"You're officially a badass."

... says Project Alice (Milla Jovovich) to Rain's (Michelle Rodriguez) mild-mannered clone in "Resident Evil: Retribution", but lemme back up...
Actually, not necessary. Going to see Resident Evil was pretty much the sum total of my day after writing all morning. And not because there was nothing else playing.
I LOVE the Resident Evil franchise. I was incredibly bummed I was too busy make it to opening weekend in LA before I left, and I was stoked - STOKED - to see it had opened in Sydney as well AND that they had it available in IMAX 3D (even though I think 3D is crap.)
I had been trying to carve out time in Sydney to make it to the theater, and since today was super chilly and overcast, it was the perfect opportunity. I found the closest IMAX theater - a 3.7 km/47 min walk - and hoofed it. Why the hell would I walk that after bragging in my previous post about conquering the bus and train system? After sitting at my computer for 6 hours this morning, my body pretty much demanded it.
Things I noticed on my walk:
-Sydney sometimes feels a little like New York (I'll see you soon, big guy!).
-People in Sydney (Sydnians? Syds?)  walk at a decent pace, but I still walk waaay faster.
-Syds spend as much time on their iPhone, as I'm happy not to anymore- which is to say, tons. They walk and talk, walk and text, stop and text, text and text. Its intense.
-Traffic lights take forever here. I mean minutes and minutes. Forever.
-Syds rarely jaywalk. And they look at you funny if you do.
-In case you didn't know (I didn't), they right-side drive here. Now, I mastered this skill (for real) in the UK, but I was rarely a pedestrian, so I did NOT master the art of crossing the street in a right-hand driving society. Stella and I almost got killed several times this weekend as we crossed streets and it was easy to blame her for putting my life in danger. Now that I'm on my own and still almost dying on a regular basis, it's slightly harder to blame her. Needless to say, I've stopped jaywalking. Even though the traffic lights take forever.
I finally made it to the theater, which was part of this larger collection of entertainment venues (comedy, concert, Cirque du Soleil, everything). I'd missed lunch so I enthusiastically ordered a small popcorn (small = massive here. It was more popcorn than I've eaten in the last year in a tub bigger than my head.) and Slurpee along with my movie ticket. I paid the grand total of almost $40 Australian dollars slightly less enthusiastically.
Stella warned me well in advance about how expensive everything is here so when drinks were no less than $15 and burgers were $20, I was fine. Paying almost $40 for a movie (granted, IMAX 3D, but still), popcorn and a Slushee made me blink. I didn't even get nachos! Price notwithstanding, I actually got back in the concession line and tried to buy some nachos because, at that point, who gives a rat's ass- but they were out or something.
Boo.
Resident Evil was everything I expected, thank God. It barely made sense, looked so computer generated I wondered how many days they had of practical photography because it can't have been much, and Milla's hair looked completely different from scene to scene in a story that was supposed to take place over a 2 hour time period. I LOVED IT SO MUCH.
"Bianca, how the hell is that possible?" the whole world asks.
Fighting, guns, zombies, monsters, hideous dialogue, splatter gore, more fighting, cartwheels, industrial rock music, more fighting, bigger guns, and finally: MICHELLE RODRIGUEZ.
I love her. When I fantasize, I fantasize I'm her. She makes every movie better (don't ask me to prove that and don't try to prove me wrong, just accept it and please shut up). She is one of the rare actors I will go see a movie for because I know what I'm getting- a badass with great arms and a nice sneer.
God, I love her.
You know the only franchise I love more than Resident Evil? Fast & Furious. What do they have in common?

 

"It's like an orgasm on my face!"

