Blue Mountains adventure as told in pictures

Man Piece and I decided to venture out to the Blue Mountains on Saturday. It was an experience and I was in pain.

We got the train out to Katoomba – a two hour train ride.

The platform for the train was at the end of Central Station tunnels.

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We’re going on an adventure! With an InterCity Train!

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We’re going to make some tracks.

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After two hours on the train we arrived at Katoomba, and walked to Echo Point and the Three Sisters.

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Man Piece at Echo Point.

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Me at Echo Point.

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The Three Sisters. Honestly, they’re just rocks – I don’t know what the fuss is all about.

Then we walked down to the look out above the Three Sisters and then walked along the top of the cliff, heading back to Katoomba.

There was some pretty interesting erosion of the sandstone. Plus people had carved their names into it.

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We then headed back to Katoomba. What they don’t tell you is it is downhill walking most of the way to Echo Point, so heading back to the town was hellish – a lot of uphill. I also conquered some pretty brutal stairs, I was going to take a photo, but in all the ‘Can I die yets’, I forgot.

But I made it (Man Piece was still pretty much walking circles around me) and I was rewarded with food, glorious food (by this time I was famished and exhausted).

We went to the Espresso and Waffle Bar.

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A cinnamon waffle with fresh fruit and real maple syrup.

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And a chocolate milkshake which was huge and delicious.

We wandered the main street a little bit, poked our noses in to a few of the bakeries there (one of them smelt absolutely amazing with the fresh bread). I purchased a piece of chocolate truffle cake to take home. Unfortunately I didn’t snap a picture of it, but it was delicious. Nice, moist and chocolatey.

Then we caught the train back to Sydney, in which I actually fell asleep, then proceeded to be in pain for the rest of the night while lounging on the couch.

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Would you disclose your weight to your significant other?

Man Piece and I have been having a debate about weight today. He wants to know mine and I don’t want to tell him.

Let me back-track a bit.

Since moving to Sydney both Man Piece and I have put on weight. It is probably due to being less active than we were in Auckland. A side-effect of our circumstances.

However, we’ve decided to get real about it and this morning Man Piece went and bought a pair of scales.

He quite willingly told me what he weighed, but I shut him out of the bathroom and refuse to tell him what I weigh now.

I guess I am embarrassed about what I weigh. I probably won’t tell anyone else what I currently weigh, so the fact I don’t want to tell Man Piece is nothing different.

I’m not really sure why I’m so embarrassed about it. Probably because I am the biggest I have ever been in my life.

But, at the same time, I’m more body positive than I have ever been. I don’t want to hide my body anymore, but instead flaunt the best assets. And I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t care about my size, I’m happy and kind of in a “whatever will be, will be” phase about it.

So why do I care about what I weigh? It’s just a number after all and does not actually tell you whether you are healthy or not. You can be healthy at any size, no matter what other people think.

Through all of this, an interesting question has been posed – would you tell your significant other what you weigh if they asked?

Veni, Vidi, Vici.

I came, I saw, I conquered.

The hill that is.

The hill that Man Piece lives up.

I have determined that it is not the hill that is the problem, but it is the way I breathe that makes it really hard.

I have asthma, so I have a tendency to breathe quite heavily, but it doesn’t always seem to get oxygen to the right parts and my lungs start to constrict. Fun times!

Anyway… I’ve been trying to control my breathing while walking up the hill – keeping it slow and steady. But today, I decided to take a couple breaks equidistant from the last. I used the power poles to measure. Every second pole I stopped and took several deep breathes to slow down my breathing again.

And it helped A LOT.

I feel I managed to get up the hill a lot quicker and once I got back to #geekflat I wasn’t as dead as I usually am. I was actually fairly normal.

I might also be getting used to it. Man Piece tends to make me walk up it a lot. Hmph.

The dreaded hill, from geel flat.

The dreaded hill, from geek flat.

I do a little bit of stalking, but am still productive. DOES NOT COMPUTE.

So Friend decided to come around today at short notice, but she made it up to me by bringing pizza (good meaty pizza) and ice-cream.

We just sat around talking, interwebbing and watching The Ugly Truth.

There might have been also a little bit of stalking of people we went to high school with. Just a little bit.

I’m sure you all do it. Don’t judge.

After friend left, I showered. I figured it was 4pm, I might as well embrace the life of the unemployed stereotype because I might be in it for awhile.

Then went for an exceptionally long walk to try and work off the pizza. In fact I doubled my usual walk and added the entire park in. All the while Muse blasting through my headphones.

ROCK ON.

I have then been sitting on the internet for the remainder of the night and watching TEEVEE.

Yeah, this is my life.

However, I was very productive and applied for four jobs, YES FOUR!

APPLICATIONS FTW.

Three in Wellington, one in Christchurch. One of them was also a retail job, instead of journalism/communication based. One of them was not technically a job either, just a contributor. So I don’t actually get paid :-/.

But it will be writing, for a legitimate source, which is better than nothing.

An unemployed journalist must do what an unemployed journalist must do.

In my case, it may included getting any job and get out of Hastings, for my own sanity.

The money will also be nice. To, yanno, start paying off that loan.

Rant of the day goes to online applications asking for your current employer details and having the * for “you must fill this in”. OR ELSE.

I don’t have a current employer. SO WHAT DO I DO!?

Rage, that’s what I do.

Furthermore, why do I need to write all my referees out when they are all detailed on my CV, which I have attached!?

This requires a very severe head shaking.

*SMH*

And this is where I will end this post. I’m currently watching Gossip Girl on TEEVEE, yeah it’s late. *cough* 3am *cough*

I’m the colour of a tomato, for more than one reason.

Complete twat today.

I look like a tomato (said in voice of “I am a banana”. If you don’t get this reference please go to YouTube now and search for “rejected”.)

Went out to Matiu/Somes Island with some awesome Wellington tweeters and me being the idiot I am, did not put sunscreen on. Yeah. Ow. Even my lips hurt.

Now onto my third bottle of water for the day. Also had two coke zeros (I’m being rather tame) and a juice. Feeling much better.

But I could go for a very long soak in a bathtub full of moisturiser.

NOW THAT WOULD BE AWESOME.

Could also go for an IV of Coke Zero. Neither of which are possible, so I’ll just have to sit here in physical and mental pain.

Then! I fell over TWICE while walking around Wellington.

OH THE SHAME.

Bet I flashed someone too. Stupid boots. I don’t get you. They’re awesome boots, I’ve worn them heaps yet something in Wellington made me go over on my foot twice. Fucking bastards.

I BLAME HILLS. HILLS ARE THE SPAWN OF SATAN.

Also, I don’t know if I will ever gain full sensation in my legs again. Too much walking. Ugh. On the plus side, I look forward to my casual weigh-in to see if all the walking has managed to shift any unwanted kilos. Of which I have lots of.