Black Friday in OZ

      It's Black Friday in Western Australia.  This would normally mean that a great disaster (often a horrific fire) has happened.  This year it means something entirely different.

     Black Friday is the first official Christmas shopping day of season in the U.S.  We've eaten Thanksgiving turkey, watched the holiday parade and/or football game on TV and packed up the leftovers for the following week on Thursday.  But many people get the Friday after Thanksgiving Thursday off work and school as an unofficial part of the holiday. Soooooo, let's go Christmas shopping!  Wooo hooo! Retailers hang their fortunes and futures on this opening weekend of Christmas shopping.  Sales start earlier and earlier on Friday morning in order to get the jump on the competition.  Consumers follow their cue and get in the queue for bargains or the latest kid craze toy.  All expected and part of the social dance in North America.

     I've watched for 10 years to see when the Christmas shopping 'season' starts in a country that does not celebrate any kind of thanksgiving at any time, let alone one near the end of November.  There is no clear cut day or week for the Christmas 'season' to start here as there is back home.

     This year it has all changed. Australian retailers (and more than a few consumers) have been watching retail madness on the other side of the Pacific Ocean for years. The notion of Black Friday in world with increasingly fluid commercial borders has made it less an odd novelty and  more a reasonable concept.  To retailers, of course.  And not just large international businesses.  This year is the first I've seen major domestic-only businesses tout their Black Friday sales. Lots of them, all at once as if there was some secret collusion amongst them. Or maybe they all just independently decided to jump at once at this potential  commercial bonanza.                                                               

      Will it work?  Will this American notion (or nonsense) get a toe-hold in Australia the same way Halloween seems to have inveigled its way in--which is, through retailers primarily fueled by American movies and TV shows?  Hard to say.  Everyone loves a bargain and a firm holiday starting line, for that matter. But no one is getting off work today either to recover from gorging themselves on that fantastic Thanksgiving supper, visiting relatives you hope to see only once a year or to go spend money at the mall or online.

     As for me, I kind of appreciate the reminder of home...as I hide my wallet from any retail temptation.

 

Laughter Yoga

     Today I had a rather unusual but happy experience.  What had been billed as a Mindfulness workshop actually turned out to be a Laughter Yoga session.

      Laughter Yoga? What's that?  Yoga is all about beneficial breathing (morphing into a human pretzel or other impossible poses are more of an aside) and Laughter Yoga takes it one step further.  There is healing in laughter--natural endorphins and serotonin is released when one laughs--and the body does not distinguish real laughter from forced laughter. This makes laughter a natural therapy and antidote to stress of all kind that builds up in our daily existence.  

    Janni Goss- a physiotherapist, Wellbeing Educator and Laughter Yoga teacher-led us through some exercises.  Clap your hands while saying Ho Ho Ha Ha Ha [much like dancing- Step, Step, cha-cha-cha]  and  (clapping twice) Ha Ha (two thumps way up) Yes   and   do a witch's cackle while stirring an imaginary pot  and    Ha Ha  laugh while tossing an imaginary hot potato to someone else.  Did it feel a bit foolish or forced at times? Well, yes, but at the end of the session it was easy to see that laughter--real or forced--is quite the aerobic activity even if one is seated the entire time. My heart was pumping! (This makes it a good workout at senior centers and for dementia patients.)

Photo: laughteryoga.org

    This is not just something we at the far end of the planet do to amuse ourselves. The Laughter Yoga movement started with five people in 1995 and  has mushroomed into 16,000+ laughter clubs in 104 countries.  There is an international Laughter Yoga resource where you can find a club near you.  Here are the links for North America  and Australia.   Want to sample this experience anonymously and without pressure?  You are in luck.  May 7th is World Laughter Day and public Laughter Yoga sessions are being held everywhere. In Perth, the session will be in Kings Park between 12noon and 2pm. Check the Laughter Yoga International link or your local website for the location nearest you. 

     Laughter is contagious.  Can you think of any other contagion more worthy of catching?

Dining Out in Victoria Park

     Cities are no more static than the individuals who live in them. The demographics change, the main drag changes as do our tastes in food.  Victoria Park, just south of the river that rings Perth, has a rapidly changing face along its main road, Albany Highway.  So many more restaurants are there that one is spoiled for choice.  Don't prefer the current choice? Wait a bit, some of the restaurants have changed owners/styles of food three times in one year!  
     The following current review was written by my own Kev. Not big on blogs or writing in general, he was moved by his own curiosity and research into the various eateries to report on the current state of Dining Out in Victoria Park. (I have made minor changes like proper punctuation, capital letters--that sort of thing.)

