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Queen Victoria

Of Soft Landings and New Experiences… Traveling to Australia

I’ve been to just about every state in the country of my birth (and I have my eye on you, Delaware), so I know on an intellectual level that even though I was traveling to Australia and New Zealand… two countries where English is the primary language, most of what I would be experiencing would be well out of my comfort zone. Traveling to Australia and then traveling to New Zealand for the documentary, and squaring that circle with actual boots-on-the-ground experience was a never ceasing jolt, and a mostly pleasurable one at that.

I would recommend Australia to any first-time international traveler because the experience provided both a soft landing as well as almost two weeks of surprises. Those surprises actually began in Los Angeles, while still on the tarmac at LAX, with the complimentary tim-tams. Tim-tams are little chocolate biscuits – an Australian favorite, apparently – and my sweet tooth took every opportunity to assert itself whenever I encountered these treats. I just love the idea that even snacks are different somewhere else… although we may have a permanent gulf when it comes to vegemite, marmite and other —mite related spreads. However, for the flight to Adelaide via Melbourne, it was a fifteen hour introductory course in culture assimilation.

This must be said.  While I know that airlines like RyanAir and the like exist… airlines that seem to have adopted the Baron von Sacher-Masoch theory of travel and the Gordon Gecko theory of cost cutting… the Qantas flight was simply a revelation for me. I’ve flown every U.S. domestic carrier that exists, and quite a few that don’t exist any longer (oh, People’s Express, we hardly knew ye), mostly in economy class. Much like the tale of the man who accidentally kills himself in the bath because he increased the water temperature in such small increments that he didn’t realize how hot it was getting, airlines have successfully implemented this strategy at 35,000 feet with regard to our expectations. From reducing meals… first to sandwich packs and then to snack packs and then nothing at all, from removing magazines in favor of paid internet access (if you’re lucky), to charging for pillows, the strategy of turning an airplane into a bus with wings has long since been a success.

So it was a surprise to find that the good folks at Qantas economy not only provided seats that allowed us to sleep with a degree of comfit I was completely unfamiliar with in economy class, each seat had a pillow and blanket on it when we sat down.Tthey further astounded me by… feeding us. Yes, for the love of all hat is good and holy, they fed us. Often. Osso Bucco and grilled baramundi… in economy? Food at all? Snacks on demand? We had escaped the surly bonds of earth and touched the face of God… in tim-tam form.

It’s not even that they fed us on the long haul segment. This was perhaps somewhat expected. although the frequency and generosity surprised me. It was that they even fed us… twice (!) on the flight from Melbourne to Adelaide. Domestic flights serving food. I never got over that.

The surprises kept coming from there. I’m a baseball fan. I have been since almost as far back as I can remember, and rather than wax rhapsodic, I would simply refer you to anything anyone says in any episode of the Ken Burns documentary… I can’t top that. It, like football, is the background soundtrack of my life. So, wandering to the departure in Melbourne for the connecting flight to Adelaide and hearing excited voices talking about the world cricket finals was an absolutely new experience. I don’t know how cricket is played, even after almost a month of hearing about it on every radio and television station in Australia and New Zealand, but I love that there is a different and pervasive way of loving sport that contrasts with everything Iv’e ever known.

Of course, the driving on the left… I was the passenger for this journey, but I kept leaning forward in my seat expecting to hit the steering wheel. After all, I was sitting on the left side of the car. There should be a steerage wheel there.. Looking out the window and seeing cars driving opposite us on the right was thrilling, just for the novelty of it to an American eye.

And this was just the first three hours.

Those first few hours on the ground in a new and unexplored… to me… country are just a feast for all the senses. You hear words you don’t hear every day, even in English. The lift, the petrol station, the bonnet and the boot, and the phrase “no worries” repeated over and over in the actual Australian accent. Wandering in Veale Gardens near our hotel, you’re not just seeing flowers and plants you’ve never seen before, your’e smelling fragrances that are completely new to this particular nose, and while I now know that spinifex is just the plague of agriculture in the outback and everywhere else it manages to take root, the feel of these little silica tipped grasses from something that looks completely harmless was something I’ll never forge… even if it was kind of painful.

There is, of course a long discussion that needs to be had when it comes to ice, or the lack thereof, but I believe I’ll save that for another day, because this post is about optimism and adventure. It’s also about finding adventure in the ordinary. In the park that is built around a statue of Queen Victoria or Captain Cook. About the idea that your hiking shoes, and the microbes they might contain, are of far more concern to the customs official than the thousands of dollars of camera gear you’re importing into the country. Of the use of words you know well, like dollar, that still make you do math in your head all day to figure out what that cup of coffee is actually costs, or what 250ml actually gets you.

Queen Victoria
Queen Victoria in Adelaide’s Victoria Square

It’s a feast of revelations that you don’t need 20/20 vision to see, and as the first stop on our filming journey, Adelaide did not disappoint.

Don’t forge hat Monday will have more practical travel tips! Plus, next Thursday – Adelaide in a hurry, and why you should go there.

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Packing It In: How to Pack a Suitcase

Most people who spend their lives within a few inches of the eyepiece of a camera are acquainted with the term “run bag.” They know how to pack a bag, and they know how to pack a suitcase. Depending on what your particular job is, a run bag will have different items in it, but its purpose is pretty easy to convey. A run bag contains the essential tools you need to do your job when your job changes on short notice. It’s what you carry when you know you gotta run.

