A 'Get Your Goat' post

You know the feeling when spring has truly sprung? The quality of the air changes, ever so slightly. The heat of the sun lingers on your skin and your muscles seem to relax into it. The air is freshened with the purfume of many flowers. The coat you once wore so comfortably now swelters.

Birdsong sounds lighter, as if it's now in celebration. Or perhaps it seems lighter because there's more of it.

Your footsteps feel lighter. A walk that just one week ago seemed to last forever is now a joyful stroll, as you can't help but notice how everything all around you is coming to life.

Yes, spring has indeed come to Melbourne! This city may be windy, cold, rainy and weepy sometimes. But this past weekend, it was spring!

To celebrate, I took a tram out to Port Melbourne. So much like Ahsbridges Bay, I saw people playing beach volleyball. In a walk to a sculpture garden, I spied a marvel in the next photo. Now, before you read the text below, I want to you try and find what's so special about the tree picture.

 

If you look really careful, can you see little yellow dots in the tree? I've got a prize for anyone who can guess!

 

The excitement was too much for me. I found a spot on the sand and lay down.

What is it about beach sand? As soon as you lie down and ease your body into it, tension just seeps out in one whoosh.

I heard the girls taking pictures of themselves doing carwheels on one side of me and a woman with her non-compliant dog on the other. It was all just there, as the sunshine and the warm sand took me to that place called "Ahhhhh!"

All those back in Canada will get their revenge for this post. My return to mid-winter is going to really hurt. Feel free to laugh.

A Beachy Weekend

I make a lot of odd connections in this post. Perhaps it's a sign of my journey becoming... well... let's just say two months of touristing is enough. That does not mean I'm not going to take every opportunity I can to enjoy myself. Which leads us to these interconnected bits and bites.

Travelers luck touched me when I was invited to spend last weekend (Oct. 20 & 21)  in the beach community near Noosa on the Sunshine Coast.

The pictures I took of the beach sucked, so here's a pic of the beach that I stole from a website:


Isn't it gorgeous? To the organization that owns the above photograph; you're linked and you're welcome!

Didn't swim there. In fact I have not been in the ocean yet. A book I read about Australia warned about all of the dangerous things in the water. Deadly things. Squiddy things that wrap their jelly tendrils around your legs and inject a poison into your body that is considered the most painful substance in the world.

(shivers)

I'll get myself in there at some point. I swam in Nova Scotia; if you can swim there you can swim anywhere.

My hosts were not only hosting me. Their expansive property is also home to a few hungry Kookaburra birds. These birds would fly up to the balcony railing and take any food proferred. They ram the food against the rail as if killing it, then eat it in one gulp.

You've probably heard of Kookaburras before in the children's song:

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry, merry king of the bush is he
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
Gay your life must be

The Kookburra song was written by Marion Sinclair for a Girl Guides of Victoria (Australia) contest way back in 1932.

Where woman blow and men thunder

Okay, now we're going to get a bit complicated.

Do you remember the song "I Come from the Land Down Under" by the Australian band Men at Work? Well, apparently, the flute portion of that song is so close to the tune of Kookaburra, the owners of the copyright took Men at Work to court. And they won. They won 40-50% of the royalties the song earned since it was written in the late 70's. That is, millions of dollars.

Thing is, the flute aspect of the song was an improvised portion done during recording. If you're interested in that kind of things, here's more on this very strange and sad Copyright Lawsuit.

Monsters under the bed?

My host looked in on me as I was preparing for bed Friday night. I asked if I should close the door to outside. She said, quite casually, "You can leave it open but you might get a visit from the python."

"Python?" I asked, forcing a tight smile on my face.

"Yes, he lives in our attic," she said, as if this was perfectly normal. "He only comes out at night. Kills the mice."

"Oh," I said with a squeak, thinking I might stay up for a while... or perhaps I didn't need sleep at all. Stupid habit, really.

She noticed my distress and closed the door for me. We checked under the bed. I felt five years old again, looking for monsters.

There was no python under my bed. So why, as I read my book, did I hear the occasional slither?

Eumundi Market

On Saturday my hosts took me to the Eumundi Market. Eumundi, a small town near Noosa, is taken over by an outdoor market on Saturday and Wednesdays.

 

 Wait a second! That paragraph does the place no justice at all!

