Opera In The Park

     My mother is a huge fan of opera. Youthful memories of opera programs on the old Grundig radio with the volume turned up full blast while Mom ironed clothes are easily summoned. And for a few years when we were old enough to sit still but not old enough to rebel, Mom would take some of her younger kids to an opera matinee annually to raise our appreciation of the arts. 
     Didn't she know that our art consciousness was being raised every Saturday morning while watching Bugs Bunny cartoons?  Mel Blanc must have been a huge fan of opera as some of the more memorable episodes featured operatic numbers.  What about TV commercials?  Pasta commercials would feature some Italian favorite aria on occasion.  And a true American commercial advertising icon, the No More Rice Krispies ad, cemented at least one opera song into the minds of even the least cultured among us.  [Go ahead, click on those links to enjoy these old favorites yourself.]  
     Wisely, Mom picked operas that were sung in English and contained a fair amount of comedic relief.  And all of us were amused by 'young lovers' portrayed by some two-ton Tessie tiptoeing coyly behind a trellis while her eighth of a ton beau bounded after her.  We sat, we saw, we survived the cultural indoctrination.

     Fast forward to the Opera In The Park, a 50th anniversary gala performance of the West Australian Opera company last night. [50 years! Perth is not a fishing village, thank you.]  It was the annual free concert held on the Supreme Court Gardens, a huge grassy area lying between the Swan River and the skyscrapers of the central business district. Simulcast to country towns that have limited access to opera, there are also large screens for the huge crowds to get a close-up view of the action on the stage.  Being a "gala", many people dressed to the nines or in costume...to sit on blankets on the ground.  I missed this rare opportunity to wear a sparkly sequined cape and fascinator. DRATS.  The capacity crowd makes one wonder: is opera (or opera curious) this big in Western Australia?  I think the "free" tag brought in more than a few thrifty souls, but that's OK.  People can nibble at the product for free and then maybe want to take a bigger bite by buying a ticket to an upcoming season performance.
    

Opera In The Park Instagram

     The program was a predictable mix of opera's greatest hits and this is OK, also.  People may not recognize the name of the piece but may certainly recognize the tune (thank you, Bugs).  For those keeping score, some of the line-up included: Don Giovanni, Rigoletto, Carmen's Toreador Song, Il Trovatore Anvil Chorus, the Lakme duet, Tosca and Turandot's Nessun Dorma. The latter I've heard so many times I can sing it myself. The featured singers did  a fine job on a cool night and the chorus was as diverse as the audience.  Opera has moved away from the bigger-is-better mentality but the cameras couldn't hide the ages of the 'young lovers'  or what must have been some of the original chorus members.  And this too is OK. What was onstage reflected what was in the audience.  A nice touch was the encore, "With hope in your heart...you'll never walk alone" by Rogers and Hammerstein.


     And my annual arts appreciation commitment fulfilled, Mom.

 
 

Smooth Transition of Power

Donald Trump takes Presidential  Oath.  c.Getty Images

    Today's images and rhetoric about the inauguration of the 45th US President Donald Trump brings back the same memories and thoughts that every other presidential inauguration has.
    There is always talk of a  "peaceful or smooth transition of power". I always thought this rather odd  as if anything else has or could have happened. It has always been this way every time my young self mused. This youthful 'Duh'  response got its answer as I looked around the world and saw that not all transitions of power were easy and without mayhem. The outside world gawks at this docility (we're talking the inauguration here, not the less docile campaign seasons) while their own leadership eviscerates their opponents verbally, tactically or in more bloody ways. This smooth transition of power is still my expectation and it finds me gawking at all the rest of leadership transitions.
    In Australia, it seems Prime Ministers change more often than toilet rolls in an outhouse. A party is, in reality,  elected and if the current PM loses favor or is the object of some backroom political jostling and intrigue he/she can be replaced by a simple party vote. OZ had five PMs in five years--need I say more?  There is not a lot of fanfare going on with the actual hand over of power. My Australian husband is flabbergasted to hear that a US presidential inauguration (pre-, during, and post-event) is covered live  by all of the US television networks. Duh, again. Of course it is, it is a big deal.  In fact, Australian television (The public supported Australian Broadcast Corp.) had the inauguration on live as well but watched mostly by night owls  as the time difference put the event inconveniently in the middle of the night.
    Puzzling to me are the protestors in Washington DC and elsewhere. Celebrities and muckrakers calling for a 100 day protest. Really? And just what is getting angry and staying angry for over three months going to do? It will not and cannot produce change.  At least not any change protestors hope it will. Trump is in. Period. Screaming and burning things are not replacements for vigilance and constructive dialog. So you over-excitable and misled folks: take a breath, grow a brain and take the action that actually will produce results. So much energy so misspent so unwisely.
    Another, and final, puzzlement is how much I look like every US president since Abraham Lincoln. No really, I do. Over the years when traveling overseas or just out and about here in OZ,  I've been constantly stopped  and harangued about 'my' policy in Vietnam, Watergate, Irangate, Tibet, the Middle East, any/all military moves or lack of movement, monetary issues, roads, education, farming subsidies, slavery in the 1850s, etc.,etc., etc. What a chameleon I am to look exactly like whoever is residing in 1600 Pennsylvania Ave!  Or do people think that I am the puppet master pulling the strings of all  political being in Washington DC?  More wasted energy of people barking in my not-like-any-president's  face thinking it will make a difference.  
     And  for the record, I was not on the grassy knoll either.