I was a reporter for almost fifteen years,and one of the tools of the trade was knowing how to pack a suitcase. Jin that same vein, though, was how to have the tools I needed on-hand when we would, as my assignment desk editor liked to say “switch gears.” I never left the house or the office without my run bag, and Continue reading “Packing It In: How to Pack a Suitcase”

New and Improved, News You Can Use

News you can use. USA Today created the phrase, and I am hereby appropriating it. Starting this Monday, the Palette Project blog is adding an exciting new series of posts as a result of not only the first completed legs of the documentary, but also from  years of experience on the road in news and production.

Every Monday, The Crayon Box blog will have useful travel tips that  can help make your own adventures more fun, more meaningful, and more enjoyable. I also want to make sure to add tips that will make your travel safer, and I can tell you… there is no shortage of information in any of these areas.

The Thursday blog postings will remain dedicated to the more personal aspects of this journey. This blog began as a way of communicating what it’s like to be living through this kind of a challenge… the prospect of losing my sight, but maintaining a vision… and that hasn’t changed. I’m dedicated to living a life of urgency expressed through action, of outreach accomplished through awareness and of creating results from this work. It’s all about changing perspectives, raising expectations and telling stories that matter. That won’t change. Ever.

So while you’re reading this, glance to the right of the screen. There’s a “Susbscribe via Email” button that you can use to make sure you get valuable information and personal insights. It’s all happening here, and I need your help to spread the message of our mission.

Onwards!

One... But Not Done

Same Planet, Different Worlds

Australian entry stamp
Australian entry stamp

I think it was Gary Larsen who coined the phrase “Same planet, different worlds.” In the Far Side world, the phrase was used in a cartoon divided into two panels. The top panel was a guy sitting in bed with a thought balloon that read”I wonder if she likes me. I sure like her. It would be great if she likes me. I just like her so much…” and so forth. The bottom panel of the cartoon showed a woman in her own bed, and her thought balloon read, “You know, I think I like vanilla.”

Sometimes, Larsen just hit the nail right on the head, but what I’m thinking about right now when it comes to that same planet/different worlds concept is what it felt like in the line to clear customs upon entering Australia. Forgive me Gary, I’m repurposing your genius.

It was just past 5 a.m. in Melbourne and we had touchdown in Australia after a fifteen hour flight from Los Angeles. I was feeling no pain. I was way too excited to have any jet lag… although the nine hours of sleep I had managed to square away on the flight was also a nice add. However, I can imagine that for the unlucky soul who was stuck working pre-dawncustoms detail, this was not exactly how he wanted to spend his Friday. Me? There was no place on earth I would rather be. At 44, I was about to get my first passport stamp. Very late in coming, but it was finally here. All those people who say that they can’t wait to get their next passport stamp? I was about to become one of those people. I don’t particularly like the word “amped,” smacking as it does of a level of dudeness I cannot pretend to have, even after five years of living in California, but I was… amped.

It was hard not to notice, though, that the customs officer could only have been more bored if he had also been assigned to watch almost any episode of Downton Abbey while on duty, perhaps the one where we don’t know if Maggie Smith is going to take a dive in the annual flower show competition until the last five minutes of the show. I’m pretty sure nothing registered, or if he even looked up, as he stamped my passport with its inaugural stamp. Just another Qantas passenger moving over to the domestic terminal for the last part of the itinerary.

I could not have cared less. In my world, the best part of the journey was happening right there. Or rather, this was already a high point while on the trajectory of a journey that kept getting better, the first part had not disappointed.

What I want to say here is that there is a place for youthful idealism and excitement no matter how old you are. There is a place for finally following through on your dreams, and that a dream deferred is not always a dream denied if you finally follow through.

Ducks in Their Rows

As we get closer to takeoff for The Palette Project’s first two colors, I find myself becoming more comfortable with my filmmaker’s hat. Thankfully, it helps that I still had my reporter’s hat stashed in the closet, and although took a few adjustments to get it cinched correctly, it still fits remarkably well after all these years.

Turns out being in daily news is, well, if not identical to working on a documentary, very much in the same language family. I can’t presume to say the deadline pressure is identical, but traveling to the other side of the world and having one chance to get the footage on specifics days… or else… well, it’s at least congruent. Certainly the beginning of production is a pretty ironclad deadline.

So in one sense, worlds are colliding – my past life as reporter, and my current one as a director, but the world of freedom a reporter live in is so vastly different than the world of filmmaking. Working reporters are probably doing a spit-take over the idea that there is  world of freedom in that job, but to quote the great Joni Mitchell, you don’t know what you have ’til it’s gone. The ability to just show up and shoot what you need in the bvast majority of places you want to go is reason enough to stay in the business. For the naysayers, I would refer you to the seven filming permits that our little dog and pony show is required to carry in order to shoot in locations where a reporter could simply just show up and start shooting without any warning whatsoever.

This, by the way, concludes today’s entry in the “grass is always greener…” files.

What thrills me most about finally taking off is the idea of finally putting my virtual money where my virtual mouth is. My skin in the game, as it were, is living up to pretty big talk on my end that people with a physical challenge are just as capable of fulfilling the expectations accorded anyone else who just want their shot. Visually impaired photographer directing a documentary… and even shooting part of it? Tall order. Doable? In theory, sure. You can strap a GoPro camera onto a dog and get interesting footage. Does it have a consistent and unique creative vision? Directing that vision hopefully where everything up to this point in my life leads to this.

What’s about to happen is new territory, because unlike all those years in news, the risk is real. I don’t have a backup plan for failed footage or missing a deadline. There is no backup package from the feed that can run in my place if we don’t deliver. There is no other reporter or backup filler vo to pad the show. It’s California or bust, or in this case Australia or bust.

That fear of failure is both real and very, very exciting.