Hong Kong and the New Pad

These UK - Australia flights are killer. They take forever and is it just me or is airplane food getting more and more inedible?

This one was particularly brutal. Our 11 hour flight to Hong Kong landed, just as we realised we had an 8 hour layover before the 9 hour flight to Brisbane.  What are you suppose to do in an airport for 8 hours when you can't leave? Well, I'll tell you....

You observe the way American capitalism has absorbed the local culture.

You find cute signs to take photos with. 

You sample the local cuisine.

And you go on an adventure following the enigmatic "hot drinking water" signs. 

It was actually much more fun than I had expected, but by the time we finally got into Australia we were totally zonked. Little did we know we'd be going through the most grueling immigration/customs experience yet. It took over two hours... so long that baggage had reclaimed our checked suitcases from the carousel and they were about the be shelved. It involved four separate checkpoints and drug dogs. 

Finally we got our car (which was also a strangely difficult endeavor) and made our way to our new flat. Let me tell you, after a flight like that, this was a pretty exciting thing to come home to.

Our new home is in a heritage listed building and has not only a gas range, oven (our last place didn't have one) AND dishwasher, but also has a closet that is almost the same size as our bedroom. 

This is by far the nicest place we've ever lived. We were in complete disbelief when we arrived because of how nice it was. How was this possible?

Well, we were about to find out.... it turns out that we actually live in the red light district. And not only that, but we live directly above a salsa club, which on weekends is open until 5am. It is so loud and there are so many drunk morons singing and screaming outside our house, it has made sleep completely impossible on Friday and Saturday nights. 

So, yeah, there was a catch, a big one. 

However, armed with earplugs and a white noise machine, we are prepared to conquer this weekend, one night a time!

New York City

While we were in Australia, I found two rolls of film at the bottom of one of my bags. One was black and white and the other was some old colour slide film. I wasn't exactly sure when I'd taken them, as I haven't used film in awhile. So, as soon as we got back to London, I had them developed.

When they came back, it was really exciting, because I realised that these photos are really an emotional snapshot of my life back when we were living in New York. I had taken the two rolls while walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, and through Chinatown and Little Italy. In them I see my awe and admiration of they city, but also fear and a little disquieting tension. 

I've never been shy about my feelings about NYC, and that city and I have definitely had our ups and downs, but I feel quite lucky to have had a year and half with her. New York is a glorious, iconic city. (Also, colour slide film... I gotta get me some more that!)

Sharks and Panna Cotta

Yesterday I reached a milestone: I gave food back to the kitchen at a restaurant.

How has it possibly taken me this long to get here? I'm not sure, but even if the food is terrible, I always feel some obligation to eat it. My parents clearly exercised some skilled brainwashing in this department (although my mom's a great cook, so it's not like I've suffered my whole life).

Anyway, last night I finally broke free. Jon had taken me to this pishy-posh restaurant on Eagle Street Pier called Pony Lounge. Our food was great, and we decided to go in deep with dessert. My usual go is a creme brulee or panna cotta, and as luck would have it, there was one on the menu.

Now, generally panna cotta comes out looking like a pure white flan, a creamy custard that's been set in a form, then removed and placed on a plate with fruit or chocolate or other good stuff. THAT was what I was expecting.

However, what arrived at our table was something quite different. The waitress came and I was given a short mason jar on a plate. The actual panna cotta was only about a cm thick and looked more like gelatinous milk scum stuck to the bottom of a jelly jar. It was sprinkled with a bitter cocoa nibs-granola and was topped with something I can only describe as looking like a blood-soaked medical sponge (the menu called it a blackberry marshmallow, but was much more porous and free form then your average campfire variety).

It was awful. And I couldn't bear to eat more then a bite or two.

Jon was obviously upset and said we should demand a new dessert. I desperately tried to talk him down.

"No no, someone went to the effort to put that together. I'm too embarrassed to say anything," I whispered.

"We are PAYING them," Jon insisted. "They don't want you to have a crappy experience. THEY are the ones that should be embarrassed for serving you something like that."

I finally conceded, mustering up all my courage to tell the waitress how vile this thing was that she had served me.

In the end, yes it mildly awkward, especially when they brought the manager out to get the details and offer me something new, but I fought through.

On the other side, I feel a little ashamed that it has taken me 27 years to get to this point, especially given how much I love food. Good news is that I made it. Thank you Australia for getting me here.

In other news, I have a little friend that keeps coming by to visit me. I've named him Daku, which is an aboriginal Australian name that I think seems to fit him pretty well. He comes up to the back door and peers in to say 'hello' every couple of days.

Speaking of wildlife, I forgot to mention that I saw dolphins swimming in the river while I was getting off the ferry. The ferrymaster pointed them out to me, as they were jumping out of the water. It totally took me by surprised as 1) I had assumed that even though the river feeds into the ocean that we were dealing with a freshwater situation-- do dolphins swim in freshwater? and 2) they were tiny! Like half-sized teacup dolphins. It was amazing! I may have even considered jumping in to the water and swimming out to them if I hadn't just read this on the ferry:

Yes, terrifying. So, now I will never go on that river kayaking trip I've been considering as I'm too afraid of getting mauled by a shark. But I'm happy they keep us informed.... Also glad I had never considered the possibility of piranhas.