Well, looks like Vic Park is trying to go cosmopolitan (for Perth that is). There has always been  a unhealthy choice of restaurants here but now the choice is getting more exotic.


When I got here there were the usual cheap Chinese and Italian  & a few pizza places, the local kebab shop, a couple of Indian, as well as a few other Asian  ones like Thai, Malay, Viet and one long standing overpriced Mexican (plus the pubs).


But now there is an explosion of choice, Nepalese, Japanese, vegan, a few other Asian but most of all Korean. We seem to be little Seoul here. there has always been a bulgogi place (that is only open half the time), but now there are about five , complete with hot plates at the table so you can cook it yourself (seems to defeat the purpose?) and exhaust fans for the smoke (doesn't work but it makes it really high end??). There are about ten Korean shops of one sort or another so Kimchi  and gochujang are readily available. Also all the bottle shops have Soju on sale, and the odd Korean Beer. I did try Soju with my friend Wally years ago, Wal wrote it off but I was prepared to give it another go. So in Korea I tried a few and different flavors ( pomegranate- cough mixture, blueberry - Boones Farm (cheap US rotgut), peach - not so bad) at best it was  cheap and not so nasty. The only good thing is it comes in small bottles, The Wal was right , I notice in Korea they would drop a shot of Soju into their beer, would help improve both.


The Chinese Restaurants have gone high end as well with the hot plates and exhaust fans and specific styles or regions to choose from  (A lot of Asian type restaurants have a short life span, particularly the Chinese, only the Chinese can see the snob value). But also there is now other types sticking their plates in. A Eritrean (same as Ethiopian) restaurant set up shop a few years ago and is still there, probably as there is nothing else like it, I get a take away occasionally.


Also unexpected (and a bit silly) is a "traditional American Tapas Bar". Yep, you can get a selection of sliders and mini hot dogs with your favorite bourbon, just like in the USA???. I went in and asked over a beer (Estrella, a Spanish beer!) and they confirmed it. 


Across the road from the Eritrean is a cuisine I never though I would see anywhere, particularly here, Silk Road Uyghur (WEE-GAR) restaurant (the far west of China, Muslim, splitists), more central Asian than Chinese. I had to go opening night (before it closes) and had the saltiest dish possible.


There is also a place just off the main drag for pop-up restaurants, a Peruvian place had a few goes there. There is also a Venezuelan in Perth doing well, although it is more street food than mains (and rum). Other Asian attempts and a regular at the pop up has Japanese burgers and rice???. One restaurant that started there has now moved onto the main drag (into a place vacated by a flash Chinese place) is a Caribbean restaurant, had to try it, particularly for their proper (AKA not Australian) Rum selection and buckets of Cuba Libra for $17, the chicken jerk was a bit bland but they have a gluttony challenge off which I had a front row seat, to watch some man try to eat a burger the size of a leg of lamb, plus chips etc,.  He failed. He was filming himself and was referred to as a pro at this. No one has done it yet (around 50 attempts so far, it's free if you finish.)   


Will have to go back for the goat curry.

     He'll be going to that goat curry without me.  I wrote up on the Silk Road Uyghur restaurant after that visit. (Click on the link to read.)  
     And now that you see that the selection is impressive, feel free to skip Subiaco's standard selection or Fremantle's Cappuccino Strip and come to the very friendly Victoria Park gastronome experience.

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...?

Music : The Decade OZ Cannot Leave Behind

    The bold caption of the photo above the fold on the front of the weekend paper read  "Boys in black roar back with a bang."  The first paragraph sums up the entire experience perfectly. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it--that's been AC/DC's motto  since they first plugged in their guitars at Sydney's Chequers Nightclub 42 years ago." With the exception of  a few new songs, the concert was identical to the one played at the same venue five years ago.  Guitarist Angus Young, now 60, still dons his trademark school uniform and whips up an audience aged from 14 to 74.  Television stations have cameras outside waiting to hear from the premier (governor) of the state  and anyone else of note give a drooly critique of the magical evening.  A reunion of legends? A final farewell of old rockers looking to spend more time in their chateau vineyards?  

    Hardly. This is business as usual in a nation whose musical clock seemed to have stopped in the 70s.    

