Becks and the City: Bucket List

Showing posts with label Bucket List. Show all posts

I Tried... Shooting a Gun!

A voucher for my birthday, a firing range and popping balloons...

Firstly, let me get one thing straight: I don't advocate guns or killing for sport. I'm not even that keen on killing for food. I just wanted to try shooting a gun, you know, for the coming zombocalypse. Best to be prepared, right?

Shooting a gun at a firing range has been on my bucket list for some time and, recognising this, my in-laws decided to give me a taste of being an outlaw for my birthday. So off to the firing range Mr Big and I toddled.

If you've never fired a gun and you'd like to try it, first let me pose you a question: Are you afraid of popping balloons? Because I am. I hadn't connected these two concepts until I stood in my stall next to the other shooters and squealed and had a mini-heart attack every time someone fired at their target.

We tried four types of guns, each more powerful than the last, two automatic then two revolvers. I preferred the smallest automatic for its weaker kickback and (relatively) quiet bang. By the time we got to the revolvers, I was seriously considering quitting and waiting for Mr Big in the lounge area with a nice cup of tea.

But with nine other men in my group of shooters and zero women, I loathed the thought of being such a stereotypical girl. In the end, I'm glad I pushed through. I gave it a go, I'm actually not a bad shot, and I can now say I've tried firing a gun.

So, on to my next bucket list pursuit... Should I try skinny dipping or picking locks?

Have you tried firing a gun? Did it scare the living @#/%$ out of you?

I Tried... Making Cheese!

For a long time, I've had this fascination with cheesemaking. Not sure where it came from, but I decided to surrender to it and give it a go....

Last weekend, my friend Karen and I finally attended our long-awaited cheesemaking class through our local adult learning centre. Toting various cooking paraphernalia we were asked to bring (an esky, saucepan, slotted spoon etc), we rocked up almost (but not quite) dead last in the whole class. So as far as I'm concerned, since we were still more punctual than one other chick, we weren't officially late. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

We also brought along a couple of litres of non-homogenised milk (ie with the cream still floating in it). The teacher helped us add rennet and starter culture and heat the mixture to the correct temperature. Mine failed to thicken and set as it should and another lady had the same problem. Luckily, with a little extra TLC, I managed to work mine back into becoming cheese and after a couple of hours, Karen and I had our very own chunks of feta cheese. I was thrilled!

In between the different steps, we heard about the origins of the teacher's chesemaking business and sampled various types of cheese, from camembert to blue vein (EWWWWWWW!!!). After we finished, we were given printed instructions about how to turn our feta into camembert at home. I've decided to quite while I'm ahead, but I am planning to preserve my feta with dried herbs and olive oil. : )

So, I've now ticked number 10 off my bucket list and I'm so glad I tried it. I might even give it another go in future by myself... and even if I take only one thing out of it, I've developed a taste for full-cream non-homogenised milk. It's so much more natural and flavoursome than the homogenised version. Definitely try it!

Are you with me on this cheese fascination, or does the cheese stand alone? ; ) Have you tried a new skill recently?

I Tried... a Fish Foot Spa!

In Malaysia recently, I tried a pedicure with a difference...

I think I first saw doctor fish on The Amazing Race on TV. If you haven't heard of them before, they're two species of small fish used in special foot spas around the world to slough dead skin off your feet. Charming! Apparently the practice originated in Turkey. Check out a news story about the craze spreading through the US here.

In Malaysia earlier this month, my friend Karen and I spotted a spa offering this fish pedicure and couldn't resist giving it a shot.

When we walked in, our feet were firstly bathed over smooth stones in a basin. While that was happening, a customer getting a foot massage nearby said he'd tried the fish foot spa moments before and recommended we try the leftmost pool first, as that's the "easier" beginner pool. So, we steeled ourselves and plunged our feet in.

It's a really strange feeling. Once we got over the initial tickle torture, it was actually a relaxing sensation, made even more pleasant by the refreshing ginger tea the staff served (we ended up asking for the recipe, see below), probably to calm our shrieks and screams!

The helpful stranger had left, but we decided to now try the more difficult pool with the hungrier fish. We dipped our feet in and... nothing. The fish took the occasional nibble, but seemed pretty lazy and disinterested. He'd apparently lied to us for a laugh. Gah!!

Well, while the fish foot spa wasn't officially on my bucket list, I'm certainly glad I tried this new experience. Er, at least until I arrived back in Australia and googled "fish foot spa". I wish I hadn't. Hey, try it at your own risk and check the place is reputable before, well, taking the plunge!

Ginger Tea Recipe

To calm your nerves the next time you're being eaten alive by fish!

Fresh slices of ginger and lemongrass
Teabag of green tea
Pinch of sugar

Boil water and brew tea in a cup. Add a pinch of sugar and the slices of ginger and lemongrass (you can use a tea infuser if you wish) and allow to sit for 3-5 minutes. Remove slices and tea bag and serve.

Have you ever tried any of the wackier beauty treatments? Would you try the fish foot spa?

I Tried... Visiting a Psychic!

When I decided to tick "visiting a psychic" off my bucket list, I didn't realise there'd be a psychic fair in my suburb the very next weekend. It was like it was meant to be...

In matters of the mystic, I consider myself an "open-minded skeptic" (aka fence-sitter). I've suspected I was clairvoyant on occasion when I accurately predicted, say, my dropped toast would land butter side down, but it usually turned out to be well-founded pessimism in disguise.

With this in mind, I dragged Mr Big along to the psychic fair and for a mere fiver, was admitted entry to the local arts centre transformed into a world where hippies ruled supreme. Middle-aged women sauntered among trestle tables of healing crystals, boxed tarot card sets, incense and bohemian jewellery of questionable style, but the psychics were where the real action was, at $30 or more a pop (ouch!).

Poor Mr Big looked terminally bored. I left him browsing books with titles like Find Your Guardian Angel and What Colour is My Aura? and stepped up to the only available psychic's table for a 20-minute tarot reading. She looked, well, like a pretty, thin, middle-aged lady with a kindly face bare of makeup. Not especially hippy-like. Good start, as far as appearances can take you.

I confessed to being a newbie and asked how we should proceed. She explained as she got me to shuffle and cut the card deck that I could either ask a specific question or have a general reading. I opted for the latter. Some nice-sounding cards came up in the latticework arrangement she made on the table. Except the hanged man. I hoped that wasn't a bad one.

When we started, I deliberately didn't reveal anything about myself to see what she would come up with unprompted. She zoned in on career questions, explaining I had many possible paths and that I should try to extend myself and learn new things (like trying a pyschic reading, perhaps?). She said my partner is very accommodating (correct) and that she could see travel to nordic countries like Denmark (Legoland?!).

All of her predictions sounded positive and in tune with my past, future goals and present plans. I was a bit puzzled when she could see pharmacy or chemistry around me, but hey, maybe she was predicting last night's jab in the bum to cure my migraine? Who knows. In any event, even the hanged man turned out to have a positive interpretation, something about the bubbles surrounding him representing opportunities I can pluck out of the air.

And there you have it, I'm all predicted up and ready to kick my future in the balls. Or something.

Have you visited a psychic? Did they have any startling predictions for you?