...said the Australian teenage boy next to me on my Coastal walk about this song that started playing randomly on his phone. He really loved the song. I basically felt the same way about the view, but lemme back up.
Today I got an incredibly late start to my day after writing all morning, Skyping with my mom (she was so good at it! First timer!), and spending hours trying to change my flight to Melbourne next week. When I made my Melbourne plans all I cared about was cost, so I booked my trip to leave Sydney late Sunday afternoon and return late Wednesday night. This was weeks ago, of course. Weeks before I'd been introduced to Sydney weekends, before I had beachfront guest bedrooms with my name on them, and before I knew Monday is a holiday so the crew gets a three-day weekend which they are celebrating with a massive party Sunday night. After hours on the phone, the bottom line was it would cost me a billion dollars (seriously $1,000,000,000,000.00) to change my flights to accommodate Sydney weekend fun times. Sigh, goddamn.
My consolation is that I know I'll love Melbourne. But, whine... whatever.
After my morning I needed to get out of the house, and I wanted to get back to Bondi. I found a cool day walk in one of my guide books that goes from Waverly Cemetery along the coast to Bronte Beach, Tamarama Beach, Bondi Beach and on and on for hours. As I was only planning to go from the cemetery to Bondi, the walk actually morphed into another walk I'd been dying to try called Bondi-Coogie Clifftop Walk- I was just doing it in reverse!
Hi, Serendipity, you're so pretty and I like you so much...
I love public transportation in real cities like New York, Chicago, and London, but I don't use it in either LA or Austin because of silly reasons like I have a car and a schedule and am too lazy/impatient to figure it out- but that's me at home. On vacation, I'm Cool Bianca and endlessly patient and not lazy at all, and nevermind I'm lying. The cooler part is true; since I don't have to do anything, everything I do when I travel for pleasure is simply for pleasure, and that includes using public transportation. However, because my experience is limited, every time I hit a new city/public transpo system, I still - because at my essence I will always be me - fumble and procrastinate and usually do everything in the most wrong and time consuming way to achieve something super easy like buying a bus pass. Long story short, it took me an hour to buy my bus pass.
But I did and hopped a bus to somewhere near Waverly Cemetery.
As an aside, THANK GOD for my iPhone and Google maps. I know I used to figure out cities, directions and bus/train timetables using books, big pieces of geographic paper, and a little organ in my skull, but now there's a tiny little genius with glasses and a world-weary look upon his face that lives in my iPhone and is a geographic and logistic god. Let's call him Geo. I tell Geo where I want to go and he tells me exactly how to get there, how many minutes until the next bus, and what time I will arrive. I love how confident he is.
(Yes, I realize its also possible to use Geo in LA and Austin, and I could then give the bus system a whirl there! And reduce my carbon footprint! And do my part to ease gridlock! But ehhhhhpfffffft... I have a life. And I'm sorry, but I love my car. I'm a Texas girl! We love our wheels.)
After a half hour bus ride and a 1.5 km walk, I'm near Waverly Cemetery, but I see a patch of bluer than blue water. Instead of keeping to Geo's plan (he stamps his little foot in frustration), I walk toward the water which brings me to a cliff that I follow to my first killer beach of the day, Clovelly Beach. Its actually more cement than I'd like for a beach to have, but the surrounding cliffs and view is spectacular. It seems to be a major teenage hangout, (and it's where I came across the music lover from my post title) which is actually really cute because they're all laying out on the cement in fun flower patterns. If I were a teenager, this is where I'd be.


Clovelly Beach

From there I double back and follow my original path to the cemetery bringing Geo's blood pressure back to normal. Things are so striking and beautiful here in Sydney that I cuss a lot (Sorry, Grandma H!). My first view of the cemetery actually renders me speechless- and then I said to no one in particular, "Shut the fuck up..."