Spring Wildflower Season: In Search of Orchids

     I have long maintained that the Spring Wildflower season in Western Australia is  an incredible visitor experience undervalued by various tourism organizations in this state. (Click here to read previous rant and rave on the topic)  Due to the size of this state, the season is long and the flower variety changes with geographical latitude.  If one does not have a car, a formal bus tour or very sturdy legs on a more sturdy bicycle would be required as the flowers are not all nice and neatly arranged in one area.  Bit of a treasure hunt really.  And we have a working car and a free weekend. We're off.

     We've had great success finding fields of Everlastings and a bumper crop of Wreath flowers. This particular trip I wanted to see orchids in the wild.  And like many flowers (not of the Everlastings or Wreath variety) one has to get out of the car and do a bit of bushwalking to see them.  None of this whizzing past at 60 miles per hour to 'get as much possible in' stuff. But this is OK.  A little exercise won't kill anyone and I did mention that it is a bit of a treasure hunt, didn't I?

bushwalking for better viewing

delicate lovelies

'

I never could have spotted these tiny flowers from a speeding car window.

Cowslip

       A name a remember from a book read in my youth, "Cowslip, A Slave" by Betsy Haynes.  A young slave girl whose master had named her Cowslip. Such an unflattering name, she pouted. But her mother told her otherwise saying it was a beautiful flower.  And Mom was right.  Cowslips were plentiful this spring and far from the only oddly named flower around.

Cowkick

Kangaroo Paw

Running Postman

Need I say more?

I couldn't begin to tell you how some of these flowers  got their names.  But Snottygobble?
Really?  Even the posted explanation doesn't quite cover it.

Fuxxy Ground Flower

Bird in Red Wattle

OK. Some I have no idea what they are called and not sure I care but they sure were fun to spot. The bird in the very common Red Wattle was actually spotted in Kings Park which boasts its own Spring Flower extravaganza.

Cute pink pine flower and purpley durpley.  Not very scientific sound but worked for me. Non-poisonous spiders aplenty.

Spider Orchid

  

Metropolitan Gnomeville

     And what would any road trip south of Perth be without a quick visit to Gnomesville? Started organically by some larrikin, G-ville is now being cared for by the shire which finally recognized its tourism potential.  A bit of urban sprawl now as Gnomesville seems to have suburbs and squatters on neighboring private property.

Dardanup Bakery

Let's keep the fun and  wheels going. By chance I spotted this bakery hiding in a shed behind  the owner's home. [Hey, maximizing one's resources is a wise move.] The Dardanup Bakery has some seriously good bread. I rarely find a good sourdough bread, so naturally I had to bring some of their superior goods home.


 

Boyup Brook Museum.

Oh, let's pop into the Boyup Brook Museum.  Boyup Brook is best know for its annual country music festival, but it has its other charms. Like the museum. A small back room to its visitor center that features the locally donated  doll, butterfly and scarab collections.


And now we have crammed in as much as possible in one weekend.  Officially, a rather successful treasure hunt. 

 

Our Christmas Feast...Water Buffalo

      My hubby does not always walk life's usual paths.  He likes being quirky.  It's the Australian in him.  But his tradition of unusual Christmas suppers has more than a few Antipodeans scratching their heads.
      The very idea of a holiday ham or turkey on December 25th leaves him cold.  He greatly warms up to non-conventional meals and starts menu planning a few months ahead.  As this relieves me of planning and cooking (and keeps him busy enough to not bother me in planning everything else) I encourage it.  Each year I anticipate a meal I could not possible have anticipated: squab, crocodile, guinea fowl, ostrich sausage, and the like.  Notice these "meals" are all meat. In Kev's book, a vegetable is merely meat that has turned green. I make sure that a few plant based vegetables are in the house just to round out the selection on the plate.
      So what did we have as a Christmas luncheon this year?  Bubalus bubalis  or water buffalo.  Really.    Some of the water buffalo had been marinated in a garlic/tarragon/vinegar mix and some just as it came off the hoof.  Served with asparagus and potatoes.  Rather disappointing it was.  Tasted just like tough beef.  But more expensive.  Officially now checked off my life list.
       Where does one find such a delicacy?  It is only available at very specialized butcher shops where crazed carnivores hang out. O.K., but where does the butcher get his meat?  Hard to believe, but right here in Australia.  Really.
        According to the Australian Government Department of Environment and Energy website (where I go for all my party menu planning):

