Today I set off for the local library. A strange choice you might think, but always one of the first places I want to see when I'm travelling. Anyone who hasn't been in the British library has committed some kind of crime. Where is it written that we should visit locals churches and cathedrals [houses of God] but not local libraries or book shops [houses of my God; words]?
Anyway this trip involved walking as I have developed an aversion to the trams. There isn't anything wrong with them but I always thinking walking is the best way to get around in a new place. This city is a grid [more or less] and I was convinced that it was simply a case of having to memorise it and I would be happily meandering like a local. Sigh. Why is it that my girl brain can never ever remember a map? I have to get it out of my pocket every single time I get to a corner. I used to take the piss out of Leah for having to always take an A to Z to London, but maybe I am finally understanding why!
The one thing I do notice as I begin my walk is the amazing buildings here. The streets in St. Kilda are packed with these huge low riding colonial style houses with wrought iron steps and verandas and canopies and huge Georgian windows. I love them. They are also beautiful colours, alabaster, greys and greens. The run down ones looks even better because they are mottled and weather worn. I want one of these houses and I imagine them standing empty with cracked paned french windows and dusty tiled floors; like the house in Interview With A Vampire - the one that Tom Cruise holes himself up in after they've cut and burnt him.
Anyway, back to the walking . . . I have managed to navigate myself [correctly] to the biggest road I have ever seen! Well, that might be an exaggeration but it is pretty huge and as yesterday's post revealed this is terrifying for me. St. Kilda Road cuts straight through the city to the sea and I crossed it. I sort of hopped around a bit and was quite scared for my life at least twice but I did make it across and to the silent electric doors of the library in one piece.
On the way back I discovered Greeve Street [by accident]. I am walking down the road looking at a woman standing in the street, she's quite pretty and I am wondering why she would be standing on the road like that and decide she is waiting for a lift. About twenty feet down the road there is another woman, she is less pretty but also waiting for a lift. Another twenty or thirty feet down the road is a really quite ugly woman and I suddenly realise that she can't be waiting for a lift as well and that in fact they are all on the game and I have wandered into another red light district. This seems to happen to me every time I go anywhere by myself.
Prostitution is legal here apparently, although I think it's only allowed in brothels, but the police don't seem to mind either way.
I find my way to the St. Kilda Botanical Gardens [an anti-climax] and then go to the local supermarket [yes Kate - how exciting] to buy the ingredients for the cannelloni I have promised to make. I buy some very expensive cheese because everything is so shiny that I am confused by the choices.
We eat and drink a nice bottle of wine. The cannelloni is a bit crispy but quite good really. We watch The City of Ember which is an OK film - good idea a little patchy but I did go to school with the guy who plays the lead.
I'm beginning to like this place.
17 April 2009
16 April 2009
Day 3: Road Wars
I have deduced that Australians love two things; roads and drink driving.
The roads in this city are insane. I am scared of them. The road outside the house is not a particularly busy thoroughfare but it is rammed with traffic almost constantly and Australians do not mind a little leaning on the horn either. In fact only yesterday a woman reversed into a static line of traffic from the opposite side of the street and called the guy behind her a 'fuckhead' for not backing up.
It is impossible to 'jay-walk' safely over here [for me anyway] there is of course the obvious confusion about which direction the traffic is supposed to be coming from, then the added complication of watching for trams and sheer expanse of tarmac which you are attempting to cross. Sadly, standing at a pedestrian crossing is not much more pleasant as it seems that waiting for the green man takes easily five minutes each time. This makes you feel really daft especially if you are alone at said crossing. So once you've felt self conscious for a few minutes and wondered whether you've missed the obvious and should have crossed already a noise like a nuclear weapon charging goes off [this is the cross safely noise] which literally frightens you across the road. Or half of the road. Because the roads are so wide that the time allotted to cross them in is not long enough so usually you only make it the middle. You then have to repeat the whole performance but this time in the perilous epicentre of the erratic, confusing circus.
Add to this that every other advert on the TV is about how not to drink drive and you may be getting the concept. Apparently there was a crack down on drink driving over a bank holiday weekend recently and just in Victoria 1 in 11 people stopped were prosecuted. Joy.
After a night's sleep I was feeling quite perky and got up around 11:00 and decided to be helpful around the house. This took a few hours. I discovered the dulcet tones of Bridget Pross who Leah and El have seen live. She is brilliant so I was rocking out to that a bit.