 

You gotta understand: the entire town becomes a market! No guff. The streets are taken over by stalls E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. There are food stalls, jewellery, silk scarves, essential oils and ginger beer stalls. People being massaged behind that curtain. A woman having her fortune told at that table over there. A woman being cartooned by an illustrator. Wow, he's good!

 

Every turn you take, another laneway of stalls opens up. Another assortment of beautiful earrings made from scrabble tiles or old typewriter keys, colourful bowls, carpets and clothing you wish could fit into a suitcase.

 

Christmas secret: I got my niece a present at this market. I'd show you a picture, but I'm pretty sure you'd let the secret out, and that would ruin it.

 

In the afternoon we headed out to Noosa Beach for a stroll along the shore.

 

We ran into five barefoot brides with their maiden entourages and the groom being dragged from here to there for photos. After bride number three, I told my hosts about my nine-bride day on The Rocks. I asked if they had any ideas for what you get when you see the 10th bride in one day. We all agreed: you get to go the reception! The question is then, do you get to choose the reception you go to?



 

 

The Melbourne Hook

Melbourne has a fantastic tram system called Yarra Trams (named after the Yarra River). They are designed so there is no need to step up to get on them, and many streets where they run, such as Swanston Street, are devoted to trams and cars are discouraged from traveling.

So important are trams to moving people across the city that they have employed a turn style called the hook turn.

From Wikipedia:
A hook turn is a traffic-control mechanism where cars that would normally have to turn across oncoming traffic are made to turn across all lanes of traffic instead..... (Prior to turning, they ) keep the middle of the road free for trams or other special uses.

How does this work? Here are the steps (translated to driving on the right)

1. If you need to turn left, approach and enter the intersection moving to the right side of the road. In some intersections there is a little well of space so you can get out of all lanes of traffic.  
2. Remain at the position until the green light on the road you are facing turns red.
3. Turn left.
4. Cars on the cross road yield to hook-turning traffic before commencing through the intersection.

I imagine that hook turns would discourage people from picking a route where they need to perform a left (or in Melbourne's case a right) turn. Meanwhile, they give trams and other cars the right of way, making travel on them faster.

There's no getting around it, they are confusing at first. People from other states have gotten into trouble driving here when they don't follow the rules. But for the most part, they do seem to keep things moving.

The Great Ocean Road

Sunday, October 14, a van stopped in front my hotel at 7:20AM. Bleary-eyed and blinking, I crawled in, ready for adventure.

A few pick-ups later, the van was full with 13 of us on board. Off we headed South and West of Melbourne toward the Great Ocean Road.

We went through Geelong to just past Torquay where we stopped at a golf course where kangaroos are known to hang.

Kangaroos like golf courses. Lots of nice grass, trees to hang out under. We spotted a group who stared at us from across the green. Then we headed off to Bells Beach for a breakfast of Vegemite, crackers, Lamington cakes and tea.

Lamington's, I was told, came about when some guy named Lamington (duh) came up with the idea that one could coat dry old cake with chocolate and coconut and they'd become palatable. The jam thing is, apparently, a later addition. Kinda makes sense.

 

After watching middle-aged men surf for a bit, we headed down to Kennett River to see if Koalas would honour us with their presence. We did spy a couple, but they weren't the type looking for paparazzi opportunities. The birds, however, were acting like Hollywood hopefuls. Just see that bright-coloured gal who landed on my hand for some bird seed.

Back into the van we trundled and further down the Great Ocean Road to just past Princetown to see the 12 Apostles, pictured here:

 

 

Gobsmackingly stunning vistas, great ocean waves breaking, the call of gulls, sand beaches that go on forever. If it weren't for the crowds clammering behind me, I could have stood there for days just watching the ebb and flow of water, clouds and sky.

A little ways down the cost, near Port Campbell, is a place called Loch Ard Gorge. This gorge was named after a famous ship that wrecked nearby, the Loch Ard, on it way to Australia from Ireland.

Only two people survived this shipwreck: Tom Pearce, a ship's apprentice and Eva Carmichael, a young Irish woman. Both were 18.

 

Tom Pearce watshed ashore in the gorge first, then rescued Eva after hearing her cries for help.  Pearce climbed out of the gorge to raise the alarm to locals who rescued Eva as well.

 

The charm of the situation didn't go unnoticed, as suggestions were made that the two might have a romantic interest. Tom did propose to Eva, but she turned him down. She decided instead to return to Ireland to be with her remaining family.