Waverly Cemetery

 If you know me at all, you know I LOVE cemeteries; I prefer above ground and the older, the better. Waverly Cemetery is massive and jam packed with all my favorites: sacred hearts, big huge crosses, family mausoleums, decrepit plots in states of gorgeous crumbling decay... The best part? The whole thing rests on a cliff overlooking the ocean so every resting soul has a killer view. I don't want to be put in the ground, but I'd totally be buried here. I took hundreds of pictures.
Every curve of the cliffwalk to Bondi brought more Holy Shit's and Fuck Me's. I took picture after picture, just trying to do each scene justice and as pretty as some of the shots are (below!) its impossible to capture the scope of beauty you experience here.
At one point I notice the walk go from footpath to paved road. There are massive rocks between the road and the water - essentially the cliff itself - that completely block the view of the ocean, but look easy enough to scale. I'm wondering why use the street at all (because I'm a thoughtless monster who isn't handicapped, old or pushing a stroller) when you can really enjoy the incredible view as you scale the rocks. So I take the road less travelled and feel pretty puffy about the whole thing until I'm forced to scoot on my butt for about half the cliff. Yes, scaling the cliff is easy but the drops from one rock to the next are steeper than they looked as I started and I'm klutzy and carrying a backpack too big for my adventure. I wouldn't have taken the road even if I had known I'd have to crab walk part of the cliff, but that's the point when I realized, ohhh, that's why there is a paved road.
When I ended in Bondi, rather than catching the bus Geo suggested, I walked to Bondi Junction, which is a half-hour uphill hike through the city, and Geo & I conquered the train system. Needless to say, I was cross-eyed tired from hours and kilometers (I'd guess somewhere like 7 miles?? I have no idea.) of walking in the sun and actually fell asleep on my computer as I tried to write all this last night. And damn, did I sleep well.

I love the word poo



Jealous of the real estate? Yes.

Rehearsing my lay to rest

 

died 18th February 1912

 

ghost or shadow...?



Waverly Cemetery from a distance

Tamarama Beach
Cute couple + puppy and miniature surfers included!

Sydney graffiti
(You see why I can't leave, don't you?)

 

 

"I have a girlfriend, but you girls are so beautiful!"

...said our new best friend, Whatsisname, on the dance floor last night.
After Stella & I spent the day with our friend Jen drinking sangria and walking around Darlinghurst and Surrey Hill, we all went dancing at a local fav bar called Flinders.
So the drinking age is 18 in Australia which means it feels like all ages everywhere. And I discovered 18 looks SO MUCH YOUNGER than it used to.
Now, I've been hearing about the legendary Cute/Interested/Available guy to girl ratio since my friends arrived in Sydney over 2 months ago. I'm told making out with a CIA guy every night is a given- to which I say, oh yeah? Because my bizarro little brain takes that as a challenge. You tell me its a sure thing? I will PROVE to you YOU'RE WRONG because I'm an asshole.
And prove it, I did.
I won last night by not making out with any CIA guys, and to go one further, my cockblock juju worked on my friends as well. You're welcome.
SO glad that's out of my system. Now I can make out. I may be a contrairy brat, but I'm not the enemy of fun. Making out is fun, and now that I've proven you can't make me make-out, I'm ready to make out. So there. (But I don't kiss & tell, so you'll get to fill in the blanks. I'm thinking many blanks.)
Sunday, Stella and I went to Bondi Beach to work out with the stunt guys from her movie. I love working out, I love the beach, and I love stunties so I was prepared for a good day. Good was a pitiful understatement. It was pretty much the best day ever!
It was an incredibly beautiful morning, made even moreso by the underwear model that was part of our group. One thing I'll say for Sydney: I'VE NEVER SEEN HOTTER PEOPLE EVER.
I drool over man and woman alike here, and Bondi Beach is the perfect place to do it. From the moment I arrived in Sydney, I've been blown away by the general pretty of the majority of people here- but at Bondi? It's just stupid. Tan skin, beautiful athletic bodies, perfectly tousled commercial hair, and everyone I've spoken to is either kind, funny or usually both. And cares what you have to say. (LA take notes, please.)
I almost threw up twice during our work-out with the stunties, but I got to box which made up for the ass kicking they gave me. Like a nerd, I brought my own gloves. Boxing in the sand is effing hard and effing fantastic. After our work-out Stella and I joined the guys at their beach-front apartment for breakfast. We only said "HOLY SHIT!" 77 or 78 times. The apartment was the most incredible beach front I've ever seen. The place with big, modern, comfy, hip, etc, etc (with a spare bedroom that I IMMEDIATELY claimed. I'm shy about a lot of things but not about beachfront property. Stella and I move in next weekend.), but the kicker? The thing that make me straight up yell absolute nonsense and speak in tongues? The WALL BETWEEN THE KITCHEN AND THE DECK SLID AWAY AND DISAPPEARED MAKING IT ONE MASSIVE OPEN SPACE OF OH-MY-GOD-AWESOME...
I just passed out from excitement.
Stella and I took a ridiculous amount of pictures of ourselves and the view while the men cooked for us. I decided I don't need to live in America anymore, and that Australia will make a great new home.
(Stella's idea on the way to work out this morning: "You should have an Australian baby."
Me: "Why?"
Stella: "Because then you'd get to come back all the time to visit and you'd have a place to stay."
Me: "Nah."
I revisited Stella's idea later when I met the underwear model, another couple stunt men, and got eyeful after eyeful of rippling surfers and sunbathers-- its now not the dumbest idea I've ever heard.)
We spent the rest of the afternoon at a birthday party for one of the stunties at a beach bar, ogling more beautiful people. I know I'm going on and on, but I honestly can't help it. What I love about the beauty here is that doesn't make you feel less attractive because everyone around you looks like a model; you actually somehow feel more attractive. I'm not sure why, but maybe its because those same gorgeous bodies and faces are looking at you the same way you're looking at them: in appreciation, with interested enthusiasm, open and ready to strike up a conversation.
This place is heaven.


