Walking Vs Pounding

Do you walk? Right, best to go read another article then because frankly you probably know more than me on the subject, and I don’t need that sort of pressure peering over my shoulder. For the rest of us i.e.myself and the dog watching me type, it’s time to discuss Walking versus Pounding. What is ‘walking’? Walking is an upwardly mobile activity, done at a relaxed enough pace that you can notice the nearly expired rego on your vehicle and sigh, the kind of speed you can see the rain sweeping toward you and fumble to get your brolli up, but also the right speed to notice pleasant naturey things. If you are panting after 10 paces and not 400kg, slow it down. It should feel natural, organic, unshaven. It is not to be confused with ‘the dawdle’, which should only be used for markets (included the synthetic variety), thrift shops and Ikea. This pace was surely not natural to MPP (my primitive peoples) as it invariable screws up my back. Use dawdling infrequently and with due care. So, walking is a speed at which you can take in the fresh air and birdsong and easily pause to fill a dog-poop bag without yanking the head off the dog. It is useful for noting the seasons and relaxing and of course a bit of exercise although this is never to be used as first priority. Dear me. Pounding? Pounding is putting your feet down at such a pace as to feel like you are planning to 'cover some miles today Legolas'. It is not ‘running to catch the train’ speed. Nor is it power-walking. Sigh. Who invented that coronary assault? Never ever call power-walking walking for a start. A friend once asked me if I wanted to go for a ‘walk’ one morning. Sure, says I. Well she shot off like a rocket I’d just lit- I had to jog to catch up. Of course I felt compelled to match pace. Alas, I had trimmed the topiary less than three days before and I could feel the sort of friction only an elephant’s arse and a tree-trunk can produce, beginning. Then there was the ‘trying to chat’, when every millipound of oxygen really needed using to keeping me from passing out.The speed at which we went caused my eyes to water so I couldn’t appreciate any nature that blurred by, and if it was called exercise it can only mean in the military sense where I needed to try and stay alive with just the clothes on my back. By walks end I almost had herniated dyspepsia. I do not know what that is, but the words feel right to describe my pain. So power-walking. Only for sports people and others who enjoy hurting. Pounding on the other hand is great. It can be done in happy times (tra la la) or angry times (bloody phone technician cancelled again, bloody...) and it feels good anyway. You are not walking too fast to enjoy the scents in the air (blossom, wood smoke, blood and bone) but the thighs get a right jiggling and the dog must trot. I find this the best pace for ideas to pop into my head. And, I must say, the pounding of your feet on the ground feels like an accomplishment. Even if the rest of your day is boring waffley crap (you work for a big company), you know you already ‘achieved something’ at the beginning of the day. Ha! They can’t take that off you Francine! Having said that, you can pound or walk in the evening too and it is most pleasant to do so. Dog poo is a little harder to skirt and car headlights make you want to bolt back to your bunny hole, but overall, it’s the other best bit of the day to do your stuff. And, if you do back to back evening and morning, you’ll think you’re pretty bloody amazing which is probably more than the boss or the kids are going to tell you. Win-win all round young Skywalker.

City and Chinese Gardens Photo Playdate.

Recently I got to throw down my paintbrush, wipe the Dulux off my arms and enjoy a well-earned city adventure with my lovely sister-in-law. We had promised many months ago that we would grab our cameras and head off somewhere yonder for a creative playdate. Of course we didn't intend so many months to pass but happily we did finally wangle it.
We chugged it into the city and enjoyed a delish brunch at a cafe with chairs lined up down a quaint alleyway. Even the old painted walls were inviting a photo; thus armed in the belly and the creative mind, we began the stop-start wander of the photo-buff.
As we discussed, this works well in pairs, but not solo with non-photographing family or friends. Otherwise this is professionally termed-"giving people the shits". Together it's fab because you are in simpatico company.
So, we wandered from Town Hall (St James and Town Hall beg a photo) down to Darling Harbour (great pier and water/boat pics to be found) and onto the gorgeous Chinese Gardens where you will be totally spoilt for choice and can take a lovely shot blindfolded ( though this method is a hazard on the rocky climbing pathways).
As an added bonus to the gorgeous plants and wildlife (turtles, water dragons, koi), people can hire traditional chinese Emperor/Empress garb for only $10. What we orginally thought were wedding parties, were just regular folks taking vanity shots among the waterfall and pagoda's. Fun!
Our last leg was back through part of China Town (great shops for pics) and back up to Town Hall for much needed victuals at a bookstore cafe. Sigh. What a lovely way to spend a great day. Then finally gathering your photo bounty at home and having a second load of fun playing round with your gleaned treasures. Brilliant.

