I’m finishing this post on March 15 at Sydney airport about to leave Australia but had started it back on Feb 20 while in Adelaide. All I wrote at the time was the post title: enough for me to remember to go back and write the post later on. 

And you know what’s cool? I remember quite a bit about that day, including lots of little details. I remember where I was sitting, what the courtyard looked like, who I was sitting next to, what I was drinking, and so forth when I created the post draft. I even remember having felt frustrated by the time I decided to stop for that beer and I remember the point at which I realized that a bad day on holiday in Australia is almost certainly so much better than 90% of my standard days back home before I started this traveling.

And here’s the cool part: I don’t remember a damn thing about what had frustrated me that morning. 

I remember enjoying the hell out of that beer — a Trappistes Rochefort 10 — in fact, I ordered a second one and got a bit buzzed — and the pot of mussels that I’d ordered to go with it. I recall the weather being sunny and cool. I remember interrupting the conversation of the two young women at the next table and then sitting with them for a while to discuss the US, where both had lived for a few years. I recall that as they departed, they recommended a Fringe Festival show scheduled for that night and I remember the Irish pub where that show — a stand up comedy showcase — was held, where I sat, the sound of traffic below the balcony, what I drank, who I talked to, and the hilarious sets. I even remember good portions of the day’s aimless wandering around town to see what there was to see and snapping the photos at bottom.

I remember the great time I had on that day that at one point had seemed like a bad day.

That’s cool, isn’t it?

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