Plan A

Everything's Great

2012-02-05T17:09:00.000+11:00

China may have a Great Wall, but everything in Australia is great! And not really because I say so, but because everything has “Great” in the name. Seriously. Look at a map of Australia sometime and see how many items you can spot with the name “Great” – like the Great Australian Bight, Great Barrier Reef, Great Dividing Range, Great Keppel Island, Great Sandy Desert, Great Victoria Desert… It’s not just natural features either. Want to take a walk on the Great South West Walk? How about a drive on the Great Ocean Road? If that one has too much traffic, check out the Great Alpine Road, Great Central Road, or Great Northern Highway. Great Otway National Park would be a great place to visit, as would Great Basalt Wall National Park and Great Sandy National Park. Even the Australian Jews get in on the action. Right here in Sydney is the Great Synagogue.

So, why is everything so great? It’s probably because Australia is just so big – so great in size. Australia is the world’s sixth biggest country by land area. That means there are some great distances between places on the map.

Let’s put the size into perspective: 2 of Australia’s 8 states and territories are larger than Alaska. Larger than Alaska! A further 3 states and territories are larger than Texas! Everything’s bigger in Texas, eh? I think not. Take take, you full-of-yourself Texans! The smallest mainland state – Victoria – would still be the 11^th largest state if it were in the US. For the island states, Tasmania is 4 times larger than Hawaii, and the Australian Capital Territory is nearly 15 times the size of the District of Columbia.

On a greater scale, the state of Western Australia would be the world’s 10th largest country by land area if it were to become independent. Crazy! Queensland wouldn’t be far behind at number 18, and the Northern Territory would round out the top 20. South Australia and New South Wales would both be ranked in the 30’s.

On the other hand, despite having the world’s sixth largest land area, Australia is only ranked 52nd in population. That’s a lot of land for not a lot of people. California has more people than the whole of Australia. So does Texas. New York and Florida aren’t far behind. Australia’s most populous state, New South Wales, would only be ranked 13th in the US and has approximately as many people as Washington state. And as for those smaller island states and capitals: Hawaii has nearly three times the population of Tasmania despite Tasmania quadrupling Hawaii’s area, and the District of Columbia has nearly twice the population of the ACT despite it being only one-fifteenth the size.

Looking at the world again, Western Australia would be ranked 143rd in the world in terms of population if it was its own country. 143rd! That’s a remarkably low population for a country that would be the world’s 10th largest. It would be the world’s least densely populated country with under 1 person per square kilometer. Currently, Mongolia is the world’s least densely populated country, and its figure is nearly equal to the population density of South Australia. The world’s second least densely populated country is Namibia, and its density is nearly equal to that of Queensland. Northern Territory, with a population density of 0.2 persons per square kilometer, is less than 25% as dense as Western Australia. No independent country has as few people in such a space. In fact, the only places on the planet less dense than the Northern Territory are Greenland and Antarctica.

So what’s the point of all of this? Well, it’s this: Australia has a lot of land which makes distances between places really great. But when you also factor in the sparse population and all of that vacant land in the middle, the country’s size just seems so much greater than it actually is.

So maybe that’s why everything here is “Great”.

Or maybe it was just an incredible marketing scheme that started shortly after the first convict settlers landed in Sydney. A 200+ year old tourism campaign is a pretty good success.

National Parks

2012-01-31T21:55:00.000+11:00

My friend Jenny’s mom once told me that she’d like to visit all of the national parks in the United States. A big task that would be as the United States has 58 national parks scattered far from Maine to Hawaii, Alaska to Florida, and even American Samoa and the US Virgin Islands. That’s a lot of driving and flying – or swimming or walking for the insane.

If you’re up for a slightly bigger challenge, you can try visiting all of Australia’s national parks. And by “slightly bigger challenge”, I really mean “hahahaha you’ll never do it!”

Australia has a whopping 582 national parks. 582! That covers roughly 4% of Australia’s area. When you add on the other roughly 1,750 protected areas in Australia, it turns out to be around 10% of the continent. Not bad.

Now, to be fair, the US has massive state park systems – over 6,600 strong – along with a handful of national forests and such. That more than makes up for the lower number of national parks. But still. 582 is damn whopping.

Living in the US for 27 years of my life, I ended up visiting… five national parks. Just five. That’s sad. Looking back, my first Shenandoah NP in Virginia on a road trip with my friend Jenny summer after freshman year of college. I was 19. The next two were Mt Rainier NP and Olympic NP – both done while I was living in Seattle. And the last two – Grand Canyon NP and Petrified Forest NP – were done on my cross-country drive from Seattle back to Florida. I crammed in those two right before I moved to Australia. I’ve been to 30-something states, but apparently I’ve been slacking on the national parks.

I’ve made up for it a bit in Australia. In Western Australia, I hit up Torndirrup NP, William Bay NP, and Gloucester NP with Cade and Karen. I popped into Naracoorte Caves NP in South Australia along with Port Campbell NP and Great Otway NP in Victoria while on my big Adelaide to Melbourne road trip with Liz last year. Kei and I saw Watarrka NP and Uluru-Kata Tjuta NP when we went to the Northern Territory last July. And I’ve made the rounds in the Sydney vicinity: Blue Mountains NP, Royal NP, Seven Mile Beach NP, Kamay Botany Bay NP, Ku-ring-gai Chase NP, and Sydney Harbour NP.

While on our South Coast road trip earlier this month, Oscar and I checked another one off my list: Booderee National Park.

Booderee NP takes up nearly all 26 square miles of the Jervis Bay Territory (pronounced Jarvis Bay by Australians in the same way that derby is pronounced darby and clerkship is pronounced clarkship… wtf?). The Jervis Bay Territory is a small piece of land at the bottom of Jervis Bay on NSW’s South Coast, but it is not part of New South Wales. It was ceded by NSW to the Commonwealth (federal) government back in 1915 so that Canberra (Australia’s inland capital) would have access to the sea. Jervis Bay was sort of a part of the Australian Capital Territory (ACT) until 1989 when the ACT achieved home rule. Jervis Bay was then transferred back to the Commonwealth government. Today, in addition to the national park, the area consists of a military base and a small Aboriginal village.

Ok, enough of the history lesson. Booderee NP was stunning. Our first stop was Green Patch beach:

Look at that sand! It is said to be the whitest sand in Australia.

The water in Jervis Bay was incredibly clear. No major seaweed issues, no big waves, no pesky birds, and no fish swimming around my feet. The water was frigid, but everything else lined up so I went in for a long dip anyway. It took me a while to thaw out.

On the other side of the park, the view out to Wreck Bay was fantastic. The water was slightly warmer (but still frigid) and the waves were bigger.

The middle of the park featured botanical gardens and a short hike around Lake McKenzie.

We were told by the visitor centre to check out the lighthouse at the far east end of the park, looking over the Tasman Sea.

The lighthouse was actually lighthouse ruins. The sign said they built the lighthouse in the wrong place and it actually caused a bunch of shipwrecks.

FAIL.

Finally, back to the Jervis Bay side of the park to take a late afternoon nap at Murrays Beach. While the lighthouse lacked in excitement, watching the park ranger who got his truck stuck in the sand as the tide came in totally made up for it. Evil, I know. But so entertaining.