             Water buffalo were imported to Australia in the 19th century to supply meat to remote  northern settlements. The settlements and their buffalo were abandoned in 1949 and, despite harvesting for meat, hides and as hunters' trophies, feral buffalo spread across the northern floodplains. The Brucellosis and Tuberculosis Eradication Campaign reduced feral buffalo numbers significantly in the 1980s and 1990s but numbers are again very high right across northern Australia causing significant damage to wetlands.

Water Buffalo in the bush.

          Oh, so right here in Western Australia and Northern Territories.  I could have big game hunted my supper!  More surprises--there are city slickers here who actually know that one does not have to travel beyond our shores to find these...Bubalus beauties.  I learn something new everyday.  And anticipate next year's unanticipated holiday meal.



    And now that we've eaten, let us take a quick drive around to look at Christmas lights. And again, an Aussie touch ever present here as well.  This festive lighting  was found at the airport of all places.  Happy Holidays, one and all.

Perth Airport boab tree

Perth Airport reclining 'Roo

 

     

Hi, Bye & Triplets. Random Musings #6

Gus!

     Say Hello to my buddy Gus. He's an Airedale Terrier who I frequently bump into while exercising.  We have much in common, Gus and I: We love walking along the Swan River. We prefer a 'slow and steady' pace. Sometimes our knees creak. We're both really cute. And we love the occasional cookie--especially the expensive kind. Gus' (nameless) owner shocked me the other day by stating that this former abused shelter dog from Sydney is only seven years old. That's 49 in human years.  Gus' slow speed can be attributed to being a bit overweight.  Ummm, another thing Gus and I have in common.  Not much of a dog person, Gus has waddled right into my heart. Occasionally, a collie named Vincent and his (also nameless--as if it mattered) owner come across my path and I say hello to him also.  In fact, my four-legged friend Gus is a great motivator for me to get out there every morning. I look forward to saying hello to him. And both of us ever earlier with a faster step as the days get warmer and warmer.  The sooner finished, the sooner in front of a fan.  We are so smart, Gus and I.

Old at 8 years

     Saying Goodbye to my trusty old cellphone. It served me faithfully for eight years. It fit into my hand and my bag quite easily.  And it also fit into my leather cover from my first cellphone. Technology is making it obsolete.  I'm obliged to buy a new phone that fits only into a child's lost sock and has more bells and whistles than I want.  I am not a technophobe. Those slick smartphones can really come in handy with maps, gps, internet access and the like. Easy to see how people get so glued to and reliant upon them.  And that is where I balk at the idea of getting one (besides being a cheapskate  thrifty.)  Phones are a great tool but not my best friend, social crutch or cleaner of fridge, as handy as that would be.  I would also be a bit nervous about putting my entire life-private and professional-on a single device so easily damaged or lost. And even more wary of turning into one of those phone gawking drones you see on the bus every morning--long rendered by technology incapable of carrying on a conversation with others or even the desire to do so. So hello low tech phone and hello to to all I meet. Lovely to communicate with you.

Twin & Triplet Bananas

     I have Triplets! I've only had twins before so this is really exciting.  OK, maybe just amusing to my eight year-old nephew Nathan and myself. At the Canning Markets lately, I've been finding Siamese twin bananas-two separate bananas side by side under one peel.  These are quite fun but no one seems to want them.  So I get a special deal on them and then pass them out to kids at church the next day and to my nephew. We think these are a hoot.  Yesterday I found Triplets. Way cool.  Nathan is out of town and cannot enjoy it in person so I will turn it into Banana Butter, a happy spread I won second place for at this year's fair.  Alright, I may be amused  by things of little consequence but you have to admit: Twin and Triplet bananas are really cute.


  Author's Note: Found December 24, 2016 at the Canning Markets. QUADRUPLET banana. Yes, all four are connected top to bottom under the same undulating peel. Will be making Banana Butter very soon.

Quadruplet  Banana!

 

Silk Road Uyghur Cuisine...Now Open!

     It's rare that Kev gets super excited about a restaurant opening.  He likes restaurants. He eats in them much more often than I do.  But he doesn't get too worked up about them.  Until a new one took the place of a pancake restaurant (a location that flips owners/food about four times a year) on our local strip.

