Melbourne Free

There is rather an impressive young man in front of me in the check-in queue.  He is fully kitted out with an enormous backpack, a golden tan and an air of arrogance about him that says, "I'm incredibly well travelled, don'cha know?"  So, I couldn't help but snigger to myself when the lady at the desk informed him that he'd come to the airport a day early; his flight was in fact tomorrow. It's amazing how quickly a golden tan turns to a blushing rouge.

JB: not looking his best

Everyone in balmy Sydney told me Melbourne would be cold.  I wish I'd listened.  Despite the sunshine Melbourne was definitely a place that required socks and a warm vest in November. After my smooth hour-long flight I caught a long bus into the city to meet my friend John-Boy.  I lived with JB in Oxford when he was a student studying the Oxford BPhil, which is quite possibly the hardest degree known to man.  But despite having some of the biggest brains on campus he also has the sense of humour of a buffoon which is why we got on so well. After a hard day reading Wittgenstein he would join me on the sofa to watch a Come Dine With Me marathon or sing along to America's Next Top Model ("You wanna be on top?!"). He once made me a stir fry that contained so much fresh ginger I couldn't taste anything else for a whole week.

We ride the tram back to his home in Brunswick. This part of Melbourne's not like anywhere I've been before; lots of cool little shops and eateries but all in a very 70s style (I didn't know wallpaper was back in?). But what Brunswick lacks in interior design it makes up for in great pubs.  And I mean pubs. Proper pubs that feel like the pubs back home. And they sell pints! I order one excitedly and feel the effects immediately; after 2 months drinking schooners this pint is like being kicked in the clackers by a kangaroo. In a good way.


Takoyaki being made at the night market

The next day we head into the city centre.  We have coffee in a rather trendy street where all the cafes are like little tiny huts squished next to each other and the chairs spill out onto the street. Centre Place; the place to be.  Melbourne feels very multicultural, European and a little edgier than Sydney (Apologies to my Sydney-sider friends but it's true).  There is some very ornate Victorian architecture here and with the trams running up and down the city it makes you feel like you've travelled back in time. I like it!

Are you game?

We head to a few galleries in the NGV and then JB suggests we go and see some 'bush paintings'.  Having never heard of a bush painting before my mind conjured up all sorts of meanings but I was relieved to find some beautiful depictions of some of the first settlers arriving in Australia.  Little did I know how much of an expert JB turned out to be in regards to his heritage. As we strolled around the paintings he told me stories of famous explorers and prison escapees.  It is really unbelievable that these first settlers could survive such a country with its harsh terrain and lack of amenities (not to mention the bloodthirsty kangaroos).  They're a tough sort these Aussies.

We finished off the day with a visit to one of the regular night markets.  With rows and rows of food stalls including every national dish under the sun we really did work up an appetite trying to decide what to eat.  And then you have to stay for ice cream as they have every flavour imaginable.  A few post dinner beers later and we end up in a nice pub called "the Oxford Pub" typical. The streets all begin to look the same and the trams are all heading in the wrong direction. We flag a taxi home and try to sneak in so we don't wake JB's housemate.  The chook in the garden has other ideas though and makes a terrible racket. I'm beginning to feel at home in Melbourne.

Next time: I play a gig in Melbourne and witness a horny Koala bear courting a tree at the Healesville Animal Sanctuary (rated PG).

Don't Take That Attitude to Your Gravy

Melbourne Cup

Once a year you can walk around the streets of Sydney and see some of the most glamourous and bizarre outfits all at once.  Women dressed as if they were heading to Ascot with bright hats and facinators and men looking as though they are out for a stag do with pink tights and very stretchy neon leotards.  It is of course the day of the Melbourne Cup; Australia's major thoroughbred horse race.  Melbourne gets the day off as a holiday but the rest of Australia has to either sneak off of work or take an extended lunch break from which they are unlikely to return.  There is a real buzz as I walk through the city to meet Jen and her friends at a nice Italian cafe where we have great seats in front of the cafe's TV.  There are lots of races throughout the day but there is only one that everyone seems to care about.  As we tuck into some deliciously juicy mozzarella,  Italian waiters come round to top up our wine glasses.  Two o'clock hits and everyone is gathered round the TV, even people come in from the street to watch the race.  Suddenly everyone is screaming and shouting at their horse and I holler out my horses name even though I have no idea which one he is or how well he's doing.  The race is over in minutes and the crowds either commiserate or celebrate their bets with more wine as the main course is brought round. As I tuck into my zuccini salad images of Camilla and Charles pop up on the screen. Oh, Blighty!