Fierce in love with everything about this

 

Looking out from my future kitchen...

Looking into my future kitchen



Yup. Good-bye America...





 

 

"I'm cranky!!!!"

...is what I whined to Stella this morning, prompted by absolutely nothing.
I have a beautiful relationship with sleep, better than a lot of people, I think. I can fall asleep anytime, anywhere, on a moment's notice- and I stay there as long as I need to. I'm spoiled rotten when it comes to sleep; therefore, when sleep doesn't come when I want it or I can't stay asleep, I am a whiney cranky nightmare. Which makes Stella a saint.
Saint's are patient and kind and so is Stella. If she is annoyed by me being annoying she's totally good at covering it up. Used to dealing with small children and babies, Stella handles me perfectly.
"I'm SO tired," I whine.
"Take a nap in my bed, its super comfy!" she answers.
"I don't wannaaa, " I whine.
"Let's work out!" she geniuses. We do.
"I'm COLD." I pout.
"If you put your towel in the dryer while you're in the shower, its super warm by the time you get out!" she enthuses.
"Oooooo!!!" I finally come around.
If you have the means, send her presents. She deserves them.
I discovered this morning that Australians are pragmatic monsters. Beautiful, lovely, generous souls with wonderful senses of humor, but also pragmatic monsters and this is how I discovered it:
I was running on the treadmill in the gym watching some reality TV crime show, a la Cops, without the sound. I'm half paying attention, until I see a beautiful dog in the middle of the highway.
Now, my run should be ending soon, but I keep going because I'm waiting for the happy ending. I'm American. I need a happy ending. I keep running- even as the cop picks up the rag doll body of this poor gorgeous animal. I keep running- even as I watch all the witnesses, one of whom has to be the owner, give pleasent silent testimonials. I wait for crying- nothing. In fact, most of the people are half smiling? The presumed owner shows off a tattoo of her dog on her forearm without looking the least bit upset. I run harder, getting pissed that no one is crying over this dead-looking dog, that I know can't really be dead because WHO PUTS THAT ON TV?
I'm still running- and hyperventilating now because I'm crying as I watch to the bitter end of the segment which DOES NOT INCLUDE ANYTHING RESEMBLING A HAPPY ENDING. Rather, the segment ends on a shot of the dead dog in a ditch and the cop shaking his head, because he actually has a heart and remorse unlike all his witnesses, the people who filmed and edited the segment, and the channel who aired the show.
I'm all for not coddling the children and telling them straight up what's what, but come on.
Okay, off to put my towel in the dryer and actually see some of Sydney for real so you guys don't have to keep reading about my impressions of the inside of Stella's hotel.

