Nurture and Nature

I remember the first day I wore shorts last year, around September 15th at the opening of Floriade, Canberra’s big spring festival. The biggest flower show in the southern hemisphere no less! Well, whilst I am behind on last years’ shorts schedule a sure sign of spring was the return of Floriade in Commonwealth Park. Over one million bulbs set in the theme of Aussie icons, myths and legends. Whilst the relationship between the flowers and the theme was at best tenuous, it provided no less a cheerful few hours in the spring sunshine…

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From the neat and orderly swathes of flowers on Saturday to the wild untamed bush on Sunday, as I headed to the south of the capital territory to Namadgi National Park, where the hills rise into almost mountains, which stretch on into NSW and the Snowies. I drove through the tiny village of Tharwa, stopping at the visitors centre for a short walk around the small billabong there.

I then headed into the Naas valley, which was ever so slightly alpine, with lush green fields stretching in the distance as hills rose on either side. The drive was really nice, climbing to various points overlooking the valley.

The drive got even more interesting as I took a turning onto an unsealed road to Booroomba Rocks car park. Like most of the area around here, this place suffered during the big 2003 bushfires but, like everywhere else is very much recovering, although this doesn’t mean a big blackened branch won’t fall on you as you smell the flowers.



The walk was, well, quite steep…up plenty of steps, past giant boulders peppered with wattle and scurrying lizards and finally to the rocks, which are really just a series of cliffs, popular with rock climbers. It was a nice spot to munch on an apple and try to scramble to various look outs to take in the views, including Canberra which was very hazily in the distance.

The walk back down was as exciting as walking down hundreds of steps gets, and it was actually nice to get back to the car and eat some lunch. I negotiated the road back to civilisation and took the car for a much needed wash…seems this might have to be a regular occurrence. Coming next week…the coast.

Soccerball

When it comes to the Sydney v Melbourne debate, the jury’s still out for me. Sure, Melbourne doesn’t have the instantly striking glitz and glamour of Sydney but then maybe that’s part of its appeal. It’s a grower, a city which subtly casts its spell, in which the sound of trams, the smell of coffee and the sight of graffiti is just as satisfying as the egg shell of an opera house and coat hanger of a bridge looming large over your shoulder. I have no doubt arriving here from Canberra adds to its impact, the hustle and bustle a welcome respite from comfortable public-servantsville.

Sure, arriving on a Sunday morning is hardly rush-hour hustle and bustle yet still the buzz is there, arriving at the architecturally spectacular and amazingly functional Southern Cross station, catching the free city circle tram and checking out the Queen Victoria Markets where you’re just as likely to buy a box of oranges from a Chinese woman as you are a didgeridoo from an Aboriginal elder. I’m not a big markets person, but this was pretty fun… as usual I levitated to the food parts and enjoyed a rum slice with my first coffee of the day.

An hour or so later I took on my second coffee over at Fitzroy Gardens, the home of beautiful spring blooms and Captain Cook’s cottage. Can you believe this Captain Cook dude? I live in Captain Cook Crescent with a Captain Cook plant in the garden and often pass the Captain Cook memorial fountain, now here I was at a replica of his Yorkshire home complete with lard and Geoffrey Boycott. He couldn’t have spent much time in his home though, what with traveling the world, giving herpes to Tahitians, running aground on the barrier reef and being beheaded by some Hawaiian surfers. I don’t think he ever came within 500 miles of Melbourne (ah, a true Sydneysider through and through), so god only knows why his house from Yorkshire is here.

You know, given my recent exposure, I’m thinking of undertaking a Captain Cook travel adventure, where I pretend my name’s Danny Wallace or Tony Hawkes and recount a series of slightly amusingly unlikely anecdotes as I travel the land in hunt of Captain Cook memorials. There’s probably a Captain Cook banana in Queensland and a Captain Cook Commemorative Lobster over in WA, maybe even a Captain Cook Cookbook Cook off Facebook network.

As nice as Fitzroy Gardens was, I couldn’t dwell in British colonialism much longer and decided it was time to become a true Melbournian and go and watch some sport. It’s AFL finals time and so, perversely, I went to watch some good ol’ fashioned “soccer” where there wasn’t a wifebeater, mullet and pair of tight shorts in sight (OK, well, maybe in the crowd there was…). Melbourne Victory v the Central Coast Mariners, the Hyundai A-League game the world has been living on the edge for. To be honest, a big part of the appeal wasn’t the reasonably mediocre football action but a chance to take in the amazing Telstra Dome, another example of the bold, confident, exemplary standard of the sporting infrastructure over here…they even have slots in the coliseum like arena where you can buy your pie and watch the football at the same time for goodness sake! Genius.