    Acca Dacca, as they are affectionately nicknamed, has never stopped. The death of their charismatic front man, Bon Scott, three and half decades ago, nor the dementia nor legal troubles of other band members seems to faze anyone or soften affection. Bon Scott has a statue erected in Fremantle--practically a shrine for locals and visitors alike.  Joining them in the Australian musical pantheon of bands never allowed to retire or change their act are groups like KISS and Cold Chisel. Yes, KISS. Still in platform shoes and greasepaint while padding their retirement accounts with regular tours in the sunburnt land. These bands appear on up-and-coming concerts posters along with current  hot performers like Sam Smith.  I think it provides a measure of comfort to folks who really want to keep the vibe of a happy time in their collective souls.

    But what about those bands whose members fell off the perch entirely or insisted on retiring to their private Scandinavian islands?  Well, thank heaven for tribute bands.  Australia has the only ABBA-approved tribute band which goes by the name Bjorn Again.  Agnetha has never had to shed her white bodysuit and we all sing merrily along to Dancing Queen. Tribute bands have long filled in the entertainment gap when bands like Queen, Eurythmics and Fleetwood Mac couldn't or wouldn't come in personally to perform.  And it just doesn't stop there.  Any performer who remotely looks like Dusty Springfield, Kenny Rogers, Dusty Springfield, Roy Orbison, Dusty Springfield, Johnny Cash, Dusty Springfield, Patsy Cline, Dusty Springfield (oh wait, I've mentioned Dusty before) can hit the solo artist concert trail. Their shows are sandwiched between performances by four suited guys with cereal bowl haircuts on a 'Classical Mystery Tour' and three sequin-dressed ladies in bouffant hairdos singing about baby love. And all keeping us permanently in our happy place.

    Are Australians embarrassed by any of this? Far from it.  Aussies embrace their quirkiness. They own their national musical psyche with fierce pride and unrepentant vigor. In fact, the average Aussie has a problem with a fellow countryman who feels a need to get above himself. Think INXS.  Their music was just too slick, too over-produced, too "American". Why, that just isn't done. They would be ignored completely save for the fact the lead singer used to date a pint-sized, half-talent named Kylie Minogue  who mostly covered others' songs.  A bit of redemption there, mate.

   Oh. I should mention that Jim Morrison of The Doors is not dead.  He is playing at the Bickley Harvest Festival.

Birthday Parties and Garage Sales

    Some weekends are busier than others. We find ourselves rushing around from one place to another hoping to get in all in and still catch our breath. This weekend was one such experience with some rather interesting trends noticed.

     First, it was the Garage Sale Trail - a national movement to reduce waste by encouraging reuse of items. People and businesses all across the country are exhorted to have a garage sale on the same day. Having everyone on the hunt --or sale-- on the same day benefits everyone: more traffic out looking for sales and more sales for wandering shoppers to find.  
     We joined the fray. We hoped to find a few pieces of furniture to replace the broken garage sale finds of yesteryear.  Not much there but nestled among the usual collection of old toys, 40 year-old Tupperware being sold at new prices, dated clothing and chipped coffee mugs were a few treasures: a Sony Walkman tape player with a solar powered alarm clock, another portable tape player with the all important three equalizer quality controls (neither of these have I seen before) and the a most gorgeous peacock purse.  This never-used, antique piece of art decorated with peacock feathers was selling for $60 and probably worth four or five times that. I was afraid to touch it. The seller was afraid to touch it. She kept this beaute either behind a glass hutch door or inside acid-free tissue paper.  Which is what her grandmother did with the purse.  One would be a hit at the Perth Fashion Festival with this lovely purse but who wants to push the cabinet holding it everywhere?
      Highly disturbing and all too frequently found was make-up.   Used make-up.  Very used make-up.   Ewwwwwww.  Really, people, I know it's a Chanel compact but the powder is now three-quarters gone and who really wants to use the rest?  Crumbling eye shadows, congealed nail polish and mashed eyebrow pencils all had price tags. I almost fainted when I spotted an unused eye shadow refill still in the box.  We did not find this day what we have seen at garage sales in the past.  Used booze. O.K., opened booze bottles being sold by people who don't drink anymore.  And all priced accordingly--the 3/4 full bottle was priced at 3/4 of the purchased price, the half-full bottle asking for half the duty-free price it sold for and so on.  I don't know how I made it to the car before bursting out laughing.  The entertainment value of visiting garage sales sometimes supersedes the bargains found.

I'm 3 years old!

