Ups and Downs of Commuting

 As I posted last week I have returned to the world of gainful employment. Just part time, as my family and my brain can't handle full time yet.

Since this is my first foray into an Australian work environment I want to document for posterity's sake the differnces between working Down Under and the 'Ole US of A.  As you can well imagine, there were things that were exactly the same and some things so utterly different that my head is still spinning a bit. Some of them are a bit time consuming so I think this week we will make them a series of postings.

Today I would like to share a tale of commuting....Aussie style.  Australians have a significantly different definition of the term walking distance than I, and I dare say most reasonable bipedal creatures do.  My commute by train isn't that bad but the walk from the train station to the office is a little beyond the pale in my book.

To an Australian one takes the train into the city, exits the station and has a walk up a bit of a hill.  To the rest of us mere mortals one takes the train in, fights with fellow crazed commuters trying to exit one of the 1200 egresses from the main station. As soon as you break free and stop tripping over homeless people and uni students screaming about some damn cause you've never heard of you begin your walk.  And you continue to walk until death is eminent. Vomiting is optional and is always preferable to occur prior to entering the building.  Exercising the pre-building entering vomiting option is to help you attempt to save a tiny amount of pride.  

I realize that it doesn't sound like that much pride is being saved. I agree...until you notice the giggles of the cool people bounding up the stairs to your floor while you are furiously punching the elevator/lift button to go up one one floor.   That's right, I take the elevator up one flight.  Judge all you want.  Take a gander at this picture.

 
                                          
    

This morning I stopped so I could attempt to shove my lungs back inside my body. Also I needed to try and negotiate a peace treaty with my calf muscles.  During last week's Tour de France impersonation the calves just intramuscularly screamed YOU SUCK! WE HATE YOU!!  Today they revolted completely. From the beginning of the first incline they snorted NOPE at me and left me struggling to pick up my legs.  I looked like Neil Armstong walking on the moon as each leg up and down motion had to plotted and planned out. 

I very cleverly disguised my shame by pretending to take a tourist picture.  Last week I pretended to check Google Maps on my phone, this week my inner Annie Leibowitz needed to take artistic photos.  Next week I will fake answering an emergency text.  If I still can't make it up without stopping after that I may end up trying to perform CPR on some helpless stranger. At least then I'll get to rest on the ground.

Taking the useless picture lets me try to wrestle some sympathy from my friends. The American ones, my rotten Aussie friends are just laughing at my "little troubles."

Americans please, look closely at the picture. If you follow the road all the way up to the top of this hill, just above where you see the lunatic pedestrian crossing illegally that is almost exactly 1/2 way up the hill to my office.

That's right people, I'm stopping 1/2 way to the 1/2 way point in my walk.  Know what the best part is?  There are three main streets I can take to get to the office and this particular road you see here is the flattest one.  Yes, this is the easy one. I use the really steep hill for the walk down to the train.  I'm hoping I trip and fall one day so I make it to the station in under three minutes.

So yeah, I take pride in not throwing up. It's not much, but it's all I've got.