The football action was as expected. From what I’ve seen of the A-league, there’s plenty of enthusiasm but nothing much happens for 75 minutes, when someone decides, oh, maybe we should try and actually put the ball in that white net thingey and it’s all hands to the pump for a frenetic 20 minutes. So whilst the highlight of the first half was the sunset over the apocalyptic Dockland cranes at half time, I really enjoyed the latter part of the second half, buoyed on by the endless singing of the passionate Victory supporters.

Whilst I may mock in my superior colonial ways, the growth of the A-league is nothing less than encouraging, led by Melbourne who have a regular fanbase of 20,000, many of whom are ridiculously young and trendy. Sure, the guys behind me were talking about some AFL bloke called Chris Judd (and his hot girlfriend) coming back to Melbourne for most of the time but with 27,000 in the Dome and the roof on, there was plenty of atmosphere going around… enough to give me that pre-kick off buzz and I even edged towards the edge of my seat in the last 10 minutes. Alas it remained 0-0 at full time but it was worth a twenty dollar note for the experience. Having said that, it would be awesome to go there for a full house AFL game between two Melbourne teams, awesome.

The rest of my stay in Melbourne was very much work related but I squeezed in a dinner out in Box Hill, a big Chinese and Asian area where seafood dumplings and Mongolian lamb was very much the order of the day. All this accompanied by some fine wine, chosen by someone who has 2000 bottles of the stuff in his cellar, so I learnt a little along the way. And then come Tuesday night I was out of there, back to Canberra, back to where else but Captain Cook Crescent.

Moving times

The car sure has come in handy as I have made the gradual transition from Barton to Narrabundah. Narrabundah is such an Australian sounding name, Aboriginal for something, probably like ‘place where two old men are meeting with the sticks of the bush lizard wallaroo.’ My address is ruined somewhat though by the street name…Captain Cook Crescent. Oh how bloody original. I remember when I first came to Canberra I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of sheer anarchy when someone had spray painted over the second O in “Cook” on the road sign to make it look like a C. That made me think, Canberra’s not so stale after all.

Last weekend was the main period of non-exciting moving action, probably one of the worst weekends of my life, filled with chucking stuff in boxes, lugging heavy goods to places in the middle of nowhere, scrubbing tiles with little effect and discovering eight bags of plain flour, all opened just slightly, dating as far back to 2005 in the store cupboard.

But now I am in Narrabundah, old Captain Cock Crescent, getting used to the slightly longer and possibly more tedious walk to work, finding my way round how to use the washing machine (yeah, powder went in the wrong slot), spilling bean bag balls on the floor and avoiding the bogans who sit on the porch up the street.

I’m probably painting a bad picture here, the house is really nice and spacious and I have so much room I don’t know what to do with it. It’s a nice bright sunny space with a big back yard, full of deadly spiders and snakes no doubt!

It’s not until you move somewhere that you find out there are things you really need which you simply don’t have. You know, really exciting things, like a clothes airer and a shoe rack. Oh yeah, life’s essentials truly. So my Friday night was spent late night shopping in the city and Saturday brought more trips to exciting places like Big W and Bunnings Warehouse, picking up bits and pieces to furnish my two rooms.

I got distracted somewhat in Bunnings, firstly by the sausage sizzle in the car park and then the plants outdoors. Given we have such a vast garden, I decided to buy a few green things to mingle in with the 40 dollar table and borrowed BBQ that I moved in there. I don’t know how they are going to go but, don’t panic, I will post regular updates on the fate of the tomatoes.

So here are my babies…

These are the tomatoes, yum!

Then I got more adventurous and planted some classic Aussie plants. The first is Ovens Wattle, which someday, just maybe, will bloom all gold and green like the ever so annoying Australian rugby team. The second is in honour of our house and is called a Callistemon Captain Cook. This one hopefully goes nice and red.



All this moving and shopping has made me feel like I haven’t had a weekend in a while. Thankfully, before I get sucked in by suburbia I am escaping for a few days to Melbourne tomorrow, so hopefully I will have some more hip and happening stories and pictures for you from the jewel of the south soon.

Wax on, wax off

I probably write this quite often, but it’s been a beautiful week in Canberra…all blue skies and flat whites in the sun. This has been offset somewhat by a bout of excessive domesticity as I prepare to move out of the apartment in Barton and to a more traditional Aussie style home in Narrabundah. Now the apartment in Barton is lovely, aided by the huge windows and doors lining the exterior. These are a nightmare to clean though and I’ve seen enough cobwebs and Windex to last me a lifetime.

Windows: shiny

I also managed to take the rubbish and recycling out on Friday evening only to leave my keys behind and no way back into the apartment. So there I was in my jeans and T-shirt on a chilly Canberra eve waiting to get a bus into town to meet Steve to get keys. In the end, we had some dinner and watched a movie (Bourne Ultimatum with Matt Damon) so it all turned out for the good. Other exciting news on the domestic front and I actually cooked a fair bit this week, using up bits and pieces in the cupboard to great effect, Tuesday’s Mediterranean vegetable and goats cheese tart being worthy of Gordon F*cking Ramsay himself. Done.