 

But there's some lovely irony to the story's. Many years later, Tom became a ship's captain. On a journey from Australia, his ship wrecked near a small town in the south west of Ireland. At the time, it was common for all locals to come out to assist when such a thing occurred. And who was in that Irish town? You guessed it; Eva. She was married, with three children. But still, one begins to wonder if somehow those two were meant to be together.

 

Melbourne Meetups!

Thank goodness for the website Meetup! If you aren't familiar, Meetup is a website where people post activities and invite others to tag along. In Toronto I belong to Toronto Weekend Adventurers Meetup that goes on day hikes. In my travels I've discovered that Australia, particularly Melbourne, is awash with Meetups.

One Meetup friend in Melbourne, Amanda, seems to go to two Meetup events a day. If it's not tea, it's a walk, drinks at one club or dancing at another.

The other interesting thing about these Meetups is they seem to attract a middle aged audience. Amanda invited me to see an 80s band at the The Royal Albert Hotel in Port Melbourne, and when I arrived at 8:30 on a Saturday night, the place was packed with people aged 40+ (well... 45+ okay?). Not only that, but when the band got up to play, the dance floor filled to the brim immediately.

 

We were fat, we were over 40, but we were up there hoofin' it. I even got to Pogo!

 

The only drag: I had to leave at midnight or I'd pumpkin. You'll learn the reason in my next post. 

 

What time is it?

Today is Thursday. I think. Or is it Wednesday?

Working across two zones skews your internal clock. At 5pm my time, Ireland is just coming on. Fredericton starts around 10pm.

And not only that, things aren't straight forward in Australia, either. Due Daylight Savings Time, Melbourne is one hour ahead of Brisbane. My time zone dislexia is having a field day.

The only constant is sleeping time. Every waking minute is up for grabs. As I like to say, it's a 'role' not a 'job.'

The key to keeping sane is to always have a destination and a list. If I have the information in my metaphorical knapsack, I'm fine. But in some cases, I have so many topics, tasks and roles on my plate, I end up asking someone who calls me, "Can you remind me what this is about?"

I'm beginning to understand why executives find assistants so useful. As long as you have someone to push you to the next meeting with the right piece of paper in your hand, you're okay.

I think it's 1:18pm my time. Back to work. And just a sec, here.... what am I doing now?

 

On the road again

Today I return to Brisbane. Meeting a new hire, checking in with a client and perhaps meeting another for the first time.

I've been invited to spend the weekend on the Gold Coast. Then to Sydney for 2 days.

The upside down factor has become natural. It no longer seems odd to me that it's getting warmer, rather than cooler. That the kids just finished a Spring break.

I am most definitely with Kangaroos. I love how they lounge under trees together. How they sit up and look at you, just watching. How they hop along. They are both majestic and fun, a great combination.

What does seem odd is that people are not permitted to own cats. I'm not sure if it's just in some neighbourhoods or places, or if cat ownership is a nation-wide thing.

When cats were first brought her, some got out the door. Like all animals or plants released in Australia, they thrived. They killed things. Lots of things, especially birds. I believe that this is the only reason that would keep me from living here. Well, that and the fact that my family isn't here, or my friends (although I am making new ones!).

Birds, a shipwreck and new friends will be the topics of my next posts. If only I can find time to get the photos off my camera.

The Melbourne Gaol

I was arrested last Saturday night. Yes, I was.

Me and rag tag group of tourists, including young children, were lined up with girls on one side and guys on the other, the webs between our fingers were searched, we were taught how to say, "Yes sir!" and then thrown into holding cells. For fun.

Yes, another rockin' afternoon at the Melbourne gaol.

According to Wikipedia:
The Melbourne gaol was constructed starting in 1839, and during its operation as a prison between 1845 and 1924, it held and executed some of Australia's most notorious criminals, including bushranger Ned Kelly and serial killer Frederick Bailey Deeming. In total, 135 people were executed by hanging."

The gaol is now open to the public where you can walk through the the old cells, learn about the fine art of hanging, see where Ned Kelly died and get arrested. For fun.

After putting women in one set of holding cells and the men in others, the "Officer" said good night, told us to expect a breakfast of gruel at 7am and turned off the light. The room became dark and cell phones flickered to life. I was tempted to update my Facebook status, "In Jail!" But what would the neighbours say?

In addition to getting arrested for fun, you can participate in a dramatization of the Ned Kelly trial in the old court house.