So, if you kept count, Booderee brings my grand total to 15 national parks visited in Australia. Only 567 more to go!

Crap.

Small Town Australia & Noodle Deceit

2012-01-29T15:04:00.000+11:00

Small town Australia… is a place I could never live.

Seriously. I’d be bored out of my mind.

Weekday evenings in the cities are a bit disappointing – with shops closing right as you get out of work (except for Thursdays when the malls are open late). But restaurants are open as are plenty of other activities. Small cities are pretty bad. In Wollongong – Australia’s 9^th largest city – one Sunday afternoon in 2010, a mate and I quickly realized that our only late lunch (3pm) option was fast food. Restaurants closed between the lunch and dinner shifts. But in small towns, the restaurants shutter their doors after lunch and they don’t reopen for dinner. I’ve had encounters with small town Australia before, but the trip to the South Coast really brought to life just how boring small towns really are. The small towns along the Great Ocean Road in Victoria didn’t bother me. They are touristy, and things were open in the evening because of the large number of visitors. But South Coast NSW is a far different area. While it is a popular weekend getaway for Sydneysiders, the region doesn’t have the international recognition that the Great Ocean Road has, or even recognition by people from other parts of Australia. Going during the week, when all of Sydney is at work, proved a bit challenging when it came to finding dinner.

First stop: Berry! A cute little town consisting of one main road, it had all of the essentials that make small towns great – mainly sweets. Because a road trip isn’t a road trip unless you stop in a small town and get some fudge, right?

Berry is also famous for their doughnuts. Hell yeah!

Lunchtime in Berry was nice – we walked up and down the road until we found a café that suited our appetites. For a small town, it seemed like we had endless options, so we decided to venture back in for dinner as our hotel wasn’t really near any other towns. We parked and proceeded to walk up and down the street. The bustling little tourist town that we had encountered only hours ago had become…

A ghost town.

Only three things in the entire town were open: one little grocery store and the two pubs (because you can’t deprive an Aussie of beer). So, pub grub it was. We picked the cheaper of the two options – they had a Tuesday schnitzel special – and placed our order. Good thing we ordered when we did. When our little buzzer went off and it was time to pick up our food from the kitchen, the register already had a sign up that the kitchen was now closed.

Had we been ten minutes later, we surely would have starved!

Ok, we wouldn’t have starved, but we would have had to eat granola bars from the local grocery store, and that in no way, shape, or form is a proper dinner.

The next night we drove through a town called Nowra. It is a relatively big town with an urban area population of 32,000 – much larger than Berry. Not bad for a place that most people have never heard of. We picked Nowra on purpose as we knew there would be nothing in Berry, and we assumed that all of the other small towns would be shut as well. With 32,000 people, surely there must be a few dining options. So, we drove into the town centre, parked, and walked around. From what we could tell, we had four options. Only four. Just four. And two of them weren’t even really options.

1. Subway

2. Pizza Hut

3. A Chinese restaurant

4. Another Chinese restaurant literally next door to the first one

When in Rome… we opted for one of the local Chinese restaurants. The sign said that it was founded in the early 1950’s by the first Chinese immigrant to the region. Having been around for so long, we assumed it must be somewhat good. All of the employees inside were white though. That was a bit strange.

Oscar and I both ordered chow mein. What we got was: a bunch of steamed stuff in a bland, gooey sauce tossed over some of those thin little crunchy noodles that they put in Chinese chicken salads in the US. Seriously? They weren’t long, hot, tasty noodles. They were those little crunchy bits you can buy in a bag in the supermarket. Ugh!

I took a closer look at the menu. With the history of the restaurant, there was also a little note about the hosts. The hosts’ last name: Ng. Ng. Would you like to buy a vowel?

Ng is not a Chinese last name. It’s Vietnamese. People from Vietnam own the Chinese restaurant.

I’m angry. And hungry.

Are small towns in America this bad? I honestly can’t really remember the last time I’ve been to a small town in the evening in the US. I tend to stay away as they usually have too many rednecks and religious nutbags.

Though, I should probably give a point to Australia. I suppose I’ll take shitty imposter Chinese “noodles” over religious crazies any day of the week.

South Coast NSW

2012-01-24T00:03:00.000+11:00

Oscar was back and we hit the road for a three day road trip! New South Wales – the state that Sydney is in – has a massive stretch of coastline. Despite the sizable distance, the coastal stretch south of Sydney extending all the way to the border with the state of Victoria is called the South Coast. As that is a roughly seven hour drive, the region is by no means small. We set out to see the area, though given our time constraints we only made it about three hours down to a place called Jervis Bay. That area was absolutely marvelous and is deserving of its own post to follow. But first, I present some other highlights of South Coast NSW!

We started Day 1 at the Illawarra Fly Tree Top Walk! Australia is home to four of these tree top walks, and Illawarra Fly is the third one I’ve checked off the list. I still reckon that the first one I did in Western Australia was the best, but this one definitely had the best view:

The lake is Lake Illawarra and just beyond that is the city of Wollongong – Australia’s ninth largest city.

The Illawarra Fly is built on the Illawarra Escarpment – the remnants of an old mountain range. Because it’s built on the side of a mountain, it was really easy to get high up. When they say tree top, they mean it.

It was here that Oscar and I took the first of many “self-portraits” over the course of our trip.

Now, at this point, I’ve seen kangaroos in the wild. I’ve seen emus in the wild. I’ve even seen koalas in the wild down along the Great Ocean Road. And from the looks of it, I thought I might be lucky to catch a glimpse of a wombat!

Unfortunately, we didn’t see any, even though we waited by the designated wombat crossing.

Next stop: more views at Saddleback Mountain. The steep drive up – which almost put our rental Corolla to an early grave – was well worth it:

Later on, we checked into our hotel: the historic Coolangatta Estate!

Built by convicts in the 1800’s, the site has been restored and now operates as a resort and winery. Their 2003 Semillon was delicious and we bought half of a case. We bunked in “The Cottage”.

Nearby was the famous Seven Mile Beach. Stretching from the town of Gerroa in the north to the mouth of the Shoalhaven River in the south, the beach – as its name suggest – is one of the longest in New South Wales. Indeed it was long – and more importantly – it was empty. There was nobody to the left!

And nobody to the right!

And nobody right behind me!

The beach was ours! All seven miles of it!

On Day 3 we drove back to Sydney along the Grand Pacific Drive. Now, we didn’t actually know it was the Grand Pacific Drive until near the very end when we bumped into this sign as a lookout point and realized that it was the exact drive – from end to end – that we just did.

The Grand Pacific Drive is NSW’s answer to the Great Ocean Road down in Victoria – except it’s not nearly as well-known… or as fabulous. Which is probably why I had never heard of it. That being said, there were some pretty spectacular things along the way. In addition to Seven Mile Beach National Park, we passed through the town of Kiama with its pretty lighthouse.

More famous, however, is the Kiama Blowhole!

Ok, so it doesn’t look like much… until water comes out of it:

I need to remember to not hold the camera vertically when taking videos. Sorry.

The geology behind it is quite interesting… if you’re a nerd!

Lucky for me, I’m a complete nerd. Do you have a problem with that?

The drive also takes you through Wollongong:

And we pulled over so that Oscar could play on the historic waterfront canons.