     And then, a child's birthday party.  My first since moving to OZ.  I had not given any thought to what differences there may be but why wouldn't there be in a different place?  This party was well-themed in Peppa Pig, an animated cartoon character watched by all little kids.  Joining the plastic tablecloth and napkins sporting the image were cups, goodie bags, carrying cases, masks, cake decorations, balloons and little raisin boxes. Standard, thus far.
     The food was different.  What would a party be without Fairy Bread? Triangles of nasty cheap white bread spread with butter and doused in sprinkles (called Hundreds & Thousands here in Australia.)  Paper cups filled with jelly (translate that to Jell-O)  and lamingtons (a small vanilla cake rectangle covered in chocolate and rolled in coconut)  all help get the party started. The cake has no ice cream served with it.
     There is a bit of a shift in the party itself here in OZ. Fewer people live in homes with big backyards, so parties are in public parks or expensive party venues that have paint tag games or other amusements ($500 for a kid's party, anyone?)  And in a public park many of the little reindeer games we all enjoyed--Pin The Tail on the Donkey, Musical Chairs, Pass the Parcel--are no longer done. But this park had Zipline (also called a Flying Fox) attraction and a big mud puddle, so all of the kids were happy.
     
    After all this excitement, I took a nap.   It WAS the weekend, after all.

Adelaide--the Pie Floater

    Many places have special foods closely associated with them.  Cornwall has its pasties, Russia has borscht. Boston boasts about its Baked Beans and one goes to Chicago for real pizza.  Adelaide has the Pie Floater as its culinary crown jewel. Indeed, the National Trust now lists the Pie Floater as a South Australian Heritage Icon.
    The Pie Floater, a classic Aussie meat pie doing some synchronized swimming in a pool of pea soup, can be traced back to the late 1860s and was sold from carts starting in the 1870s. Working men, and more recently after-party revelers, lined up to eat a meal that had everything going for it. Walk the streets today and ask about them.  Everyone in Adelaide will say, "Yeah, Pie Floaters. Just look for the carts."  But street food has fallen out of vogue in the last 140 years. Food has moved indoors. And what cart vendor wants to hang around until 3a.m. to service the inebriated falling out of bars?  This icon is proving to be rather elusive but I was determined to try one before leaving Adelaide. Two options were uncovered and I will report on this local comfort food research.

Mr H's homemade Pie Floater

    The Homemade Pie Floater.  Mr H, a friend of my host, stepped up to the plate (using a sports metaphor here, not a kitchen one) and offered to make us some if we invited him to the party. Deal.  Mr H soaked blue peas in water and baking soda for several hours, rinsed them thoroughly and then boiled the peas in fresh water until soft.  Think Britain's Mushy Peas here.  There was no seasoning save possibly for a hint of salt.  The thick soup was ladled into a deep bowl and a warmed up commercially made meat pie of his choice was carefully placed in the middle. These meat pies are not to be confused with pot pies, which have gravy in them. And I don't blame anyone for not taking the huge effort to wrangle a meat/onion/tomato paste mixture into a pastry crust in an artful way. Pull it out of a packet, I say.  The mildness of the peas and pie suited me well but many might use the word bland.  It certainly was filling.

Vili's Pie Floater

    The Pro--Vili's.   Tucked in the middle of an industrial area is Vili's, but it's location certainly isn't a detractor for fans of the bakery.  Vili's is busy and open 24/7 with customers crossing all age, ethnic and social lines.  Skipping their dazzling desserts, I got to order from a long list of pie possibilities (18!) for my floater. I picked a Hungarian pie. Not shy on the paprika and with the the peas being amply peppered, this did a fair amount of dancing in the mouth.  A lot of people like ketchup--ooops, sorry, I mean tomato sauce--on their pies and Pie Floaters and Vili's obliges in an artful way.  But it looks more like a Pie Drowner than a Floater. I'm not sure why some places put the pie on the bottom with the soup on top (quicker to plate up?) or the instructions that sometimes suggest the pie should be upside down (again, why?)

     I had thought of trying one more Pie Floater to better complete the research.  There are two places in the heart of downtown Adelaide, one on William Street and the other in the Central Markets, that sell pie floaters. But neither was available for this research at the right time and, well, three Pie Floaters in four days is a bit more heroic than I feel.   And it exceeds my annual quota I have decided.  I say go ahead a try one.  When in Rome...

Adelaide--In Two Days

    Adelaide, South Australia.  City of Churches.  Festival Central of Australia.   Gateway to several World Class Wine Regions.   Named after a queen and the butt of uncountable jokes by other Aussies.  And where I recently spent a long weekend visiting an old friend.
    I won't pretend that this entry defines everyone's visit or is the most comprehensive, Each traveller has their own experience. Their activities will define their trip in a unique way. Visiting during in March--the height of festival season that includes Adelaide Festival of Arts and Fringe Festival along with five others--will offer an entirely different experience from a trip made in winter's June. May being a fairly even tempered month plus the city center being very easily navigated on foot or free circuit bus meant that I was going to take in Adelaide's version of Tourism's Greatest Hits. Really, it's OK to be a tourist. Don't be afraid or embarrassed.