"AAAaaaaahhh!!!!!!!"

...is what Stella and I did when we ran into each other at the elevator, seeing one another for the first time in over two months. Lemme back up--
So in my stupor yesterday I never mentioned anything about my flight, and I actually had some things worth mentioning: it was jam-packed, my overhead light didn't work therefore I couldn't read or do the hours of leftover work I still had (have? ahem.) to do , I sat next to a chatty lady (sigh.), we had to maneuver around some thunderstorms which made me very nervous because I watched every single episode of Lost and frankly I wasn't in the mood to work so hard to survive, and TIME STOPPED.
I swear to God. We took off from LA in the pitch black night. I watched a movie (What to Expect While You're Expecting. Stop judging me.). I ate dinner. I dozed off- the little flight status thing read: 12 hrs remaining. I woke up-11 hrs remaining...
I did this between every 15 - 55 min for about 4 hours before I gave up and watched another movie (Snow White & the Huntsman. Kristen Stewart, eh. I don't buy it.) I kept falling asleep and having to rewind so the 2 hour movie took at least 3. Not to be tedious, but my point in chronicling everything is to show that at least 9 hours had passed since we departed LA and in all that time, there was not a single glimmer of light in the sky. NO SUN AT ALL.
Having to face the pitch black sky out my window every time I opened my eyes forever totally messed with my head, like 30 Days of Night. I got restless and agitated which made me more tired, but I was too agitated to sleep. ("Why didn't you take a sleeping pill?!" asked Stella. "Because I'M AN IDIOT," answered Bianca.) I re-wrapped myself in my blanket and tried Sleep Position #67: body shrunken into a tight ball, pillow jammed under the jawbone, scarf and overshirt balled into a pillow against the window. I shoved my head into the pillow and willed myself asleep... no. I opened my eyes and stared into the black on the other side of my window- and I lost my breath.
I hadn't noticed before, but it wasn't pitch black outside. Instead, there were more stars than I had ever seen. My first thought was, "I wonder if we're in outer space." Out of habit, I reached for my iPhone before my mind caught up. I would never be able to see the stars in the photo, only the black hole that had haunted me since take-off would register. I left the phone alone. Instead I stared out into the crowded sky and attempted to burn the picture, and the peace and spaciousness that came with it, in my mind. I had an emotional moment, just me and the stars, and when I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, they finally slid closed into a deep and dreamy 2 hour sleep. It felt incredible.
The rest of it flew by: another movie (Five Year Engagement. Harmless.), breakfast, and the first act of Fast Five (LOVE.) before I landed and stumbled through my first day. I accomplished my gym/food/nap plan (GFN?), squealed & hugged Stella, and little else.
Today I started my writing routine. I'm in love with it. After, I wandered the area gradually making my way to my friend's offices in Darlinghurst just up the road from Haymarket where Stella lives. I'm in heaven as I walk the streets, Korean BBQ joint after Korean BBQ joint beckon me inside. I think we're officially in Koreatown, but Chinatown is super nearby. Asian markets seem to equal the number of regular grocery markets, there's tons of Japanese, Thai and Chinese food places in between yogurt shops. Basically, I'm always hungry once I leave the apt.
At my friend's office, we walked onto the rooftop porch to take in the sunset view- a horrific caw rang out and seemed to echo over Sydney. "What the hell was that?" I asked my friend. He pointed out a pretty white cockatoo in a tree not to far away. I couldn't believe such a huge sound could come from such a pretty little thing-
Until it opened its wings into an impressive stretch and lurched out another call. Imagine James Earl Jones' voice coming out of Nicole Kidman- it wasn't exactly like that, but it wasn't exactly not like that either. My friend also told me about the fruit bats that fly through town, and now I'm obsessed. Austin has quaint cute little bats at dusk, and Sydney has these massive flying animals that careen through town looking for fruit and nuts. I'm now determined to find one. In the meanwhile, check this out...

