Sheepish…

I am perturbed people. Seriously perturbed.

With Christmas fast approaching and a trip Down Under on the agenda, it goes without saying (but I shall say it anyway) that I am looking forward to embracing all things festive with loved ones in Oz this year.

You know, the Christmas Day feast, either a BBQ or a seafood selection depending on whether we are at Mum’s or Lil Chicky’s.

The annual Stocking Sprint – or who can open all the small, ridiculously over-wrapped presents in their stocking first, thereby spoiling the ‘surprise’ element of each piece of tat gift for everyone else.

Or the Festive Forage otherwise known as where will Husband of Lil Chicky hide random pieces of Christmas wrapping at Mum’s place and how long will it be before she finds them.

Yes I am confident that these traditions will resist our continued path through adulthood the test of time as well as Mum’s desire to have a clean house/stop staying up til all hours wrapping teeny tiny presents.

But there is one tradition unique to Melbourne that really brings out the big kid in me, the 5-year-old who presses her nose against the window in wonder (okay maybe my nose doesn’t exactly touch the window any more but you get my drift.)

The Myer Christmas Windows.

Every year, the windows of the Myer Store in Bourke Street Mall pay tribute to the festive season with an animated display of fairytale movement and magic. The crowds, young and old alike, line up and file past the windows, ooh-ing and aah-ing at Cinderella, The Nutcracker, The Night Before Christmas, Santa Claus is Coming to Town and many other well-known storybook worlds.

But this year, things have gone awry in a big way.

This year’s windows, unveiled last week, pay glittery homage to…

Russell the Sheepwho has apparently saved Christmas.



Who is this interloper?

What on earth happened to Rudolph and his shiny nose?

Only 33 sleeps to go til I can investigate for myself. 

Stay tuned peeps, I’m on the case…

A Hard-Earned Thirst…

I read this week that alcohol consumption in Australia will reach its lowest point in 10 years this year.

I know. I couldn’t believe it either.

Yet the Age newspaper has reported that a 2.4% drop means that Aussies will down just 9.8L per capita in 2012. This is ahead of our US compatriots (8.61L) but well-behind the Brits at 11.75L.

So what’s the deal?

Well I’d first like to say that the badge of hard-drinking Aussie is pinned to the proud chest of the nation that gave the world Foster’s…and kept the best beer (and wine for that matter) for itself.

 


Yes, Australia was not built on hard graft alone. Good call….

The second point I’d like to make is that this dubious honour is bestowed rapidly upon any colonial and then put to the test with considerable alacrity…and mixed results. At one after-work drinks sesh shortly after I landed on England’s green shores (actually I fell in the snow and broke my elbow but that’s another story), I found myself hard-pressed to keep pace with pint after pint downed by my workmates in the space of an hour. Brits can drink!

Interesting to note though that this decline Down Under has occurred in the time since I departed. So it appears to me that whoever my ‘replacement’ is (the population has grown to over 21 million since 2004 so someone is standing in my thongs flip flops shoes) is not pulling their weight. So there’s nothing for it but for me to get down to Melbourne town and support my countrymen and women in their endeavours to regain their crown.

The Big Wine Cask is at Buronga, NSW just over the border from Mildura in country Victoria.


So to all you Aussie blokes and sheilas down under, don’t despair – I’ll be there in just 43 sleeps, drinking boots at the ready.

And I could really do with a nice Shiraz or two…

The Race That Stops A Nation…

It’s a horse race deemed the richest ‘two mile’ handicap in the world for two dozen 3-year-old thoroughbreds over 3.2km. A race that literally stops a nation.  The Melbourne Cup.


The Melbourne Cup Carnival runs over a week in November each year and comprises 4 race days – Derby Day (Sat), Melbourne Cup Day (Tue), Oaks Day (Thu) and Stakes Day (Sat) – at Flemington Racecourse in Melbourne’s northern suburbs. It forms the centrepiece of the Spring Racing Carnival, filling the state of Victoria with prime equine specimens and department stores with hats and headpieces as far as the eye can see.