Adelaide Central Market

     DAY 1:  I start first at the Central Markets. TOTALLY love this semi open-air market filled with produce stands, butcher shops, bakeries, confectioners, coffee shops, smelly cheese shops, a mini tourist information booth and all sorts of other cool stuff under a weather protecting roof. Have a second breakfast, or a coffee. Load up on fruit. Get lost. Get found. Definitely get your lunch sorted for the day

Botanic Garden Palm House

     Heading over to the Botanic Gardens of South Australia, I am surprised  how central it is to the downtown area and just at edge of long string of universities and government buildings. What a haven! I'm not sure I could just wolf down lunch and leave this rolling greenspace to go back to an office. Green is really the only color here.  This is not a garden chock o'block with flowers from all over, just trees and green grass. A little history museum has an impressive array of botanicals on display and their gift shop specializes in seeds and seedlings in very hard to find varieties of fruits and vegetables.  Good place to eat one's lunch.

    Across the street is the Adelaide Zoo.  Not run by the government but as an

independent nonprofit organization, its biggest bragging point is a pair of pandas. And who doesn't like pandas?  The admission here [and to its outdoor safari-style zoo, Monarto] is a hefty $33 per adult. Lucky me to have friends who have friends with membership cards and are happy to loan me one.  I am surprised at how close people can get to the animals. Aren't they afraid of ne'er-do-wells causing trouble for the critters?  And it seems that so many of the animals are old, alone and irreplaceable. I'm assured that there is a breeding program in place but how many chicks is a 73 year-old flamingo going to have?  No shortage of smart aleck cops hanging around outside the gates, but that is a different story.  And my legs are tired. I'll do more tomorrow.

Central Markets again!

     DAY 2: One street alone, North Terrace, will easily keep one amused for the entire day.  It's all here, all in a row, all inviting.  First stop is , of course, is another hit at the Central Markets to breathe in the vibe and get lunch ready. And then hop the free circuit bus to get to North Terrace. Start right at Government House. The governor is the Queen's representative in the state with a role that is largely ceremonial. Government Houses are usually grand affairs but this building was sloppily painted all the same color of dried sour cream. Gov didn't bother to invite me past the locked gates for a cup of tea but don't call me sour grapes. Hmmmphh.  Move right on to the impressive war memorial still sporting ANZAC wreaths. 
    Next to this is the Migration Museum.  It looks as if it has been yarn bombed.  Because it

Migration Museum Exhibition

has.  The main building has the predictable exhibits one might expect depicting the migrant journey but the rotating exhibition in the outbuilding is all about knitting and crocheting.  Knitting is not just about keeping heads warm and female hands busy.  The patterns and designs of items reflect the cultural heritage of the knitter. Men knit. Why don't you knit? A basket of yarn and needles invites visitors to knit a line or two for scarves for the needy. Kind of a contemporary take on knitting socks for "our boys at the front" during the World War II effort.  Some of the knitting and crocheting patterns are really intricate. Some of the clothes are really scarey.
   What do you want to do next? Peek into the Institute to see the ANZAC through modern eyes exhibit?  How about feeling a little Harry Potter-ish at the State Library and then go

South Australian Museum

ultra modern?  The Art Gallery of South Australia?  Good choices. Pop into the South Australian Museum.  Its central staircase is grand, the exhibit space is compact. All of those animals packed in so close--and so close to you--one waits for that magical 'Night At The Museum' moment when everything comes alive. Still have legs? There are a handful of universities on this same street. A National Trust home beckons. The Rundle shopping mall is one block over and in the opposite direction is the riverfront.  Boredom not possible. And you did not need a car.

    Sorry to say that there was one festival going on that I just did not get enough of. And that was the History Festival. [Hey, History Month sounds way too boring.]  A thick brochure full of the widest variety of cultural, social, historical, natural, mythological and mystical events all across the city, its suburbs and even into regional South Australia.  Church tours, ghost tours, why do Lithuanians like basketball tours, walk the Mint's tunnels opportunity and join the South Australian fascination with its serial criminals of yore.   
     So stop the Adelaide jokes already.  Next time I will share my research on that rare Adelaidean delicacy: the Pie Floater.