Sydney Walk and Rail Adventure

I don't get many chances to play tourist in my own city, nor days adventuring with my family, so I combined the two and we all caught the train into town on the weekend.
The best way to get teens out of bed, is to promise a hearty breakfast at the destination. Hence, less than an hour later we were having a delicious hot breakfast at Bona Fides on Druitt street, Town Hall. It is a lovely medium sized cafe with most tables outdoors and set down a little alley way. A history of this little lane is written on the ground.
I'm no food critic but breakfast was very tasty and the organic coffee delish. Such good moods were induced by full bellies that I was able to quickly drag the family into three bookstores before the protests began (Abbeys, Galaxy and Kinokuniya). Working in a book store does not seem to cure you of wanting to go into others!
I was rather shocked to find my husband who has worked in the city all his life had never been on the monorail, so we did the full loop. I didn't realise one of my boys spent the whole ride contemplating how well the monorail was attached to it's track! We alighted at Darling Harbour and after a quick look around to see what was on, we headed towards The Rocks. There were so many beautiful little terraces we passed and some large fine old houses that I'm afraid I don't know the history of. Theres a big horrible development whose name I won't mention, taking up that part of the waterfront. I'm afraid the peace and relative quiet of so many little old houses will soon be gone.
Despite the fact that my husband seemed to know the area well by all the old pubs visited in years gone by, he had no trouble leading us round the streets and up steps till I called for a detour to Observatory Hill.
What a view! It must look spectacular on any day, looking as it does past Walsh bay and onto the Harbour and bridge but we were extra lucky with clear blue skies and sunshine- I could have taken a picture with a brick and it would have come out well. I have never been to the observatory itself- another adventure mentally booked for the future.
With a promise of ice cream at The Quay, we set off again through my favourite part of The Rocks. Sandstone is everywhere and you can't help imagining the convicts breaking their backs cutting it a few hundred years ago. Amazing!
The markets were on as usual but I was out-numbered by males 3 to 1 and didn't stand a chance of browsing. Plus, there was that ice cream I'd promised, luring them on!
We cut through to the Quay via the Nurses Walk, I think it's called- tiny old buildings, walkways and worn steps. In one spot they have left the foundations of a home (perhaps it is two) so you can see the size of the places they lived in. It has a funny atmosphere to it though it is only small and out in the open.
After the quiet back way, it is a shock to walk out onto the crowded Quay.It is the Festival of Sydney at the moment and school holidays, so the waterfront is bustling with people and buskers.
With all the ferries,water taxi's and jet-boats bobbing enticingly on the water, my younger son wanted to catch a boat somewhere. I couldn't blame him, the harbour looked beautiful and it would be nice to get away from the crowds, but it will have to wait another day.
I am not an ice cream fan, so it has to be good stuff to entice me, which is why I will happily eat the amazing stuff at Gelatissimo- and no I am not being paid to say this! I had two scoops in a cone- panetone and coconut- mm mm.
Lastly we walked around to the Opera House, because you just have to, and the boys sat on the fountain and played with the water jets. You are never too old to do this, especially if you get to chuck water at your sibling.
With a promise of a fish and chip lunch back on home turf (this carrot thing really works), we all headed back to collapse gratefully on the train, having had a thoroughly lovely adventure in the city.