I want, I want, I want...

my new writing den = my happy place

I have an old friend named John West!
So I bought his tuna!

G'day!

Where to begin? Ok, let's start with I'M EXHAUSTED. And I'll back up from there.
This blog was supposed to chronicle my misadventures, etc of being on location with this amazing job I got 15 months ago (hence the name). Well, it turns out I worked so much I had only a little time to do incredible, fantastic, amazingly fun and envy-inspiring things, and once I did them I was WAY too tired to write about them. So I Facebooked everything instead of writing much of ANYTHING, and everyone thought everything was very awesome, which it was, so I guess: Mission Accomplished.
But the point was to write. Actually, my entire point in my life is to write. Which lead me to the ultimate decision to quit my amazing job - because amazing or not, if I'm not doing what I was made to do, why do anything? (...and then Bianca puts on a beret and a scarf, lights a cigarette and stares out the window for 4 days. Deep... like I said, I'm exhausted. And that can make me sorta weird and filterless. Enjoy!)
It wasn't that dramatic. But you can only have so many moments of clarity before you start to feel like a grand idiot to stay in a situation that, though very lovely, comfortable and secure, does not work for you anymore. So I left my steady paycheck, brilliant and supportive boss, and the comforts of home to do this:
Everything I've always wanted to do.
And when I put it out there like that and get both excited and choked-up at the same time, I have no doubt I made the perfect decision.
All of the above landed me in Sydney two hours ago. And now here I sit in my best friend Stella's apartment, writing and eating an entire package of her sweet biscuits (think cookies) while she works all day.
Australia has been a travel fantasy ever since I got my first passport. When Stella booked a movie here, we had the whole "You should totally come!" "Yes, I'm totally visiting!!" conversation that always happens when a friend gets a cool location, but this time it resonated. A free place to stay with my very best friend in a city I've been dying to travel to for 15 years is hard to pass up- but what about my job that I had no intention of leaving until I had put in two solid years because two years sounds better than one? (Please re-read previous paragraphs for answer if necessary.)
I'm so happy to be here for so many reasons- some glaringly obvious (I heard the dudes are awesome.), some incredibly personal (so I'm not saying what they are)- and I'm committed to honoring my decision to create the life I want by making every moment worthwhile; I'm thrilled to have the opportunity once again to share those moments with all of you.
This afternoon those moments- Jesus. It's not even 10am here...
Today, those moments will probably amount to not much more than finding a grocery store to replace Stella's biscuits, napping, and maybe hitting the gym. After 15 months of being on-call non-stop for work and getting no more than 12 hrs of sleep in the 4 days leading up to my trip, the wall that I've slammed into is a dense, unforgiving concrete and has knocked me on my ass. It may not sound like much because these are chores most of us do pretty often, but right now its everything I want to do.
So again: Mission Accomplished.

My first look at Australia from the plane at dawn...


Wrapping up in Suffolk

December 19, 2011...

Since I don't have time to do a proper blog entry before we wrap IN FOUR DAYS (wooooooop!) I thought I'd post some pics since they're worth a thousand words and all that...

Ainu

This is Ainu. She belongs to our 2nd AD and is a cat disguised as a gorgeous husky. It's been a month of me lavishing love and ear rubs on her, not to mention feeding her pounds of meat by hand, and she has graduated from ignoring me to tolerating me sometimes to finally, FINALLY approaching me for a rub. I LOVE this dog. 

My office when its not raining...

When I'm not in car - which is where I have found myself for most of this location - I work from where ever I can. Sometimes a trailer, sometimes the office, and the rest of the time perched on whatever flat semi-clean surface is available.

My office when its dark...

A NOTE TO MY READERS: To be honest, I stopped writing this blog post at this point because I was exhausted and, just now three months later, have finally regained the strength to finish posting. Ok, maybe I slacked a little in the last two and a half months but I was really super tired for a solid 2 weeks after this location.

And so now, I continue below...