I also squeezed in some culture, shopping and the more traditional pursuit of wandering around one of Canberra’s hills. It was a friends open day at a art studio and gallery on Saturday so I popped along to show my support, then went up to Red Hill in the late afternoon. They should rename this place Mount Australia, from the roos to the cockatoos, the white gums, red dirt tracks, and ridiculously healthy joggers asking you “Howzitgan?” it is Australian cliches in one handy nature reserve.

I was trying to pick out my new home to be from the ridge, it’s down there somewhere:

So I’ve clearly been out and about a bit this weekend, and the really exciting news is that it has been petroleum propelled in my new car! I got a 2000 Mitsubishi Magna which in the relatively few kilometres I have done seems to handle really well, is very comfortable and has a bit of a kick. Supposed to be very reliable too so can’t wait to clock up lots more kilometres in it. On Sunday afternoon I took it up Mount Ainslie to see how it liked hills and it was of course the perfect place to pose for some shots!

As tempting as it was I didn’t go for the ute…just couldn’t bring myself to do it! The car will certainly help next week as I move properly down to Narrabundah. Some stuff has gone already, but I still have some essentials to pack, such as the Devon flag, the one remaining bag of Tesco crisps and crumbly fudge, which is now being rationed very tightly. It will be good to get settled again, happy in the knowledge that at least there will be less glass to clean in the future!

Here we go again...

My journey back to Australia passed in the blink of an eye. A very slow blinking eye but at least all went to schedule and most importantly the Australian Quarantine Service let me bring Granny Wobbly’s crumbly fudge into their country. So, year 2 and it felt like the start of a new school year after such a long and wonderful break. I returned to a sparsely furnished home in a cool and cloudy Canberra but pleased at least to see my bed, where I spent the next few days at all sorts of hours.

Of course there is a great deal of familiarity compared with this time last year but there is also a sense of starting out again. The main thing to worry about is finding somewhere to live, but fingers crossed I seem to have that sorted. Sure, my commute will change from a 15 to 20 minute walk, but for my money I’ll be getting two rooms (so no excuses for visiting!)…keep watching for exciting moving news! I’m also hunting a car, which is tricky given that I am pretty useless with cars. Hopefully though I will have something to show in the next few weeks. So, new home, new car but same old job. Any thought of a gentle reintroduction to working life was swept aside but at least it made the days pass quickly and I got to produce some snazzy charts!

The weather has been a little disappointing since I’ve returned, not the usual clear Canberra days but a lot more cloud. However, I certainly seem to have missed the worst of winter and the daytimes are pleasantly warm and the weekend has fined up quite nicely. Putting off the many things I need to do (cleaning, packing, car hunting) I prepared myself to dust off the cobwebs of deadly spiders on my bike on Saturday, only to find the tyres a bit flat and no pump to hand. Instead though I took a walk past Old Parliament House and along the lake shores of Yarralumla, where Spring was well and truly in the air.

What a tonic this place is! Returning last week I was tired and grouchy, it was cold and miserable, I had the prospect of nowhere to live and I had to work again. But getting out there today, feeling the sun on my face and watching the Rosellas and Silvereyes (pictured) enjoying the blossom as much as me was just lovely.

It’s not just the blossom which is coming out at the moment but the all Australian wattle. I noticed it lining the road from Sydney to Canberra and it was in evidence again in the sculpture gardens of the National Gallery, interspersed with the iconic white gum trees. I figured out the smell is a bit like marzipan and I love marzipan, so no complaints from me.

Gum trees, wattle, Australian Idol, Cockatoos, Coles, the Captain Cook Memorial Fountain and the Telstra Tower. It took a while, but I feel back!

The farewell comeback tour

Leaving home was tough and despite, or maybe because of, the sunshine illuminating the beautiful south Devon countryside I was feeling a bit melancholic as the train headed towards London. The trip was not over however, but it felt like the last leg, squeezing in a few more hellos and goodbyes before being re-deported to Australia.

So, London was the first added date on my European tour, meeting a friend Brian for lunch in a sunny and constantly revamped Paddington before trundling – because trundling is all you do on the District Line – to East Putney. Now this was one of those upside down moments because I was here to meet up with my now ex-housemate from Canberra, Lauren. She was on my patch now, and I was pleased to help her navigate to the City where we had a beer and walked along the South Bank for a bit to St Pauls, where we had a spot of Gelati.

We then did our most to avoid the rush hour crush and walked onto Chancery Lane where we hooked up with two more TNS friends of mine, Sadia and Susie in a great old pub. Seated in a confessional booth, it was very much a chance to let off steam and have a good old gossip, enhanced by beer which only cost £1.99 a pint.