Planking.

Oh lord. Trip’s over!

Dolly Kathy Jesus Leo Oscar

2012-01-19T22:45:00.000+11:00

I know, I know. I haven’t blogged in like over two weeks. My bad. What can I say? I’ve been busy. I have a life. But I’ll make it up to my one adoring fan with a blog now and a few more before month’s end. Is that ok, Brian? Now you can stop reminding me on Facebook and on Words with Friends every chance you get.

Actually, I lied. I have two adoring fans. The other is my mother.

Anyway, moving on. One contributing factor to my extreme busyness has been the constant stream of visitors that have come to Sydney over the past two months. So, from the beginning:

Dolly

Dolly Parton came to Australia! DOLLY. FUCKING. PARTON. Do you have any idea how exciting that was??? I had been dying to see her for ages but I was out of town the only time she came through Seattle. So, when it was announced that Dolly was coming down under for the first time in nearly 30 years, I was determined to see her no matter what the cost. $220/ticket later, my friend Kei and I got to witness the best concert I’ve ever seen. Dolly sang a few new songs, but she really pleased the crowd with all of the famous favourites: Baby I’m Burnin’, Jolene, Why’d You Come In Here Lookin’ Like That, and Islands In The Stream.

And of course, the ultimate Dolly classics: 9 to 5 and I Will Always Love You!

She got a little bluegrassy, threw in a little gospel, and even rapped for the crowd. I’m not even shitting you!

And, as she is the ultimate entertainer, Dolly added a story to every song. And sometimes she even added stories just for fun. Like the story about how she lost a Dolly Parton look-alike contest to a drag queen. Here she is:

I only regret that I didn’t bring my proper camera with me! The iPhone is great, but the photos and videos just couldn’t handle all the lights on stage.

Kathy

Kathy Griffin also came to Oz recently and performed at the iconic Sydney Opera House! Her performance was filled with all of the trash talking, celebrity gossip, and pussy jokes that we have come to expect and love from Kathy Griffin. Of course, the gays were out in full force. Just like Margaret Cho did a few months ago, Ms. Griffin did an excellent job of tailoring her stand-up to the Australian audience and even commented on our lovely Prime Minister (sarcastic) whose views on marriage equality are a bit… ridiculous. Kudos to Kathy!

Jesus

2011 marked my second Christmas in Sydney. Not that I celebrate Xmas or anything, but I’ll always take an excuse to entertain. As Elcid & David hosted me last year for a full day from brunch to late night, I decided to return the favour this year. So, from 11am until after midnight, the boys partied at my place. We had Challah French toast (because we had to Jew it up some) and mimosas:

… followed by The Muppets Christmas Carol and the inaugural swim in my apartment’s pool. Others joined us in the evening for a dinner that could choke a horse, followed by Xmas cookie decorating!

Oh yes - I made the Xmas cookies from scratch! And did you notice the gooey brownies on the table? Also from scratch! And I even made a fabulous chocolate cheesecake… from scratch!

Look at me go! Diabetes here we come! Also, because it was Xmas, we lit the menorah. Wait – what? Happy Chrismukkah!

Leo

My mate Leo from Seattle (actually, he’s from India originally, and he lives in New York now, but I know him from both of our days in Seattle) was in town for a week! His work placed him on a project in Melbourne for two months. Having the time between Xmas and New Years off, he decided to hop up to Sydney for a little visit. We ate. We drank. And we watched the fireworks on the harbour from my apartment’s roof! The view was great! Unfortunately, we didn’t get a single photo of us together. Ugh. But I did manage to get a photo of our desserts one day at lunch. What the hell is wrong with me?

We also hit the beach twice (first Manly, then Coogee the next day) as it was the first really good beach weekend we’ve had this summer (December was rainy and cool – WTF?)

Oscar

And since two beach days with Leo just wasn’t enough, I had several beach days with Oscar. That’s right: Oscar was back in Australia! You may recall from blogs ages ago that Oscar was one of my first housemates here in Sydney. He had just finished an English language class and was looking for work when I arrived. Unfortunately, he didn’t find anything before his visa expired and he had to go back to Catalonia, but my mate was determined. So, some twenty months later, Oscar’s application for permanent residency was approved and he lined up a job over in Perth. He swung by Sydney for a week before heading west and the two of us took a little road trip down the South Coast to a place called Jervis Bay.

I’ll leave it at that, because the next few blog posts will talk all about our road trip south, including tidbits on small town Australia and this country’s abundant National Parks. Until then, sit tight, Brian. Another blog is coming soon!

Howdy Partner

2012-01-01T10:23:00.000+11:00

For a while, I thought most of the women in my office were lesbians. Seriously. Nearly all of them. I thought “Wow, there are so many lipstick lesbians here! Who knew?!?!?” And you know why I thought this? Because they all say “partner”.

One thing I’ve noticed time and time again in Australia is how people tend to describe their spouse, husband, wife, fiancé, boyfriend, girlfriend, significant other, or whatever you want to call them simply as their partner. In the United States, the term partner is generally used for gays and lesbians. But in Australia, or at least in Sydney and the other major cities, it’s everybody – gay, lesbian, straight, and whoever else. I found it strange that an unmarried heterosexual woman would describe her boyfriend as her partner, and even stranger when a married heterosexual man would describe his wife as his partner. But here, it is totally common.

The classic example of this is Australia’s Prime Minister, Julia Gillard. Ms. Gillard is unmarried but is in a long-term relationship with a man who she refers to as her partner. And she calls him her partner on TV and nobody seems to think anything of it.

I don’t know exactly why this is, but I think I have somewhat of a good idea. First, I think there’s definitely more awareness around gay and lesbian issues in Australia – especially around marriage equality. So if everyone can’t have a spouse, some more progressive (straight) people may choose the word partner instead of husband or wife to avoid any faux pas. Maybe. But that still doesn’t explain Ms. Gillard as she is not married.

The more likely reason, from my observation: marriage culture in Australia is strikingly different than in the US and evolving into a more gender-neutral and less defined institution. The laws in Australia are such that you don’t need a legal marriage to have all of the same rights as married couples. It’s called “de facto” here, and as long as you live together in a long-term relationship for a certain length of time – whether straight or gay – you are treated the same as a married couple under the law. Perusing through the Australian Bureau of Statistics website, I found that the marriage rate in Australia has dropped significantly over the past 20 years while the rate of adults living in de facto relationships has more than doubled amongst both straights and gays. As a comparison to the current rhetoric in the US surrounding same-sex marriage, take a look at this introductory paragraph on the ABS’s website:

“Couple relationships provide people with love, companionship, support, and opportunities for having children and raising families. As such, couples are a fundamental building block of society. Changing social attitudes during the late 20th century have led to an increase in de facto and same-sex relationships as well as giving people more freedom to end relationships, start new relationships or remain single.”

Nowhere in that paragraph are the terms “married” or “marriage” mentioned. This is in stark contrast to the rhetoric used by the very vocal republican, right-wing Christian social conservatives in the US who spewing out vile in relation to same-sex marriage. They claim marriage should remain the realm of heterosexuals because both a mother and father are needed to properly raise a child and that gay and lesbian couples don’t constitute real families.

