have Weetbix, they have something similiar. Weet-a-bix. Crazy, I know!

To the untrained eye, it's the same thing. However, you come to realise that Weetabix is nothing but an inferior imitation of Weetbix.

The consistency and texture in milk is different, the taste is different, it's not the same!

If only Brett Lee would challenge me to eat Weetabix. Currently reading: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay