Kev's Aussie Adventures

Paging Randy Newman...

2010-08-09T16:55:00.016+10:00

With all this LA bashing out in the common sense world, I wanted to turn things on its head a bit and actually chime the merits of the City of Angels and its surrounding area. Granted, major world cities such as New York are exempt from certain aspects of this list. But on an ESPN special yesterday, sportswriter Bill Plaschke noted that Los Angeles was America's greatest city. Most people would scoff at this, and although I'm not exactly defending that argument, I will fight for my current residence...well, I really don't live in LA, I actually live in South Bay, etc, etc

Why other cities suck #1:
Public transportation - have you ever taken the morning train, air conditioning not working, next to the smelly guy? And how do you exactly enjoy that music in your ears?

Why LA doesn't suck #1:
How great is driving? On your own, in control and you can blare and sing along to music all you want. Not that I sing, just sayin.

Why other cities suck #2:
Weather - in most places in the world, when you make plans, you always have to either plan something around the possibility of bad weather or hope it doesn't come about

Why LA doesn't suck #2:
Weather - in LA, you only have to worry about when the sun will come out and how much sunblock you need

Why other cities suck #3:
Corporate or hick - most other cities either are way too corporate or too hick. If you dress down too much in midtown Manhattan, you'll get laughed at. If you dress up too much in Seattle, you get laughed at.

Why LA doesn't suck #3:
Casual - whether you're some tattoed action sports athlete or Hollywood producer, you're probably hanging out at the same place, dressed all kinds of casual. The nicest restaurant will likely accept you wearing a form of jeans.

Why other cities suck #4:
Diversity - some cities, like Boston, are wholeheartedly white. Like, white white.

Why LA doesn't suck #4:
Diversity - if you're at a bar in LA, you'll easily see a white guy, black guy, Mexican, Asian, on and on. Even in NY, people are somewhat segregated. Plus, in LA, people are from everywhere, which naturally creates interesting conversation. Plus plus, have you seen the mixes of girls around here? I'm a taken man, but the diversity makes for attractive set of females.

Why other cities suck #5:
Sports - you have one set of teams, maybe in all four sports, and usually everyone follows the same teams

Why LA doesn't suck #5:
Diversity of sports - everyone is from everywhere, so you get a huge diversity of sports fans, both in types of sports and their teams. This makes for more interesting conversation.

Why other cities suck #6:
See what you get - with many cities, you know the cool places and can figure out the vibe of the city in one night out. There's nowhere to dig.

Why LA doesn't suck #6:
Underground scene - like from that scene in Swingers, all the cool places in LA aren't labeled and tend to stay that way for years. For instance, places like Silverlake and Echo Park were edgy popular four years ago and still are. And their cool is legit cool.

Why other cities suck #7:
Occupations - I don't know the exact statistics, but most cities probably hire a good deal of people in sales, real estate, accounting. "Hey Bill, nice to meet you. What do you do for a living? Oh, sales. Ahem."

Why LA doesn't suck #7:
Jobs - how many interesting people have you met in LA? My buddy's ex was the young girl at the beginning of Adams Family Values. My two friends were extras in Wedding Crashers. Hell, my job the past two weeks has been the X Games and U.S. Open of Surfing. How's sales in Louisville going?

Why other cities suck #8:
Parkways - one or two major parkways/highways to get you to where you're going. And when there's an accident or cop pulling somewhere over, there seems to be traffic, yes?

Why LA doesn't suck #8:
Freeways - there are like, four freeways that just go to Long Beach. Sure, the freeways are crowded and sort of a roll of the dice on safety, but they have up to six lanes, carpool ones at that and tons of entrances/exits. Plus, the side of the road is usually interesting or scenic.

Why other cities suck #9:
One dimensional - in Detroit or Minneapolis, you can only do so much. What are the other options, and again with the weather, how often an you do this? In the midwest, you can go to another city pretty much like it.

Why LA doesn't suck #9:
Options - living in LA, you can do the following without too much ahead planning: surf in the morning, ski in the afternoon, hike, bike, skydive, go to San Diego, go to Orange County, go to Mexico, go to San Francisco, go to Vegas (!). And that's a few things when one of the six major pro sports teams, concerts or events aren't going on.

Why other cities suck #10:
Airports, lack of - Even the biggest cities usually have a major airport and one less major. This makes for inconvenient drives and higher prices.

Why LA doesn't suck #10:
Airports, many - In the LA area, you have LAX, Orange County, Burbank, Long Beach (fantastic, btw), Ontario, Van Nuys. And these are probably only the ones Jet Blue goes to.

Why other cities suck #11:
Food - other areas have fantastic food, but it's usually a product of that part of the country or just plain reproduction of popular style. I'm talking about you, Applebees and Olive Garden.

Why LA doesn't suck #11:
Food, lots of it - I recently had many varieties of great Mexican food, one from a truck at night next to a strip mall. You can find good pizza if you look for it. There's great sushi if that's your thing, Thai, Vietnamese. And the burgers! Pink's hot dogs is overrated, but they still have a hot dog place called Pink's. Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles (which I've yet to try). And have I mentioned the Mexican? Oh yes, In n Out and Fatburger are wonderful, too.

Why other cities suck #12:
They have football - on a Sunday afternoon, there are two factions of people: one who goes to the game and the other who doesn't. They're segregated that way. Plus, the focus on one favorite detracts from the fun of watching everyone.

Why LA doesn't suck #12:
There's no football team - Sundays here, everyone is outside ether barbequeing or throwing the football around. Gives new meaning to the term Sunday Funday, especially if a big game is playing at a bar. And everyone's content enough with watching the big game of the week, not the one local team everyone lives and dies by.

Why other cities suck #13:
3 hours later - Baseball starts at 8, ends Lord knows when. Live events and shows start at 8, hopefully end at 11 for the news. New Years happens at midnight.

Why LA doesn't suck #13:
3 hours earler - Sunday Night Baseball ends at 8, allowing you to have a full Sunday night of TV. Those events and award shows are pre-taped, so you can guarantee they'll end at 11. New Years happens twice, one on east coast time and another on LA time. OK, this could be a coup for the entire west coast, which leads me to the last point of the night...

Why other cities suck #14:
Proximity to paradise - flying anywhere in South Pacific usually requires a stopover in LA. If you reside in Chicago, you'll have a nice three hour flight to LA, theeen a five-hour flight to Hawaii.

Why LA doesn't suck #14:
At paradise's door - you don't need that layover, you're already in LA! And this usually only applies to LA, since it's the central hub for South Pacific flights. From my own experience, even a flight to Australia is a tolerable 14-hour direct flight from LA.

That is all I have. Not meaning to disparage other cities, because I love aspects of most other bigger cities I've been to (except maybe Miami). I'm just making the case for LA, a place where it really doesn't get nice-nice until October. The summer is just nice. Go, Randy, go:

(Randy Newman's I Love LA video link should be here, but for some reason, YouTube is not working at this exact moment I'm trying to put a link to a video. But I'll put it here anyway, hoping it works for you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=le5aIqn_MfE)

We Have a Black President Now?? Cool

2010-06-21T14:19:00.008+10:00

All in all, it's the same country. Strip malls, reality shows, right side of the road, guns. It's great to be back. But there have been a few changes since I left in 2007:

There's some kid Justin Beiber melting adolescent hearts. Gross.

Billboards are now electronic. Eh.

My Wells Fargo ATM takes check deposits without envelopes. Cool.

I drive a Pruis and it's everywhere on the roads. Yes.

There's a different receptionist on 'The Office.' I'm down.

Another Karate Kid? I'm not sure I accept.

The Lakers are still champs. I'm fine with that.

Talk Soup and Tosh.O are popular. Umm, ok?

Indie 103.1 is no longer. I feel a void on the airwaves.

There's alot of these 'dispensary' places in LA. Seems about right.

California doesn't work on Fridays. Less cars on the road, nothing wrong with that.

Orange County added more strip malls. It's ok, they were desperately lacking.

Gas stations, supermarkets and NYC taxis now entertain me with tv when checking out, filling up and going for an eventful ride.

There's a new noun I never knew about called Yelp. In verb form it's Yelping.

We get oil spills that can't be cleaned up. Ugh.

Animal Crackers are now in a resealable bag, not the box with a string.

I think they've extended the carpool lane on the 405 all the way to the 10. About time.

Basketball morons now go on tv for an hour to decide where they're playing next. Pass.

What I'll Miss About Sydney

2010-04-26T10:12:00.008+10:00

As I go hopping off into the sunset, figured this list is inevitable. It goes without saying that I'll miss all the cool friends and interesting strangers, of course. However, these are things that don't really exist outside of the Harbour City.

Late Day Tamarama - cool cove beach, cooler when less people are there

Turkish Delight - angry owner, happy kebabs

NRL Fridays - those announcers get riled up when the guy is still 10 metres out. With the aforementioned Turkish Delight, it makes for good viewing.

333 bus - lightning quick, air conditioned, looks like an accordian and there's a fun circle ride in the middle when it turns

Mojos - tapas and sangria...bueno y delicioso

Dominoes Tuesdays - if you can get takeout for under $6 in this town, that's a DEAL

Sticky date pudding - this stuff is like crack on the dessert menu; we once went out of our way to order this takeaway from a sit-down restaurant

Spit to Manly - amazing views of the city, just as good kangaroo burger at the end.

Green/blue ocean water - it makes Oz look like some tropical South Pacific island. Oh wait, it is

Sport celebrations - these guys don't dance around like idiots when they score a try

Mom and pop shops - Wal Mart America hasn't taken hold of this place yet, which is refreshing.

Vaucluse - big houses and even bigger views of the city. Closest thing you'll get to a sunset in Sydney

Daily Telegraph - it's like the Daily News, except bigger and doesn't have the Yankees on the cover.

Coopers - the Sierra Nevada/Fat Tire of Oz, pale ale that you roll before opening.

Grand Finals - not as big as the Super Bowl, but the footy finals are near my bday and a sign that summer is around the corner.

Lost in Translation

2010-04-22T00:25:00.007+10:00

Since I'm moving back to Southern California from Oz, I've translated Aussie phrases I've learned into SoCal. For any others around the country, this may require yet another translation...

G'day mate
Cali: what's up dude
Everywhere else: hey there

Good on ya
Cali: nice
Everywhere else: splendid

Chockers
Cali: woah, that's alot
Everywhere else: a bunch

Sweet as
Cali: alllright
Everywhere else: quite good

Flat out/flat chat
Cali: super busy
Everywhere else: not available

16:20
Cali: 4:20 duuude!
Everywhere else: hey, happy hour

What's the go?
Cali: What's happening, bro?
Everywhere else: what are your plans?

Fully sick
Cali: cool
Everywhere else: cool

Pear shaped
Cali: bummer
Everywhere else: not going well

No worries
Cali: no worries
Everywhere else: it's ok

Tops
Cali: gnarly
Everywhere else: the best

Thongs
Cali: Rainbows
Everywhere else: sandals

On the piss
Cali: totally wasted
Everywhere else: inebriated

Taking the piss
Cali: busting balls
Everywhere else: just joking

Suss it out
Cali: chill, we'll get it
Everywhere else: let's figure this out

Capsicum
Cali: the hot veggies that go in my fajita, please
Everywhere else: the hot veggies that go in other, non-Meixican dishes

Heaps
Cali: loads, man
Everywhere else: bunches

Chalk and cheese
Incomplete, I still haven't figured this one out

Silly Sydney

2010-04-18T21:05:00.009+10:00

So about a month ago, I got a job offer back in America, which officially will end my time down under on May 18 and cease the Aussie Adventures for a good while. With a vacation to Thailand in between then, it only leaves me about three weeks to soak in the Harbour City and surroundings. A good part of that time will be catching-up with friends for the last time and tying up loose ends. Don't worry, I'll save time for a kebab or two before then.

Before I go, I wanted to share with those planning to come here some more aspects about Sydney (and all of Oz for that matter) that I find amusing. Maybe you will, too.

They really like their tank tops. They call them singlets here, and apparently it's warm enough to wear sleeveless shirts on a regular basis. I haven't rocked my guns too often, but invest in bright singlets if you're an apparel maker.

While you're at it, make jean shorts and white slipon shoes. Don't know where this fascination came from, but it's a pretty funny look these kids have adopted. Jorts are actually popular and not considered completely redneck. On a trip back to the states recently, my friend Meghan would not let her Aussie boyfriend Adrian roll to a SD Chargers game wearing jorts. Good call.

An all-boys school near my work has the most ridiculous uniforms. So they do the shorts, pulled up socks with shoes, ties and jackets as you would expect in Australia and England. If that's not enough to get your ass kicked, they have to constantly wear these barbershop looking brimmed hats at all times. I'm waiting for a group of them to break out into a rendition of 'Hello, My Baby' at any given moment.

For some reason, ATM cards (which they call EFTPOS) go in and out of the ATM reeeeaaalllyy sloooowly. But the money that comes out sure is colorful.

Have I mentioned how the phrase 'shrimp on the barbie' isn't appropriate since they calls them prawns? Americans must've come up with that one, along with Outback Steakhouse and Fosters.

London has 'mind the gap,' while Sydney-area trains has the less memorable 'doors closing, please stand clear.' But they do have a place called Wooli Creek.

Rice Krispies are called Rice Bubbles, Frosted Flakes are called Frosties, Cocoa Puffs are called Cocoa Pops (without the bird mascot) and Burger King is called Hungry Jacks. There are Woolworths, but it's a supermarket chain with limited cereal isles. Fear not, they have KFCs that actually sell a form of chicken.

One of their official public holidays involves a horse race on a Tuesday. While NSW doesn't get this day off like Victoria and ACT, most people leave at 1:00 for the race at 3, which pretty much revolves around champagne and drinking. Another holiday, which is coming up soon, honors war veterans by betting on dice games.

It's one of the cleaner cities I've come across, but you'd be hard-pressed to find a publicly provided garbage can. One time at a train station, I just had to give up and leave my garbage on the ground. Is it lttering if you genuinely try to throw it away but run out of options?

Bondi is less of a Sydney suburb than a United Nations of transplants from around the world. I'd say Italian, Irish and French win. Or maybe that's just the riff raff I run into at the Dominoes on Tuesday nights.

Sometimes the buses just don't show up for their scheduled stop. Does this happen in other cities? I don't know, have never been a consistent public transporter. Oh, and people love running for public transport. My favorite is when they don't make it.

They have shampoo and conditioner, but never combined the two. Maybe it's a national rule; both in one bottle just doesn't exist.

Brick rules the day. Every other building I come across is made out of brick, and most of those buildings are relatively ugly. Which in the end, kind of makes Sydney look like a sunny Great Britain.

My next g'day Oz post will translate phrases from Aussie to Californian....stay tuned.

Journey to Jervis Bay

2010-04-03T11:13:00.014+11:00

Note to self: go to Jervis Bay if you want some great beaches, white soft sand, good trampolining, easy living and warm weather. Don't go there if you want your college basketball team to advance in the NCAA tournament.

A crew of us and assorted dogs made the 2.5 hour trip to Jervis on the last weekend of long summer days. Before taking the road on Friday night, I was told the correct pronounciation is 'JARvis," even with the E. Sure, why not, can do the pirate voice with that one. The rented house provided all the amenities: cable tv to watch all March Madness we need, yard for the pooches and a walkway out the backyard right to the beach. Even my room, which was seperated from a couple by a glassed door, offered the sound of waves crashing from the window.

After a late arrival and some Lingere Football League on Friday, we got up early enough to go for a morning swim and watch a tough loss by the Buckeyes. Damn you, Tennessee, couldn't even take it to the next game. But the day was saved with a trip to Cave Beach, where we surfed, boogie boarded and cricket-ed to our hearts content. And the water so shallow, waves calm enough, didn't even need to paddle out...the best kind of surfing. These beach experiences, complete with the green/blue water is one of many things I'll miss about these parts.

You know what tastes delicious? Mexican food, prepared by Andy, with a few cold beers. You know what Earth Hour is? 60 minutes where we don't get light or music, 60 looong minutes. You know what's more interesting than regular Scattergories? Filthy, dirty Scattgergories. With this group, the game left emotional scars that we're not likely to recover from. Ryan's attempts at coming up with a match for the letter O was pure genius. Adrian's dirty excuse for missing school was just awesome.

Unfortunately for Ry, the next day we caught his UK Wildcats clanging threes (and free throws) while going down to West Virginia. After that debacle, another swim and beer, we eventually had to confront the dreaded Sunday drive home - it's never welcome, but with Riley in tow, road trips are entertaining.

As for this year's Final Four, it's an enigma, I suppose Duke are the favorites. JAAAARRRrvis has to be one of my favorites in the Aussie adventures.

Why Baseball is Better Than Cricket

2010-03-11T22:03:00.008+11:00

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of experiencing a live match of Australia's beloved summertime sport, cricket. Most people know the sport as going for days on end, but me, Rory and the Dans went to the Sydney Cricket Ground to check out a 20/20match, which meant that the contest between Australia and the West Indies would actually end that night. Being a dirty Yank that I am, there didn't seem something right about the sport, though, in comparison to its Amercan sister sport, baseball. Actually, ten things.

1. No tailgating. This really is an issue with all Australian sports. For a country that enjoys a good barbeque and beers, this seems like a given. They need to learn how to hang out and do both from the back of a car.

2. The uniforms. For the 20/20 matches, they look like the warmup gear for the Washington Generals, complete with sponsor logos instead of team insignias. For the test matches, they all-white with wear knit sweaters and old-style caps. None of these combos really looks cool.

3. There's only two bases. Along with a lot less activity than four bases, I immediately wondered: how do they determine how far you get with a girl? Yeah man, I gave her a wicket last night. Huuuhh??

4. The food. No Cracker Jacks, hot dogs, nachos, or even KFC, even though it was the team's main sponsor! The closest thing I came to a hot dog had the texture of a toy hot dog and was the color of fire engine red. After waiting for 15 minutes in one of the two concession stands, I opted for a meat pie and VB beer instead.

5. The format. Basically, cricket is kind of like baseball, except you watch one team have a 100 run inning, and then get to see if the other team can beat that. No back-and-forth like a good ballgame. When the West Indies only got 130 runs, you pretty much knew the Aussies were going to match it. I don't think the sport can ever really have a nail-biter bottom-of-the-ninth, two outs moment.

6. No home runs. Sure, they have something called a six, which is when the crowd cheers and the ball goes out of the park. But it's not that big of a deal when you're trying to get 150. Therefore, it's the equivalent of maybe a double. Again, no bases-loaded, edge of the seat moments.

7. What are they playing for? I'm still not sure what the whole summer's competition has been about. Against England, it's for somthing called the Ashes (and bragging rights). Maybe they're all playing for some free KFC.

9. No Wild Thing. It's a pretty cool moment when the reliever comes in to close out the deal in baseball. Think Eric Gagne circa 2003. That doesn't really happen in cricket, because the same few 'bowlers' are on the not-mound for the entire match.

10. You don't get to keep the ball. So when the guy hits six, fans have to throw it back. Not in the Wrigley Field style, but because they need the ball. So much for fan-friendly.

I could've mentioned that there's no 7th inning stretch, but don't want to pick on the sport. On a positive note, the Aussies did get past the 130 runs and whooped the Windies this summer. On to the Kiwis for another yet-to-determined title.

El Bueno, El Malo y El Feo

2010-02-28T15:36:00.006+11:00

Chinatown has lots to offer in the way of food, including chicken buns for under two bucks and four emperor's puffs for a dollar. (Chinese New Year bueno) I shouldn't tell them how tasty these are, or else they'll raise em to normal Sydney prices. (which are regularly malo)

On the way to Tropfest, an annual short film festival held in Sydney (bueno), the overcrowded buses forced me to hoof it up to Bondi Junction and take the very same buses, only emptied out. I got to Tropfest an hour and a half late. (malo)

From Central Station, they offered shuttle buses right to the cricket grounds for the Australia-West Indies 20/20 match (bueno). Oh, but you couldn't use your regular bus ticket, you had to buy a special return ticket, even if you weren't returning (nooo bueno).

There's a pedestrian walk on the Harbour Bridge into the city. Instead of taking the bus a few weeks back, I hoofed it across the bridge while it's still staying light until 7 (bueno, bueno).

Speaking of summertime hours, I've fallen into the habit of either running to, or running beforehand, and then going to the beach around 6 or 7. (so very bueno). Today, however, there was a tsunami warning after an earthquake in Chile. (obvious malo).

Foxtel (the cable service) has four new channels dedicated to Olympic coverage from Vancouver (a cool bueno), but even for long-time subscribers, they charge us for these channels (lame malo).

I recently noticed they sell Ben and Jerry's here now (bueno!). Oh, but it costs $12.50 for a self-sized carton (uhhh, seriously? malo).

The train to work is quicker and arrives more frequently, but it's pretty depressing and there are changes. The bus ticket is cheaper and no changes, but it takes longer and only arrives once every 20 minutes. (hmm, both bueno and malo).

I have a really cool girlfriend (bueno), who currently lives 17,000 miles away (muy malo).

I recently went bowling for friends' birthdays (bueno), but bowled by far the worst score of the group (feo). A group that included guys and girls.

Aussie, Ozzie, Ossie

2010-01-29T14:11:00.008+11:00

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

2010-01-28T14:58:00.005+11:00

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)

2010-01-16T11:51:00.006+11:00

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.

A Three-Hour Tour, a Three-Hour Tour

2009-12-06T12:40:00.005+11:00

OK, it was more like an eight-hour tour (was it really that long?), but a Saturday fishing trip inspired me to whistle the Gilligan's Island song. This trip was delayed about two months based on incelement weather and apparently the rest of Sydney's male population wanting some Australian sweep fish.

Sea sickness was on everyone's minds, since last time a few of our friends didn't have their sea legs and subsequently lost their sea lunches. But other than a bit of rocking and feeling like I was on a boat later in the night, the boat's bouncing was more ride than anyhing else. On the way through Sydney Harbour out to the mighty Pacific, a few of the rods showed a bend, which meant the fish were foolishly going for a bright and flashy bait that wasn't really bait at all. I was taking notes as some of the guys managed to fight these slimy fish into the boat.

This is where I'd like to make the comparison between fishing and wine tasting. Throwing back the fish after a hard-working catch is kind of like spitting out the wine after a taste. What a waste, enjoy your newly caught fish and wine, Jesus would.

When we got out into the ocean, that's when we set up shop by our 'rods,' stationary lines with the bait hooks. Something they don't tell prior to fishing is two of the more challenging things (at least on this boat) are hooking your bait and not getting your line tangled with the guy next to you. But basically, the rest of the time is waiting and reeling. Waiting....and reeling. Then moving the boat to a different spot with apparently more fish, and more waiting and reeling. Oh, and getting your hands to smell like fish the rest of the day while putting prawns, mini fish and squid on the hooks. I was shocked I didn't prick myself with the hook during one of these bait sessions.

But there was good music on the boat, sort of. I got 'Working for the Weekend' by Loverboy caught in my head, presumably thinking of the classic Chris Farley Chippendales SNL skit.

Fishing also reminded me of another nautical pasttime, sailing. They're both alot of prep work, with all the lines, bait, reels, sails, hooks and said hooks getting caught on the ocean floor. But for the times that a fish actually nibbles on our line and you come up with a salmon, pigfish or kingfish, it's pretty cool. Otherwise, beer may be required.

Despite the waiting, reeling and sun burning, all in all, good experience. Got a rare view of the coast, saw some pretty cool catches (with fish flapping around, of course) and saw old man Hal gut and scale about 30 fish on the way home. Ohh, that's what they mean by that...

During our day on the ocean (which wasn't really that far, we could see Bondi the whole time), I also caught one fish, my first ever: it's called a sweep and it was delicious.

This is neither me catching a fish, nor any of our group. Hell, this is actually fly fishing. But Rory's pics are forthcoming and this shows Sydney Harbour, so close enough!

Best Commute in the World?

2009-11-29T14:32:00.003+11:00

Many of us go through the daily commute to work: fighting through crowds and traffic, trying to wake up and prepping for what the day ahead holds. I do miss my car, but the Sydney work commute has been an adventure. First, it was the 333 and 380 bus fun. Since moving our office to North Sydney a few months ago, I've now had the pleasure of taking Sydney's trains and getting squished next to school kids and office workers from Bondi Junction to Town Hall and North Sydney stations.

A few weeks after arriving and taking the train across the Sydney Harbour Bridge, I predicted that this has to be the best commute anyone can enjoy, anywhere in the world. Tourists pay thousands just to see the Opera House and harbour, where I pay just $28 a week for ten trips over one of the most iconic settings on the globe.

However, this might be a little overrated, since I usually have my head in a book or too blocked by the packed train car to see anything more than traffic and bridge beams. But a good view of the water and top of the Opera House 'shells' reminds me of the scenic city I reside and work in. One strange aspect of heading back into Sydney is that while the train is going south, the traffic is driving north making passengers feel like we're going back in time or the wrong way down a one-way street.

Whether you work or visit Sydney, I'd suggest you grab a train over to Milson's Point or North Sydney for the journey and see what it's like every day on my way to the office. And after the train, another bonus is a good glimpse of the bridge going down the hill to McMahon's Point.

Koo Wee Rup

2009-11-19T22:26:00.012+11:00

After the traditional trip to the Opera Bar, hiking the Bondi to Bronte cliffwalk, ferry to Manly, picnic at Ryan and Andy's and Japanese fish dinner, the next stop on mom and Aunt Eileen's Aussie Adventures took us south to Melbourne. OK, well, they ventured up to Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef, but this was MY next stop on their tour.

It was Friday the 13th, so I was expecting bad things to happen somewhere in the vicinity of the airport. Nothing drastic, but maybe sitting next to a fat guy or a delayed flight. The closest things I could decipher is the inability to catch a stand-by flight, sitting next to a fat guy and not having any money for the one shuttle bus into Melbourne. But good luck prevailed, as the kindly skydiving instructor Chris fronted me the $20 for my ride. Yes, my life is at a point where I need the help of skydiving instructors to pay for my shuttle bus because I don't know my Wells Fargo pin.

Finally getting into Melbourne around 11pm and grabbing a quick dinner, I snoozed away on my rollaway cot in room 121 of the Rendevous. Three things struck me from the Melbourne city tour the next morning: the guide spoke way too softly for 8am, Melbourne has a gaggle of sports venues and Captain Cook grew up in a house the size of an outhouse. Oh, and Yarra means 'everflowing' in Aboriginal. Why do we end up tired after just sitting in a bus most of the morn? Well, we needed our rest for a trip to Phillip Island and the Penguin Parade.

In short, the penguin tour took us two hours (in part through a town with one of my fave Aussie names, Koo Wee Rup) to Phillip Island, a scenic spot that's host to what else: an F1 and Moto GP racetrack. At sundown every night, hundreds of little penguins leave their daytime home in the ocean to head home to their burrows. On the marathon trip, I was wondering what all the fuss was about hanging out in the cold to watch penguins walking around...until I saw the little guys waddling out of the Pacific in droves, at exactly the time they promised. We even got something called the 'penguin premier' tickets, which was like box seats for the show. It was pretty cool to see these identical black and white birds rush out of the water and take to the penguin highway, coming home from work. There was even a Wallaby sighting to complete the night of nature.

They forbid us to take pictures, so here's a generic shot of the parade:

Sunday was looking like a hot one, so I made it over to the Australian Centre for the Museum Image to check out a exhibit of Dennis Hopper's films, photos and art collection. All I can say is the dude had it together, and still rolling along strong at 76. After Easy Rider, Colors and Andy Warhol paintings, I met up with friends Nirali and Martin right in the middle of a Polish festival. Seemed like a perfect time to grab a polish sausage for lunch.

Later on, mom, Aunt E and I cruised down Lygon Street, which seemed to have as many Italian restaurants as Phillip Island has penguins. We decided on the one that offered free wine and garlic bread, better deal than any others. Although it was 12 days after mom's birthday, I arranged the whole 'make a big deal' birthday dessert thing, and sure enough, they brought out tiramisu with the entire restaurant singing happy bday.

Back to the Rendevous for a whopping four hours of sleep before saying g'day to mom and Aunt Eileen (they were headed for a week in NZ) and a 6am flight, then straight to work on Monday. This time I had the $20 for the shuttle bus.

Oh, and Tiger won the golf tourney, which took over the country's attention for a week. Speaking of blue blood sports, thinking of heading back down to Victoria for the Australian Open in January. Maybe I'll run into Andy Roddick at one of the alleyway bars.

Is There an Old Zealand?

2009-11-05T21:34:00.010+11:00

Every time you apply for a new Visa, they make you leave the country. In April, it was Bali. To get my 457 last weekend, I made the quicker trip across the Tasman Sea to New Zealand. This would only be for a weekend, but I was determined to at least see a little more of Australia's little brother.

Don't follow the pushpins, just notice Auckland at the top of the north island

Before I get to the actual city, I have to make note of the concept that is Duty Free. You have to walk through this place to get into, or out of the gates. What is it exactly? I see, booze, cigarettes, purfume and electronics. I feel like Duty Free is what maybe purgaory is like. Sure, there's no tax, but now you're left with a bottle of Jack and another Ipod that smells like Chanel No 5. Yo digresso.

Auckland is New Zealand's biggest city, and from what I've heard, it's least attractive. But I've always been open to make my own opinions about these things. After arriving at the Base Backpackers, I took care of business and promptly applied for the visa. By this time, it was about 2am and people were still hanging out and milling around the hostel's lobby. Why are you still up?? Go to bed, people! It's at this point I officially realized I'm too old to stay at these places anymore. Luckily, I was checking into the Hyatt on Saturday.

One side note about Auckland: they have Dunkin Donuts, Wendy's AND a Denny's. This place went up about five notches just for that. I only ate a Dunkin Donuts, but damn, those glazed and Halloween Boston Creme donuts went dwn well with a coffee coolatta thing.

For nothing else, Auckland is worth a visit for the trip to, and experience on Waiheke Island. It's a Maori word, probably meaning 'the good wine' or something. A ferry ride over is about 30 mins and gives you a good vantage point of the city and it's surrounding areas. Auckland city is ok, but its harbor and local islands are much more impressive. When arriving on Waiheke, you have the option of a bus or hoofing it by foot. No question here, since it was a sunny 25 degree day.

A view of Waiheke from my private plane. No, my camera just wouldn't work.

After a recent day of wine tasting in Hunter Valley, became accustomed to the process of running through the wine list while some expert tried to explain how the next pinot should provide a 'stonefruit, forest floor' flavor. Duuude, it tastes like wine. OK, fine, they're all different, but my pallete is just taking in the alcohol. Since the third vinyard of the day (Jurassic Ridge...not to be confused with the dinosaur movie) offered free tastings, which was being done by the owner and winemaker....AND had bread with olive oil, I felt he deserved $29 of my hard-earned money. Since you can't bring back more than 100ml in carryon luggage, that meant I'd have to polish off my bottle of Jurassic Ridge Syrah (it's what the Kiwis called Shiraz, don't ask) that night. Woe is me.

Waiheke really is a nice island, especially when the wind isn't howling and it's clear, when you can see blue/green water and cool little islands in the distance. After about four hours of wine and walking, it was time to hop the ferry back to the mainland. That meant back to my hotel(!), the comfortable, quiet and classy Hyatt Auckland. For some twisted reason, I love hotels, even moreso after a night in a windowless room of Base Backpackers. That place felt like I was back in Stradley Hall at Ohio State.

I found a takeaway pizza place and picked up a calzone to share with my bottle of red and proceeded to spend the rest of Halloween in the room watching The Shining, All Blacks vs Wallabies, Frost/Nixon and Red Hot Chili Peppers videos. I'll think of something they all have in common, give me a minute.

On Sunday, I was up early enough where I could take another wander around Auckland in the daylight and make another venture to Dunkin Donuts. Seriously Sydney, I like that you're not full of chain restaurants, but get with the program here. I'd love some Munchkins! Made my way to a place called Sky Tower, where they offer something between a skydive and bungy jump off the tower. Seemed pretty cool, but pricey. Sky Tower has Sky City Casino, which is probably a healthier version than, say, hundreds of casinos that Vegas offers. I really just wanted to see some college fooball at the sports book, but yet another thing they don't have outside America.

I'd have to give Auckland a solid 7.5 out of 10. The city itself had some nice parts, good parks and a fine, fine Hyatt. Waiheke was worth the visit and the wine yet again flowed like fine itself. Really, though, I'll just be happy when the visa comes through. Processing, processing...

Where the Wild Things Are

2009-10-25T11:46:00.015+11:00

This is an adventure where the phrase 'we're not out of the woods yet' applies perfectly. Growing up in the suburbs of Connecticut, I wouldn't exactly call myself a City Slicker, but yesterday's experience made me realize I'm not exactly an outdoorsman either.

For a few months, I've wanted to make a short trip down south to hike through Royal National Park. Saturday turned out to be a 25 degree (warm) day, so I decided to hop the train for Wollongong way. The express train dropped me out at Waterfall, what would be a fitting stop for this journey. My first hike took me to a place called Uloda Falls, which I suppose was a scenic spot about 5k from Waterfall station. From here, I decided to swap out my Rainbow sandals for trusty adidas snakers, which have served me well since 2001. This turned out to be one of my few good moves of the day, since a new path was uphill and rocky enough to warrant worn-out running sneakers. After reaching the peak of a scenic location, I decided to turn back and head for the waterall. But, um, where did the path go?? Oh, there it is...no, wait, that's just a bunch of rocks. Uh oh.

Royal National Park:

Just a few months back, an English backpacker got lost in the wilderness of the Blue Mountains, then he was miraculously rescued. Now, those thoughts crept into my head. Am I the next transplant to make headlines and do A Current Affair inteview about my ordeal in the woods? OK, maybe not that dire since I could still hear motorycles off in the distance. But where the hell was I? And am I stepping on a poisonous snake with every step? I was still getting mobile reception, which I suppose was a good sign, in case I needed to dial for 'directions.' Hi, Mr. Park Ranger...I'm lost...I see rocks, trees and more trees...where am I?

Then of course there's that moment of elation: I've found a path! Where it's going, I don't care. But after about 10 minutes, the path dissolves into more forest. Where'd it go? Is this another Blair Witch Project? When do I start yelling for someone??

OK, time to dig into my bag of outdoor tricks. What have I learned from Bear Grylls and Man v Wild? Has Crocodile Dundee taught me anything? Yes, as a matter of fact, they have. When you find a lake or stream, follow it back to civilization. And watch where the sun is setting, it will take you west (where my train was probably patiently waiting). I was starting to get pretty thirsty, and that's when I found Banana Hammock and his wife.

Mr. Banana Hammock was a proper Aussie bloke, in his Greg Norman-meets-Mick-Dundee hat. His leathery skin resembled a topless Iggy Pop. And yes, the revealing Speedo was a little distracting. But alas, other humans! I'm saved...sort of. They directed me along the stream, per Bear Grylls, back to me home base at Waterfall station. I even managed to snag a bottle of water from the couple, my guardian angels in the wilderness. The walk along, next to and through the stream lasted for another hour and half. Still walking around trees, still probably avoiding snakes, still acquiring whatever rash these plants have to offer. In these situations, one always has a random song in their head to keep them truly insane. Randomly as always, mine was 'Up, Up and Away' by the 5th Dimension. If only I had a balloon that could take me out of there.

Finally, FINALLY I came upon the closest thing that resembled a path and heard the sweet sounds of 21st century civilization. Trains, motorcycles and other transport weren't too far off, and they sounded so sweet. Of course I had stumbled back out at the exact spot I started my day: Waterfall train station. How do these things work out so well?? As for my next blogger plug, I downed two bottles of Powerade and bag of M&Ms as my 'lunch' while boarding the train back to Sydney.

There were a few casualties of this four hour tour, including one of my Rainbow sandals, big rip in my jeans and water bottle from Banana Hammock's wife.

Following my experience, I offer these tips if you decide to hike in the wilderness of New South Wales:

- Bring multiple bottles of water (duh)
- Bring sunblock (duh)
- Bring a map (duh duh)
- Don't listen to your Ipod before getting lost
- Don't hike alone(duuuuh)

Today, I've decided to sit in the comfort of my home and watch college fooball. USC is winning.

'I'm So Going to Visit While You're Down There..."

2009-10-17T11:46:00.004+11:00

I heard this quite a bit upon leaving the US two years ago. Friends, family, acquaintences were all making plans to jump on a flight to Sydney and enjoy a free place to stay. Even heard it when I was well-established here. Well, two years and a recession later, the visitors are in short supply. I know, I know....heard all the excuses so far: I'm waiting for the economy to get better, can't get work off, I'm drying my hair, it's baseball playoff season.

Well, those of you saving up to get married, this is a great place to get hitched. Anyone with babies? What's a better place to wake up at 4am?! As for that little financial difficulty stateside, well, your dollar goes really far here! On the US dollar, you could live like a king on kebabs and meat pies all week. Plus, flights within the country are pretty cheap, so you can be chilling Harbourside one day and sitting in a hammock with hippies in Byron the next, all for about $60.

I was fortunate enough to have a few friends this summer/winter, including a repeat visitor, someone who enjoys tropical North Queensland and both strawberries and fields. Then just heard that mom and Aunt Eileen are coming for a few weeks in November. That's the spirit!

But for all you Yanks waiting for the special moment when Qantas offers $250 return flights to Sydney, just know that your fellow adventurer Kev won't be down here forever. And then you'll be left to visiting Sydney without knowing the right kind of beer to drink, how to avoid getting hit by the buses and the easiest way to calculate the time difference.

In my first ever blogger plug, check out the great fares at http://www.vaustralia.com.au/. I heard this airline rules, hot meals and flight attendants.

9:07 is Now 10:07

2009-10-05T22:40:00.009+11:00

Labor Day long weekend was also bday weekend. These are the little things that make four days pretty damn cool.

Friday: had birthday drinks with friends till I started to hiccup. I'm ok with my new age, an athlete's still in his prime, it's technically considered young and if in a band, I'd be entering my better, more mature phase. After Beauchamp, took the bus home while having my 1am dinner, a Reece's Peanut Butter Cup and Red Bull. No, I am not too old for this lifestyle.

Saturday: chatted with this cool girl Trinh for awhile, then got Turkish Delight and watched finish of Semi Pro and fave concert movie, Monterey Pop. Pretty much the script of how I wanted to spend a rainy/windy bday. At some point after going to sleep, time then went forward for daylight savings. It's like the Santa Claus of time came along and gave us an extra hour of sunlight. Leaving work in daylight hours is extremely underrated, and I will enjoy that for the next six months.

Grand Final Sunday: started as college football Saturday. Buckeyes won. Traded some good texts and made my way to the famous Golden Sheaf in Double Bay. Got Double Bay mixed up with Rose Bay and walked 30 min out of the way. While doing so, found $25 in the street. Somebody's getting both a train AND bus ticket this week. After pulling away from friends, walked back home and consumed more Turkish Delight. That place is like crack.

Monday: for the first time in forever, enjoyed a full football Sunday today, watched with fellow Yank, Tim. Giants won and Al Michaels is still announcing, both positive. More chatting after, followed by walking in the rain. Borders closed early, but just allowed me to come home and watch the season finale of Entourage. Did I not call that E was putting all his eggs in the Sloan basket?? Ari's entrance to the agency was classic.

And what's better than a long weekend is a short following week. And what's even better, baseball playoffs start this week, with an one-gamer tomorrow. Honestly, I don't ask for much.

Two Step

2009-09-15T15:27:00.002+10:00

Today marks two years since I first set flip flopped feet in Australia. Way back then, George Bush was still screwing stuff up, Michael Vick was just going to jail and I didn't know NRL from Union. Fortunately, during that time, I've learned a few things about this place they call Oz. A digression of course, but whenever I hear that phrase, I don't think of Dorothy, but transcendent shortstop Ozzie Smith. The guy did backflips to go to his position. Why don't we have baseball players like that anymore??

OK, here are 24 things you may not know about Australia unless you move here. Why 24? Because I first thought of 20 and then kept thinking about funny things in this country.

The architecture is all over the place.

People really do say 'Gday' and 'no worries.'

Living north of the city isn't considered cool.

Contrary to popular belief, they don't really like Americans.

The weather isn't perfect.

Aboriginals are treated like a mix between American Indians and blacks. Yikes.

The country feels like America in 1964. That's a good thing.

These people know how to vacation. Or rather, holiday.

If you're not from Victoria, you don't tend to follow Aussie rules football.

The music scene is not good.

When not in maintenance, the Sydney train system is efficient.

Their politicians aren't dumb enough to be interesting.

They have an aversion to men's personal hygiene products.

They're not as sport crazy as advertised.

Queensland gets a bad rep.

Wine is a much better deal than beer.

Even if you're not a resident, you still need to file as resident 'for tax purposes.' Oh, of course.

People trust one another.

They feel better than New Zealand, but secretly know it's pretty cool over there.

Their newspapers are huge.

Rugby players don't really argue with refs, even after horrible calls.

They really like dogs.

They use the live auction format to sell a house.

They make a mean milkshake.

I can't imagine more valuable lessons than those. Oh, and when you get here and first meet people, don't be dissapointed if they think you're a Canadian.

Queen's Holiday

2009-08-30T12:02:00.027+10:00

There is already a well-written detailed summary of the very same holiday in the blogosphere (cough, cough, Strawberry Fields), but here's my own two sense. Since last year, Trinh and I discovered tropical north Queensland in the form of Port Douglas, we decided to move a little south, in the vicinity of Brisbane. First stop, the iconicly granola Byron Bay.

Arriving in Byron was a bit of deja vu from Greyhounding it with Huw about a year and half earlier. Less Cheeky Monkeys and more Arts Factory this time. The weather was pretty much the same as in Sydney, but we put summer into our heads and so while the sun was shining, it was summertime. We rented bikes and surfboards, went to movies on cowprint pillows and saw some wicked sand sculptures. Trinh, not used to hippiedom in Australia, kept asking, 'who ARE theese people??' The Arts Factory was freezing, but we managed to get decent sleep in our concrete cube.

The start of many shuttle buses took us from Byron to Gold Coast, which seems like a gross version of Florida. And if you know my take on Florida.... We mainly headed up to this tourist trap (which was completely void of tourists) for the sole reason anyone comes to America: giant water parks and roller coasters. Thank you, Ricky Bobby. Since I haven't been to neither a water or amusement park in a good nine years or so, figured this would be the perfect time to see what's new. Ok, well, in Australia, not much. But some new rides for me, incluing a few that make you feel like you're in a kitchen appliance. The octopus was pretty sweet, where you can race against the other three people that are in the park.

From Gold Coast, we hit up the good ole Greyhound for some happy public transportation fun. Six hours later, and two subpar movies that kept me entertained, we landed in Rainbow Beach, pickup point for our Fraser Island tour the following few days. Rainbow is a nice little town, which I'm sure is run by our girl Debbie, a hotel/B&B owner who knows every Tom, Dick and Harry in town. She's always on the go, and always accompanied by her trusty furball of a dog, Suzie. Along with sandblows, an amazing sunset and multi-colored sandy beaches, Rainbow gave us our own kitchens and bathrooms. Amazing what four days of hostels can make you appreciate.

The experience on Fraser was fun, entertaining, bizarre, annoying, funny, tasteless, awkward, uncomfortable, fascinating, a bit scary, tasty and quite bumpy. And that was just in the tour bus. We've decided that 40 people is a wee bit big for our tastes, but that didn't stop us from enjoying Lake Mackenzie and Lake Wobby, two of the more scenic lakes you'll be freezing in. Tony and Wazza were engergetic and informed tour guides, but don't break Tony's rules: he reminds me of a roadie for AC/DC and his gruff demeanor really comes out when Frenchies do dumb things like not understand his rules. We got a 6am sunrise and hung out with dingoes, which are really mild mannered mangy dogs, or at least the docile ones we came across.

After a stay in Rainbow again with Debbie and Suzie, our magical mystery tour brought us to Noosa. It was fitting to bookend the trip with Byron and Noosa. Whereas the flavor of Byron is incense, surfing, organic eggs and hippie buses, Noosa is more weddings, bottles of wine, white pants and well-behaved youngsters. Noosa even had the nicest Internet cafe I'm sure to come across. We ate expensive, kayaked without tipping over, saw another great sunset and even laid claim to our own private island. In short, we classed it up. While the Gold Coast was rife with nothingness and closed stores, Noosa was bustling until 10pm (laaate by Aussie standards). Fraser was teeming with tourists, but Noosa seems to be mostly an Aussie getaway.

One would think the discoveries of Queensland may be concluded, but there's more to be seen in wonderful tropical North Queensland. Next stop? After visting our pad in Rainbow, my vote is the Whitsundays. Stay tuned.

Wines, Wines, Everywhere There's Wines

2009-08-01T12:35:00.021+10:00

After more than a year and a half of hearing about this magical place called Hunter Valley, where the wine is plentiful and the women...ok, well, it's just wine. I've been told by locals and tourists alike that Hunter Valley is a great place to enjoy the countryside of New South Wales while enjoying a glass of chardonnay (sp?). Although I'm a big fan of wine, this doesn't seem like my carafe of pinot grigios. But since we have some fellow Yanks in town for the summer, others new to Oz and one leaving, this seemed like an appropriate time to jump in the car for wine country.

A sunny Sunday afternoon seemed like the appropriate time and place for the road trip. We made sober Greg drive, although someone driving after a few drinks might be easier than asking an American to jump in a car on the opposite side, driving on the other side of the road. Let me just state that Greg did a fantastic job weaving through the roads of NW New South Wales, carrying four increasingly alcohol-fueled individuals.

The process of wine tasting and wine appreication has always seemed strange to me. I didn't really 'get' Sideways and don't know why on earth someone would drink a perfectly good drink, then spit it out. I was the guy at each vinyard that would ask the remedial questions, like some third grader on a field trip:

So are you into wine like other people are into music? Like, it's an art or something?

What was the best year or time for wine? Like, the 60s were vintage for music, 50s were great for baseball.

Hey Gary, you know it's the 40th anniversary of the moon landing this week? Where were you on July 20, 1969?

All responded with something like, 'that's a great question,' but they probably just meant to say, 'ugh, another American moron who just wants to get drunk.' I'm not sure I learned alot about the process of wine making or could even decipher the difference between Tower Estate white and Pigg's Peak shiraz. When it comes own to it, it's wine and some tastes better than others. Good on these kids for making an efort, but it's like pizza in NY: it's all going to taste good to me, so serve it up.

Each of the vineyards we hit up had their own unique personality, and in some ways, that made the wine taste better. The first joint was pretty empty and had a surly lady forcing each glass on us like a drill sargeant doling out pushups. She's lucky that was our first taste of the day and we were just thirsty for anything (and Jaime had to go to the bathroom, so this place was most convenient).

As an aside, I thought the samples they offered would be a bit bigger in each glass. What, we don't get a full glass each time? Oh, the naive wine tatser. Second stop was Tower, which had a good vibe, good servers and a house that looked like we were in Arizona. Check, check and check. After a fanstastic kobe Bryant burger and bottle of red, we went to some monstrosity of a building that looked more like a rest stop equivalent of wine country that a small little vinyard. Wine was fine, but the gelato next door was finer.

Our last stop of the afternoon was Pigg's Peake. This will be most memorable not only for its name (and how can't you love that?), but the owners, Gary and Steve. These guys ruled, and served us past closing time. To Greg's amusement, Steve was wearing a echnicolor dream coat and fixed an old wine barrel outside, while three of us took cues from Gary and drank/ate like the boozehounds we were. We swore each of the guys took a liking to Jaime, probably because she bought about five bottles and promised to come back before she left Australia for good.

After bidding Gary and Steve adeiu in the Sunday darkness, we cracked open a bottle of white and passed around the car like hippies at Woodsock. What didn I learn from the Hunter Sunday? Australian wines can hold their own with any in the world, Trinh likes desert wine (and so does her mom), Laura is a frequent visitor to Napa, and that seems about right, Jaime is a complete wino, but knows her stuff and Greg digs ginger beer and is a quick learner behind the wheel.

No matter that the purchased bottles were rolling around the trunk on the way home, it seems like a fitting part of the Hunter experience.

Hot Hot Heat

2009-07-14T22:44:00.002+10:00

This is an uncharacteristically short entry, but since we're in the middle of winter (which isn't really much of a winter by normal standards), figured I bring this up. Why isn't there heat anywhere in this country?? It's colder in my house and office than outside. Insulation and thermostats are unknown in Oz. Maybe they just got used to being in the cold prisons from back in the day?

We decided on a road trip up to Brisbane for next month. Hoping this will be a fool-proof way to get around the winter chill for a week.

Potent Potables

2009-07-05T22:45:00.010+10:00

Yesterday's 4th of July celebrations had us searching for the great American contribution of Budweiser. Although Aussies see the King of Beers as "cat piss," they humor us by offering Bud in six packs for the low price of $15. We were shocked and appalled that this was not the case on the nation's bday, and our home country beer was not on the shelves. Luckily, I had learned to live without our watered-down barley and hopps concoctions. Most of it is pretty tasty here and contains more alcohol...win-win, right? Except they sometimes call it "grog," not the most poetic of phrases. Have a seat at the bar, grab a middie or stuby and let's get pissed.

Carlton: I think of this as their Budweiser. Middle of the road beer, generally consumed by everyone and readily available at most pubs. When in doubt, go Carlton.

Tooheys: Maybe the poor man's Carlton, or Pepsi to Carlton as Coke. No complaints with Tooheys, Tooheys New or an of its brethren.

VB: From Victoria, you'd probably get laughed at a bit for bringing this to a party. Let's just say it has a "bogan," or white trash reputation. Not sure if it's the geography of its origin or its little stubbie bottle shape, but I'll go ahead and compare this to PBR. Having a VB (Victoria Bitter) usually garners a laugh.

Coopers: This is my go-to beer. They have pale ale and something sparkling, but I'll always go for the pale ale. It tastes pretty legit, has decent alcohol content and good green label. You even have to do a cool trick before opening: since there's sediment at the bottom of the bottle, you have to roll it back and forth a few times to break things up. In the U.S., this would be Sierra Nevada or Fat Tire.

Pure Blonde: This fairly new low-carb beer with the not-so-manly name is good if you're looking for a beer without the full potential for a beer gut. No complaints for this one, other than a small loss of masculinity when holding it at a bar and they've been showing the same midly humorous ad for more than a year straight. Comparison? Maybe one of those low carb beers by Miller or Coors.

Hahn: I can't recall much about this brand, other than they have an offshoot called Hahn Super Dry. I'll go with Michelob as comparison on this.

Boags, James Boags, James Squire, Blue Tongue, Little Creatures: these all seem to fit the same category as semi micro brew beers that are defintely worth a try, and maybe I should go for the variety pack somtime soon.

There are others, but appreantly not trying enough to catch my attention. It really is a good mix of full taste but not a full-course meal like English beers and bitter taste of Eastern European brands. Of course you can also get your hands on the likes of Carona, Heineken, Stella, Peroni, etc. but might as well go local on this one.

As PR representative of a foundation aimed at curbing alcohol consumption in Australia, I urge any visitors to take it easy "on the piss" and make sure you don't order a Fosters! (don't worry, you can't find it anywhere here)

Pass the Kangaroo

2009-06-16T21:47:00.017+10:00

It was bound to happen, so now here's the post where I review the culinary delights of Australia. For anyone that knows me, my diet usually consists of mac and cheese and cereal, but a little known secret is that I enjoy eating anything under the sun/moon.

To the world at-large, Australia isn't neccessarily known for its food, although I would imagine Aussie fish has a good reputation (the closest thing I've eaten to fish has probably been sushi, so can't comment too much in that department).

Before getting into specific food that's unique to Australia, let me reinforce the "same same, but different" principle again. They have McDonalds, they have Burger King (although it's called Hungry Jacks for some reason), they have Pizza Hut and Dominoes (although a large is bite-sized) and pretty much anything else a spoiled American can ask for. Yes, even Kraft mac and cheese...bonus! What I'll do is rundown a few of the foods that I've either come across for the first time here, or what may be unexpectedly popular.

Kangaroo:

Now I know what you're thinking: oh, that poor little cute kangaroo, how could you eat that? Well, if they didn't make em so damn delicious...'roo is a great dish when cooked right. Think a really tender mix between steak and rib meat or something. Had it a few times so far (even in a burger form) and I'll eat the pouch for dessert if it's available.

Meat pie/sausage rolls:

Along with the kangaroo, this is probably the closest thing we can claim as "Australian food," even though it's really not. I mentioned in the previous post about having pies in the northern beaches, and they really are fantastic. What I didn't mention is they're pretty much what we refer to in the states as a chicken pot pie. Crusty pie, meat/chicken and maybe some veggies inside. But hey, if done right...golden. And there definitely are some places that really get these right. The fast food version for pies is a place fittingly called Pie Face, which also provides sausage rolls, which is a sausage wrapped up in that same flaky crust. A visit to Pie Face in King's Cross at 2am is pie heaven.

Crocodile:

I don't think this is a common dish and I'm not even sure I can claim I've eaten this, but I had crocodile ravioli in Port Douglas last year. It was good, I ate croc.

Kebabs:

I've especially been a kebab fan since moving a stone's throw away from a place called Turkish Delight. Us Americans think of kebabs as shish kebabs, the multiple meat and peppers on a stick meal at BBQs. These kebabs
(pronounced ke-BABBS), are more like gyros at Greek takeout places. My fave is the lamb kebab with sweet chili sauce. It's Turkish and it's a delight.

Thai:

Of course this isn't Australian food, per se, but it's like Chinese food in America: we've pretty much adopted it as our own. Walk down any street in Sydney (even Chinatown) and you're bound to find a Thai restaurant of some sort. You know the drill...pad Thai, curry chicken, curry puffs. It's to Thai for. Wow, I went there and back.

Indian:

Another "foreign" food, but with the influence of the Brits (you know, their wardens that they still bow to), the scent of Indian curry isn't too far off. You just don't see too much of it in the U.S., but they really should pop up more often. I go for it all: beef vindaloo, butter chicken, rogan josh. A really good place in the city is called the Clove on Riley Street. Some red wine and curry may equal the Marrakesh Express to the bathroom for some, but fill me up with seconds.

Banana bread:

We've gotten into breakfast/dessert territory here, but you really can't visit a cafe that doesn't offer some form of good ole bb. Me like toasted with butter, straight up. Throw in some oj, we're set.

Coffee:

I'm not a regular coffee drinker, but was a bit suprised to see how popular coffee was, at least in Sydney. I'm also told that it's made very well, and makes sense since those baristas look like they're working hard. If I do spring for some joe, I'll go for a cappuchino. Belisima.

This might require a few sequels of the food post, but that's what springs to mind so far. It's 10:30 at night, and I'm getting a little hungry for some banana bread and Turkish Delight....next up, the grog (translation to come).

Northern Exposure

2009-05-24T12:27:00.004+10:00

At the insistence of my stateside friends John and Misha, and my own curiosities, I spent the day heading up to Sydney's northern beaches. Although I had been up to Palm Beach for friends' wedding in October and frequented the aforementioned Manly a number of times, I wanted to explore some of the area between Manly and Palm Beach. Oh, and to sample a famous pie shop that John recommended.

My goal was to check out the beaches, grab lunch at the Upper Crust and maybe make it all the way "home" to Newport Beach. Now the bus ride is supposed to take me as far as Bondi Junction, but managed to get the ticket all the way to Dee Why, about 20 minutes north of Sydney CBD. Without a map, I was going to make my travels based on memory from looking at a map the night before. I knew that if I hugged the coast and stayed near Pittwater Road (the main highway/road that reminded me of the Mets' farm team, Pittsfield), I couldn't get too lost. In short, as long as the Pacific was by my side, I knew where I was. Soon after getting dropped off and discovering Dee Why's beach, I realized I was stuck in a reserve area, which seemed duly reserved for middle school kids, who were on some sort of science field trip this day. This made me think how miserably I'd fail science and biology still to this day...

The reserve provided another set of scenic views of the northern beaches and surrounding cliffs. While I'm not a huge fan of Sydney's beaches in comparison to others I've graced, the cliffs and hills above provide some of the best viewpoints this side of California.

The reserve area was a nice long-cut, got to have a full vantage point of the area and do some additional hiking in my Ballibong flip flops. As I headed back towards civilization, was really hoping I would find Pittwater Road since your intrpid traveler was getting a bit famished by this point. Not only did I find my way to Pittwater, but stumbled out exactly at the Upper Crust's front door. Sometimes these things work too well... Grabbed the chicken and white wine pie, my mouth is watering just thinking of it. I'll discuss Aussie food in another post, but the meat pies are a staple of life here. I kinda see the infatuation, and sort of think I'm just eating a chicken pot pie at the same time. This one was mighty good and prepared me for a marathon walk.

For the remainder of the day, I stuck close to Pittwater, especially since it was close to the beaches: Collaroy, Narrabeen and Mona Vale. Mind you, this is probably about three miles of walking, many of this either in the sand or along a five-lane road. Lost the scenery of first hike, but caught the flavor of these beaches and their surrounding suburbs. Finally made it to the cusp of Newport, but without a map, didn't know where it and was tired of Pittwater Road. Something tells me I wouldn't have seen Blue Beet or Jack's, anyway.

All in all, not too bad of a venture. Got to discover another area, enjoy a scrumptulescent pie and listen to some newly downladed albums. On a side note, the bus ride back featured a Mormon kid from Oregon, presumably on his mission, try to convert a 75-year-old guy in front of me. C'mon kid, give it a rest. After walking the Northern Beaches, and most of Sydney afterwards, now I need one.

Spitting Images

2009-05-14T21:38:00.001+10:00

On a sunny Tuesday morning, I set out for an area of North Sydney called "The Spit." I could toss in a cheeky little joke there about Swallows Harbour next door (doesn't really exist), but will just say it's strange name for such a seemingly nice place. The Spit to Manly path is a famous trail that wraps around the peninsula adjacent to the northern beach town of Manly. If you've been to Sydney, you better have gone to Manly, if anything for the ferry ride. Well, I must've missed this tourist attraction during my first few idle months in town, so decided to hop public transport towards Spit-ville.

After crossing what amounted to a four lane highway, I quickly became one with nature at the foot of the "Scenic Spit to Manly Walkway." I'd really prefer to call it the Spit Trail or Spitsville. Something about going on hikes all of a sudden not only makes you feel like a tree-hugging Ranger Rick, but turns (at least me) into an isolationist. I'd like to avoid other walkers at all costs. Speed up or slow down to get rid of other humans, that's what I say. Just me and the lizards, snakes and spiders out there. Well, only saw lizards and one spider in my three hour tour, but did catch some amazing views of Sydney Harbour.

I'll digress here, but have you ever gotten a song in your head BEFORE listening to it? That was the case on the trail today, when Lou Reed's "Perfect Day" came into that part of the brain that keeps songs spinning over and over. This was probably in anticipation of listening to his 1972 album "Transformer" later in the day, which I enjoyed while laying on Manly Beach. Tough life, I know.

One thing we are not in this town is landlocked...there's water at every turn, and no matter how many times you've seen the Harbour, it's dramatic and unique from each direction. The walk gets really interesting when entering the Sydney Harbour National Park about halfway through. Here, you can see the best views of the Harbour from atop and afar. From this vantage, the Harbour looks scenic as ever and the opening to the Pacific looks like it will swallow you whole. Within the Harbour, you see hills, trees and suburbs on its edge...it's enclosed and eventually stops. Then there's that opening to the Pacific Ocean, and it goes forever until you hit Ruby's on the Huntington Beach pier (or if I pulled out a map, Santiago, Chile might be a bit more accurate, but who's counting?).

After a few wrong turns, mini Harbour beaches, a gradual decline and 2 1/2 hours, the trail ends right in Manly Wharf. Only thing to say about Manly on this day is that the beach was about 20 degrees cooler than the last beach I visited in Bali and anytime you're there, hit up Burger Me. They say their burgers are bloody good, and I can't argue.

Oh, and don't forget to take the ferry ride back into Sydney. It's bloody good too, especially when you're listening to Transformer along the way.

Balifornication - Pt 2

2009-04-27T12:57:00.000+10:00

I like west coasts. Since I've lived on the east coast of Sydney for the last 19 months, the thought of hanging on the beach during a tropical sunset suits me just fine. Made a point each day to see the sun headed for other pastures. No sir, I still don't want cannabis and ma'am, take your hand off my shoulder, do not want a massage either. Other than those minor distractions, the sun setting over the tepid Indian Ocean keeps one mellow. Maybe I should've taken their offers, added to the scenery.

Took a day trip to a place called Ubud on day four. It's a small town that provides a little more traditional Balinese lifestyle. More temples and rice paddies, and the vendors actually keep to themselves. The monkey sanctuary puts you face-to-face with some goofy looking dudes, chomping away on bananas, or anything else they can get their hands on. I didn't trust them from the start, and sure enough, one cheeky little bozo jumped on my backpack trying for my camera. Not sure if he wanted to take some snapshots or thought it was lunch, but was eventually able to pry him loose.

Back in Kuta, low key restaurants and tiki-tpe bars litter Poppies Gang I and its partner nearby, Poppies Gang II. Beers are about $1.50, meals maybe 10. Spots such as Swell, Bali Aguya, The Treehouse and Kedin's Cafe are tough to pass up. What's funny about staff at bars and retaurants is that they'll hound you to come inside, but then you need a set of flares to flag someone down for another drink. When the tip system isn't in play, all rules are off, I suppose. Some places screen movies at night, which is pretty cool for solo travelers like myself. Although there were a few stinkers in there, was able to finally see Frost/Nixon, good stuff.

I'd be remiss to not mention how Bali was hit by a series of bombings, both in 2002 and 2005. Although a substantisal double blow to the morale of the island and tourism today, things seem to be chugging along nicely in Kuta. They do have a memorial at the site of 2002 bombings, with all the victims scribed on the wall. We were talking the other day about why in Allah's name would someone go after a place like Bali, doesn't seem to harm anyone. But as the only Hindu island in the largest Muslim country on earth....I suppose there are a few tensions there. Here's hoping this island stays out of harm's way moving forward.

Speaking of moving forward (or in this case, backwards), almost forgot about my hotel trade to the Ayu Beach II. The sequel is never really as good as the original, is it? Along with Poppies Lane II, the second incarnation of Ayu Beach Inn didn't leave too much to be desired. Actually, this REALLY felt like a cheap Indonesian hotel room. There were the luxuries of an actual bed and ceiling fan, but this place didn't offer toilet paper or a towel for the shower. Thankfully, my Jacks Surfboard t-shirt served as a suitable towel (not tp!) for two days. This is what you get for about $8 a night. Made my way back to the original Ayu a few days later....room 41, air con, breakfast, pool, civilization.

Since the flight out was not until late, made the most of final day in town. Had one of the hotel's drivers take me south to Uluwatu and Dreamland. More temples and monkeys, except this time I got to rock a sarong. I've gotta say, a skirt in Laker colors suited me well. Uluwatu Beach was also a haven for surfers, some really good breaks with entrance to beach through cave-like setting. On the ride back to Kuta, I was joined by some traveling Swedes and a guy from San Jose, all who were staying at the Ayu Beach. Always good to meet fellow travelers...except when I get back to Bondi and they become dirty Euro backpackers!

Before heading for the airport, made my way down Legian Rd/St again, soaking up the culture one last time. Final dinner was at Crusoe's Island, which offered the "coldest beers and hoottest girls in Bali." I guess they refer to good looking girls as owls or something in Bali. Friends from Oz mentioned a place called Paddy's, which I assumed was another chill bar where I could catch Champions League or something. Located right at Ground Zero from the bombings, Paddy's is the cheesy nightclub you'd expect in a place like Kuta. Being about 7:30, I waltzed in as the only patron to enjoy their two for one deals. I was amused by the sountrack of the place, which was the Bee Gees entire catalog. Was this a nod to all the Aussie tourists, or just an appreciation of the Gibb brothers' career? All I can say is the 60s songs were typical, yet well-written pop songs. As for the Staying Alive era, disco sucks. Started chatting with a Kiwi at the bar for a bit, before grabbing one last drink at nearby Swell and catching the end of 40 Year Old Virgin (I wanna shave your head).

The sunsets were good, weather warm, ocean almost as warm. Both locals and tourists were friendly, and I was able to practice saying "no thanks" to vendors approximately 500 times. Guns were rocking, beer and food went down easy, too. Oh yeah, after a few phone calls, my visa came through. There's the proof....I'm legal again.

Balifornication - Pt 1

2009-04-26T11:14:00.000+10:00

A new visa forced me to leave Australian shores, and while NZ is a fine piece of land, I opted for the beaches, beer, scooters and narrow streets of Bali. Decent Jetstar flight included a memorably depressing movie, named something about Rachel's wedding. The plot revolved around a troubled sister who was in rehab, coming home for her perfect sister's wedding weekend. The real point of this movie was to sap every inch of emotion from depressed people, making the wedding weekend a series of uncomfortable and bittersweet moments. My teeth were getting metaphorically pulled. What one will watch to pass the time when stuck in a flying tube for six hours....

Not long after landing in Denpasar, Bali's major city, I nabbed a $5 taxi, then dropped on Poppies Lane 1, right in the heart and soul of Kuta Beach. Poppies "Lane," and its bretheren, Poppies Lane II, would probably be considered Poppies Alley in most western countries. They're wide enough to fit a scooter, or a few pedestrians, but of course here, they try to fit both, along with cars, which don't really fit at all. After doing my best Joseph and Mary impersonation and unsuccessfully securing a hotel room, the world-reknown Ayu Beach Inn opened its wicker doors for me. Complete with cushy A/C room for about $20 a night and the ambience of a typical tropical bungalow, this seemed like an appropriate place to apply for the new visa. Of course, this couldn't be an easy process, something about declined credit card and being on another visa already...will get to that later. By this time, it was about 12:30, so took a quick trip to the Circle K (only in California aaaand Bali) for a late night snack and first of many Bintangs (local beer).

Setting out on streets of Bali to explore on day one, I quickly discovered the true goal of this island: commerce. The Balinese seem much friendlier than the Vietnamese, but this is probably due to the fact they speak substantial English in the form of "hey bro, cheap prices," "you want transport?" and "you like massage?" I was going to strike up a convo about the decline of print media in western society, but just opted for a smile and shake of the head instead. What boggled me was how each shop pretty much contained the same stock: Bingtang t-shirts, sunglasses and pirated DVDs. But the owners insist that you want their trinkets and cheap shirts more than anything, even though I've just passed 20 of the same. Oh wait, your mini replica Beatles guitar is only 200,000 Rupiahs? Well, I may have to consider.... Some brave souls tried to pawn off cannabis, but I wasn't about to test the Indonesian death penalty.

Of course when you visit the equator in April, one of the first things you'll notice from sunrise on is the heat and humidity that would make South Florida blush. The usual heat measuring stick is to refer something as "Africa hot." Well, since my last trip to SE Asia, I'll refer to Indonesia as "Vietnam hot." I have to question the mental capacity of someone who wears pants or long sleeves in this weather, but the locals probably thought it was unseasonably cool. The pair of jeans I packed took up unneccesary space in my bag and the four pairs of board shorts were well worth it.

Now these days and nights seem to bleed together into one sunny beach holiday with large Bintangs, Indonesian cuisine, dodging scooters and learning new ways to decline shop vendors. But there are a few moments that stick out for sure. On night one, I decided to hit up the Hard Rock Cafe, an establishment I haven't visited since probably London 10 years back. Jakarta's version of Guns n Roses were playing that night, covering classics from Appetite for Destruction, Use Your Illusion, Lies, etc. Axl was a little tanner and paunchy than I remember, but still had that Sunset Strip scream from the old days. No Slash tophat, but I think it's better when a cover band has their own look anyway. Oh right, they even had the gall to throw out one of their own tunes, just in case an A&R rep from Capitol Records was in attendance. Through this show, it made me realize how GnR was the soundtrack to my early adolecense. Although I was a dedicated "Yo! MTV Raps" fan back in the day, the Guns were the omnipresent band of this era. Needless to say, I didn't hear any songs from Chinese Democracy.

So far, the first few days in Bali was a good Welcome to the Jungle. Nothing like a Paradise City to relax, although I would need a little Patience to get the visa. Don't Cry, there will be more Bali stories in the next installment.

Bluegrass Revival

2009-04-02T20:42:00.000+11:00

I've been thinking alot about the state of Kentucky in recent days. After all, the men's team just named John Calipari as their new coach (great move), I just watched a bio on Muhammed Ali (the Louisville Lip) and last week made an ill-fated effort to hit up a new tapas place in Bondi called Rum Jungle (presumably named after Lousiville's own HST). But the appreciation for all things bluegrass allows me to take part in what could be considered one of many dream jobs. It reminds me to provide an abridged version of a concert review from Kentucky's My Morning Jacket. For those of you that don't know MMJ, they have been on the scene for about seven years now. Placed under the genre of jam band (apparently for their preponderence of facial hair and long hair), they have evolved over the years and made their way into "Indie" (which I suppose is an upgrade), but have kept their jammy roots. Their 2008 release, "Evil Urges" dispelled any remnance of noodling jamsters and put them into the American music mainstream.

When you hear of a band playing in Sydney, it brings on two reactions: awesome! because good bands come along every time Uconn makes the Final Four...and great, this show will only be 150% more expensive than I'm used to seeing them. Nevertheless, when I found out there were still tix available for this show in January, I was both shocked and estatic. While they may not be as known to Sydneysiders, this show would sell out in hours in cities such as Boston, New York or SF. The band was in town to support Neil Young, another concert they would've been great, but through-the-roof expensive.

I hit up the concert with friends James and Marina, who are just the folks to appreciate a great show like this. After reliving their trip to Cambodia and Laos, we headed over to The Metro, an intimate but sizable venue right in CBD. As the band took the stage, the crowd reacted with a revelry of a highly respected act. I've seen this reaction with the likes of Wilco. These are bands that people rock out to, but respect and admire, in part because the critics do the same. Leader of MMJ, Jim James, is a 21st Century rock hero - bearded, enigmatic, wears a cape and loves to dabble in various music forms. OK, he's any rock hero, but doesn't appear to be self-serving in his stage approach. Like a good team at Kentucky, he's a captain, and knows he needs a good support system every night.

One of the great aspects about thir Metro performance is that they played like it was their biggest (or last) performance ever. The amazing thing about the band is that's how they appraoch EVERY show. The band's earnesty and urgency is heard through the voice of James, guitar work of Tom Blankenship/Carl Broemel, organ of Bo Koster and frenetic drumming of Patrick Hallahan. Without going into a song-by-song synopsis, the January 22 gig was a sublime mix of new and old, timid and rocking, standard and improvisational, familiar and even more familiar. Each song seemed perfectly placed, and the crowd energy grew as the show progressed. To make matters more interesting, the venue was a sweatbox and after the first set, it looked like we emerged from Fitness First in flannel shirts.

The extended encore was a microcosm of the show at large: mix of the old and new, but all wonderfully played and appreciated by a spirited audience. The show closed with a 2004 hit, "One Great Holiday," which I first remember hearing on the tragically defunct Indie 103.1. Between the nostalgia factor and ability to drive the audience into a frenzy, this was the cherry on top of what I consider to be one of the best shows I've ever been to. My proof of attendance lies in a miniature camera phone pic, and if Sony Ericsson could make things easier, I'd provide that.

Great job boys, you earned some Kentucky moonshine tonight.

April Showers

2009-04-01T22:27:00.000+11:00

This morning, April began by combining three of my favorite things: waking up so early it's dark outside, job interview and riding a bike in the pouring rain (with minimal brakes to boot). If you're not picking up on the sarcasm, well, yeah.

This decision mostly centered around the job interview, as it took place fairly early and a good 15 minutes from my current office. My thinking was that biking into work, even during Monsoon Charlie, was quicker than that monstrosity known as the bus. Plus, I didn't have a pass.

What I didn't plan was ringing out my clothes afterwards. But after the early wake and sopping/more dangerous than normal bike ride, I thought the problems would end. Except the walk to the interview left me almost as wet and with hair looking like Pat Riley. Fortunately for me, the kind woman I was interviewing with had endured the same effects of Charlie. As an aside, they don't name Sydney rainstorms, but I might have to get in the habit.

Interview went as scheduled and the rain subsided throughout the day. The last bit of fun was putting the drenched clothes back on for the ride home.

Do I miss the land of Southern California, with its cars and constant sunshine? Hmmm....

Erin Go Blah

2009-03-17T21:37:00.000+11:00

So here's one of these "it's just not the same moments" that I come across in Sydney: I'm sitting at my computer on St. Patrick's Day at 9:00, sipping a Becks (German beer!) and didn't have corned beef or something green at some point today. Hell, there wasn't even a sign of the holiday, other than one random guy in a green hat at 7am.

It's strange to me what part of American culture this place soaks up, like movies and reality shows, but passes up great holidays like this. I suppose the Irish in Ireland don't make a big deal out of today either, so maybe it's an American thing. We do love to party for any excuse.

This is the strange part of my memory, but I can probably remember every St. Patricks since about 2000...the day I graduated from college. No, wait, I can remember back to 1999, when I was actually in Dublin. Other than the obvious cultural thing, there's been good memories from St. Patty's: mom cooking green pancakes, NCAA tourney starting up, when's it's on a Friday or Saturday, Pag filling the water cooler with green dye. It's just not the same when it's just another day in March. C'mon Oz, get with the Irish spirit and down a Guinness or 10.

Here's some good SPD memories from a classic one, in 2004. The night started so innocently....maybe not.

Tour de Sydney

2009-03-08T12:17:00.000+11:00

These days, everyone is cutting back on spending: fewer dinners out, pre-game drinking before hitting the bars and shopping in vintage stores for the latest clothes (welcome to the party, 20 years later....). Some of us have even left the bus or car behnind and jumped on the old trusty (or in my case, rusty) bike. No longer an activity for the Lance Armstrongs and Miguel Indurrain's (I'm not looking up the correct spelling, dammit) of the world, you can't walk five minutes around the city without seeing someone on a bike these days. To coincide with my occasional weekend joyrides around the city, I decided to cut costs and get exercise by biking to work every day. Oh yeah, it's good for the environment, too...forgot about the world there for a sec.

Some of the commuter bikers, such as myself, are dressed normally in gym gear. Shorts, t-shirt, sneakers...the norm. Others don themselves in spandex and feaux pro attire, thinking they're climbing the Pyrenes along with the peleton (no spell check, either). It's a bit ridiculous, but whatever floats your boat. Anyway, Sydney isn't exactly the flattest city in the world, which means at one time or another, you're going to deal with hills. At 7am, five minutes after you woke up and haven't had as much as a drink of water...not cool. But the morning ride is pretty cruisy: through Bondi Junction, through Centennial Park, allll the way down Moore Park Rd and into the nice Surry Hills streets. Can't quite say the same for getting home, which consists of a total of five decently scaled hills. And of course there's the omnipresent wind to go against every day.

It's a good workout, for sure, but after struggling up Oxford, I can't imagine what Lance and his peers have to deal with. Granted, my bike is an $80 K-Mart special, but the French mountainside is about ten times more difficult. One thing the pro riders don't have to deal with everyday are the Sydney buses. While most traffic is considered the "enemy," the flipping buses think every human not in a car is pretty much invisible. The left lane is meant to be shared by bikers and buses, but guess who wins that battle? I haven't quite been swept of the street yet, but there have been a few tricky moments:

Last week, I managed to slam into the back of the bus that had the nerve to stop suddely in traffic. With my less-than-stellar brakes, I wasn't quick enough to stop my tire from getting wedged into the back of old big blue for a few seconds.

The other night coming home, I almost had one of those Puck meets Sopranos moments. I only say that, because the only times I can think of this happening was to Puck from the Real World 3 (San Fran) and to the African kid on the Sopranos, before he got beaten up by AJ's friends, of course. What I'm referring to is the dreaded opening car door. You never see it coming, and if you're lucky enough to react, you pretty much see your life flash before your eyes. The other night, my lightning quick reflexes managed to escape the fate of Puck and swerved from a car door just in time. Thankfully, something good was on the iPod to allow me to reflect on the moment.

You'll notice safety precautions, such as good brakes and iPods, aren't my forte. Don't worry, at least I'm wearing my helmet now! So anytime you're driving in Sydney, give a nice honk to those bikers on the left, don't drive us off the road...and try to look in the rear view mirror before opening the door.

(stunning pic of my bike to come)

Australian Geographic

2009-02-15T11:44:00.000+11:00

In this burgeoning economy of 2009, one of the things I wanted to do was experience more outdoors Australia and possibly avoid the bars as much as possible. You know, cheap living, but experiencing more of the real world out there. So when my friend Jamie and co. offered a trip to the Blue Mountains for some camping and canyoning, I checked my bank account, then jumped at the chance. Without a clue of what canyoning was, I cleaned out the cooler of papers, grabbed a sleeping bag and borrowed a tent from Scott (which I subseqently biked up Oxford Street like a soldier in training).

In short, camping and canyoning was a blast. Great mix of downing beers like a barfly and scaling hills like that Bear Grylls dude. After taking an extra hour getting lost on the way there, we even managed to put up our tents in about 20 minutes, before the rain nonetheless. As I've mentioned before, canyoning felt like I was a member of the Goonies: slides, rocks, adventure at every turn. We must have missed the buried treasure. As an aside, which Goonie would I be? Guess it cancels out Data...and Chunk since I'm neither Asian nor fat. I suppose the main kid (whose only name I don't remember) is the best choice, although I never had asthma or an infatuation with a one-eyed pirate. Anywho, there were missteps along the way and frigid water when you're not wearing a wesuit, but times like this do make you feel like a mountain man. What's it about the outdoors that make you no longer care about sleep, showers, toothpaste, toilets and overall societal mores?

But now that we're back in the city, I do need my Foxtel, Spin and Old Spice body wash. Some old habits never die....

On My Way, I'm On My Way....

2009-02-04T22:31:00.000+11:00

I just used a lyric from the Crue, gross. Anyway, it's been about a month since I've returned from the USA, aka Obamaland. It was a great few weeks of catching up with family and friends, reacquainted with the right side of the road and enjoying live sports on the correct day of the week. There's alot to cover, so I've review the first trip back to the states in the form of that great scene in "Rules of Attraction."

Flew into LA, Haas picks me up, grabbed the Lambo, got stared at by bums at In n Out, had people over, Cedric threw the apple, clock got broken....went down to see the crew in OC at Longboards, watched some football, drank beers, paid visit to Newps, sliders, back to LA...ate Cap'n Crunch, wandered around Beverly Center with no phone, celebrated Jackie's bday with Mexican and bad spandex 80s band...woke up after three hours sleep, got on Jetblue, waited two hours for dad and Lynn, drove to the old house for chicken parm, met my new nephew Owen...ran some errands, Mo and co. came over, Stefano made his lasagna, Max sang for us...Christmas Day, toys everywhere, Batman Lego on Wii, Jenga, corned beef...breakfast thing, mandlebaum gym, more lasagna, bad McDonalds with Max and Blake, Shea Stadium special, out with old buddies at Archie Moores...more mandlebaum, more corned beef, Burke Xmas, kids everywhere, insane grab bag...mom watching mass, Sunday football, train to NYC, two bars and pizza, Ipod downloads...Trinh and the city, Brooklyn bagel, Guggenheim, Central Park, FAO Schwartz, more kids everywhere, St. Patricks, 30 Rock, people everywhere, Empire State, Strawberry Fields, Spiga....last home food, drive to JFK, say G'day to mom and dad, jump on Jet Blue, make Haas wait more, dinner at the Lincoln, drinks with Pag and co...New Years, Barney Beanery, Pacific Palisades dinner party, Haas and Summer, on the rooftop...back at the old house, PPDS, USC win, Derek cooks, beer pong...bar crawl in HB, arguing with roommates, drive back to LA, the Office...Barney's Beanery, football, Ma, Spanish Kitchen, pop singer drinks...woke up early, Malibu hike with Jeff and Ma, get lost, find our way, back to LA for dinner with Jackie and Adrianna, stories from Bali, back to LAX, G'day again USA....

I'm a little tired fast-forwarding through all that. Did I miss anything? Thanks for the good times on both coasts, hope to see the homeland again soon.

Two Thousand Eight

2009-01-26T10:33:00.000+11:00

Since I've been reading everyone's "best of" music lists the past few weeks, I'll round out last year with my own memories. These aren't really up for debate and in no particular order.*

The Good: Melbourne, Obama, Stephen Malkmus and Jicks, 4th of July, Palm Beach, Steiman, V Fest, Port Douglas, Black Keys, Lakers vs. Celtics, Giants win Super Bowl, Byron break, Animal House, back patio, rugby, JJ in the park, riding in Lambo with Haas, Wii with Max, LA, OC, NYC, Vietnam, the Lincoln, Jesse, blokey brekkie rolls, Beauchamp bday, that May issue of Spin, Wonder Years, MMJ, guitar with Warwick, a bed, Harbour sailing, NYE fireworks

The Bad: apartment searching, U.S. economy in the tank, watching sports on Monday, June 12, Pixma, synthesizers, reality, Australian economy in the tank, Hugo

The Ugly: summer weather, Game 4, some of the acts I had to watch at V Fest, Movember, wrap-up reports, back patio part 2, Hillary's expressions, Vietnamese dogs, Sugar Bowl, left side driving

*This is a working list and is not to be explained

Same Same, But Different - Part 3

2009-01-20T20:10:00.000+11:00

I know the suspense was killing you (and when I mean "you," probably the three individuals reading this). Sorry, added a few pics to the previous posts and was distracted by NFL playoffs. Steelers and who?? in the Super Bowl? I digress...I'm sure our friends in Vietnam don't know the Super Bowl from a bowl of bony chicken rice. OK, where were we?

Day 9: Hue to Saigon
As we listened to Richard Marx on the way to the airport, memories of Phillip flashed before our eyes: ahh, remember when he almost hit that one guy on a scooter? No, that was ALL the time. But remember when he said stuff to us? Not for me, never understood a word. But how about the time I noticed his gigantic fingernails? Yeah, what a guy, I'll miss Phillip. Phildog dropped us off at the airport on our way back south. I'm not used to actually flying with friends, so was good to have someone I actually wanted to talk with on a plane. On the way back into Saigon, we- look out! scooters! Close call. We decided to really treat ourselves with a fancy local restaurant and extravigant hotel. In Saigon, this meant Pizza Hut and a $50 room. Give us a break, we were hungry for American food and tired. Another journey around the city took us to the War Rememberance Museum, which was the first noticeable recognition of that whole mess of a war thing. Interesting chronicle of the Vietnam War (which I'm told is fittingly called the American War there), but don't need to see the effects of Agent Orange. I get it, we shouldn't have "bombed them back to the stone age" as our pacifist president once said. After digesting that cuddly little recollection of history, we headed over to Trinh's relatives again. It was here that we experienced more of the Vietnamese hospitality. Sit down, eat something without a drink and we'll leave you in the kitchen to finish. I didn't as much as communicate with Auntie as I nodded, said "mmmm" and gave the thumbs up, which probably means "more meat, more rice," because I was stuffed. Great homemade cooking....no quite like mom makes, but just a few dashes away from chicken parmigana.

Day 10: Saigon, Mekong Delta
The final day of the journey took us on a tour of the Mekong Delta, the well-known area southwest of Saigon. Little did we know, this was three hours southwest, but luckily we got to spread our wings a bit in the tour van. Alas, we came across a Vietnamese person that spoke English, our tour guide. We noticed how "different" the educated, English speaking people of this country looked in comparison to, well, the others. In all, we were just happy for less stares because they have actually seen Westerners before. The drive to the Mekong was pretty familiar by now: rice paddies, little towns with lots of Rua Xe (did I mention I learned some of the language here? Yeah, "car wash" and could count to five, or say 30. Therefore, I could order up to five, or 30, carwashes if I wanted). We hopped on a boat after three hours and enjoyed another slice of Vietnamese culture. Making things on a boat, selling on a boat, sleeping on a boat, staring from a boat. Our fellow tourists on this trip were a couple, which consisted of a 50-something Englishman and a young woman from China. Somewhere, Felix and Oscar are smiling. It was good to actually communicate with someone, outside of counting to five carwashes and thumbs up, of course. We were treated to presentations on how to make rice paper, candy and some popcorn-tasting food, all of which I later learned are a staple of the Mekong tour, no matter what company you used. Seems like they just made up what to put on the Mekong tour sometime around 1998. They're in a meeting at Saigon Tourist and debating: ok, so the Americans and British don't want to bomb us anymore, they actually want to come here for FUN! What do we show them, other than people in boats? How about how to make some of the stuff that we constantly try to sell them?? Yeah! Better yet, we can try to get them to buy it right then and there! But I suppose that continued to be what was great about the country, and travelling in general, one could argue. You could watch someone play an instrument local to the area, walk through people's backyards (where the grandparents are buried) and it's still amazing to us. A great lunch of local fish, meats and fruits followed, then back on the boat. The Mekong also reminded me of the rivers and jungles depicted in Vietnam-era movies. I could just imagine John Kerry on his T-boat, going, "man, I don't really care about getting shot, but something tells me my performance here is going to hurt my chances to be president. Hope these guys don't sell me out." After more Mekonging and bumpy ride back to Saigon, it was time for one more homecooked meal at the relatives. This time, we had a bonus, which was eating our chicken, beef, rice and fruit on the floor. I'm not being sarcastic, I love this stuff. When you're a kid, I'm sure mom would discourage eating with your hands on the floor. But here in Saigon, anything goes! Plus, it seemed like the Asian thing to do. After I waved (note, waved...didn't "say" goodbye) to the fam, we headed off to the airport before saying g'day to my travel companion and the country known as the jewel of Southeast Asia.

Temples, incense, chicken rice, stares, coconuts, scooters, heat, bugs, cheap everything, including happy moments, will be lasting memories. So lasting, that a trip to North Vietnam may have to be in the works one of these years. Thanks to Vietnam and of course Uncle Ho, ya'all got a nice little country on your hands.

Same Same, but Different - Part 2

2009-01-10T10:43:00.000+11:00

I'm back from the USA, which is a whole nother story. But back to where we left off in 'Nam. On the road again...

Na Trang to ???: I could really figure out exactly where we ended up on this drive, but it's a little more honest to have no clue. Was literally "drive in at night, leave in the morn" sorta thing. Along the way, we experienced more playing chicken (rice) with other cars, scooters buzzing by and car horns. We enjoyed lunch at a ramshakle of a restaurant that mocked Trinh for not reading perfect Vietnamese, then ate some bony chicken while ugly stray dogs sniffed below. From my memory, this drive, however, was marked by a stop at Trinh's long-lost relatives. This was another little village along the side of the road, where we met her aunt and cousin, and other cousin, and other cousin. OK, the entire town was out to see our arrival, and needless to say, they were intruiged. I can't claim to know exactly what a celeb feels like, but it must be something like this. Curious onlookers watching your every move. From praying to Buddha to eating mystery desserts, these cats have apparently never seen a real live American up close. The drunken uncle was a highlight, too. In all, Trinh got to pray to the relatives and see a mural of the fam up close, all worth it.

??? to Hoi An: Another great Vietnamese breakfast of fish noodle soup and breakfast, then on the road to Hoi An. This is where the temples really started to kick in. A bit like churches in Europe, temples are everywhere and you soon start to enjoy the smell of incense as pretty familiar. Buddha is a popular fellow in these parts, so he rewards them with warm weather, Coke milk and nice cities like Hoi An. Although we encountered white tourists again in Hoi An (yikes!), it's a really nice small city that has ancient influences from China. Nighttime gave us our first taste of the lanterns that are omnipresent throughout the city, which gives it an atmosphere like there's some holiday occuring.

Hoi An: We decided to give Phillip (and ourselves) a rest, and actually spend an entire day in one place. Well, worth it, since Hoi An was probably our fave stop on the trip. We decided to go local, and rent bikes to explore the city. This allowed us to see the ancient villages, numerous temples (more incense) and markets. In Vietnam, people are never at a loss to sell crap to tourists, but good Lord, these markets were like a firesale. From Tiger balm to jewellery and adidas shorts, we were hounded by vendors left, right and center. My response was a quick, "no, no thanks, no, nope, nah, um...lemme think, no" It was almost like zombies coming at us, one-by-one: American, buy a coconut...one dolla. After dodging those bullets, we biked our way to the beach. Great ride along the rice paddies and villages. On the way back, we even were intercepted by the end of the school day, which had us riding amongst throes of school kids on their bikes and wearing traditional uniforms. Classic. We debated among 3-4 lantern restaurants and then enjoyed what was some sort of Buddist holiday in town. The 14th of the month symbolizes something, which brought everyone out, including families, kids and of course tourists for music, games, etc.

Hoi An to Hue: Our final journey up north took us to Hue, another city with lots of history. The battles in Hue are depicted in the 1987 classic movie, Full Metal Jacket, famous for the line, "me so hooorny, me love you long time." I mean, that alone should make it a classic. While searching around for the spots where Raptorman and Joker fended off the enemy, we also caught the Perfume River (still trying to figure out origin of that name) and more temples, fotresses and castles. All very impressive, just couldn't say what related to what. That would mean referring back to the guide books, which are a ways away.

Hue: The second day in Hue brought along more temples, more Buddha and ridiculous looking traditional hats. We even got to see how they made those upside down bowl looking straw hats and purchased our very own incense, so we could take our very own slice of Vietnam back to America and Australia. This was the end of our journey north, which was a bit of a downer, as we decided to fly back to Saigon in leui of checking out the DMZ. No worries, two more days in Saigon and back to the scooter city.

I'll make this like a hockey game and break the Viettour into three segments. Grab yourself a drink, have a smoke and come back for the exciting conclusion of our journey (if anyone is even reading at this point).

Same Same, but Different - Part 1

2008-12-19T01:16:00.000+11:00

Pretty predictable title for this travel post, but next stop on the tour, Vietnam. I booked this ticket back in April thinking I was going with one set of friends, but ended up going with my consistent travel companion, Trinh. If you can tell by her name, she's Vietnamese by trade, and Lord knows, a native speaker helped. I'll take this one day-by-day, since it requires analysis on each day.

Day 1 (Saigon): this is really night one, as I landed around 10:00 on Friday. Customs made me realize that I wasn't in OZ anymore, Toto. Customs officials in Vietnam don't exactly put the lai around your neck and welcome with a smile. As they're checking my passport, I remember that only 40 years ago, we were ravaging their country, village by village. No hard feelings, ok? We cool? After finding Trinh through the maze of eyeballs at the airport, we headed into town as she and the driver yapped some crazy language. This ride was my first experience with the mass sooterness that is Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City. The place is organized chaos with these things...families pile on, people carry luggage, you name it. It's actually more nerveracking to be in a car somehow, you think you're going to hit a scooter at any minute. Anyway, we get to our hotel and make way into the alleys of Saigon. It's a bit strange and possibly scary for a westerner, but felt ok for some reason in these dark corners. Thanks to my Vietnamese homegirl, we were able to order some food and eat late night dinner while sitting on kiddie chairs. No napkins.

Day 2 (Saigon): I'm calling it Saigon because it's easier and maybe I want it to be 1968 all over again. Well, not really, because VC would be invading our hotel. Saturday was a bit toasty, one of those needing a shower right after you get out sorta days. Nevertheless, we trekked out and sweat our way through the city. Breakfast (which doesn't really exist in Vietnam the way we know it) was this omlet thing stuffed with shrimp and other junk. Good stuff. The great thing about a country like this is you can see sights such as wartime palaces, churches and the U.S. Embassy, but just taking in the culture is enough. For instance, we met up with Trinh's cousins for dinner, who ended up taking us around on their scooters. Dodging traffic, beeping horns, we were regular Siagon Hell's Angels.

Day 3 (Saigon to Na Trang): Our driver Phillip picked us up in the morn. We called him Phillip for no other reason that it was the most absurd name imaginable for a non-English people Vietnamese travel driver. Anyway, Phillip treated us to the road-tripping experience of Vietnam: dodging ANYTHING on the roads, barely escaping accident and constantly honking your horn to notify scooterists you're five inches away from them. And the entire time we hardly ever wore our seat belts. Maybe the Vietnamese know something about driving safely that we don't. After a stop in a beach town for lunch, where I consumed my first Coke milk (yep, that's right, and is it goood), we stayed the night in Na Trang, another beach town. We were a little late getting out to dinner, so we stumbled upon the only place open, Crazy Kim's. This joint was a mix between western bar/restaurant, rub and tug place and whorehouse. While the spring rolls were good, I didn't splurge for the "happy moment," whatever that is. On the walk home, a giant rat ran out of the garbage and grazed my ankle. Between Crazy Kim's and her happy moments and rodents in the streets, Na Trang gives me the willies.

I'm tired now and non-connection erased my earlier writings, so to be continued....

All Blacks, All Good

2008-12-19T01:06:00.000+11:00

Many travels as 2008 winds down. First stop, a country even more isolated than Australia. New Zealand, complete with its wonderful iccents where my name is Kivin and you sleep in a bid. They also have really cool looking mountains and cities such as Wellington, where I ventured to. I dubbed Wellington as the "San Francisco of the South Pacific," mainly due to its hilly landscape, bohemiam/art scene and unpredictable weather. All the coffee houses give it a dash of Seattle, too.

NZ is the little bro to Australia, and it really takes on that vibe. Laid back and unpretentious, it's a country that doesn't take itself too seriously. How can you when you're most famous recent exports are two guys that sing about semi-attractive girls becoming pretty enough to be "part-time models?" Don't forget the wine and food, which NZ might not be known for, but we got our fair share. They have a great fesitval called Toast each November, which I also dubbed as the "Woodstock of Wine." People just chilling in vinyards, music everywhere, wine everywhere and the sun actually shined. Something tells me that even with rain, this would have been a good time.

Cross the Tasman, get a lame stamp on your passport and visit the (does NZ have a moniker?) country...it's worth a visit, bru.

Election Day, 2008

2008-11-20T23:23:00.000+11:00

YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!

No Trick, No Treat

2008-11-19T23:27:00.000+11:00

A group of us ventured up to Palm Beach on October 31, a place where I'm told they film the soap opera "Neighbours." Seems like a place for a soap opera. Another drama unfolded, you could say, as friends Anna and Paul got married in a park overlooking the scenic beach. Great time for sure, reception was on a great little island we all had to ourselves. Our Halloween costumes consisted of suits and ties for the guys, sun dresses for the girls. The candy was free booze throughout the day.

In the rest of the country, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone dressed as anything for the holiday. Yet another holiday that Aussies should be celebating, but haven't inherited from us. Although the actual act of Halloween seems to be a dying sport in the states, with parents worried about their kids roaming suburban streets, we've always embraced the costumes, pumpkins and cheesy decorations in the yard. Not so much down here. I'm still not sure if Australians need a reason to celebrate aything, but I feel like getting one of those "365 Excuses to Party" posters people had in college. Halloween definitely would be on there.

Next year, I need to organize for pumpkins in the office and Halloween party. It's a mission to bring the few American traditions they don't know about here. That includes Charlie Brown's Halloween special...

(Not So) Magic Bus

2008-10-30T01:22:00.000+11:00

Today I think I officially realized that I miss the Jeep. The ability to jump in your own car at any given moment is defeintely underrated at times. People complain about sitting in traffic, but don't have a problem zoning out and driving to work.

What I do have a problem with is today's situation: just like every day, I walk out on Bondi Road to watch 3-4 buses roll by. When I get to the bus stop, it's another good five mins until another bus comes along. And that's a 381 - no use to me. Then a 333 comes....great, but it's completely full. Did I happen to mention it's not exactly spring weather outside and it's raining? Finally get on the bus and although I get a seat, it's right across from a mental girl who is ready to start grabbing me or kicking me at any moment.

Compared to most cities, the bus experience is fantastic. But there are days where I'd love to start up the Jeep, throw a CD in and watch those suckers on the bus frown their way to work.

Don't even get me atarted on people talking on the phone.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

2008-10-25T13:32:00.000+11:00

In the last month, I've lost the following:

Spare keys

Key card #1 - retreived

Key card #2 - retreived

Necklace

Sweatshirt

Ipod - not retreived, but got another one for my bday

$50

I'm a little worried since things happen in threes and I'm only at seven. Does my mind count as another thing I've lost?

Deportiva

2008-10-20T23:00:00.000+11:00

We're in the midst of fall sports madness, complete with baseball playoffs, BCS poll shifting and NFL drama. But I'd be remiss to not discuss the Aussie sports scene. Both Grand Finals (AFL and NRL) took place a few weeks back, which marks the end of footy season and the beginning of cricket and basketball. A good thing for summer to arrive, but difficult to get too excited for those two.

It's a strange one, sports Down Under. Not sure if there's just other stuff happening or not strong enough fan bases in the big cities, but seems like a pretty tame scene in comparison to the U.S. (and I lived in Southern California!). I don't mind the sports too much....NRL is sorta like our football, just a bunch of laterals and no pads. And no dancing when they score, a good thing! AFL, otherwise known as Aussie Rules, is a strange one. Think one part soccer, one part trying to score a field goal while running and another part kill the carrier. It's like other sports but unlike any others. Fans in Melbourne seem to like it, so maybe I just need to spend some more time there.

Basketball is basketball, just without the polish and illegitimate kids of the NBA. Cricket isn't exactly a high-octane sport, but seems like it could be a good drinking game.

The common thread with these sports is that while people seem invested in the big games and their teams, it feels like America truly treats sport as religion sometimes. At times it can be a bit scary, but other times, it can bring people together. My colleague was confused how I called home after the Giants went to the Super Bowl last year b/c her family doesn't have that same common thread. I do miss that a bit, but thanks to ESPN I can still get my fill....without the tailgating.

By the way, that is one tradition I will introduce to Australia before it's all said and done. I've already imported beer pong, tailgating is next!

Here Comes the Sun

2008-09-21T12:16:00.000+10:00

The dread of winter is a bit exaggerated here: people complain how cold, windy and rainy it gets for the months of June, July, August. Despite some chilly mornings and lack of heat in any household, it's really not that bad. Growing up in the snow, ice, slush, cold wind (and snow) of Connecticut, this winter is a tropical paradise. But in the last few weekends, we've been reminded of what real summertime feels like. It's amazing the memories and feelings that return with an increase of about five degrees of temperature. Walking around Bondi, the constant smell of bbq permeates the air and voices of rooftop parties is everywhere. Wow, that was so poetic, I know. For some reason we forget what summer feels like every year, and it feels oh so good. With daylight savings coming in a few weeks, that will make these warm spring days even sunner.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting inside watching college football. Priotrities, people.

G'Year, Mate

2008-09-15T00:02:00.000+10:00

On the eve of my one year in country, I'll discuss the most Australian topics of all: college football and the U.S. election. Thank you ESPN for finally putting college "gridiorn" on tv, but did it have to be such a bad game for the Buckeyes? My boys are turning into the party poopers of big time college football games. Are we going to be forced to root for a sub par season, just to get us out of the spotlight? It all started with those damn Gators from my least favorite state. Regardless, here's to a touchdown in next weeks game, please.

As for the great high school popularity contest, we're about a month and half from this election nonsense and it's looking a little scary. The fact that McCain is still in this race is a credit to the Republican PR machine that is able to dupe the ignorant public that actually ignores the hipocrisy of this race. If Sarah Palin was a Democrat, the right would be preaching about the "immoral left" with no family values, but they've somehow made this woman a hero as an everyday mom from a small town. Wow, truly juvenile, and it works. Now it's up to Obama's own PR people to get on the ball, fight back, or this is going to be the same old story.

Would we want to take a cue from Australia and make voting mandatory? I'm sure we don't want the man telling us what to do, but would be interested to see how an election would turn out if young people actually got out to the polls.

City to Surf....to Blue Mountains, to....

2008-09-08T22:13:00.000+10:00

August was one of those busy months, both in and out of the office. The focus date early on was August 11: aka, City to Surf, a 14k race from the, um, city to the, er, yeah. Anyway, the race involves running through the streets of Sydney, great views and a little incline known as Heartbreak Hill. Definitely an exercise in exercise, but fun times, especially with the post-race beers at Beach Road.
Watching the Olympics afterwards made us feel like slackers in comparison, but at least we don't have to wear swimming goggles. As an aside, there's something about the Olympics for me that makes them seem like pancakes: when you first get em, you're all excited but after about five minutes, you're sick of em. OK, loosely stole that line from Mitch Hedberg, but it's true. After about 50 swimming heats without even seeing a gold medal race, not too interesting.
Somewhere along the way, work reared its ugly head and my friend Trynn (Trinh?) came to visit, which pretty made the Beijing Games null and void. Having a visitor in a city like this really makes you want to show them all Sydney has. We couldn't see the Harbour until it was sunny, but we did catch a good chunk of town and made our way to the Blue Mountains for a few days. A few massive hikes and 30 views of the same awesome canyon/mountain thingy, followed by a semi creepy hotel celebrating Christmas in August, we had a pretty damn good time.
The next week we finally did the Harbour thing, Manly, Darling Harbour. Just thinking about all the walking makes you tired, but when you're a host on a mission, it's got to be done.
The month ended with a trip up to Cairns and Port Douglas. Great preview for summertime, took in the sights of Great Barrier Reef, Daintree River, Cape Tribulation. First real vacation in awhile, felt real good. Skip Cairns, but make it up to Port D if you can, it's amazing how the scenic beach of Northeast Australia can combine with deep rainforest. Me likey.

I think this blog this is now up-to-date. It's been a long, strange trip catching up. Now I can talk about important current events, like Ohio State-USC and Sarah Palin. Can't wait.

Oh Say Can You See...

2008-09-07T23:20:00.000+10:00

Red party cups, KFC, Krispy Kremes....sounds like 4th of July, Sydney style. We celebrated America's 232nd birthday with a jelly doughnut, greasy fried chicken, Budweiser bash. Things got a little loud at the new pad, but at least there weren't any fireworks.
The dead of winter was just fine: didn't see any snowflakes fall, hardly any visible breath and didn't break out any heavy sweaters. Even got a real bed...yes, bed, for the first time in way long. Also started my career as a musician, learning my G, D, C chords and most importantly, the calluses on my fingers.
Tough not to be on the summy Cali beaches this time of year, but discovering the views of Sydney from Vaucluse puts it all in perspective.

June Gloom

2008-08-19T23:28:00.000+10:00

The month began by having to officially leave our pad in Bondi, leaving me temporarily homeless. Luckilly, my good friends Rory and Suzi offered the guest room at their place for me to crash while looking for a homestead. The month also started pretty rainy, leaving me to search for average apartments in cold, wet weather.
But that was all put in perspective on the morning of June 13, where I received a horrible text and voice message from my best friend Mike. The news was that our good buddy Mark Steiman had passed away from a car accident while travelling in Europe. It's still strange to write, very hard to believe even two months down the road. Mark was a great guy with such a unique view on life. Some called him an old soul, we jokingly referred to him as old guy, but he was such a well-centered person who understood where he has been and where he was going. He was such a smart, talented and focused individual, but never hesitated to make us all crack up with his wit and humor. It was the little things that I loved hanging out with Mark: when we would go over his place after Taco Tuesday and watch weird Spike Jonze videos or when we went to the Toots and the Maytals concert....so many great mini moments that you remember. Not suprisingly, Mark got into Yale Business School last year and I remember writing to him about how awesome I thought it was for him, such a great honor. Our last IM chat was so typical: we talked about his travels through Europe, where he was headed next, watching the Euro tourney, concerts, etc. A few days later, he was gone. I'm sure it will last for a long, long time, but it's hard for me to go for a long period without thinking of him in some way....usually it makes me smile, then laugh.
While in zombie state for a few days, I knew Mark wouldn't want his friends to remember him sadly and stay depressed. He would want us to remember the good times over a beer. It was tough not to be with mutual friends, but some great Sydney people were there to cheer me up.
While not much consolation from the shock of mid-June gloom, the month did end on a high note as I was able to land an apartment, back in Bondi. Hey, what's good is good, right?
Here's a hilarious pic of Stei, wearing one of his patented shirts that I'm sure we poked fun at. But this is vintage Mark, and makes me laugh every time.

Cinco de Mayo

2008-08-05T23:41:00.000+10:00

Of course they don't know that wonderful holiday here....hell, even the Mexican restautants didn't know what it was! What is it, anyway. Well, that didn't stop us from celebrating....aye Dios mio, mi gato es frio!

What I wasn't celebrating in May was the continuous apartment search. When going through randoms, it really can be unreliable. No suprise there, but Murphy's Law took on a whole new meaning in May. Bone dry, not a square to spare. Dissapointing, but that story has a happy ending.

As our last month at 48 Fletcher Street, let me say that our pad was as sweet as you can imagine: big house, nice backyard patio with views of Bondi and steps away from pretty much everything in Bondi/Tamarama. My roomies Ryan and Andrew were great hosts and their dogs, Sasha and Jackson, properly welcomed me every night by slobbering all over. Just like a good wife. Not sure if I'll find myself in another house of that caliber here, but appreciated it during its time.

Had to go through my old text messages to remember that Canon took me down to the nation's capital in May. Canberra doesn't have a whole lot going for itself, but it is interesting scenery and always good to see something new. Is that enough of a sales pitch, Canberra Tourism Board?! Kinda reminded me of New Mexico or Utah in landscape, and a slow college town in atmosphere. Go Kevin 07, our PM has the same name as me!

Oh, and of course there was no Memorial Day celebrations. But don't you worry, 4th of July is around the corner. Here's a pic of 48 Fletcher, btw.

Same But Different

2008-07-30T22:32:00.000+10:00

Here are a few things in April that show that while Australia is very much like the U.S., there are subtle differences that make you pine for Vegamite.

Rugby: this is like American football if it were constantly running the option or a pitch play to the halfback. It might be interesting to watch because I'm here or the fact that they hit head-on with no pads, but it's not the worst thing to watch. Players are pretty bogan (Aussie white trash), but gotta be tough to play this sport. My first game was at Parramatta, which seemed like a high school stadium for Friday Night Lights. They had a nice little "Parra-matta!" cheer thing going not exactly the OH-IO, but hey, it's enthusiasm. I've yet to play rugby yet, but need to get myself a tight collared shirt. Well, good luck to the first-place Sea Eagles and local Roosters. Now can some people show up at these games, please?!

Music: little weak, I have to say. Now each country, city, neighborhood has its own music scene, but Sydney aint really the place to be. I only mention this because I went to a Smashing Pumpkins show and V Fest around this time. Pumpkins was fine, although the venue was far from full...fast, fun, flub. Alliteration. That crazy rock and roll must've scared people off. But V Fest was littered with too many nods to the 80s, complete with bad fluro and synth pop. I suppose this scene is prevalent worldwide now, but it's definitely alive and kicking in Syd. There are a handful of good artists I've heard here, so maybe it involves digging like in the states, but can we have a popular band that doesn't use a drum machine?

House hunting: I had the pleasure one day to come home and find 35 of my closest strangers in the house. Apparently, this is how they sell houses: by auction! I'm talking to rat-tat-tat spewing of the auctioneer, people holding their cards up, the whole deal. So bizarre to watch, then find out we lived in a $1.1 million house. No private dealings with real estate people, just straight-up bidding, like they did when Rocky lost his house.

Driving: Yes, got to do this around April time! It's pretty obvious, so not much to it: on the other side of the car, other side of the road. I felt a little sickly, didn not feel right. Then I almost took off a few mirrors driving too close to the parked cars. Probably a good thing my license is expired.

March Madness

2008-07-26T12:17:00.000+10:00

Oh yes, I did have the Sydney H&Kers fill out their NCAA tourney brackets. No matter where you are in the world, it has to happen. They didn't really know the Tar Heels from the Jayhawks, but they played along. Of course I was horrible, even against the Aussies. Good tourney, too, capped by an exciting final game where KU beat out Memphis in OT.

I wasn't able to follow the tourney for the first few rounds because my buddy Huw and I took a journey up to Byron Bay over Easter weekend. Byron is kinda a mix of spring break-ville, Woodstock and a small surf town. Lots of travelers and hippes line the streets, but still remains a nice resort town. Based on a pre-owned bus ticket purchased back in November, we went the Greyhound route up to Byron, complete with screenings of City Slickers AND Turner and Hooch. Nothing to kill a 12-hour bus ride like a flick between a young Hanks and slobbering dog. In true Huw style, we met many-a random characters in Byron, including a gaggle of Swedes at the hostel that we partied with. He also was able to snag tickets to the Blues Festival, caught some cool bands, including OAR, where one dude was even doing the "OH-IO" cheer....niiice. We took a helicoptor ride over the area, which was pretty sweet. I felt like doing the "get some....!" scene from Full Metal Jacket.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the trip to Nimbin, which is a town littered with drugged-out hippies, tourists and more hippies. For those of you that know about Nimbin, it has a reputation for being "green" and not the environmental type. I took a trip up with some traveling Dutchies and we were driven by a guy that fit Nimbin to a t. We even got the Aboriginee lecture on the way back. Great drive, too, the landscape around the area is green in itself with rolling hills.

March also was the month that we learned the house at 48 Fletcher St woul be sold by June. Let the apt search bgin....talk about madness.

Black History Month

2008-07-24T22:24:00.000+10:00

February, February....hmm, not remembering much. Ooh, the month started with only one of the best Super Bowls ever! And it all happened to the Giants...yes, yes, thank you very much. A bit strange with the general apathy in our office about what I think to be an American holiday, but it's great to answer the most basic of questions about the sport. It's like talking to a little kid: "why do they throw the ball forward?" "is the quarterback the star of the team?" "they play indoors??" But good to see general interest, at least from the guys.

At this point, was starting to easily find my way around the city. Biking in the park, favorite beaches, fave Thai places. Definitely getting used to living Down Under, not a bad homestead with beach views and eveything. I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and say February was when a group of us went sailing on the Harbour. Awesome Saturday, pretty epic driving a boat towards the Opera House. You'll be hard-pressed to find a better downtown/Harbour area than in Sydney. Amazing as you can imagine in pics, both day and night.

Like February, short entry. Fight the power, brothas.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

2008-07-22T22:24:00.000+10:00

January in Sydney is supposed to be the heart of summertime, filled with well-chronicled sunny days where the Harbour and coastal beaches soak in the warmth. But when I think of January 2008, that crazy wet stuff in the sky is all I can remember. Turns out this "summer" was the wettest in 15 years or so, and coming from Southern California where rain is common as a Clippers playoff appearance, this came as quite a shock. But don't let the weather keep you down....friends in the Northern hemisphere are shivering in the snow and ice....well, except in Cali.

Other than wet, cold weather, the new year brought upon a familiar college football result (no comment), playoff football and of course the excitement of Australia-India cricket! That one dude Singh is a prick, but from what I could tell, India got the best of the Aussies. I still can't believe they play without a mitt or any hand protection. I'll get to rugby in a bit, but same deal there....no pads, helmets. Are the Aussie athletes tougher? Possibly, but dammit, they don't have Vin Scully (you're welcome Jeff).

The other happening that I can remember (other than the rooftop incident...will take that one offline) is Australia Day weekend trip to Melbourne. Australia Day is kinda like 4th of July without the fireworks, parades and utter drunkenness. Yeah, I know. But a venture down to Melbourne with the crew was an interesting experience, complete with crazy dudes running with hammers, girls flashing their boobs with our encouragement and bizarre saxaphone players getting all uppity. Melbourne is a cool town with alleyway bars and what seems like a pretty decent music/art scene. Oh, and Sharapova won the Australian Open while we were there, so no complaints. Did I happen to mention the cougar bar in St. Kilda?? Yeah, will have to make another visit to Melbs, she's a gem.

Christmas in July

2008-07-16T23:35:00.000+10:00

Of course it's strange enough to be in Califonia during Christmastime, when all the houses are lit up with the backdrop of palm trees and surfboards. But Sydney is in the dead of summer and twinkly lights/Santa on the lawn aint exactly the Aussie's style. In a way, almost wish they did a have a touch of that American cheesy Christmas spirit, at least it gets you in the spirit.

So when I think of December, there are a few things that come to mind: first off, the H&K Holiday Party (sorry, Christmas Party. They're not as PC here). They planned an island theme, complete with Fantasy Island characters and islander dancers. We were taken via boat to a private island out in Darling Harbour. Hilarity insued on the island, then in the after party on the way back (ie, Bon Jovi and Aussie, Aussie, Aussie cheers). At some point, the stragglers piled into the back of the moving van so we could all "safely" make it to the bar as one. This H&K office is a whole new bag. Agency of the Year, island Christmas parties, big clients...winning team.

Christmas break wasn't entirely neccessary, considering I had only been working a month or so. But it did give the chance to get out of Sydney: make the trek up to Newcastle, an industrial area, but actually pretty nice with good beaches and all. Being away for Xmas was a bit strange I suppose, but I had the dogs to keep me busy and orphan friends celebrated together at Rory and Suzy's place. Like much of our get togethers, lotsa alcohol was consumed. Unlike other times, we were singing along to a 50-something guitarist, Suzy's dad. Not quite like a Connecticut Xmas, but great time with pseudo-fam.

Oh, caught the Dylan movie during Xmas break. Not sure what many thought about it, but I was pretty mesmerized a few days later. Might have been blinded by he music (Stuck Inside Memphis....great opener song) and sadly, Heath Ledger's performance, but I was a fan. In short, the movie was exactly like Dylan's career and music: unpredictable, an enigma, left up to viewer (or listener) to interpret.

Finally, the month ended off with New Years. Split my earliest ever NYE between Cher's cousin's in North Bondi and Wazza/Allison friend's place in the city. Caught fireworks, got drunk, yee haw.