Sydney: Part 3 - The Opera House

When I found out that Jon was taking me to Sydney, I was prepared to do just about anything to get tickets to the Opera.  Somehow, the weekend we were there, La Boheme was showing, which made it extra exciting as I've been wanting to see it for the last several years. We managed to snag some tickets, albeit in the nose bleed section, and off we went.

The opera house was gorgeous, especially since we arrived just as the sun was going down. Everything was all golden and beautiful, which seemed like a good omen for what lay ahead.





Things started off pretty well, although we apparently stuck out a bit from the crowd. Several opera house employees offered to take our photo and told us how great it was that we dressed up. That seemed like a weird compliment given that we were at arguably the most famous opera house in the world. But then we got inside and noticed that there were a lot of people in cut-offs and board shorts.

On the one hand, I love that people felt so uninhibited by tradition and just came as they were to enjoy a really beautiful art form. On the other though, my inner snob wants to yell "hey buddy, show a little respect!" This feeling was only made worse by a our seatmates talking and dropping beverages during the performance.

Ultimately, we just had to chalk it up to the fact that the Sydney Opera House is a tourist trap, for better or for worse. For some, this may be their first and last experience with opera, I did my best to bite my tongue and be grateful that they were financially supporting something I feel passionate about.  Without them, the opera house might not be able to stay open, and seriously, how sad would that be?!



Now, on to the show...

Generally speaking, I'm a big fan of Puccini. My absolute favourite opera of all time is Turandot. But, I gotta say, La Boheme didn't really do it for me. I'm not sure who is to blame for that... The performers all sang beautifully, the music was lovely, but there were some weird choices on the part of the director, and I'm tempted to point the finger in his direction.

For example, one scene was turned into a burlesque number. In the background some of the non-singing girls came out topless. This weirdly sexualised scene was bizarre-- like a cheap pandering ploy to make Puccini seem exotic to the tourists.

Needless to say I was not impressed.

Some of the casting choices also felt misguided as well, and overall Jon and I sort of left scratching our heads.



But we didn't let that get us down. Afterwards we walked out and this was our view! What a magical night.

We took a walk around Sydney Harbour and said goodnight and goodbye to this lovely city. It was a great way to end the evening and our trip. Til next time, Sydney!

Sydney: Part 2 - The World's Most Disappointing Milkshake

Look at these milkshakes. Don't they look amazing? I mean really, have you ever seen something so rich in artery-clogging goodness? They look like absolute perfection, but oh, how they lie. This is the story of a milkshake gone terribly, terribly wrong.

It all started on our second day in Sydney. Things had started off pretty great. We enjoyed a lazy morning of room service (still swooning over how great room service is) and decided around noon that we needed a milkshake in a very serious way. 

Now, I had heard about these legendary shakes from a buzzfeed article several months back about some of Sydney's finer milkshake establishments. Number one on the list was Foodcraft Espresso, the holy mecca of Australian ice-creamed beverages. EVERY article I look at showed this as the hands down choice for a milkshake craving. The only problem? It was an hour walking distance from our hotel. 

Undeterred, and feeling ambitious, we thought, "Let's do it! What a great way to see Sydney!"

What ensued was an agonizingly hot sojourn through Sydney's seedy underbelly. The journey's only redeeming experience was finding this random photo of Edward, staring up at us from a dirty sidewalk. You can almost hear his broody, vampiric voice telling us to turn around... alas, we didn't hear it.

We arrived, dripping with sweat and eager for the glorious dessert that was about to be ours. We ordered two nutella milkshakes and took a seat outside. The waitress arrived with a lukewarm water (should have been a sign), which we sipped-- gratefully-- while we waiting. 

Then HOLY MOLY the things came out. Topped with a doughnut and everything!

We grabbed them and greedily took a giant gulp. 

AH!

What was this crap I'd just put into my body?! First of all it wasn't a milkshake, certainly not in the American sense at least. 

I should just preface the next part by stating I love nutella. I'm one of those grab-a-spoon-and-go-to-town type of girls. But this "milkshake" was the wrong side of nutella, the DARK side of nutella. It was as though they'd taken milk and a rancid glob of nutella and just shaken it up, to a foamy nightmare, then topped it with a stale doughnut. 

I looked at Jon, he looked back at me. We tried desperately to take a few more sips, but couldn't bear it. It was too much. 

Angily, I then made it my mission to watch the "milkshake" guy behind the counter to uncover what misguided horror they called a recipe. As I studied his method, I watched him take out a gallon of milk, then a literal tub of nutella. He put a little milk and a whole lot of the tub-tella... then he blended to its frothy consummation. 

As expected, not one ounce of ice cream. 

Sacrilege. 

When we paid, Jon pressed the cashier about the recipe, "So, what ice cream to you use?" She hemmed and hawed and finally lied straight to our faces saying, "oh uh vanilla?" Like it was a question WE should answer. 

We left disappointed, still craving the milkshake unrealized, and made our long trek back home. 

We polished off the day with a trip to the Botanical Garden and a couple of photos for posterity.