My hotel on a gorgeous spooky night

I lived in a golf club. With an OUTSTANDING bar that served INCREDIBLE food. If not for that bar, I would have been a sad, sad American girl. Thankfully, the bar was nightly filled with my fellow crew members and it really was where everybody knew everybody else's name and business and favorite drinks. Unlike an American movie where all the previous information would have likely lead to more incestuous hookups than VC Andrews could dream of (Flowers in the Attic? Heaven? Ruby? My Sweet Audrina? Anyone? No one? Just me? Oh.), here it resulted in many pints bought, countless fags smoked, tons of taking the piss and mostly single sleepers. Mostly.

Sunday morning tea

So English! So pretty!!

I was endlessly fascinated how tea is SUCH a huge part of the day. As is making it for one another. Whereas in American production offices if you're thirsty you get up and grab yourself a drink, in our office whenever anyone - ANYONE, from PA to producer - got up to get a drink, they would ask the office and take orders. Then they would be back 15 minutes later with assorted teas (with milk, with milk and sugar, with lots of milk) and coffees. Then 15 minutes later the whole thing would start again. Between making tea and peeing all the time, I don't know how we got anything done. But I loved it.

"I hear those voices that will not be drowned"

This sculpture is the only thing of its kind on the shores of Aldeburgh, and I went insane when I read the message (ahh, the dramahhh). I went to this beach every weekend on my day off, and my last day there someone had left flowers and a card in the pouring rain for their deceased brother. That a person would honor their brother's silenced voice by leaving a memorial at my favorite shrine to the voice of the infinite made me cry like a baby.

In addition to crying on the beaches of Aldeburgh, I also tried to explore some of the nearby villages on my day off. Here are some pics from my hour in Dunwich...

Dunwich Sheep!! So cute!!!

Oooold Dunwich cemetery! I LOVE CEMETERIES!

Sheep IN the cemetery!! Perfection.

With all the exclamation marks in my captions, you may wonder "Why just an hour, B?" Well, I'll tell ya: That was it. Dunwich could only boast of 1 church, 1 pub, and lots of sheep. It used to be the 3rd most important city in the United Kingdom ages ago, but Dunwich sits on the shore and over time the entire town got washed out and still stands under water. You can still see part of the original grand church in the last picture is now just ruins for the sheep to wander around. You may further wander, "Why even go there, B? Its a watery ghost town." To which I answer: exactly.

Southwold, aka Heaven

The only other village I got to tour for fun was Southwold, a beach town about 45 minutes up the coast from Aldeburgh that had the GREATEST BOARDWALK EVER and an arcade full of ridiculously fun games where I ultimately won a stuffed animal.

Pet or Meat: Settle Lamb's Fate

I bested The Claw!

A common reaction when people heard I'd be in the UK for location was to talk about how much weight I would lose. Wrong.

From Aldeburgh Fish & Chips, not to be confused with The Aldeburgh Fish & Chips Shop

Don't be fooled. You may think you've eaten fish & chips before or even made them at home (you haven't), but you are wrong (see?). There are no fish & chips unless they are the fish & chips from Aldeburgh Fish & Chips at the top of High Street eaten with your hands as you walk down the beach. If you were using utensils, were eating fish & chips from the Aldeburgh Fish & Chips Shop from mid-High Street, or were anywhere in America then YOU WERE NOT EATING FISH & CHIPS. No. You weren't.

The winner & still champion!

I tried them all: Flame-Grilled Steak, Roasted Chicken & Thyme, Sweet Suffolk Chili, Thai Chili, Caramelized Onion & Cheese and at least a dozen others I didn't document with pictures. The ultimate crisps? Prawn Cocktail. Who knew?

I could go on and on (and sorta have, whatever) but that's because I LOVED SUFFOLK. The countryside was breath-taking, driving was a blast, I fell in love with the food (no, seriously), every morning looked like the last scene of Pride & Prejudice, and the crew was the BEST CREW EVER!! 

Thank you United Kingdom, and thank you Suffolk!

That's a wrap!