Who is Ned Kelly?
Before I arrived in Australia I did not know about the famous bushranger known as Ned Kelly.

Depending on who you talk to he is either a merciless killer or a folk hero. Back to Wikipedia:

"Following an incident at his home in 1878, police parties searched for him in the bush. After he killed three policemen, the colony proclaimed Kelly and his gang wanted outlaws.
A final violent confrontation with police took place at Glenrowan on 28 June 1880. Kelly, dressed in home-made plate metal armour and a helmet, was captured and sent to jail. He was convicted of three counts of capital murder and hanged at Old Melbourne Gaol in November 1880."

Apparently Mick Jagger played Ned in a film of the tale.

The Melbourne Gaol also has artists from the local college do installations. Such as the clown in a cell, shown at right.


 

Lessons learned from business travel

Here are some of the lessons I've learned that make business travel easier:

1. Pick your air travel to coincide with your hotel check-out/check-in time or you end up sitting in a cafe with your bags falling on the floor around you. You buy a coffee for each half hour of free internet access. You end up over-caffeinated going through security and everyone looks at you as if they think you're on drugs.
2. Pick a hotel both for its location and its internet service.
3. Shoes take a lot of room in a suitcase. Try to bring as few as possible. Running shoes are useless unless you actually go running every day. As in really go running.
4. Classic outfits work best, with a few things to spice it up.
5. Continuing on the clothing theme: you only need 2 of everything. More is overkill unless nothing matches. And if nothing matches, you have to go shopping.
6. Use one credit card for business expenses, the other for your per diem expenses. Keeps things nice and straight forward.
7. Be nice to the hotel staff. If they like you, they help you.
8. Pick up packets of salt, pepper and sugar when you see them. You never know when they'll come in handy.

On the Rocks

A pub tour of the Rocks


"So original, it's criminal."
Harts Pub website 

Harry is a mad man with a plan, when it comes to showing off Sydney. I was ready for a long day of walking, talking, eating and drinking. Are you ready for an extra long post?

Gird your loins, here we go!

Harry and I met at Wharf 6 at noon. He led me uphill. Really uphill. Gasping for breath uphill, until we arrived at Harts Pub.

Harts Pub is the home of Rocks Brewing Company:

Our mission is to provide Sydney with  an experience different to any other pub. Serving Australia's best hand crafted beer,  rotating through our 12 taps, there will always be something new to experience.  

If it had been open I'm sure I would have learned that it is a quaint old pub made up of rooms and poky hallways. Unfortunately it was closed. We stopped to catch our breath while pretending to admire the building.

Up the hill and around the corner into Shangri La, where Harry whisked me into the elevator. He tapped the topmost button and... it wouldn't light. Unfortunately, the rooftop restaurant does not open until 5pm. Oh well. Here is the view I didn't see, poached from the hotel's website:

We ambled down the street to The Australian, a pub with outdoor bistro seating.



Here we enjoyed crocodile, emu and kangaroo pizza with ginger beer. True, alcoholized ginger beer. Yummy.

The crocodile tasted chicken-ish, which apparently means it was farmed. True crocodile has a fishy taste. The emu and kangaroo were slathered in marinating sauce, making it hard to discern unique flavours. But I have crossed a boundary and eaten of the native animals. My transformation has commenced.

Our pizza dispatched, I was led across the Argyle Cut to the Sydney Observatory. Surrounded by a sloping park, the Sydney Observatory is a part of the Sydney Powerhouse Museum.

Built in 1858, Sydney Observatory is Australia’s oldest observatory, and one of the most significant sites in the nation’s scientific history. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, the Observatory was essential to shipping, navigation, meteorology and timekeeping as well as to the study of the stars seen from the Southern Hemisphere. The Government Astronomers worked and lived in the building until 1982 when Sydney Observatory became part of the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences.

The sloping hills of the park that surrounds the observatory offer an expansive view of the Sydney Harbour, making it a popular wedding photography location. As we climbed the hill we came upon a newly married couple. We ran into 9 newlywed couples as we travelled about the rocks this day, each group hoisting the wedding dress and flowers into position for the perfect commemorative pics. I was disappointed we couldn't see a tenth, and wondered if we would have got a free gift if we had.

Harry with bird of paradise.

On our way down the hill I couldn't help but notice the birds of paradise growing by the side of the road. A flower only obtainable from flower shops in Canada, here it is common to see it planted in containers near buildings or at the side of the road.