Silk Road Uyghur Cuisine

      Hello  Silk Road Uyghur Cuisine!   What?  Where?  Uyghur?  I share your confusion but Kev was in no doubt about this. The Uyghur [pronounced Wee-gur] region is the western most side of China just before you bump into Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. Not easy to find on the map. Not exactly an internationally renown cuisine.  But therein lies its appeal.  We have scores of Asian restaurants on our main drag but none that evoke Old World mystery of the Silk Road. And we were there on Opening Night.

Traditional Uyghur hats

     It was obviously packed with family and friends bringing in flowers, plants, kids and Grandma to celebrate the occasion.  So few non-Asian faces that owner Askar knew who we were as soon we walked through the door. We joined the good will atmosphere as the staff--wearing shirts with the packet fold creases still quite sharp--found their way through a new busy service. We admired regional artwork and coloring of tablecloths and lights while waiting for menus.  And waited longer for our main dishes-mine came first and after a long wait Kev's came and after that his soup.  And we weren't fussed. Our role was to help the staff find their rhythm and taste the mysterious Uyghur offerings.

Uyghur Polo

     And it is clearly a mix of traders and marauders tastes on this part of the road.  Lamb prevails, rice has carrots in it, yoghurt drinks and spice enough for those who like it.  I ordered Polo, a traditional Uyghur rice with two skewers of lamb and salad.  The lamb was not too spicy (and easier to eat off the skewer especially where we were sitting) and the portions filling.  Kev ordered the Tawa Kewap, a lamb shank with bread, salad and yoghurt.   They hadn't mentioned that the lamb is fermented overnight in salt before being marinated and cooked.  This makes it a bit salty but the addition of bread, salad and yoghurt to the same dish was a first for the culinarily adventurous Kev.  Dessert was Kunafe, a Turkish cheese pastry soaked in a sugar syrup and served with ice cream. Again, a multi-regional blend that had never before tickled Kev's palate.  And let us include the traditional salty yoghurt drink--the sweet one was not available as they make their own yoghurt and had not made enough for both versions by opening night.  Happily, all of this food came at a reasonable price.

Where is Uyghur?

Here!

      Good food, happy atmosphere, affordable prices...what more could you ask?  Where's Uyghur?  Our Han Chinese waitress couldn't tell us but the wall at the entrance gives us a clue. A bit far for a meal.  Happily the Silk Road is nearby.

Austral-American Food

    When I was in college a new restaurant opened up. It was called Olga's Kitchen and I loved its food and the picture of the Mediterranean-looking lady who spearheaded the place.  Who knew that Greek food could be so yummy?!  I mentioned this to a classmate who snarled back that it wasn't real Greek food and it would never fly anywhere in Greece.  Olga did well because she adapted Greek cuisine to the American palate.  
     Just like every other national cuisine adapts to the palate of its new home.
     And that goes for "American" food in Australia.  And we are not talking about McDonald's here but the staples that appeared on plates in just about every dining room in America--and in every American movie or TV show with a dining table in it.  You knew Mom loved you when she served up meatloaf and mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, turkey with gravy/stuffing/yams/cranberry sauce,  Jell-o with fruit in it, etc. You get the picture. So when I go to events here in Perth that have an American theme, my hopes rise high for a nostalgic meal.  I should know better.
     Yesterday's  tourism industry event had a western hoe-down theme.  Too hot for cowboy wear, we were OK'd for cooler clothing--I did wear my cowboy earrings, bolo tie and best John Wayne accent to get in the spirit of things.  There was a mechanical bull to ride (no, thanks) and a real horse too spooked by its surroundings to oblige the promised rides (drats). Then there was the food: Old El Paso salsa with domestic corn chips, mac and cheese (inedible in any country), cracker crust pizza with either pulled pork or tuna on it (Really? Can someone look up Chicago-style pizza recipes and attempt that, please?), some kind of meat pie (totally Australian), pulled beef on a bun (not tooooo bad) and some nasty mess I cannot name nor could swallow.  And all of it was served in miniature (an act of mercy.)   The desserts were from a Swedish bakery named Miss Maud's and were a welcome--if not overly American--sight.  The mini cherry pies had no solid fruit and too much crust but very edible, the brownies were more fluffy cake than dense treat (a common mistake) and the mini jam filled doughnuts were yummy and disappeared quickly.  I softened my critiques (when asked) by mentioning how foreign foods are adapted to the local palate as I put my unfinished whatever on a passing tray.  The above menu has pretty much appeared at other American themed events--with slightly better success. The menu is right, its execution....Australian.
      For a moment I thought I should change vocations and go into catering real American food.       But, would anyone eat it...?