The first Tuesday in November (this year falling on November 6th) holds a special place in Aussie hearts. Melburnians get a day off and the entire nation – well the majority who are not at the course itself – manages its day around being in front of a telly at 3pm. There are BBQs, office ‘sweeps’ and much discussion around water coolers, coffee machines or over the bar about the chances of the 24 runners – yes, everyone’s a tipster on Melbourne Cup Day. And there are a myriad of opportunities to ‘put your money where your mouth is’.

Being at the race itself is an extraordinary experience (I’ve been 3 times, twice in the posh corporate bit). Melbourne Cup Day often begins with a champagne breakfast in your Cup Day finery in the Racecourse Car Park. For some it’s an opportunity to dust off your headwear, don your gladrags and totter down to the mounting yard. For others, it’s an opportunity to dress down and enjoy the atmosphere. Picnics abound and the bookies are kept busy particularly leading up to the big race.

Melbourne Cup punters – celebrating a win perhaps?

As the horses and their riders make their way around the mounting yard, down the track and into the starting gate, the excitement is palpable and experts and amateur punters alike jockey for position along the final straight and at the finish line. And as the starter’s orders sound out across the course and the gates snap open, the thundering hooves of 24 of the world’s best are overshadowed by the roar of the crowd.

Just over 3 minutes later, the winner crosses the finish line in front of more than 100,000 screaming punters.

It is, quite simply, electric.

This year’s field, confirmed after today’s Victoria Derby, features both the home-grown and the foreign and with a purse of $6.2million up for grabs, only time will tell whether current favourites and past winners Americain (2010) or Dunaden (2011) can join the exalted ranks of multiple winners. Winners like the prolific Makybe Diva, whose dominance in 2003, 2004 and 2005 remains unmatched, and Archer who won the inaugural race in 1861 then followed it up with another win the following year.

3 time winner Makybe Diva

And who’s my money on? Well that’d be telling and to be honest, I haven’t really checked out the runners. Suffice to say I’m off to read the form guide. After all, you can take the girl out of Melbourne but you can’t take Melbourne out of the girl.

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This post also forms part of the November edition of Post Of The Month Club.

Trickle Trickle…Splash Splash

Exciting news here at Gidday HQ.

I’ve had a new boiler installed. 

For those of you who don’t know – like me before my migration north of the river and away from electric heating (in the ceiling no less) and hot water – the boiler is an essential piece of kit in one’s house here in the UK. It not only supplies the hot water but also fuels the gas heating.

And with the temperatures dipping into single figures this weekend, these two ‘objet d’omesticity’ have grown particularly close to my heart. Especially as, after arriving home earlier this month to a chill indoors, I had to break out the bedsocks twice in the space of a week.

So last week, the pipes were fitted and the new combi-boiler installed. Gidday HQ is toasty warm and ready for winter.

But there’s been an unexpected bonus. The water pressure is amazing.

No more shimmying around under the dribble from the shower head.

No more waiting 20 minutes to run a bath.

And the kitchen sink is full within a minute or two. (Let’s face it, the quicker I can get washing the dishes out of the way, the better. It’s not my favourite chore but there are not many other options when there’s no-one else to blame nag cajole ask.)

It’s gone from a trickle to a veritable torrent.

I didn’t think it could happen but Fabulous Finchley just got even more fabulous.

I am one happy little Vegemite!

It Starts With The Locals…

As you know from my last post, I’ve just spent the last 4 days exploring the wonderful city of Krakow

As usual, I’ll be writing a few posts around my visit and down the track (once I’ve written them, that is), you’ll be able to find them by typing Krakow or Armchair Tours into the search box on Gidday’s The Good Stuff page (where it says More Fossicking? on the left hand side).

But in tribute to the friendliness of Krakow’s natives, for me today’s post must start with the locals…
 

This local next to Bazylika Mariacki (St Mary’s Basilica) was keeping his eyes peeled for likely comers
As I meandered through the Old Town Square (Rynek Glowny) on Day 1 of 4, I was struck by the ‘long and short’ of this negotiation…
…but it seemed that this young fella managed to seal the deal.
As I crossed the square I saw a sign from afar…