Ben Harper does the robot

Ben Harper is a man who doesn't need a support act, especially because he decides to play for nearly 4 hours with no interval (and no water I observe, is he even human?!).  Not that I'm complaining;  this gig turns out to be one of the best I've ever been to.  'An acoustic evening with Ben Harper at the Sydney Opera House' suggested something  a bit special and when we arrived and saw 13 stringed instruments lined up on stage we knew we were in for a treat.  The instruments ranged from acoustic and electric guitars to lap steel, ukeleles, and a strange cello-type instrument  that Harper had created and is yet to name.  This is his first ever acoustic headline tour and in between songs he entertains us with anecdotes of his childhood working in a meat shop and hanging out with Jeff Buckley at festivals.  Despite his long career, two broken marriages and many celebrity friends he doesn't seem at all jaded and remains a very humble and affable character throughout the night.  I feel his personality really comes through in this intimate setting, and yes, I might have a slight crush. When members of the audience shout out songs they want to hear he happily obliges.  I managed to pipe up at the end of the night and ask for Waiting on an Angel and he finishes his set with it.  I had a little moment but it was ok, because everyone else was having a little moment too.
 

Great views

The only way to finish off a week like that is to walk 10km from The Spit to Manly and ruminate on music and nature and then celebrate with some tasty beers.  There are lots of great views along this walk which takes your through the bush, up cliffs and across beaches.  Make sure you get there early when the tide isn't on it's way in or else you get soggy knees.  We finished off the day with mussels in a rather strange sauce that was a cross between tomato and gravy, home brewed beer at the 4 Pines and a lazy ferry ride back into Sydney. Bliss!

Next time: my trip to Melbourne and a gig!

New Year, New Song, New Video

Here is a video my friend and I made on her very awesome rooftop in Sydney of my new song 'My Time'. Happy New Year everyone.
 

A Weekend at the Hunter with Kanga Kong

I've been enjoying myself in the beautiful sunshine and ignoring my blog duties for far too long so here is an update on my adventures so far.

Hunter Valley

If you thought there wouldn't be any way to top seeing the Blue Planet at the Sydney Opera House then think again.  North of Sydney is the very popular wine region, Hunter Valley, or 'wine country' as the locals (and I imagine Raol Duke) affectionately call it.  We woke up early on a Saturday morning and drove along the hot dusty road for a day of wine tasting, cheese tasting and dog petting.  Jen was our designated driver and so Jo and I were free to try as many wines as we liked; thanks Jen!  The first vineyard we got to was Petersons, a family-owned-and-operated winery.  The surroundings were stunning with undulating vineyards spreading into the distance in all directions.  But we were here for the wine, and so we quick-marched through the cellar door and a nice chap talked us through the tastings on offer.  Of course we tried every single one as our host regaled us with wonderful stories of wine and cheese, wine and sommeliers, wine recipes and the most exciting; when wine goes bad.  I bought a bottle of fizz that is apparently a great accompaniment to watermelon sorbet and we moved on to the next vineyard for much of the same.  Five vineyards, the smelly cheese shop and two famous vineyard dogs later and we were very merry.  Earlier this year I had discovered my love of Port but I didn't know that white Port existed-delicious.  The Semillon also went down rather well but the name (semi-on) caused much sniggering.  Eventually the vineyards shut up shop for the day and we made our way to our hotel which turned out to be an old haunted orphanage (and that isn't the cheese before midnight talking).

What almost occurred 

The next day we drove home via a National Park come mental hospital and after driving through some spooky woods arrived at a big stretch of grass.  We were here to see kangaroos and we weren't disappointed.  This was my first kangaroo sighting (if you don't include the roadkill) and I was positively terrified.  Stories of kangaroos disemboweling people, not to mention their tendency for boxing, rushed through my mind.  We spotted a big group out with their joeys to catch some of the good weather and watched them from a safe distance.  As we enjoyed their cute hopping and grazing I started to relax. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kanga Kong bounding up the road heading straight for us.  We started to walk back towards the car and he bounded towards us further.  At this point I started running- and wondering why these dangerous and blood-thirsty animals were allowed to walk around willy nilly.  It turned out he was just heading to his troop who we'd just been watching and we marveled at his size from the safety of our car.  Don't mess with the 'roos.

Next time. Melbourne Cup, Ben Harper in concert and Spit to Manly walk. Yes, there is a place called Manly!