The next morning I left Putney and joined the crowds of workers heading to Waterloo, traveling the Northern Line one more time to Euston for a train to the mysterious North. Northern England is a place I haven’t really explored in depth and it wasn’t going to be the case this time, having only a day and a half to meet up with more friends around the Blackpool area.

Now, Blackpool is an interesting place…the most popular holiday destination for Brits I think. It is dominated by a number of features, namely the Blackpool Tower which rivals Paris, the long stretch of muddy looking beach perforated by piers, trams riding their way past countless B&Bs, teashops, amusements, takeaways, bargain stores, pubs and clubs. It seems a place you can both love and hate at the same time!

Luckily I had more to see here than the legendary B&M Bargains and stayed with Melita and her family, enjoying a full on Blackpool night out, complete with chip kebabs and girls wearing hardly anything on hen nights. Well, they were my abiding memories of it anyway. Somewhat wearily we turned in close to 5 in the morning at Lee and Michelle’s, our tiredness the next day enlivened by their beautiful daughter Eva, who was having a fine old time jangling keys, emptying bags and tottering all over the place.

In the afternoon Melita and I met up with Ollie, another former housemate and great friend who was now settling down in Lytham St. Annes, a stone’s throw from the Open golf course. It was a warm and pleasant afternoon as we sat and had a late lunch beside Lytham green and strolled along the waterfront to the Windmill, from where Ollie and I had a contest to see who could look best in a picture.



Clearly Ollie won, maybe because I was taking the picture and also because he was in his natural environment. I was in a foreign land and look to be waiting for an old lady to park herself to my right so we can gaze out to sea together. Melita meanwhile was content to be a bystander and try and avoid having her picture taken.

Pictures done, we ambled some more for an ice cream and strolled round a small boating lake, the highlight being the young lad falling in and struggling to get back out due to the slippery bank, egged on by his family safely dry in their little boat. Suitably entertained we visited a local pub where they were showing the opening games of the new football season and Stevie Gerrard was making himself even more popular in these parts.

After a decent night of much needed sleep it was time to move on again, back to the more familiar south to my last stop of the European trip, Basingstoke. I was here to see my relatively newly arrived in the country Dad and Sonia, and whilst I didn’t get to see much of Basingstoke itself, this was compensated by some hearty food and a trip to Christchurch and the New Forest!

Christchurch (England, not New Zealand) was bright and quaint, with a nice relaxed feel, a few old buildings and a market. Highlight of the market for me was the cheese stall, with some stand out Cheddars mixed with either Marmite, smoked garlic, curry, sundried tomato and various other herbs. I would of loved to have brought some back to Australia but I’ll have to make do with Coon.

I feel, like the New Zealand one, Christchurch is an ambling town where you happily go to have an amble. Our amble took us down to the quayside, dotted with boats and huge swans, then along a river full of fish and lined with leaves. There were also a number of buildings, including a priory and ruined Norman castle.



Despite the dark and dramatic clouds in the air, it stayed dry and we were peppered with the warming summer sun as we ambled on through more gardens and pure leafiness, the odd red robin coming to join us.

Have I mentioned food yet? It’s been a while. Now Dad & Sonia are regular readers of my blog (come on, you should all follow their example!) and were worried about how they could compete with all the Devon delicacies and Cornish cuisine which has made my jeans tight in recent weeks. They did very well however with a full on, heart stopping English breakfast, modeled by yours truly before and after.



The reason I have not turned completely into a Rik Waller lookalike during this time is thanks mostly to the walking, and we took some more fresh air in the delightful surroundings of the New Forest. Now this is a fine last taste of southern England, full of love and life, another unbeatable place when the sun shines through the dense green foliage.

Here we saw an old tree, a few birds, lots of New Forest ponies and a herd of deer, nothing could be more English apart from a nice cup of tea and a youth in a fake Burberry cap.

Alas, quaint olde England had to be left behind and we rejoined the M3 up to Basingstoke where I made my way onto Heathrow. Now this is the tricky part. How do I end this story…a month of amazing sights, memories, above expected sunshine, food (oh my God, how much food), and truly terrific people? I’m actually quite sad to be leaving, I was getting used to our English ways and my stomach was expanding so I could happily continue with the eating. I love England, I love home, and I love the people I am leaving behind but I also love travel and the thrill of exploring new places. For me, Australia still remains mostly untouched and that excites me. Now all I need to do is get that little bother called work out the way!

As something of an epitaph I would like to thank all the people who made my trip so special, all those who put me up (sometimes unexpectedly) and put up with me. I’ve traveled the world and been lucky to see so many places, but this has been my best holiday ever. Now, I must pack up as, rather aptly, Don’t Dream It’s Over by some antipodeans called Crowded House plays on the radio of this coach delivering me to that Malaysia Airlines check-in desk. See you in Oz!