…and nearby I found a king-like soul keeping vigil at St Mary’s Basilica.
A whole host bade me welcome at St Peter and Pauls Church
( I saw a fantastic chamber music ensemble here on my first night
 – both the music and the venue were breathtaking)
And I couldn’t leave without taking a pic of The Papal Window for Mum (who behaved like the biggest groupie I’d ever seen when we saw the man himself at St Peter’s in 2000).
Pope John Paul II made several public addresses to the people of Krakow from this window. Not only was he Archbishop of Krakow before becoming pope but did you know that he also lived through Krakow’s occupation during World War II?
Clearly opinions still run high. This ‘grafitti’ in the old Jewish Quarter of Podgorze makes a poignant point. The mass deportation of Jews in the 1940s means that an estimated 200 Jews remain in Krakow – from 65,000 pre-WWII (according to my Lonely Planet Krakow Encounter Guide).
The Legend of St Kinga (you can read it for youself by clicking on the link) – a story carved in salt at Wieliczka Salt Mine
                     
Retailing creativity extends into jewellery, ornaments, foodstuffs…
 
…and ceilings. Yes, that is a painted ceiling in this shop, obviously no longer the singular province of the churches here in Krakow.
In spite of my limited Polish (read none), this sign seemed to suggest that I could find a spot of liquid refreshment at this establishment
But if in doubt, I knew where I could find an off-licence…
…as it seems did Winnie the Pooh.
(Seems he translates in any language!)

Rest assured that this merely skims the surface of the fascinating and historic city – remember to keep your eyes peeled for more on Krakow soon…

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Other posts in the Krakow series…
Lightly Salted
The Dark Side
A Monstrous Vision
Eat, Sleep And Be Merry



Going global

Here we are at the last bank holiday in the UK before Christmas and I am ensconced at Gidday HQ catching up on a whole lot of the must dos after a few days of fun to-dos (and not a small amount of alcohol). The washing machine is whirring in the background, the ironing pile is lurking within eye-shot – which I must address one way or the other (i.e. iron or put away in the cupboard) – the UKHot40 is playing on the telly and my water bottle is within reach.

So let’s start with Saturday: a day of short sunny bursts and bouts of torrential rain under a largely grey sky. And an evening of cocktails and mighty fine cuisine as four work friends painted the heart of London’s Soho multicultural – at a Peruvian restaurant. This is what happens when a Turk, a German, a Frenchwoman and an Aussie, all obsessed with food, get their heads together for a girl’s night out.

After a flurry of emails late on Saturday afternoon, a plan was hatched and a few hours later, four happy expat ladies were sitting at the bar in Ceviche, watching the intermittent drizzle against the window with cocktails in hand. Ceviche is new to the London restaurant scene, having only opened in February this year, and has had some terrific reviews (including one by yours truly over on Weekend Notes after our super Saturday soiree). I won’t repeat here what you’ll find elsewhere – suffice to say we left four very happy ladies. And it wasn’t just the cocktails.

Sunday morning dawned and after a kick-start of croissants, coffee and copious amounts of water – how is it that so much drinking can be so dehydrating – I was off again, this time to the Edinboro’ Castle in Camden for a farewell do.

You see, in just under two weeks time, A-used-to-be-down-the-hill will become Seattle-A. Yes, she and hubster are moving state-side to the land of the free, the home of the brave and city of highest rate of sunglasses purchases per capita in the US. They’ve bought a fabulous new pad, booked the movers and are starting their own round robin of goodbyes to old London town.

And yesterday, under the canopy of trees in the sun-dappled beer garden at the Edinboro’ Castle, was a gathering of their wonderful circle of friends. Almost ten hours of repartee and reminiscing, of howls of laughter and a little just-between-friends political incorrectness, of re-connecting and fond farewells, to wish them well in this next exciting chapter…and to book our respective berths at Palazzo Seattle.

So this weekend has been a poignant reminder of the power of my expat friendships, both old and new, and the importance of trusting my instincts in reaching out amongst the myriad of connections I make each day, week, month, year.

Saturday night heralded the start of a ‘four girls from four nations’ friendship.

And while my own personal farewell with A is still to come, Sunday was a celebration of a friendship that began just two weeks into my expat journey. That’s more than eight years of life in the UK together. Opening the pages of this next chapter in our friendship has me feeling a little sad, but excited about the possibilities that will follow for both of us.

You see we, my friends, are going global.

A Travelling Penn…

Just a couple of weeks ago I fell across the blog of an old friend.

Actually I should clarify: she’s not old. For matter neither am I. And I’m sticking to that.