I went to visit El who works just around the corner in a tiny little office by herself helping backpackers with their tax returns. There are some crazy laws about tax returns over here. If you do any period of work and then leave the country you can claim up to 80% of your tax back after you leave! We went to the Grocery Bar and ate some tasty lunch. They have sandwiches here called Pitta's which are not made of pitta bread but they are good and full of cheese and avocado etc.
I then made my way back to the beach to finish 'The End of Mr. Y' which is brilliant and very interesting and should be read by everyone. I found St. Kilda pier and went to the end of it where there is a heap of shingle and rocks where penguins and sea lions appear sometimes, not that I saw any. I did not get any kind of tan which is disappointing. I think there might be a slightly denser smattering of freckles on my right arm but I can't be sure.
El made roast dinner and strangely although I didn't think that I would want it I really did and it was brilliant. Then we played a couple of hands of Rummy which I discovered I have been playing wrong my whole life which kind of explains why I never win.
A good day so good night.
The roads in this city are insane. I am scared of them. The road outside the house is not a particularly busy thoroughfare but it is rammed with traffic almost constantly and Australians do not mind a little leaning on the horn either. In fact only yesterday a woman reversed into a static line of traffic from the opposite side of the street and called the guy behind her a 'fuckhead' for not backing up.
It is impossible to 'jay-walk' safely over here [for me anyway] there is of course the obvious confusion about which direction the traffic is supposed to be coming from, then the added complication of watching for trams and sheer expanse of tarmac which you are attempting to cross. Sadly, standing at a pedestrian crossing is not much more pleasant as it seems that waiting for the green man takes easily five minutes each time. This makes you feel really daft especially if you are alone at said crossing. So once you've felt self conscious for a few minutes and wondered whether you've missed the obvious and should have crossed already a noise like a nuclear weapon charging goes off [this is the cross safely noise] which literally frightens you across the road. Or half of the road. Because the roads are so wide that the time allotted to cross them in is not long enough so usually you only make it the middle. You then have to repeat the whole performance but this time in the perilous epicentre of the erratic, confusing circus.
Add to this that every other advert on the TV is about how not to drink drive and you may be getting the concept. Apparently there was a crack down on drink driving over a bank holiday weekend recently and just in Victoria 1 in 11 people stopped were prosecuted. Joy.
After a night's sleep I was feeling quite perky and got up around 11:00 and decided to be helpful around the house. This took a few hours. I discovered the dulcet tones of Bridget Pross who Leah and El have seen live. She is brilliant so I was rocking out to that a bit.
I went to visit El who works just around the corner in a tiny little office by herself helping backpackers with their tax returns. There are some crazy laws about tax returns over here. If you do any period of work and then leave the country you can claim up to 80% of your tax back after you leave! We went to the Grocery Bar and ate some tasty lunch. They have sandwiches here called Pitta's which are not made of pitta bread but they are good and full of cheese and avocado etc.
I then made my way back to the beach to finish 'The End of Mr. Y' which is brilliant and very interesting and should be read by everyone. I found St. Kilda pier and went to the end of it where there is a heap of shingle and rocks where penguins and sea lions appear sometimes, not that I saw any. I did not get any kind of tan which is disappointing. I think there might be a slightly denser smattering of freckles on my right arm but I can't be sure.
El made roast dinner and strangely although I didn't think that I would want it I really did and it was brilliant. Then we played a couple of hands of Rummy which I discovered I have been playing wrong my whole life which kind of explains why I never win.
A good day so good night.
15 April 2009
Day 1 into 2: The Time [not space] Continuum
It is difficult to really say where Day 1 ended and Day 2 began . . . mostly because they were the same span of time with no sleeping in between them. There is a rule [which Leah is very hot on] that states if one does not go to sleep then it cannot become the next day. This is why you must go to sleep before midnight on Christmas Eve or you don't get a Christmas at all!
So with reference to this principle technically Day 1 and 2 are just one day. However for the ease of the narrative let's pretend they are two separate periods of time.
I got off the plane at about 09:00 in Melbourne and got straight on the Skybus into the city. A very informative and brilliantly timed TV show plays on your way into the city telling you all about what you can do and where you should go. It recommends Draculas and I am trying to persuade Leah and El to attend this scary cabaret restaurant. So far no luck.
As I stepped off the bus Leah flew down the ramp and so the reunion was complete and the reason for my trip attained. It was emotional but unfortunately I don't think I pulled off my best performance, in fact, I don't think I was very convincing at all as I was too tired to have feelings. Suffice to say that you'll have to take my word for it.
