4 Countries, 3 Continents, 2 Weeks: Brisbane / by vanessa

 The best thing about Brisbane cannot be its coffee.  Nor its nachos.


Right.  Why would I order nachos 12,000 miles away from Mexico?  Because Australia is like America with a better accent, so I got confused for a minute.   (Pretty sure I just offended whatever the population of Australia is.)


Anyway, one of my favorite ways to see a city is to run it.  Early Tuesday morning, I woke up, slipped on my Vibrams, then headed down the waterfront pathway.  I ran along the harbor, through the botanical gardens, across a bridge and to Memorial Park, a gem-like arboretum a couple of miles from the hotel.  Brisbane, it seems, is an athletic city.  At 6 a.m. the waterside trail was teeming with other runners.  I got passed by a girl.  I’m not super fast or anything – girls just don’t pass me.  I picked up my pace, but then she left the trail so that I eventually just had to swallow defeat to someone who had no idea she was racing.

If nothing else I will remember Brisbane for the moment when I almost died.  On Tuesday night, my co-worker and I were heading back from a gnarly dinner at a weaksauce restaurant.  (F*ck you I should’ve known better than to order pad thai at an English pub.)  We left the place in silence, our meals quarter-eaten, me with a scowl on my face.  We decide to pick up some candy from a convenience store across the street.  I can’t remember what I was thinking about, but I know I was lost in thought.   As I stepped into the street I heard, “Watch out! Watch out!  Watch out!”  Bret was screaming at me.   I looked up and immediately saw two cars speeding past me to my left.  I felt their draft on my face.


I didn’t have one of those moments where your life flashes before your face, as they say.  Rather, my knees started to shake, I wanted to go home, and I wanted to cry.   Feeling like you’re about to die is scary.  I went back to my hotel room and ordered french fries.