The Gardens were Botanical and the Planet was Blue

One of the best things about going to the Botanical Gardens is that Croissant D'Or is on the way and their almond croissants are some of the tastiest things on this earth.  I describe it as walking to a grassy paradise whilst munching on a pastry paradise (even though the pastry paradise is pretty pricey at 5 dollars (i.e. 3 pounds). The walk is great.  Walking along Macleay Street makes me feel like I'm in New York because of all the Art Deco architecture and Spanish Mission style apartments.  The streets are wide and the sun bursts through the overhanging trees.  I make my way down to Woolloomooloo Bay and walk along the wharf which was actually the largest wooden structure in the world in 1911. FACT! If you like a man in uniform then this is the place to come.  There are big naval ships parked up here and the crew are all milling around in their pristine white suits.  I'm pretty sure I saw Blackbeard amongst them. Eventually the wharf leads you to some old steps, along Mrs Maquaries Bushland Walk, past an outdoor swimming pool and an exceptional amount of joggers and finally into the beauty of the Botanical Gardens.

View from Botanical Gardens

As I walk through the entrance gate an old-looking Japanese man asks me if I will take his picture.  He stands in front of a very characterless patch of lawn and I snap him.  I head forward into the gardens and as I'm enjoying the beauty and calming nature of it all I feel a tap on my shoulder.  The same Japanese man is there and asks me to take another picture of him, this time in front of a bulbous and boring looking tree.  I do my duty and hurry off to try to put some space between us.  The gardens are enormous and have absolutely stunning views looking out to Farm Cove and Sydney Harbour.  Just as I'm about to settle down under the shade of a very old looking tree I feel another tap on the shoulder. "Another picture please?" I sigh heavily and tell him that this is the last time. Afterwards he scuttles off looking a little hurt and dejected, until he finds another tourist to help him increase the amount of photos of himself in front of all kinds of different but equally boring foliage. His poor wife.

My second weekend in Sydney is another sunny one and we head to Surrey Hills Festival in the morning for some breakfast.  It's a smallish festival with loads of food stalls and a stage pumping out loud Hip Hop to some enthusiastic teenagers who already look tipsy at 11.00am in the morning.  We watch in amazement as some very muscly girls pole dance and I look down at my pancakes and feel a little guilty. But this is not the main event of the day, this is just the starter.  We make our way to the Sydney Opera House to watch The Blue Planet live in Concert (shouts of "OMG!" were continuously heard throughout the day's proceedings).  This was my first time in the Opera House and it's size is staggering. The orchestra starts playing as we find our seats and local celebrity, The Bondi Vet, comes out to introduce each piece. He's not quite David Attenborough but is quite amusing (and slightly more pleasing to the eye).  The experience is incredible and it's amazing to think that it has been touring since 2006.  The only way to finish off a day like that is to head to karaoke and sing your heart out until 2am, which is what we did!

Take Me to My Beach

Bondi Beach

After all those noodles a girl needs a day on the beach, and what better beach to laze on than Bondi?  The weather is getting warmer and although everyone refers to it as 'Spring' here, the temperatures are those of a British summer. God only knows how hot it will be when Summer actually hits; I'll probably have to go into hiding.  My first Saturday in Oz sees me rise early to a grueling abs workout followed by a step class. The instructor has more energy than a can of dog's piss and sings along to the tracks whilst busting out the moves we need to follow. It's amazing how many people are in attendance at 8.00am, and not a hangover in sight. After a glorious shower and applying double layers of sun cream, I head back towards Oxford St en route to the beach.  I find myself momentarily distracted by a cool outdoor market in Paddington selling all sorts of fried, tasty morsels and handmade jewelry. I'm enticed to a stall which is selling real honeycomb in a jar and offering out free samples (sadly this would leave my hands sticky for the best part of the day).  I leave the market and catch the bus to Bondi along with 100 other sweaty people. "Blimmin' tourists," I grumble as I struggle to find a seat. 

Fork it

As Bondi comes into view I'm slightly stunned by how blue the sea is and how golden the sand is.  The beach is stunning. Groups of sun-kissed bods are sprawled around BBQs or playing games of sandy bowls.  I take a walk along the shoreline and watch the surfers; the waves are small today and so they aren't getting much action.  I dip my toes in the cold water and suddenly think "SHARKS". My gaze is taken out to sea but I can't spot any protruding fins.  All this fish thought is making me hungry so I head to a fancy looking restaurant on the beach front and order sashimi and avocado salad.  Note to self: next time someone offers you chopsticks to eat a salad with say no and ask for a fork instead.  I finish the meal with an incredibly tasty coffee, at last! I'm a winner today.

If you can't beat them...

