Sazz In The City: January 2014

So…not Tokyo.

And alas, poor Zurich, I did not get to know him well. Sayonara to the land of Toblerones, cheese pots and scant humor.

Yes….. I can now reveal that the final destination for my Round The World Without Leaving Home Career Relocation Roulette is…..

…The Arctic Circle!

Here are some piccies of my new home-to-be….

Beautiful stroll along the waterfront.
Complete with all the ice-pops you can eat.

Slightly more skyscrapers than I remember the Arctic Circle
having… but still - a beautiful aerial shot of my new home.

Wait. What?

Oh, OK OK. I'm not really moving to the Arctic Circle. No. Its FAR too warm there. What on EARTH was I thinking?

I am, in fact, moving to Chicago. Well, Deerfield, to be precise. Well, Evanston, to be precisely precise. With my (fab, by the way) new job, it made sense for me to be co-located with the rest of the team who'll be working on the clinical development of the new drug I've been assigned to. And that means I'll be working out of the office in Deerfield, about 25 miles north of Chicago. However, seeing as the name of the town also refers to the most exciting thing that can happen to you whilst you're there, I decided to live a half hour's commute away in the beautiful college town of Evanston.

But it really is warmer in the Arctic Circle. On the days those photos were taken, it was colder in Chicago than it was at the North Pole. The whole of the Eastern Seaboard had been consumed by the excitingly sounding, but frigidly unthrilling, Polar Vortex (not to be confused by Sharknado, although now i'm thinking about it……genius!).

As I write this blog, a second polar vortex is gripping the Midwest once again in its chilly embrace, and it is a mind-blowingly fecking freezing MINUS 21C!!! Its so cold, its actually making me default back to Celsius! Its so damned cold my company has told everyone to work from home today and tomorrow because of "dangerously low temperatures"! Everyone I spoke to at the office in Deerfield this week gave me a very odd, strangely sympathetic look when I told them I was relocating from San Francisco where the weather is a constant 66 degrees and sunny, to the middle of Ice Age, Illinois! The understatement of the obvious was then a universal "Ooo…the weather'll be a bit of a change for you then". Really? No shit, Sherlock.

Anyway, for you Polar Vortex-ing, dolphin-polishing, sharknado-dodging die-hards, here's some more pictures of the Freeze My Arse Off capital of the Midwest for you to enjoy, safe in the knowledge you're not relocating here…. Just as well I've got the Canada Goose jacket on order!!!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/01/07/frozen-chicago-photos_n_4556767.html

Apartment-hunting blog and pictures to follow!

Now, on occasion, I've been known to go and stay in some mildly "interesting" places just for the sheer hell of it (converted chicken coops, creepy libraries in Maui, under the glassy-eyed glaze of the stuffed gazelles in the Africa Hall (although - to be fair, by that stage of the evening my eyes were equally as glassy…). I am still waiting on snagging a ressie for the Human Nest, though, so the pinnacle of ridiculousness-ness has yet to be reached. Its probably booked out solid by all the bloody West Coast hipsters being "edgy" http://www.treebonesresort.com/lodging/human-nest/ Bloody hipsters. Go back to molesting coffee machines and dreaming up ever more annoying hipster slang.

Arboral adventure awaits

Thing is - when it comes to buckets and lists thereof, I seem to have one that is larger than most sane individuals, so its a full-time job sometimes just to try and keep up with all the nonsense my imagination seems intent on cramming in there. As I continued to digest the sudden shift in my living prospects from sushi and sake to fondue and whatever it is they drink in Switzerland (liquid Toblerone, right?) or maybe - NEWSFLASH - perhaps even Chicago (so deep dish pizza and semi-melted snow, as far as I can gather), I figured I might as well check another one off the list while i was at it.

And thus it came to pass, in that dead, awkward space between Christmas and New Year that no-one knows quite what to do with, that I checked off what's probably been in my subconscious (barely-remembered) childhood list for eons - to spend a night in a Treehouse! Yes! A real one! Not a plastic 10 inch high one with a press down canopy top (Loopy).

If you are a fan of Air B&B (and if you're not, you should be - its a repository of GREAT stuff), then this is one of the highest rated places to visit EVER. Its on the website's bona fide Wishlist and Popular Places so thats just like catnip to me. Here's the link, just in case you're ever passing Burlingame and have a burning desire to give it a whirl - and yes, it really did cost that much. https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/86456 I think my next gig, I'm going to build a Treehouse City and make a small fortune. I know - I'll call it Redwood City. Oh… hang on….damn. That's taken… Guess I'll have to stick with this marketing lark for a bit longer then…. *sigh*

So, then. Time to branch out and seek some re-leaf from an arborous year. I would have been bark-ing mad knot to have twigged and invited some company.

So, rather than a quiet night of reflective solitude and contemplative musings on 2013 in all its shitty glory, instead it was officially a "Bugger That - lets PARTY!" evening. Yes, for One Night and One Night Only, me, Lori and American Mom, Cheri, were going to rock the (tree) house! Now, very very conveniently, our target destination was brilliantly close by - in a town called Burlingame, just past SFO airport only 20mins away - a drive I am very familiar with and could do in my sleep. And probably have done.

Is this it? Is this where we get our kicks?

Lori and Mom swung by to come pick me up en route and, after a short detour to Safeway to buy fruit and chocolate for the CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN THAT SANTA GAVE ME FOR CHRISTMAS (bloody love Santa), we arrived bang on check-in time at 4pm. The directions had been very thorough - both for getting to the place, parking up and finding the treehouse. We found our parking spot under the Route 66 sign no problem, and then looked across the road and up, to catch our first glimpse of the treehouse.