What a load of rubbish. The Aussies are definitely in the better situation here.

So, what does this all mean? It means that “partner” appears to be on a path to becoming the primary way Aussies describe the person they make a commitment to – whether straight, gay, married, or not. You may be an unmarried woman living in a long-term relationship with a man. You’re not married, so he’s not technically your husband, but “boyfriend” seems way too light a term to describe somebody who you’ve lived with for a decade. “Partner” fills that void.

I like it.

But I will say this: with everything good, there’s always a downside, and this could have tragic consequences for me when trying to figure out who’s on my team and who’s not. My gaydar hasn’t always proven the greatest to begin with. Ugh.

Shitty Umbrellas

2011-12-29T00:32:00.000+11:00

As you read in my last post, Australians know how to make super cool, durable, attractive money. But while their currency is technologically advanced, there are some areas where the technology in Australia is completely lacking. One of the most frustrating areas:

Umbrellas.

I know. That sounds stupid. But you, the overseas reader, have no fucking idea how ridiculous umbrellas are in this country. Actually, there are no umbrellas in Australia, because by definition an umbrella is supposed to protect you from the rain. What we have in Australia are shitty “umbrellas”. They look and feel like umbrellas, but they do not really protect you from the rain. At all. Let me explain.

Umbrellas are usually held in your hand and form a protective cover over your head. Umbrellas in Australia are usually not held in hand, but rather most often broken and shoved into a rubbish bin (trash can) on the street. When it rains in Sydney, it rains hard. A Seattle-style drizzle is rare here. Rain here is usually a Miami style downpour. You would think that manufacturers would create and sell umbrellas that can withstand gusty winds and heavy rains, but they don’t. The umbrellas here are nearly always flimsy. All it takes is one gust of wind to blow your umbrella inside out. I’m not taking about hurricane force winds here. Just a simple gust – not even that strong – will turn your umbrella into a bucket. Another gentle gust a few seconds later will break the wiring apart or simply bend it out of shape. In my world, a gust of wind cannot easily bend metal, but apparently my world and Australia don’t overlap on this matter.

After a heavy rain, you walk around the city and you’ll find broken umbrellas littered all over – in the gutter, on the sidewalk, and in so many rubbish bins. I don’t remember having to constantly buy new umbrellas in the States, and my umbrella from Seattle lasted me for 4+ years until I inadvertently left it in the food court here at lunch a few months ago. I was devastated. Never before has anyone exhibited such an emotional reaction to the loss of an umbrella. I was visibly shaken because I know that it would be hard and expensive to replace.

Of course, there are some higher end ranges which probably are of a better quality, but as with most things down under, they are priced so ridiculously high that I just can’t bear to buy one to see if it actually works better.

The umbrella industry must be making a fortune here because the subpar quality of their product causes consumers to constantly have to buy replacements. The industry is evil and it clearly takes advantage of the hard working Australian consumer, which I why I am writing this blog. I want change.

For those of you reading this here in Australia: I implore you to RISE UP! You need to call your politicians and INSIST they legislate strict regulation on the umbrella industry! You need to DEMAND consumer protections be implemented NOW! The time has come for real change. Parliament may be debating energy policy and immigration reform, but the #1 problem affecting the lives of Australians every day is clearly the umbrella crisis. Government has ignored this terrible injustice for far too long. Make your voice heard, Australia! And make sure that the politicians know that they are being held accountable for their lack of action on this pressing issue.

Disclaimer: I found these photos on two other random blogs about the same topic when I did a Google image search for “broken umbrella in a rubbish bin in Sydney”. I’m not the only one out there who has noticed.

Show Me The Money

2011-12-27T18:59:00.000+11:00

In the weeks leading up to my move to Australia in January 2010, I popped into my local bank to order some Australian currency to have in my wallet for my arrival in my new country. What I received was totally different than anything I had seen before. What was so special about this money?

Despite Australia’s low population, the Australian dollar is the fifth most traded currency in the world (behind the US dollar, euro, British pound, and Japanese yen) because of Australia’s high interest rates, strong economy, stable political system, and proximity to Asian markets. All of this, however, is boring. What is not boring is this:

Aussie currency is just plain cool.

Starting with the banknotes: the first thing that jumps out is the colour. Each denomination is a different colour. The $5 bill is pink, $10 is blue, $20 is red, $50 is yellow, and $100 is green (my favourite denomination and my favourite colour!) But this isn’t all. Take a closer look.

While each bill is the same height, the lengths differ. The $5 is the shortest and smallest, and the bills increase in size up to the $100 note. This helps those with vision impairments identify the bills more easily. The bills are printed with various security features making the Aussie dollar one of the world’s most advanced and secure notes. Each banknote has a transparent window in it – with a white design embossed over it. Australia’s coat of arms can be seen when you hold the bank note up to light, and microprinting (teeny tiny text that is barely visible without a magnifying glass) is also included. But wait there’s more! The serial numbers fluoresce when viewed under ultraviolet light.

All of this makes Australian currency nearly impossible to counterfeit. Another main reason it’s so hard to counterfeit: the banknotes are not made of paper. They are made of plastic. Australia developed the technology for “polymer” (plastic) banknotes and first released them in 1988. Because they are plastic instead of paper, the bills don’t wear nearly as easily. They are difficult to rip and they are waterproof, so no worries if there’s a $20 note in your pants pocket when you put it in the wash. It will come out just fine. Why hasn’t the US implemented this???

Just like the notes, the coins are sized according to denomination too. The 5¢ coin is the smallest and thinnest, then the 10¢ coin, the 20¢ coin, and finally the 50¢ coin is the largest and thickest. This makes a bit (or a lot) more sense than in the States where both the penny and nickel are bigger and thicker than the dime. All the coins are silver (though really copper and nickel) and circular, except for the 50¢ piece which appears circular but is actually a dodecagon.

Notice before that I didn’t mention a $1 banknote. That’s because in Australia, like in Canada, there are coins for $1 and $2 rather than bills. While they last longer, I will say that having the extra heavy coinage in your pockets can be a bit weighing (get it?!?) The $1 and $2 coins are gold rather than silver (actually, they are nickel, aluminum, and copper) and smaller than some of the silver coins. This is where the Aussies slipped a bit. Both coins, however, are thicker than their silver counterparts. The $1 coin is actually bigger than the $2 coin, though the latter is thicker. I will say that this confused me greatly on my first day in Sydney as I thought they were pennies or 2¢ coins because of their size. Which brings me to:

There aren’t any pennies! While things are priced with cents, all transactions involving cash (as opposed to credit cards, debit cards, or online transfers) are rounded to the nearest 5¢. I actually don’t mind this at all as it keeps pesky pennies out of my pockets.

And what’s on the notes and coins??? The notes feature people on both sides – all prominent Australians that you’ve never heard of – with the exception of the $5 note which features the Queen on one side and Parliament House on the other. The coins mainly feature Aussie animals – kangaroos, the platypus, echidna, and lyrebird – as well as the coat of arms on the big 50¢ coin and an Aboriginal tribal elder on the $2 coin.