Appetite sated I walk to the next beach which is amusingly called Tamarama.  This is actually pronounced Ta-ma-ra-ma although Jen has taken to calling me Tamara-ma.  The walk along the cliff's edge is windy and refreshing and Tamarama, although smaller than Bondi, is just as beautiful.  There are lots of interesting looking objects on the beach which, as I get closer, turn out to be 'Sculptures by the Sea' which is a regular installation on this beach.  I pass some tough looking sumo wrestlers (see picture) and head towards a sculpture in the middle of a beach.  This sculpture consists of a collection of long rectangular mirrors that have been bunched together to make a cube shape.  It seems to be the most popular sculpture on the beach, mainly because you can take a picture of yourself in the reflection; so of course I follow suit and quickly take an awkward snap of myself.

After a bit more walking and sun-bathing (in the shade) my old friend jet lag kicks in again and so I bus home and dream of sumo wrestlers eating Toblerone with chopsticks. To read more about the cool beach sculptures go here.

My money's on the fat one

Noodles at Night and the Case of the Missing Dumplings

Follow the light

I've been in Sydney for a week but it feels so much longer.  Maybe because the jet lag has almost dissipated or maybe because I have crammed so much stuff into my first week.  My first trip into central Sydney was for the sole purpose of buying running shoes and seeking out more good sushi. Town is a 15 minute walk away from Jen's apartment and I was guided by the tower of Westfield shopping mall like the star of Nazereth leading the Shepherd's to the baby Jee.  People are always surprised to learn that I love shopping malls but I'm not ashamed to admit it.  The first time I saw one was when I was living in Tokyo.  It was a tourist attraction to me then; all the weird and wonderful Japanese items all under one roof.  No one quite does shopping malls like the Japanese, but the Aussie's Westfield comes pretty close. On the way I pass some incredibly large birds. Later Jo informs me that these are called 'Brain Suckers' and I'll come across them as regularly as pigeon or crow.  He also told me it is 'swooping season' in Australia.  This is when the crows in the trees swoop down upon unsuspecting pedestrians and peck their heads.  The motorcyclists even wear special helmets to prevent being swooped on.  I find it hard not to stop and stare at this brain sucker bird in wonder and am perplexed as to why nobody else is doing the same.

There is actually wildlife here on the streets, like the kind you see on the TV!

I stop at a small coffee shop on the way (but won't name and shame it in case I get sued for libel) and have the worst coffee and chocolate croissant I think I have ever had in my life.  My croissant has been microwaved within an inch of its life making the pastry stale and the gooey chocolate inside deadly hot.  The coffee does little to make up for this and so I slump off into the much yearned for world of shopping mall heaven.  Jen told me that Aussies are real coffee snobs so I'm not looking forward to telling her about this culinary shitstorm.

Now, I've always like shopping. Partly, I imagine, because it's inherent in the fairer sex but also because it's always more interesting abroad.  You get different shops, different food and here you get summer shopping because "'tis the season to be jolly".  But after spending the best part of 2 hours deliberating over two pairs of trainers, jet lag got the better of me and I staggered out of the mall and into the burning sun. Ouchy!

Noodle Market

The next day I'm up at 6.30am and wide awake.  I spend the day mooching around my local area. Head left out of the apartment and you pass some lovely cafes and reach Woolloomooloo Bay. Beautiful.  Head right and turn the corner and you hit the red light district.  This street is full of strip clubs and bars that stay open till 10am. I pass an old beggar man holding out his hat for coins.  A minute later he is rolling all over the street, shouting at his hat and kicking it like it was his pet dog that had just shat on the new carpet.  These are the scenes I will come to know and love.

Winged Phallus

That night Jen and I meet up on Oxford street, yes Oxford street.  It is not at all like Oxford or Oxford street though. Why? Because it is better than both of those things. It has lots of cool bars and art galleries, one of which we meet at to listen to an installation by the musician Sarah Blasko.  Sadly she didn't turn up to play, which is what we were hoping for, but there was another gallery next door with a winged phallus in the window (pictured) so it wasn't a complete wasted journey.  We then head towards the centre to 'Hyde Park' (seriously guys, stop copying us) where there is a big Noodle Market in full swing.  It's more of a mini festival really with live music and a noodle theme.  I wait for some dumplings which seem to take forever to arrive and we sit on the grass slurping noodles and listening to a Jack Johnson look-a-like play Michal Jackson covers. What a great place this is.

I can't possibly fit my whole week into this blog so stay tuned for more ramblings soon and answers to such questions as: Will I ever shift this jetlag? Will I get a decent cup of coffee? And will I be swooped upon by a brain sucker?

Music to shop to:
Karine Polwart: His Earthly Spell
Agent Ribbons: On Time Travel and Romance