Bloody marvelous. The tree house was exactly as in the pictures and was just brilliant. Amazingly, its been there for over 20 years and, despite its tiny size, its stacked with pretty much everything you need for a night's stay. TV, kettle, heater, bed, table, chairs, books, games - you name it. Of course, it didn't have a loo - but that was just down the ladder and a short (slug-free) walk to the main house where there was a completely separate kitchenette and bathroom, just for the use of treehouse guests. A very slick set-up.

One ridiculously adorable looking garage.
Come on, now.

We wasted no time getting settled in. Bringing all our stuff up (its amazing how much crap you "need" for one night in a treehouse), we got to the important business of setting up the bar and getting some snacks going. I'd rearranged the terrace and managed to cram three chairs into a tiny space and, with the festive lights strung around the treehouse, plus the candles in the hurricane lamps, it was a fabulous setting. Here are some pics, in chronological order of the volume of white wine consumed.

Undercarriage

The perfect place to sit, ponder and
eat pre-cut cheese.

The swing was alarmingly creaky as I sat on it.
I think it might have been the sound of the
wooden seat screaming.

American Mom cutting the cheese
(Brit blogwatchers - you need to go look up why
that is hilariously funny to my American brethren)

Home sweet home for the night. Compact and bijoux.
And already a mess after 5 mins!

The original and best Treetops Bar.
You saw it here first.

Snacks in shacks. As the night drew in, everything
just got more and more adorable.
(disclaimer: that could also have been the gin)

Best mate and Mom

We had an absolute riot. It was such a fun night, full of laughter, friendship, Christmas pressies (yey!) and one utterly hilarious pizza delivery chick. Yes - you could actually phone a local pizza place in town and they would come right up to the treehouse to deliver your 10 inch meat feast! (steady) How cool is that? And - in one of those "only in California" moments, when our delivery girl turned up, climbing the ladders with deft aplomb - pizzas in hand - we invited her to come join us. And she did! So there we were, all rather *ahem* cheerful by this stage, listening to this hilarious pizza girl regale us with tales of all the crazy people and situations she's delivered too. She was a blast. Time was a bit wobbly-wobbly timey-wimey by then, so I'm not sure how long exactly she stayed but she stayed for a fair while - "the shop was quiet and you guys seem like fun". I think some singing was involved at some stage, but I can't be 100% certain of that. Hopefully, we weren't providing fodder for her next anecdote.

After pizza girl left, it was time to get down to the serious business of Uno. There is not enough champagne in the known galaxy that can completely squelch (that word again) my competitive streak. I won.

Twice.

After Uno, it was time to face my most feared nemesis.

It was time for Perfection.

I blame Loopy. She'd sent me a Facebook link 7 or 8 months ago to remind me of the "game" that had so tortured me in my formative years. One quick trip to eBay later, and the deal was done. Please understand this. If I ever say that I am a "perfectionist" I am not describing the relentless quest for perfection. No. I am, instead, describing the indelible scar on my psyche that anyone who has come into contact with the game of Perfection invariably carries. I am, and always will be, a Perfectionist - and tonight, I had the chance to relive it all again.

And so, in the end, it all came down to this. If there was a single sound that could capture the essence of your childhood memories (albeit in my case, limited), then this would be it for me. 60 seconds of pant-crapping, nerve-wracking, anxiety provoking freak-out-iness that catapults me back to my 10 year old self, staying in the caravan out back while the guest house is booked up for the summer, trying to avoid the orange-frilled squelchy slugs on those terrifying nighttime trips back to the big house to go to the loo. (Interestingly, there's a bucket involved in that story too…. but maybe thats too much detail for you, dear blogwatchers…)

So, yes. The unparalleled power of a single sound (or song) to roll back the years as if no time at all had passed. This one was mine. Well this, and an apple core screaming but thats another story. Enjoy the video of me totally losing my shit.

The next morning dawned bright and annoyingly perky - and very very creaky. For those of you who've either never had the pleasure of, or never intend to, sleeping in a treehouse, I can now attest that the experience is practically identical to sleeping in the creakiest, ricket-iest bunkbed you can imagine (think IKEA, if it helps). That thang is dang LOUD! And I was sleeping in the bed downstairs - I can only imagine the branchy-squeakfest that was going on in the upstairs bunk. I finally understood the rationale for the bowl of earplugs conspicuously placed on the shelf by the pillows on the top bunk. God only knows what its like when there is more than a puff of wind. Like a bag of mice being tortured, I'd imagine.

Anyway, the hosts have got this whole treehouse thing down to a fine art as - first thing in the morning- coffee, bread and fruit magically appear in the little kitchenette that - as a Treehouse Resident - you have private access to. Its not particularly posh, but is delightfully rustic and in keeping with the fact you just slept in a treehouse for goodness sake, and the bathroom is equally cute and full of quirky touches. All in all, extremely charming in every respect.

Everything a hungover treehouse survivor
could possibly need

Even the bathroom was cute.

After a very much needed Cup of Restorative Coffee (Treetops bar had taken somewhat of a pounding the night before and was offline for the foreseeable future for…err… restocking), sitting out on the treehouse terrace (or is it a verandah?), it was time to start to tidy away the evidence of the Perfection Episode, the Uno Smackdown and the Midnight Lullaby Down The Steep Steep Stairs. Alas, the "Decorate Your Own Gingerbread Men" remained sadly naked and were packed away for Another Day (that day was actually today, when I ate the chocolate M&M buttons and binned the rest - sorry GB man). Check-out time was midday, so enough time to pack up, take some final pictures and then wend our way home.

All in all, it was indeed a most Excellent Arboral Adventure.