So, come on US. Why must you insist on lagging behind in so many areas? Yes, we appreciate that you’ve added a little bit of colour to the banknotes in the past few years, but come on – make the gays happy and go crazy with the colour! And make the lesbians happy and bring on the durability! And make everybody else happy that their $20 bills aren’t ruined in the washing machine every time they forget to take them out of their pants pocket. It’s just good fiscal policy.

Oh yeah. What would the US know about that???

Boomerang Place

2011-12-20T23:18:00.000+11:00

What’s the most stereotypical street name in Australia? I do believe it’s Boomerang Place. How perfectly Australian is that? And you know what’s even more perfect?

I live there now!!! Woohoo!!!

Effective last week, my friend and co-worker – the lovely Clinton – and I moved into a new flat on Boomerang Place. My first thought: the Americans are gonna freak! I mean, not only do I live in Australia, but I live in Australia on Boomerang Place! Could it get any more Aussie? Ok, maybe Kangaroo Court or Vegemite Way would be more Aussie, but Boomerang Place is right up there with it.

As if it couldn’t get any better: we now live in the suburb of Woolloomooloo! Try pronouncing that! I had to hear it a few times before I could get it down right. My friend Jenny in Houston pretty much had it right via e-mail to me earlier this week. She said it sounds like Kalamazoo, right? Indeed it does! As an alternative, we were told to say “sheep, toilet, cow, toilet” – get it? (Wool = sheep, loo = toilet, moo = cow, loo = toilet again)

Our building – and it’s a large one with approximately 150 units – is actually the only building on Boomerang Place. The name of the road is actually Yurong Parkway, but for one little strip of it – the strip where my building sits – it briefly becomes Boomerang Place. I bet the people who originally lived here petitioned the city on purpose just for shits and giggles. And you know what? I love it!

The building is super fancy and it makes me feel rich that I live here (but the rent actually isn’t all that bad for what it is!) We have a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom, 2 balcony unit on the fourth floor overlooking a big parkland. It comes with all of the amenities that we want, including all appliances, garbage disposal, screens on the windows, a parking spot (now all I need is a car!), and more of the little things in life that make me happy. Outside of our unit, the building has a swimming pool, saunas, BBQ area, and garbage chutes. You know you’re living the high life when your building has garbage chutes!

And you know what else our building has?

Mormons.

Seriously. Mormons. The Mormon church has an apartment in our building – maybe more than 1 – which they use for their Mormon missionaries. At first I was like “Bleh! Mormons are awful and they should all be shot!” because you know, Mormons are awful and they should all be shot. But then I was like “Oooo – it could be like the porn I saw once”- you know, the one with the Mormon missionaries knocking on the door and they’re all hot and you invite them in and they think they’re going to talk about Jesus but then they end up… oh wait. I’m going to stop there. So, yeah, that was my second thought. Then, I saw two of the missionaries the other day walking out of the building. They were ugly. Super ugly. So now I’m back to “Bleh!” again, but I’ll keep an eye out because there have to be at least two more and they could be totally hot and secretly eager for a kosher dill…

Pickle that is. You know – the ones in the jars? Right.

Anyway, moving on. The building tenants also include an old Orthodox Jewish man who proudly displays his Lexus car key around his neck, various other old people, and a lady from Davie, Florida who totally freaked when she found out that I grew up in Coral Springs. It’s like 15 minutes away. How random is that? Also, she was super excited to tell us about two other guys on the third floor (gays we presume) and that we need to keep an eye out for them by the pool because we’ll love them (we presume that means they are hot). And I’m pretty sure our immediate neighbours smoke weed or something because the always have a towel down under their door. Strange.

Now, what’s even better than garbage chutes, hot gays, and potential Mormon flings? Location! It’s all about location, location, location, right? Well, our apartment sits a very comfortable 8 minute walk from work! Now I can be late without any excuse whatsoever! And we sit adjacent to big parklands which give us a nice, green, leafy view with the skyscrapers of the city visible between the branches. Pretty sweet. Unfortunately, there’s always a downside to everything a well. We’re also right on top of St. Mary’s Cathedral – the largest church in Australia. As it is Christmas time, the church plays music and such to accompany their tacky nativity scene and pitiful excuse for a Christmas tree out front. This music runs until midnight. With nothing but the park between us and the church, the sound carries right into our windows. Just when I thought the Catholic Church couldn’t piss me off any more… ugh!

The brothel across from my old apartment never made any noise like that. If prostitutes can keep it down while getting it up for their clients, I think nuns shouldn’t have too hard of a time turning down the damn volume on the speakers.

For Your Baby Mama

2011-12-11T14:58:00.000+11:00

This post is about pregnancy, childbirth, and babies. Before we start, I’d like to preface the post with two important clarifications:

1. I am not pregnant.

2. I do not like babies or children. I do not like them just as much as Rick Perry doesn’t like homosexuals. Ok, maybe not that much. But still. You get my point. While I may be blogging about them now, trust that I have not gone soft on this position. Just last weekend I went to a Christmas party at the home of some lovely heterosexual friends of mine. While the party was quite nice, my friends had invited several of their other heterosexual friends who happen to be of child-bearing age and who have gone through the motions and procreated. So, as soon as the gay to baby ratio in the house hit 1:1 and we were soon to be outnumbered, I signaled to my other gays sitting next to me (discreetly via text message of course) that I was ready to depart when they were. They were ready too.

Anyway, now that that has been clarified, I can begin the post proper.

When a gay man hits a certain age (28 at this point in time), it becomes a reality that his heterosexual counterparts begin settling down, marrying, and producing offspring. And yes, these days the gays can too – either through surrogacy or by adopting some gayby from Cambodia or any other cash-strapped third world nation – but I don’t know any of those yet and this post doesn’t really apply to them anyway so I’m going to stick with the breeders.

Before leaving Seattle, several of my co-workers were pregnant. And while I didn’t particularly want to know any of the disgusting details of their pregnancies, there were times when I couldn’t help but overhear them talking about it around me in the office or sitting with them in the lunch room. So, most of 2009 became a sort of sexual reproduction seminar for me. I learned more than I wanted to about pregnancy and childbirth and babies. I felt educated. And a bit nauseated.

Fast forward to 2010 and 2011 and my office in Sydney seems to have a constant stream of pregnant ladies everywhere as well. And while all of the actual pregnancy and childbirth conversations parallel the ones I heard in the US, the stories of the Americans and Australians diverge sharply as soon as that baby shoots out of the womb like a canon (or however they come into this world).

Now, American ladies: pay attention. You’re about to become jealous and/or angry.

Thanks to Australia’s Medicare, all new mothers receive 4 days and 3 nights in the hospital after giving birth. If you have private health insurance, you get an extra day and night for a total of 5 days and 4 nights. Unlike in America, there is no same-day express service. And your out-of-pocket expense for this long stay: $0. Absolutely free.

Now, with private health insurance you have the option of going to a public hospital or a private hospital because sometimes the public hospitals are better equipped as they have more funding. Either way, the hospitals supply all linens, baby outfits, and nappies (diapers) for your stay. Your entire stay. All you need is one outfit to take the baby home in. In the States, don’t you have to have that bag packed and ready with all your supplies so that when you go into labor you have outfits and diapers and such for the baby? Not here. And you know what this baby clothing and diaper service and such costs you? Nothing. It’s free.

