Aussie, Ozzie, Ossie

Unlike previous Australia Days, I didn't take part in any flag waving, barbeques, VBs or even renditions of 'Land Down Under.' Pretty lowkey, but for the sake of blogging about my life, here is a synopsis. Keep in mind, while not wildly exciting, these are all fairly quinnesential Australian activities.

- Displayed my Aussie flag on the windowsill, held up by a Padres matchbox ice cream truck.

- Went to Bondi and saw people go into the ocean with inflatable Haviana sandal floaty raft things, completing a world record attempt of some sort.

- Ate a veggie burger at 'Australia's largest vegetarian BBQ.'

- Fought with Vodafone, and got out of my two-year contract with their 'broadband' service

- Watched about two minutes of cricket - that's all I could handle.

- Ran to Bronte, then Tamarama Beach - went for a swim and almost had my shoes and shirt washed away by the Pacific tide.

- Had a kangaroo burger for dinner and watched the Aussie Open tennis

- Ate Tim Tams for dessert

Oye, oye, oye....

Game, Set, Game

For a few years, I’ve heard people describe full tennis competitions as ‘games,’ even though a game is only one-third. This has perplexed me – there’s a game of rugby, a game of cards, but in tennis, it’s a match. With that said, I travelled down to Melbourne last weekend to watch many MATCHES of tennis at the Australian Open. Figured while I’m here, might as well check out the only Grand Slam (and yearly sporting event of significance) in the Southern Hemisphere.

After a flight on the luxurious Tiger Airways (enter sex clinic jokes here) and catching a few trains to East Saint Kilda (home of the Saints), I settled down for a long summer’s nap. My first mistake of the weekend was only one application of sunblock – and missing the ‘above-the-knee’ and upper arm areas – later revealing a baaad farmer tan and knee sunburn look. Guess that’s what nine hours under the Australian sun will do to you.

Now a few quick notes about tennis in general. First the ballboys and ballgirls. This is such an odd little setup, with these disciplined ball-retrieving soldiers tracking down every stray ball that’s humanly possible in a three-hour tennis match. How do they never trip, drop a ball or even sneeze during a match? I did learn that one actually relieved himself on centre court, resulting in a 40-minute delay. So they are human after all... Another strange one are doubles teams, both men and women. They slap five and discuss strategy after pretty much every single waking point, to keep up the team camaraderie I suppose. I decided to do the math on this one, and at a minimum, they would slap hands at least 48 times if they won every single point. At a five each, that totals 240. Then at breaks, they sit on their ‘bench’ without saying a word to each other. Huh? Not even a 'this water is good,' 'you're hitting your forehands nicely' comment??

Day one was court hopping between women’s singles, men’s singles, women’s doubles, men’s doubles, mixed doubles and a scattering of practices. I hardly knew any of these players, with the exception of an Australian female player, whose name I’m ironically now forgetting. But there were memorable moments, from the rambunxious young (probably drunk) Aussie fans to cheering on what I assumed was one half of an American team. Day two, I repeated the early start and met up with friends Mike and Laura, who proceeded to recruit me out of the sun of Margaret Court (Court? no, Stadium) to Rod Laver Arena. It was like being called up to the big leagues. Murray, Nadal...I know these people! Oh, and I was a sunblock Nazi on day two, so my awesome looking redness wouldn’t spread. Like day one, I managed to stick around until pretty much every match was exhausted, deciding to skip the end of a 'legends' match (four guys I never heard of either). The weekend of tennis ended with another attempt by Aussie fans to cheer on their country people to victory. In vain. They try so hard, they really do.

Another few great things about the Open is they allow you to take in food to the grounds and Melbourne is a centrally located city that really embraces the tournament. This allowed me to catch a free tram, grab a burger from Lord of the Fries and watch some of the night matches from Federation Square.

Why do I insist on leaving Melbourne with 6am Monday morning flights? 4am should never be a wakeup time unless you’re a fisherman. On to Australia Day....

Good Things Come in Three (Phases)

Let's just start by saying that Christmas 2009-10 was much more productive, fulfilling and hard to recover from than last year. Maybe it was the Rose Bowl, the extra six days or merely the fact that I accomplished that much more this time around...but let's do it again sometime real soon. Will take this in three phases, since each chunk of the US tour had it's own unique personality. Starting with the fantastic 14-hour flight back home...you think I'm kidding.

Phase 1 (Where We're Going, We Don't Need Roads):














This is the phrase where I learned to appreciate the endless entertainment on V Australia, did not learn how to play dice, that Barney's Beanery has an endless supply of beer and food, the California DMV doesn't have to be that bad of an experience, it feels like Christmastime 110% more than in Australia (even when it's 70 degrees out in LA), being back makes me drink consistently more (probably because my friends do), Runyon Park is an excellent place for a run, get togethers honoring me spawn couples, Pag has access to all the Captain Morgans he can get his hands on, I seem to know people in big houses in the Hollywood Hills, Huntington sidewalk sales still rule and Long Beach Airport may look rundown, but it's underrated.

Phase 2 (Twas the Night Before Christmas...):














New York is a cold, snowy and slushy place, I can get jetlagged (or maybe just can't sleep on red eye flights), I still like oatmeal with Cool Whip on top, when I hear of Chianti, I still think of 'Silence of the Lambs,' I haven't been in a limo in more than five years, I have the cutest newphews ever (who cares if that's biased, it's true), being back east makes me even more in the Christmas spirit, I have a certain level of tolerance for incessant Christmas music, luxury cars drive niiice, Dunkin Donuts does eventually close (except with gas station drive throughs), Bellini is one drink that will wake you up, any form of hot dog is delicious, Candyland is quick and fun, Monopoly is endless and a form of fun, Sound of Music is lame when on during football, homemade lasagna is unreal, clothes in the US are oh so cheap and the best way to JFK Airport is not the Grand Central Parkway.

Phase 3 (Three's Company, Four's a Double Date):












Flying with a friend is much better, pho is a great meal at 10pm, sleeping on the floor isn't all that bad, six hour road trips are best with good food, music and company, California is georgeous (even on the 5), I should buy stock in In n Out, West Hollywood is west of the 101 (duh),I'll never really like Scotch, don't try to call for a taxi in the hills, Sport Chalet is in fact open at 10am on New Year's Day, you can tailgate without a car, some seven-year-olds know how to open beer bottles, PR agencies do get good seats, Oregon fans are nice enough people, bacon-wrapped hot dogs remain amazing, Aspen is old money/Vail is new money, snowboard lessons use endless instructors and analogies, skiing is like riding a bike, the chairlift remains dangerous, even after 31 years, Bill Cowher isn't going to coach in 2010, Rainbow Factory closes at 5, Pedro's breakfast stops at 11, Ralph's is open all night, there's a train that goes through San Clemente, Estancia wine is good and V Australia is still a legit airline.

Well worth every minute and penny spent. It couldn't get Eddie Vedder than that, until next time America.