The week of toast. Cont.

10/22/2010 12:08:00 am

When we drove to the Mountains on Monday, the weather was bad. Like... can't-see-out-the-window-of-the-car bad. It's just too bad that I'm not the driver/car owner in this relationship!

We were supposed to be going horse riding, and I had sort of maybe secretly wanted to cancel, because I was having trouble sitting, standing, and moving... so I was a bit concerned about doing a combination of those things, and also the jiggle-factor involved with the horse.

Lucky me, the weather cancelled for us, so we continued up the mountain and stopped for lunch in Leura. I felt not so great but we thought maybe food would be a good idea (I can tell when Rob needs feeding because his giftshop-tolerance decreases significantly).

We found a cool cafe/deli, and had I been feeling better, I would have walked out with a very big bag of olives, crackers, cheese, and balsamic. My better judgment got the better of me. Does that even make sense?? Anyway...

It was very green inside.The waitresses had dreds and the juice was organic... *tap tap*...this thing on??

It was very sad. The sandwiches sounded extremely delicious, but I managed two pieces of toast and a watermelon & ginger juice. Very very out-of-character.

Bastard. It was yummy too. A steak sandwich with mustard and caramelised onions. I took a little tiny bite, and then I regretted it. Partly because the subsequent watering of my mouth stirred up all kinds of stomach juices, and just don't need that to happen at lunch time.
The beauty of the Echo Point re-development in recent years is that now it is tailored to large tour buses full of Asian tourists..ergo, you just step out of the car, walk up to the edge, and *poof* there they are! (The Three Sisters..not the asian tourists...although...) There are also lots of seats, which come in handy when you are unable to stand up for a stomach cramp, and are exhausted after walking 10 metres up to the edge of the viewing platform. Did I mention that I ended up on valium and codeine the next day??

Obligatory couple-at-tourist-spot shot. The OCATSS, as I like to call it. Oh cats, indeed. 

I am not one of these wankers who calls themself a "traveller" rather than a tourist. As far as I'm concerned, unless you live in a place for a legitimate reason (which does not include things like being a fruit picker or a waitress), being there on a temporary basis makes you a tourist.  If you own a backpack, a pair of Birkenstocks, or anything from Katmandu/Paddy Pallin, you are a tourist just like the rest of us, and you are in need of a bad case of getting over yourself.

Anyway, one of my most favourite pastimes is to watch tourists, because as a herd, they/we display fascinating herd behaviour. Take this, for example...I followed them around taking photos until Rob told me I had to stop because I was being a creeper...

MATCHING ASIANS. Most favourite fellow tourists EVER
 So I'll admit that I'm a tourist, not a traveller. But I'm glad I have set myself some personal limits (even though I totally love the matching outfits! Gaaahahh).

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