Your hospital stay includes 3 meals per day for you and your husband, boyfriend, partner, spouse, baby daddy, etc. These are also included. They are free. Did I mention that you both also get morning tea and afternoon tea because we’re in Australia after all and they love morning tea and afternoon tea here? That’s complimentary as well. Complimentary = free, but you probably know that if you’re the type to be reading this blog.

Now, sometimes the hospital decides that it’s just too much money to keep women in the hospital for that many nights. Don’t start worrying though – they aren’t going to send you home after only 2 nights. For your next 2 nights, they ship you off to a fancy hotel. For example, a co-worker recently went to visit her cousin who had given birth. The hospital she was at (somewhere in the Randwick area of Sydney) decided it would be more economical for them to outsource the second 2 nights to the nearby Crowne Plaza Hotel. Now, the Crowne Plaza Hotel is a 5-star hotel located right on Coogee Beach. So, two days after giving birth, you are carted off to this fancy hotel with a balcony and view of the ocean for two extra nights. Your husband, boyfriend, partner, spouse, baby daddy, etc. gets to come too. The hospital rents out a whole floor and it’s fully staffed with midwife nurses. You still get your three meals per day along with morning and afternoon tea, but they throw in room service here as well. And you know what? You still don’t pay a goddamn dollar. It’s all included.

But wait! There’s more! If you go to a private hospital, on your fourth and final night in the hospital/hotel, you and your significant other are invited to a New Parents Celebration Dinner. The dining room of the hospital or hotel is gussied up with white table cloths, candles, and waiters and you get a three course meal complete with champagne. The midwife nurses babysit your newborn while you’re away at dinner so you can enjoy a relaxing evening together without the baby screaming. All of this costs you… nothing. Still nothing. Also, you have the option of going out to eat instead. That’s not covered, but the midwife nurses will still babysit your newborn for free that night.

My co-worker described this all as “luxurious”. Can you imagine anyone in the United States describing childbirth and/or a hospital visit as luxurious? No.

Everything is free. It’s all free. There’s no deductible. No co-pay. 100% free. The only time you will have to pay for anything is if you have a specific obstetrician that you want to use and it so happens that your specific obstetrician charges more than Medicare rates. Even then, Medicare will pay for part of it and you have to pay the difference. This only applies to private hospitals. Public hospitals are still free.

So, American ladies, now that I’ve enlightened you on these matters, I bet you’re planning to move to Australia, get permanent residency, and take full advantage of what this great country has to offer. And that’s fine. I’m totally ok with that just as long as you promise one thing to me:

Please take that screaming, pooping, rambunctious offspring of yours and fly back to America after your 4 night luxury hospital visit.

Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.

No Shoes, No Worries

2011-12-08T21:59:00.000+11:00

Dear Australians,

Thank you so much for welcoming me into your country. I love so much about this place – the weather, the culture, the people, the scenery, and so much more. But there is one thing I need to say to you. Now, please don’t take offense. I mean you neither harm nor insult, but I feel this needs to be said for your own well being. Ok? Good. Ready? Here we go: please put on some fucking shoes.

Most sincerely,
Phill

One of the most ridiculous phenomena in Australia is the severe lack of shoes on people’s feet. I walk around this city every day and every day without fail I see at the very least one Australian walking around completely barefoot. Some days it’s many Australians walking around barefoot.

Now, some of you in America may not understand, so let me spell it out a bit clearer. People in Australia will walk around completely barefoot – no shoes, no sandals, not even a pair of flip-flops. This is not just at the beach or at a park. And they aren’t just in their homes or offices. These people are walking down the street, going into stores, or doing whatever else they do in their normal day without any shoes or other or covering on their feet. These people walk down busy streets in the middle of a bustling city and go into supermarkets and other stores without any semblance of any sort of protective gear on their feet.

Why this happens, I have not a clue, but I find it completely horrifying. “But Phill, aren’t these people free to do as they please?” No. They aren’t smart enough to be trusted with shoe decisions because obviously they haven’t thought this through. Had they thought this through at all, they would have considered the following:

1. Sidewalks in Sydney are not paved with gold. They are paved with rough cement or asphalt just like sidewalks in any other country. Doesn’t walking on rough surface all the time have the effect of totally jacking up your feet? I certainly hope these people don’t fall in love with someone who has a foot fetish, because one look at those mangled feet and their lover will head for the hills.

2. The climate in Sydney is anything but mild. Summers can get well above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and the hot sun beating down on black asphalt all day has the effect of heating that asphalt up to a more than uncomfortable temperature. So yes, walking around barefoot may burn a bit, or maybe even begin cooking your feet. People still do it. Gluttons for punishment? Kinky bastards? Or just plain idiots?

3. Sydney is a big city, and despite being relatively clean compared to other cities of its size, Sydney still has typical big city problems. Like the homeless. There are homeless all around Sydney. They live on those same sidewalks where you walk with your bare, exposed feet. And you know what the homeless do on those sidewalks? They pee on them. They pee all over them. In all different directions. And then you touch the bare bottom of your foot to the pavement where that smelly dude just relieved himself. And then you track that remnant into your own home and infect everything with homeless man urine. Disgusting.

4. Dogs also pee on sidewalks. I’d rather step on dog piss than homeless piss, but I’d rather step on either dog piss or homeless piss while wearing shoes as opposed to barefoot. Also, dogs poop too. Did you drop some chocolate on your foot? No, it’s doggy diarrhea.

5. Chewing gum. It always gets on your shoes. Then you have to get ice and a stick and other random tools to pry it off your sole. If we shoe-wearing humans step on gum from time to time, you’d have to expect that barefoot “humans” would have a similar gum stepping incident ratio too. Now, if I asked any of these barefoot people on the street if I could take the chewing gum out of my mouth and stick it to their foot, they’d probably tell me “hell no” and continue walking down the street just testing their luck. I assure you my gum is way cleaner than sidewalk gum.

6. Sharp objects. Sticks and screws and bolts and trash and whatever else. These things exist even in the cleanest cities. I once stepped on a small stick and it pierced a whole straight through my flip-flop. Imagine if I had stepped on that same stick with my bare foot. Wham bam – I would have just been stabbed by debris. Wouldn’t that be an embarrassing thing to go to the hospital for?

7. You know what else is sharp? Needles are sharp. And while I haven’t seen any needles on my street, I know that somewhere in the alleyways of my neighbourhood, some juvenile delinquents are probably shooting up something. Also, they probably have hepatitis. Now, if I’m going to get hepatitis or any sort of transmittable, communicable disease, I want a damn good story to go with it – something involving a giant twink orgy or a world record circle jerk or a very lucky boy named Pierre or something like that. Not: “Oops, I stepped on a needle and got hep. Derrrrp.”

8. Odor. There must be odor. Walking around barefoot all day can only lead to incredible rankness. This rankness is amplified if it’s raining. Oh, did I mention that the rain doesn’t stop the Aussies from not wearing shoes. Anybody weird enough to walk around all day barefoot probably isn’t the type to wash their feet as soon as they get home either. So that smell sinks into the carpet and remains there for eternity and adds unnecessary foul odor to a nation which does not need it.

Even with all of this, so many Aussies go shoe-less. Now, I know that shoes are expensive here, but you can stroll down to the Kmart and pick up a pair of cheapo flip-flops for like $6. And considering those jeans you are wearing probably cost $150, I think the $6 flip-flops are well within your price range. If the homeless are wearing shoes, you should be too.