I had then possibly the best cup of coffee in the world [excepting the Red Roaster] in a cafe called the Grocery Bar. Possibly because it was the first cup in 48 hours. I also ate some real food.
I was then taken to Rupert - and he is a beaut. Absolute blinder of a flat. Great tall ceilings and lots of light. Lovey spiral staircase.
We spent the day wandering; went to the beach and Luna Park [old school 1950's theme park] and then drank wine [which at the time I didn't realise would be such a bad idea] and ate some very tasty pizza. We were acosted by the first person I have spoken to in 24 years with a proper Australian accent. She was very drunk and crazy about Brighton and the Fat Boy Slim concert on the beach. Yes even here it is legendary.
I too was drunk. After only two glasses [which is about two glasses earlier than this usually happens] and started thinking quite deeply about the quality of the barman's blue eyes [crystal clear oceans of aquamarine etc.]. It was at this point about 19:30 local time.
I was taken home. I was made to watch Superhero Movie - I do not remember anything that happens in this film. Leah had to shout at me at regular intervals to keep me from what I was insisting was "resting my eyes".
Finally, after what felt like several lifetimes El kindly pumped up the glorious airbed and I was allowed to sleep and readers - it was awesome.
So with reference to this principle technically Day 1 and 2 are just one day. However for the ease of the narrative let's pretend they are two separate periods of time.
I got off the plane at about 09:00 in Melbourne and got straight on the Skybus into the city. A very informative and brilliantly timed TV show plays on your way into the city telling you all about what you can do and where you should go. It recommends Draculas and I am trying to persuade Leah and El to attend this scary cabaret restaurant. So far no luck.
As I stepped off the bus Leah flew down the ramp and so the reunion was complete and the reason for my trip attained. It was emotional but unfortunately I don't think I pulled off my best performance, in fact, I don't think I was very convincing at all as I was too tired to have feelings. Suffice to say that you'll have to take my word for it.
I had then possibly the best cup of coffee in the world [excepting the Red Roaster] in a cafe called the Grocery Bar. Possibly because it was the first cup in 48 hours. I also ate some real food.
I was then taken to Rupert - and he is a beaut. Absolute blinder of a flat. Great tall ceilings and lots of light. Lovey spiral staircase.
We spent the day wandering; went to the beach and Luna Park [old school 1950's theme park] and then drank wine [which at the time I didn't realise would be such a bad idea] and ate some very tasty pizza. We were acosted by the first person I have spoken to in 24 years with a proper Australian accent. She was very drunk and crazy about Brighton and the Fat Boy Slim concert on the beach. Yes even here it is legendary.
I too was drunk. After only two glasses [which is about two glasses earlier than this usually happens] and started thinking quite deeply about the quality of the barman's blue eyes [crystal clear oceans of aquamarine etc.]. It was at this point about 19:30 local time.
I was taken home. I was made to watch Superhero Movie - I do not remember anything that happens in this film. Leah had to shout at me at regular intervals to keep me from what I was insisting was "resting my eyes".
Finally, after what felt like several lifetimes El kindly pumped up the glorious airbed and I was allowed to sleep and readers - it was awesome.
14 April 2009
Day 1: Transit
"Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living."
Well dear reader - I am sorry, but, whilst travelling to the other side of the world I was too delirious to do much changing deep or permanent, unless you count the almost probably permanent damage to my mental health.
The first problem was the issue of my visa. The one that I only purchased because Leah reminded me that it was necessary. Now, there has been some very sensible setting-up-of-website-behaviour going on in the Australian Immigration Department or whatever they call themselves. You may now purchase a visa online as long as you have your passport number and are not a criminal. The clever website sends you a text message to confirm your acceptance and then the website explicitly tells you not to print anything as the visa is electronically tagged to your passport. This part is a lie. Do not listen to this if you ever wish to travel to Australia.
Luckily I do not believe websites and so I did print a copy of my email confirmation and it was a good job frankly because my visa did not get tagged to my passport, or rather it did but only in parts and so although it did say I wasn't a criminal it did not allow me to travel. This, as you can imagine, caused a great deal of worry at arrival in T4 on Saturday evening.
Luckily the good old fashioned version of my visa proved that it was the website that was criminal and not me and so after some fussing by the fantastically gay check-in staff at the BA desk it was decided that Australia should be telephoned and my visa was deleted and re-applied for and finally tagged to the damn passport and I was allowed across the golden lines into the departure area. Phew.
No one really tried to tell me just how odd it would be to get on a plane at one time of day, get off at the same time of day half way across the world, get back on another plane and then get off it again at the totally opposite time of day on entirely the other side of the world. Yes reader, I lost a day, but also so much more than that.