Tanya and I worked together in a turbulent time of tea, tuna and tomatoes a couple of years before I left Australia. While I’ve been making hay my way here in Ol’ Blighty, she upped sticks and taught English in Korea for a while without having any local lingo under her belt (among other things). You could say she’s a baptism by fire kind of girl.

(I confess I can’t remember which bit of Korea peeps. Apologies. Tan, you’ll just have to do a proper guest post on Gidday *wink*)

Anyway, it’s called travellingpenn.

Tanya has started her blog to record her experiences as she undergoes her transformation into a emergency communicator for World Vision. We are only seven posts into the journey so far so it’s the perfect time to get in, so to speak, at the grass roots.

Her writing is warm and lovely, the tone ranges from self-deprecating to poignant (yes already – in seven posts!) And let’s face it, her job, facing one of the world’s greatest humanitarian issues – child poverty – puts her in a unique position to share, to make a difference and to enrich the lives of those with whom she has the enormous privilege to come into contact with.

As I said, she’s only seven posts in and it promises to be an extraordinary journey.

I hope you’ll share it too.

I Come From A Land Down Under…

With the Olympics going on here in London, I’ve read/seen a lot of stuff about Australia and sporting heroes.

Just last night, in the midst of profile after profile on Team GB (as is the perogative of the Host City), Cathy Freeman featured in a montage about ‘The Face of the Games’ for her star turn (both on and off the track) at the Olympics in Sydney in 2000 and legendary Aussie swimmer Ian Thorpe has been a key part of the commentary team at the Aquatics Centre for the swimming events.

Let’s face it, there’s nothing like a sporting great or two to bring out a bit of proud Aussie patriotism.

Today I was reading a post by Aussie-in-Doha, Kirsty Rice called The Fine Print In Your Passport. Just as the company you work for tells you that you are a representative of that company and are expected to conduct yourself as such, Kirsty reveals that same admonishment exists in the pages of your Australian passport. (For those of you that have one that is – the rest of you should check your own fine print.)

For many years, Australian airline QANTAS has run an overseas television campaign featuring Peter Allen’s I Still Call Australia Home, the unofficial anthem for any self-respecting Aussie expat. The line ‘no matter how far or how wide I roam, I still call Australia home’ has always moved me (and most other Australians I know) and reminds me of the enormous pride I feel in being an Aussie amid the eclectic cultural melting pot of London.

But today Kirsty’s post unearthed a new gem and for me, an absolute pearler that covers the two places I’m lucky enough to call home.

So just you remember, I come from a land down under…

…you’d better run, you’d better take cover.

The Spirit of the Games…

There’s the small shindig happening in London later this month. It’s happened a couple of times before. A gathering of sporty types who’ll bring their best, enter the arena and fight for the gold in front of a global audience. Dashin’ and prancin’…
…the Olympic Games are comin’ to town.
And the Olympic flame, that which symbolises the spirit of The Games, has been wending its way to London through rain and shine (but mostly rain) to inspire the people of England.
On Sunday afternoon, a few folk gathered along Hatfield Road in St Albans to eat, drink and wave a flag or two. The vibe on the street was dry (surprisingly enough) and humming with excitement and anticipation…

All of a sudden, the convoy had arrived and with it, the flame…

…and before too long, it was on its way again, safe in the hands of Huddersfield Supply Chain Manager, Glyn Carter.

Just as well we snaffled a sneaky snap while Glyn was waiting his turn…

…to show we were really there!

Only 17 days to go peeps. Are you ready for the Games of the XXX Olympiad?

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This post is part of July 2012’s Post of the Month Club

A Happy Little (expat) Vegemite…

There is some exciting news at Gidday HQ today.

My fellow expat afficionados over at The Displaced Nation asked me to write a bit of a travel yarn about my recent trip to The Eternal City and it’s now live over there for your enjoyment.

If you can possibly bear to read one more thing about my Roman Holiday, you can meander over by clicking here.

While you are there, you might also like to have a little fossick around. I can confess to a particular addiction to the It’s Fiction series, Libby’s Life….

I am one chuffed expat!

ps…if you haven’t been keeping up with my travels of late (and shame on you if this is the case), here’s the Rome series for you:

The Gods of Rock…
A Holy Trinity…
All Roads…