Australia needs to institute the most underappreciated yet totally necessary American rule that you see posted on the entrance to most establishments in the United States: “No shoes, No shirt, No service.” It’s a simple rule that I always thought was sort of funny. Now after spending some time in Oz, I totally see the need for it. So, for those Americans who always wondered why that sign was there and just where the heck you would find people going into restaurants without shoes on, there is a simple answer:

Only in Australia.

Sigh.

#16: Star Ferry to Kowloon!

2011-11-24T22:48:00.000+11:00

The final stop on my 15 day tour of China: Hong Kong! Like Macau, Hong Kong used to be under European control. After over 150 years of British rule, the queen handed back control of the area to China in 1997. But, just like Macau, the European influence remains. Most people speak at least some English and a ton of westerners still live in the city. If it weren’t for all of the signs being in English and Cantonese, you’d hardly think you were in China. Take this for example:

People actually let you exit the subway before getting on. We can’t possibly still be in China!

Hong Kong proper sits on a large island off the coast, though the whole Hong Kong area includes a chunk of peninsular mainland and various other islands. Hong Kong’s hilly terrain mixed with the mass of tall buildings makes for some stunning views, like this one from atop Victoria Peak:

Or this one, taken from across the harbor that separates Hong Kong Island from Kowloon on the peninsula:

During the day, it looks like this:

And there’s no better way to take in the view than from the Star Ferry between Hong Kong and Kowloon!

And another item checked off the list! 10 down. 93 to go. I’ll get there…

Aside from taking in all the scenery, Hong Kong is notorious for shopping. Clothes weren’t as affordable as I was hoping for. Levi’s were still twice the price of the US and Calvin Klein was not offering any discounts. The shopping scene seems to be dominated by the high end stores:

Coach, Dolce & Gabbana, Prada, Hermes, Gucci, Chanel, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, and more dotted the main shopping area in Kowloon. I obviously don’t go for any of those, but luckily there was something for me just a few doors down:

Yay! H&M! Fun socks here I come!

Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t just shop at H&M, because, you know, when in Rome… I managed to find a Coach store just for men. I didn’t even know that Coach made men’s bags. I was stoked that they had a whole store! And since I’ve always said that I’d love a Coach bag if only they made men’s bags, I decided that I absolutely needed to buy a goddamn bag or I’d never forgive myself. So, out I walked with a fancy schmancy Coach messenger bag. Woohoo! And I’ve earned my gay card. If you see me wearing it around Sydney, please complement it so I feel like the money spent was worth it. I also bumped into a Bose store and accidentally purchased some fancy schmancy noise cancelling headphones for a few hundred dollars. Ooops.

It wasn’t all western brands in western stores as I quickly found out when turning a corner.

I guess I was still in China. Luckily I had already eaten. Imagine this just around the corner from Fendi. What is this strange city???

For a little local shopping, I dipped into the touristy Ladies Markets.

But after my other purchases, nothing here looked as good. Also, it’s a misnomer as there were no ladies for sale. Not that I wanted to buy any, but it would have been cool to tap on the glass… like in Amsterdam…

Finally, I spent my last day in Hong Kong on nearby Lantau Island – home to the Giant Buddha!

The Giant Buddha was built less than 20 years ago and is pretty much a massive tourist attraction. It is the world’s largest outdoor seated bronze Buddha. That’s a pretty particular title, but I’ll give it to them. Just know that somewhere else on Earth there’s a larger seated bronze Buddha indoors and a larger outdoor standing bronze Buddha. Or maybe a bigger outdoor seated Buddha made of something else like stone or pewter or lollipops. Oh a lollipop Buddha would be incredible!

Ok, enough of my crazy ideas. There was a small tourist village atop the hill where the Buddha sits and they had one of those signs that points to every famous landmark around the world and tells you how far away it is. Of course, I had to get a photo with this one:

There are a few ways to get up the hill to see the Buddha and the tourist village. You can trek – but that was obviously out of the question for me – or you can rent a car or take a bus. Alternatively, you can take the Ngong Ping 360 Cable Car up to the top.

This cable car – the very last thing I did in China (seriously, I went straight from here to the airport) – ended up being probably the coolest thing I did the entire trip. Seriously. This cable car is up there in the rankings with the Great Wall and the Terracotta Warriors. Why? Because it’s fucking awesome. That’s why.

The first reason why it’s awesome: you get a fantastic view of the Giant Buddha as you arrive.

The second reason why it’s awesome: the landscape is stunning. You go over valleys and hills:

And over water:

The third reason why it’s awesome: the floor of the cable car is glass, so you can see below as well. Look, there are waders crabbing or fishing or getting pearls out of the water or something below!

The fourth reason why it’s awesome: it’s not a short ride so the bang for your buck is fantastic. Based on the timestamp on my photos, the ride is approximately 25 minutes each direction. Sweet.

The fifth and most important reason for me: the cable car goes right by the airport. You can see the entire airport from the air. Planes landing, planes taking off, planes taxiing, and all.

You may not think that’s totally crazy amazing, but it is. And here is my nerd moment: I used to love airports when I was a kid and my grandparents would often take me to the airport to watch the planes land and takeoff, so this was just right up my alley. This cable car takes you so close that you can see which airlines all the planes are. Look, there’s a Qantas plane right in the middle!

That could have been my flight! (But it wasn’t, because I was on a 747… but still, they could have switched the plane for some reason.) Either way, it was a sign. Off to Hong Kong International Airport I went and back to the land of Oz. I do believe that was a very successful first trip to Asia.

And now, back to the Aussie blogs…

#23: Casino Lisboa!

2011-11-21T23:14:00.000+11:00

Exit China. Enter Macau. Though now technically a part of China, Macau is a Special Administrative Region (SAR) just like Hong Kong. With the exception of defense and foreign affairs, Macau is autonomous and will remain that way until at least 2049. At first glance, Macau is… drastically different than mainland China. First, they drive on left side of the road like Australia does. China drives on the right like the US. Second, they actually obey traffic rules AND wear helmets when on bicycles and motorcycles. It’s a whole new world!

Ok, so there are other, more drastic differences too. Macau has its own currency, economy, and immigration laws. It is the world’s most densely populated place with around 550,000 people crammed into roughly 11 square miles. Within that small space, three distinct Macaus exist. The first Macau is the Chinese Macau. Look around: nearly everybody is Chinese and speaking Chinese, albeit Cantonese instead of Mandarin and the writing is traditional Chinese and far more complicated than the simplified Chinese writing that they use in mainland China, but still. Chinese. It is part of China after all. As I had just spent a bunch of time in China, I decided to largely ignore the Chinese Macau and check out the other two, more unique Macaus.