I can tell you that Singapore airport has some very nice arrangements of orchids and a pretty waterfall and that Sydney airport lies to you about where to get domestic transfers [more than once] and that BA is actually Quantas or perhaps it is Quantas that is actually BA, but I think it depends on where you are in the world.
I did manage to eat a lot. Praise the Gods who invented plane food and for the continuous serving of it to keep one occupied. First I had lasagne with a pleasant salad and some toxic chocolate sponge flan [yes I too did not believe it was really a food] and orange sauce which has a very particular consistency similar to baby food. A few hours later I was served a breakfast omelet with baked beans [the devil's food] and mushrooms and a muffin thing although all of this was coated in the juice of the devil's food [accept the muffin which came in it's own little plastic bag]. Then I changed planes.
On plane number two there was surprisingly good beef curry and an equally good oyster mushroom salad. Then some more breakfast but this time it was a chocolate coated twisted pastry thingy and some awful tea. Don't drink the tea on planes - bad ju ju.
On plane number three there was more breakfast but this time it came in a box with another seedy muffin [seedy as in poppies not as in old men]. It was not served with devil's juice either which was better than the first attempt.
I did eventually arrive. I hope that I will not suffer continuing mania as a result of sitting so near to so many strangers for so long. My ankles do seem to have grown in width even though I did all that shrugging and rotating and flexing that they tell you to do. Not attractive.
But hoo'ray for the genius of being able to actually be in Australia! And for the glory that is putting your feet down outside the airport!
Well dear reader - I am sorry, but, whilst travelling to the other side of the world I was too delirious to do much changing deep or permanent, unless you count the almost probably permanent damage to my mental health.
The first problem was the issue of my visa. The one that I only purchased because Leah reminded me that it was necessary. Now, there has been some very sensible setting-up-of-website-behaviour going on in the Australian Immigration Department or whatever they call themselves. You may now purchase a visa online as long as you have your passport number and are not a criminal. The clever website sends you a text message to confirm your acceptance and then the website explicitly tells you not to print anything as the visa is electronically tagged to your passport. This part is a lie. Do not listen to this if you ever wish to travel to Australia.
Luckily I do not believe websites and so I did print a copy of my email confirmation and it was a good job frankly because my visa did not get tagged to my passport, or rather it did but only in parts and so although it did say I wasn't a criminal it did not allow me to travel. This, as you can imagine, caused a great deal of worry at arrival in T4 on Saturday evening.
Luckily the good old fashioned version of my visa proved that it was the website that was criminal and not me and so after some fussing by the fantastically gay check-in staff at the BA desk it was decided that Australia should be telephoned and my visa was deleted and re-applied for and finally tagged to the damn passport and I was allowed across the golden lines into the departure area. Phew.
No one really tried to tell me just how odd it would be to get on a plane at one time of day, get off at the same time of day half way across the world, get back on another plane and then get off it again at the totally opposite time of day on entirely the other side of the world. Yes reader, I lost a day, but also so much more than that.
I can tell you that Singapore airport has some very nice arrangements of orchids and a pretty waterfall and that Sydney airport lies to you about where to get domestic transfers [more than once] and that BA is actually Quantas or perhaps it is Quantas that is actually BA, but I think it depends on where you are in the world.
I did manage to eat a lot. Praise the Gods who invented plane food and for the continuous serving of it to keep one occupied. First I had lasagne with a pleasant salad and some toxic chocolate sponge flan [yes I too did not believe it was really a food] and orange sauce which has a very particular consistency similar to baby food. A few hours later I was served a breakfast omelet with baked beans [the devil's food] and mushrooms and a muffin thing although all of this was coated in the juice of the devil's food [accept the muffin which came in it's own little plastic bag]. Then I changed planes.
On plane number two there was surprisingly good beef curry and an equally good oyster mushroom salad. Then some more breakfast but this time it was a chocolate coated twisted pastry thingy and some awful tea. Don't drink the tea on planes - bad ju ju.
On plane number three there was more breakfast but this time it came in a box with another seedy muffin [seedy as in poppies not as in old men]. It was not served with devil's juice either which was better than the first attempt.
I did eventually arrive. I hope that I will not suffer continuing mania as a result of sitting so near to so many strangers for so long. My ankles do seem to have grown in width even though I did all that shrugging and rotating and flexing that they tell you to do. Not attractive.
But hoo'ray for the genius of being able to actually be in Australia! And for the glory that is putting your feet down outside the airport!
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