How cool is that, eh? Something we can only grow in a greenhouse, as common as a geranium is to Canada.

Okay, so who the heck is this Harry guy?
Previously only mentioned as "H," I guess it's time to explain who Harry is and how I was so lucky to have such an amazing tour guide.

Back in 2007, Harry came to visit his brother in Halifax. As his brother worked quite closely with Sina, a trip to our cottage at Murphy's Cove was in order. Since my arrival, he has more than reciprocated the hospitality.

The tour continues...
Our next stop was The Lord Nelson Hotel. Any Haligonians reading will find this ironic as there is a Lord Nelson Hotel in Halifax, as well. But then again, any British colony shares a wealth of names and icons:

Argyle, Landsdowne, Queen Street, King Street, Front Street...the image of the queen on the back of our coin, the shared heritage gives us something in common.

Australia and Canada also have geography in common. In speaking to clients about the training delivery, a frequent topic of conversation is the challenge of deklvery to the outpost communities. Australia has its Gove, Canada has its Moose Factory.

Speaking of which we share similarities in strange critters, too. Australia may have its kangas, kaolas and plattterpi, but Canada has moose, beaver, loons and Santa Claus.

After a quick rest and a fantabulous pint at the Lord Nelson, we travelled under the Sydney Bridge and arrived at the Rocks Market; a laneway of stalls full of arts, jewellery, pottery, doo-dads and candles. I learned about Two-Up, an old Australian betting game involving two pennies in a wooden paddle.

What is The Rocks?

The Rocks is an area in downtown Sydney that was established shortly after the colony's formation in 1788. The buildings were made of local sandstone and build on the rocky outcrop, making adequate sanitation a challenge. It became a slum of small rooms, some cavelike hovels carved into rock walls. Several archeological digs are uncovering the old houses and the wares of the time. The photo at right shows the remnant walls of a few rooms featuring metallic furniture.

Coogee

Harry and I stopped at one last pub on this day, before heading out to borrow a car to go to Coogee. Coogee is a Sydney suburb with a beach Harry reassures me is "safe."  There we enjoyed deep fried fish while looking out at the ever-rolling ocean, a young man flying small neon kites that disappeared into the clouds, and a full moon.

What a long post! What a great, long day!

Thank you, Harry.

Digging the Snag Stand

The Snag Stand.

Haute Dogs!

Using Australia's most respected and awarded artisan butchers. Lean, low fat meats. All natural, hand crafted artisanal sausages.
 

A night in Pyrmont

Friday, September 28th. 5-ish.

I'm running across Sydney to meet up with Harry and running late, when I learn through my iPhone that a client's needs have changed. They now want two people on the project next week, not two weeks from now as originally planned.

I stand on the street outside the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel pub simultaneously tapping away at my phone and keeping an eye for Harry. I now need to arrange travel to Brisbane for Tuesday. Laptops need to be ordered. Where is the software? How can we get the contracts in place? I pace across with my head down or on the phone calling candidates we had in the pipe.

It is frustrating trying to get all of this information through on a phone where email history is limited, filling in forms or reading documents a major challenge. It's like working through the keyhole in a door.

Luckily Harry is running late. By the time he arrives and I explain about the change, and I only need to send one more email to feel I'm free for dinner.

 

The first floor room of the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel pub is a true working man's watering hole. A bar oval in the middle of the room is surrounded by open space and small shelves just big enough to hold a glass and a small plate. I'm reminded of the Toronto pubs I frequented in my twenties, such as The Cameron Hotel.

From here, Harry and I head to a small restaurant nearby, Cafe XXII. Tucked in century old cottage, with rough, exposed stone walls. The cafe has three wee rooms connected by a narrow passage. I love how you have to walk through a one-car parking garage and storage room to get to the one-room restroom. The menu blends French and Italian, as all European style cafes do here. Sometimes even the title of the restaurant will combine the two languages.

After dinner, we skip across the street a a very French pattiserie where I learn about the Australian cake, the Lamington. A block of chocolate sponginess, coated in coconut and stuffed with jam. It is excellent even if Harry says the traditional cake usually has more jam.

Harry notes that I'm not taking pictures of my food, grabs my camera and snaps a pic.

As the rain pours downstairs, we discuss the big tour Harry has planned for me the next day. We're touring The Rocks. Harry has a complete itinerary lined up, from the sounds which by the end I will be full of history, beers of various varieties and foods of Australian origin.