Ok, I remembered alot from December, good on me! 2007 was a transition, bring on 2008.

Welcome Back, Welcome Back

2008-07-15T01:13:00.000+10:00

Just imagine the Mr. Kotter music playing in the background....alright, so after reading other friends blogs and inspired by the fact that I should probably document my Australian exerience more, I'm going to try and hop back on the blog train. Oh, and I hate when band or other Web sites go months without an update. It's been a fun ride so far here and I have alot of memories (and a ton of non-memories!) to relive via blog.

In commemoration of my ten months in Australia, I'll go month-by-month in the next week to relive what I've been up to. And since it's very late and not sure why I'm even up anyway, here's the rest of November:

Went to PC Authority Awards in my ratty old suit and BB shirt, where of course my accent was spotted by the comedian host, Vince something. He proceeded to tell American jokes, I remember a Clinton-Lewinski one (dude, 1998 called, they want their material back). Don't recall too much of a Thanksgiving, maybe turkey tacos/burgers a few days later. All in all, November was about me getting the visa and starting at H&K Sydney. Canon, ready or not, here I come...

Oh, and how could I forget about Movember, where eery dude in the city looks like a 70s porn extra. That includes yours truly, I was rocking the "ginger" handlebar.

Performance-Enhancing Art

2007-11-18T21:08:00.000+11:00

So in the wake of Barry Bonds' indictment for lying about taking steroids, it leads to an interesting thought. I was watching a great movie from the 60s last night, Monterey Pop, and it made me wonder: if not for performance-enhancing drugs, would the Beatles have ever made Sgt. Peppers or any of the San Francisco groups existed? I mean, LSD should be considered the steroids of music, right? I would never defend Barry Bonds and not doing so here, but we need to put this whole thing in perspective. Every entertainer and athlete has used one form or another to boost their performance or creativity, legal or otherwise.

Some say there are not rules or standards in music or art. Ok, fine, good argument. That's what makes rock n roll so cool.

Visa....It's Everywhere You Want to Be

2007-11-17T11:38:00.000+11:00

After a day more than two months of being Down Under, my work visa was finally approved today. So now I have to train myself to wake up at 7 again, eat three full meals (instead of breakfast at 11, lunch of a snack and dinner at 8) and shave again. Well, now that it's Movember, gotta keep the lame 'stache, but at the least, will have to wear those pesky shirts with buttons and shoes. But the upside is a paycheck, which will be oh so welcome.

Bring on the TPS reports and conference calls....I'll be an official Aussie employee!

Just Like a Rolling Stone

2007-11-13T14:49:00.000+11:00

So upon an invite from friends, I partook (that a word?) in the game of lawn bowling on Saturday. Upon first look, it's a game played by people who are of advanced ages living out their AARP years and maybe richies sipping on champagne. Well, on second look, it is alot of older dudes in white suits, looking like cricket players. But it looks like the lawn bowling folks are trying to get the whipper snappers out to the grounds, and why not? It's a game that has similarities to a number of other games that young people if not love, tend to play on occasion. And plus, there's always a bar attached to the grounds, so that always makes any game more interesting.
Basically, the goal is to roll your ball thingy as close to the little white ball as possible on a short grass surface, similar to a golf putting green. Now, all this ball talk brought back (or moreso reinvigorated) a 12-year-old mentality of finding anything to do with balls as funny. Any sexual innuendo was possible, actually, as we felt for the heavy side of the balls, admired an old man wiping off his balls and instructing us newbies to be gentle with the balls when it was our turn.
The juvenile humor aside, why are there so many games where you have to get one object as close as possible to one "nucleus" object? Was this the basis for the first game ever? In horshoes it's a horeshoe with a stick, shuffle board is a round thingy with some other thingy, bar shuffleboard is round thingys on a long wooden board, curling is the things with a handle near the circles, helped with those agic brooms. Am I missing another? I now know basketball has it's relative in netball, a form of the former without a net or backboard. American football has rugby. Baseball has cricket. But the most simple of games, and in my guesstimation, the first games invented, involved sending an object one direction in hopes of stopping as close as possible to another.
It would only be natural to now think of a full-fledged drinking game in this mold: shuffling shot glasses towards the tequila bottle? Pushing quarters towards the full pint glass? Or maybe best bet is to go for the balls.

A Bug's Life

2007-11-08T14:58:00.000+11:00

One thing they don't tell you about Sydney is that at times it can be infiltrated, or even invaded by a number of bugs. First the moths came in October, but they're relatively easy to deal with. Large and mostly confined to sitting on the wall, the bullseye on those guys is pretty big. One slap of the newspaper and they're gone. The flies, however, are a different story.

Unlike North American flies that are just a pest but tend to scoot when asked, these flies are the beagle of the fly family. They're too dumb to realize that when swiped or shooed at, that means go the hell away. Not only do they stick around, but they pretty much make themselves home on your face, neck, sunglasses for as long as they see fit. And this is a constant little game us humans play with the bugs all day long. Most Sydneysiders tend to shoo them away as a minor convenience, but my inclination is to squash every flying bug that comes into my space. If this continues, I might just go a little gnat crazy.

Am I the only one that threatens to A-bomb each and every fly to kingdom come? Maybe with the other creatures Australians have to deal with, the flies are no big whoop. Or maybe I just need to invest in a little bug repellant and I'll be ok.

I've been told that the flies go away in December, which seems odd, since I thought bugs, birds and the like all arrive during summer. If that's the case, cool.....now all I have to deal with are the huge spiders that tend to get in our house.

Hollow Ween??

2007-10-31T16:29:00.000+11:00

One sad reality I've found here in Australia is the lack of one of my favorite holidays, Halloween. It might be because it's springtime, and a spooky holiday wouldn't seem normal in April, would it? Other holidays are switched here, and of course Thanksgiving is nonexistant. (do they have a holiday when the first convicts came here? I'll have to check into that) I guess that's what I'll have to expect when the seasons are flipped and living in a country still saluting the queen. So boo to everyone else around the world, and save some candy corns for me....

Stranger in a Not-So-Strange Land

2007-10-24T17:14:00.000+10:00

Now that I’m going on about six weeks in country (sound like a Vietnam soldier or something), I might as well give a review of Sydney and what I’ve seen of Australia thus far. Since it’s fresh in my mind, for one, their immigation system sucks ass. Not sure how things are in the U.S. of A, but in total, it’s going to likely take me a good 10-12 weeks to get this friggin visa. I mean, I like NOT working as much as the next guy, but there are monetary limits! I’m thinking about illegally working as either a game show contestant, male stripper/prostitute or a dingo walker. OK, not even sure that last one exists….and I wish the second one didn’t.

On that note, I have been able to venture throughout this fine city, otherwise known as, come to think of it, I have no clue what Sydney’s nickname is. The ciy of moths? Land of expensive everything? The best English accent on the planet? In order to judge Sydney, you start with the people and go from there. They have been, other than a few scattered surly dudes, a great group of friendly, charming and overall happy individuals willing to soak up the sunshine and share a good many pints with anyone.

The city itself is decorated with a fantastic harbor (sorry, harboUr) area….it’s one of those postcard moments, kinda like when you go to Fenway Park for the first time. The bridge and Opera House are omnipresent, but what also makes it great are the hills and unending mass of water everywhere. Ferries are constantly coming and going, and the sun is shining on most days, which makes it even better. The first time I saw the harbour was night one, and the scene at night might be unbeatable. You could almost compare the downtown/harbour area to Seattle or San Francisco, but more scenic b/c it’s more centralized….and of course Oakland is on the East Bay in SF. The city is great because it makes you feel like you’re in a “real” city, complete with public transportation, skyscrapers and people with stuff to do. The city itself has a London feel to it, complete with areas named Surry Hills and Paddington and its own Hyde Park. More hills, though. This is all balanced off by where I live in Bondi Beach, just a short 20-minute bus ride away.
One thing I’ve found realy nice is that it’s very easy to adjust to life here. Things ma be different, but if they are, it’s off a shade. People pretty much are interested in the same things as the states, they eat similar (even Mexican!) and follow sports with the same passion. The only difference is which sports and maybe some food, but curry is a good replacement.

Otherwise, what I’ve seen so far has been pretty great landscapes and I’m looking forward to venturing out of Sydney now that I have some more free time. Here's a brief synopsis of my stay so far:

The Good: friendly people, scenic surroundings, blue-green water, 5% beer, ease of living adjustment, people-watching on the bus, girls’ accents, no tipping

The Not-So-Good: flies, wind, expensive, immigration system, waiting too long for a buses, coin dollars, no American sports bars, cash-only bars and stores

I’m sure I’ll have other observations about Sydney in the coming weeks, and maybe even post a few pics in the coming weeks!

In the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle

2007-10-05T16:14:00.000+10:00

I was going to make my birthday pretty standard....go into the office, meet up with friends for drinks and maybe hit up the gym in the meantime. But since I don't really HAVE to go into the office and the gym will be there tomorrow, I took up my roommates offer to go to the zoo with parents that were in town. First off, I honestly haven't been to a zoo since the Bronx Zoo when I was about seven years old. After college in Columbus, Ohio and living an hour and half from San Diego, two places with some of the best zoos (or should it be spelled zooz??) in the world, I'm not much of a zoolologist. But the bonus of going to Taronga Zoo here in Sydney is the ferry ride across the famous Sydney Harbour, and checking off another tourist attraction while noticing Australia's unique wildlife.

The ferry ride, which I've pretty much taken before, lived up to the billing, even in 32+ degree heat. Oh right, the metric system....well, 32 is pretty hot, almost 90 farenheit. I was getting a little jealous of the seals, swimming in those nice pools throughout the day. But as we spent more and more time there, I couldn't help but think that the zoo is a bit of a ripoff. I mean, it's cool to see the monkees and koalas up in the trees and swinging around, but I feel like half the time it was trying to see animals that were either asleep or hidden behind rocks.

Of course I was mindful of how these animals are taken out of their natural habitat, which is a concern, but they're the rock stars of this place, so that's no biggie. In the wild, they'd be another schmo sitting in a tree. But here, people wanna take pics, hug them, buy stuffed replicas of them. So that's not the problem.

I just want my lions and tigers and bears to be omnipresent and as a bonus, even walking around, playing, eating...something. Sure, it's an uncontrolled environment, so that's why those little ampitheatre shows are the best part. It's like you're at a mini Pearl Jam show with Mimi the seal as Eddie Vedder. But outside of the seal concerts (nice pun!), I spent half the time trying to figure out what animals I was looking at and even if they were even in the cages.

Not sure if Jack Hanna or Joan Embry are listening (wow, how do I know two zookeepers? Oh right, Letterman and Johnny Carson), but let's get those animals out there...give em a song and dance routine, something. I mean, you are giving them wonderful 20x20 home, you might as well make them work for it!

South of the Equator (con't)

2007-10-05T16:12:00.000+10:00

One more thought about the International Dateline....does it not sound some cheap 1-900 number where you can meet people from all around the globe? Just imagine, in the best Movieline voice, "for Italians, press oooonnnee....Germans, press twwwoooo..." Of course, if you're looking for a girl from Uzbekistan, they're a little more rare, so it'll cost ya.

South of the Equator

2007-10-04T16:19:00.000+10:00

Yesterday I awoke on October 3, Sydney time, to yet another sunny day overlooking the blue-green Pacific Ocean and light summer breeze. Not a bad way to start my 29th birthday....or is it?? Well yes, it was a great start, but was this in fact my birthday? I was told once you cross the international dateline, all things revert to local time. But I still hold onto the fact that since I was born at 8:00 a.m. EST on October 3, 1978, whatever that day is here truly should be my birthday. However, since yesterday involved a visit the zoo, including a ferry ride along the glorious Sydney Harbor, and drinks with friends afterward, it seems like a much more fitting celebratory day than in front of my computer in an office.

But let's get back to this international dateline thing. I mean, I even think it's strange for some people in Indiana, who live on the same side of the street, but can be in different time zones. "Hey there, Wilbur, what time's the game on? 8:00 for me, Cletus, but 7:00 for you, lucky." Not that I think people in Indiana are hicks or anything.... But the idea of an international dateline means what? Time starts there? Wow, the closest country may be a little island in the middle of nowhere, but they can lay claim to just that: Tonga. Time starts with us.

I would think that should be an atraction during the flight down here. "If you folks look to your left, you'll see...nothing. But that's where time starts, so you pay respect, dammit." Along with the toilet flush thing (see last entry), I also somewhat expected the world around me to unravel once crossing the line....maybe food would taste different, people would talk funny or my general worldview would change. Nope, the egg omlet is just dandy, the Fijian peeps talk a little funny (but still English) and while I now find Chuck Klosterman amusing, I'm pretty much the same.

With this whole bday thing as an exception, of course. I guess New Years will kinda freak me out, too. So as October 3 concludes in the states and October 4 continues here, I guess I can take solace in the fact that next year, it will take an extra day to make me 30, and I'm just fine with that!

Flight of the Conchords

2007-09-27T20:05:00.000+10:00

OK, I'm ripping the title off HBO's wonderful new sitcom about aspiring Kiwi musicians, but I guess it's somewhat fitting since I've landed Down Under....yes, New Zealand counts! Well, I'm almost two weeks here in Sydney, and it's a wonderful city, little mix of San Fran and Seattle, but girls have the best accents to boot. But we'll get to that in another post, let's flash back a bit.

For now, let me rewind a to the travels over here. Based on my experiences flying around this great world, it would be fitting for me to get stranded in Guam Airport and rerouted to Sydney via Hong Kong or somewhere. But other than transfering my clothes from bag to bag for luggage weight issues and a delay at LAX, sitting on the plane for a few hours (yes, a bummer, and close call to a bad start of my journey), we promply took off over the vast Pacific Ocean. I actually recongnized Manhattan Beach as we were taking off, picturing Pag cooking up some scheme somewhere in his three-story house. As we continued our descent (such a pilot phrase), I was less sentimental and more excited....not because of the new land awaiting ahead, but because of the open seat between myself and a Hemmingway-looking dude two seats over. When you're on a 45 minute flight, or 14 hour in my case, there's few better feelings than, "hell yeah, my legs are gonna strech for this one!" And I may be alone in this, but another one of my favorite things (maybe not in life, but on a plane) is a warm-cooked meal delivered right to your seat. Something about sitting there with little to do, hungry and tired, receving a meal of reheated ravioli with a plastic glass of wine that seems to make things allll right. Oh, and at this point it was about 1:00 a.m. It's a strangely comforting, maybe because we never get food on flights these days (and what's up with that, BTW? Every other facet of customer-serviced business has improved over the years, but we can't get a tray of chicken and potatoes from New York to LA?) , but three meals on two flights, including a repeat of some omlet thingy? What more could I ask for? Oh right, the empty seat between me and Hemmingway, who's now reading a book about bird-watching...true renaissance man.

After an uneventful showing of Oceans "Lord-Knows-What-Number-They're-On," alot of sleep and few chapters of Chuck Klosterman, we landed in Fiji, which seems like, well, a pretty green island in the South Pacific with guys in skirts singing South Pacific songs as you land. At the airport, I ran into a mate from New Zealand I met at LAX, who was the first of many Kiwis who had no clue what Flight of the Conchords is. Lloyd is pretty much the epitome of the folks Down Under: very chill and laid-back, but well-traveled and overall knowledgeable about the world around him. He didn't think too highly of Sydney, was too big of a place for him. But I try to make my own opinion with places in the world. After all, I actually like LA of all cities!

A few more musings while 30k feet in the air: as the plane crosses the equator, does the toilet on the plane go one way, then reverse course to counterclockwise? Seriously folks, we need to get some attractive flight attendants on planes again. I just learned that hot girls work in banks now....don't they like to travel, too? Or was Cinemax lying?? I love flying into places I've never been as we land and notice the cars driving around. Like, "oh, they do that here....how cool are they? This place is so interesting!" But it was true in this case, the're on the left side of the road. I'm always interested in how phrases and places got their names, such as, is there an Old Zealand? OK, I'm starting to sound like Andy Rooney. And referencing Andy Rooney makes me sound like Dennis Miller in front of a college crowd.

So as the Air Pacific flight 911 (yeah, tell me about it...felt real happy with that number!) descended upon Sydney, I couldn't help think what this land offered, and what Hemmingway, the bird watcher was up to in Fiji. Both seemed like a mystery, but it's all about solving those myteries and creating new adventures to blabber about on a Web site.