Portuguese Macau! Now this is what I’ve been waiting for. The Portuguese settled Macau in the 1500’s and maintained their presence until 1999. While the people don’t look Portuguese, there remains a ton of Portuguese influence in Macau. Street signs are a good start:

They are always in both Cantonese and Portuguese, and usually in English as well. With the Portuguese came Christianity – something you won’t readily find in mainland China. All that remains of the Church of St Paul is this facade, but it was the largest church ever built in Asia:

European architecture abounds in Macau, especially in certain parts of the old city:

And of course, how could I forget my favourite remnant of the Portuguese era: food! Macau is famous for its Portuguese egg tarts, sold all over the city:

Delicioso! (Ok, that’s Spanish, but that’s as close as I’m going to get!) And after the tart appetizer, I headed down to Praia de Hac Sa (Hac Sa Beach) to check out the famous Restaurante Fernando!

Yummy Portuguese chicken and chips… ::drool::

The Museu de Macau (Macau Museum) sits atop an old Portuguese fortress.

The museum was interesting, but a bit oversold by Lonely Planet. The view from the top of the fortress, however, was pretty sweet.

Ummm… it looks like that canon is aimed and ready to destroy the third Macau… the Vegas Macau!

Macau is a gambling mecca. Such a mecca it is that Macau now exceeds Las Vegas as the place with the highest gambling revenue in the world. It all started in 1962 with one casino, and that casino – the Casino Lisboa – was on my list of 103 Things!

And another one crossed off the list! The inside of the Casino Lisboa wasn’t all that impressive, but remember it was built in the 1960’s.

In 2002, the Lisboa’s monopoly on gambling in Macau ended and all of the big Las Vegas players moved in. Venetian, Wynn, MGM, Hard Rock, and more! The neon lights abound at night:

Patronage of the Macau casinos is dominated by mainland Chinese. They bring their new found wealth to the casinos to either squander it away or win big. And for the big winners, every big casino is equipped with a wide array of fancy stores which will assist the newly rich with showing off to their friends and neighbors. Seriously. Macau – with a population of around 550,000 – supports 2 Fendi, 2 Prada, 2 Versace, 3 Chanel, 3 Dior, 4 Gucci, 4 Louis Vuitton, 5 Coach, and 6 Cartier boutiques. Nuts!

For me, my casino of choice was the Venetian Macau – the world’s largest casino. Only the biggest and best for me, right?

Modeled after its counterpart in Las Vegas, the Venetian Macau comes complete with all of the things you’d expect a tacky, over-the-top, absolutely incredible hotel casino would have. Like gondolas!

And a Sistine Chapel-type ceiling!

My suite wasn’t all that expensive but it was massive and luxurious!

I even had my own living room! And don’t even get me started on the bathroom:

Can I stay longer? Please?

Of course, no Vegas experience is complete without a show, and nobody does a show quite like Cirque du Soleil. Since Macau is the new Vegas, it’s only proper they get their very own Cirque du Soleil show too!

Overall, Macau was an absolutely fabulous vacation destination and I’m already itching to get back. Beaches, history, shows, casinos, fancy hotels, and Portuguese food – all while you can say you’ve been to exotic Asia. This is my kind of place.

The China Facade

2011-11-20T22:08:00.000+11:00

China is growing rapidly and the Chinese want to find the best ways to showcase their new found wealth. China’s goal: to be the best at everything. Faster is one way to achieve that. Take the Maglev for example:

The Maglev is Shanghai’s ultra-fast train. It runs one line from a train station near the city out to Pudong International Airport…. in 7 minutes. How does it do it so quickly? By going super fast.

And that’s not even as fast as it can go.

And think taller. The Shanghai World Financial Centre is the world’s third tallest building – though they really wish it was the first. To get to the observation deck, you enter the building and head down some escalators to a small exhibition telling you how amazing the building is. This includes highlighting several times how the SWFC was certified by the Guinness Book of Records as having the world’s tallest occupied floor and world’s tallest observation deck when it opened – take that (taller) Taipei 101! The Burj Khalifa opened shortly after the SWFC did and stripped it of a few titles that it held over Taipei 101… most titles actually… but they didn’t mention that.

The building itself is a pretty big feat though – I’ll give them that. You start down in the exhibition at an elevation of -5 meters:

And about a minute later you’re at the top:

Pretty insane. The observation deck is on level 100:

The view down is pretty spectacular. One thing you can see is the Jin Mao Tower. From the ground, the building looks like this:

From the SWFC, it looks like that:

That buidling right behind/below me. Yes, that's the Jin Mao Tower. It’s awesome that you can look DOWN on the ninth tallest building in the world.

It’s not just building above ground that’s pretty neat. It’s underground too. Take this space here:

I swore I was in an airport, but this is actually a subway station in Shanghai. Clean. New. Big.

But then, after the oooo-ing and aaah-ing, you begin to scratch away at the surface and you realize that all of the glitz and glam and new and shiny is really just one big façade. Take the train, for example. Yes, the Maglev is super fast, but they no longer let it go at max speed due to safety concerns. In July, a non-Maglev high speed train crashed and killed a bunch of people. The cause: they think it was just operator error – but there wasn’t any backup safety mechanism in place either. The SWFC – as tall and impressive as it is – has a ton of vacancies. They opened the building right as the GFC hit. And the subway stations are another story all together. Every subway station in Beijing and Shanghai has an x-ray machine that you have to put your bag through. Safety first, right?

Wrong. They aren’t even watching the damn screen. The attendants who are supposed to be looking at the TV monitor to see if you have any weapons or bombs or anything in your bag are too busy talking to one another, talking on the phone, texting, picking their nose, or just staring at the ceiling. Not even kidding.

Along the same lines of safety: I didn’t see one person wearing a helmet on a bicycle, scooter, or motorcycle while in mainland China. Do they even sell them? I suppose if they are dumb enough to ride their bicycles on a busy six-lane highway, then they aren’t smart enough to wear a helmet while doing it. No wonder the traffic related death rate is so high. Also, seatbelts can’t be found in taxis. Why do they insist on cutting them out or covering them up?

Did you know that you need to register with the police within 24 hours whenever you go to a new city? Hotels and guesthouses will register for you, but since I was staying with Ross & Jonathon for a few days, I had to go check in with the popos. There was no indication that the registration system was in any way, shape, or form linked with the immigration/passport system. So… ? Again, all for show?

But it doesn’t stop there. Signs like this are seen in some parts of Beijing and Shanghai:

People still spit anyway. Also, they need to amend the sign to read “No Spitting or Shitting”. It’s quite incredible how a mom can be standing at a busy intersection in the middle of Shanghai and decide that it’s totally ok to tell her young son to just shit right there on the corner – and then wipe his ass for all passersby to see. Seriously? I’d take people spitting over shitting any day of the week.

Accounting standards? They don’t have them. “Sure – those numbers look good! They will really make the competition worry!” And then there’s something about China’s exchange rate not fluctuating like it should and that documentary I saw about how the Chinese just keep building and building and building and half the time there’s just no demand so massive apartment complexes, shopping malls, and commercial towers sit idle – whole cities of them – just waiting for them to be needed one day.

And don’t forget pollution! How could you forget pollution when there’s so much of it. So, apparently, they banned or are going to ban outdoor heaters on patios at restaurants and bars. The reason: the outdoor heaters are gas heaters and therefore they pollute. Forget the millions of cars. Forget the massive factories. All of China’s pollution woes stem from the small handful of western restaurants that have enough money to purchase outdoor heating lamps. That makes complete sense to me. Once again, they’re doing it to make it look like they’re doing something.

From all of my posts on China, you would probably think I hated it, but I actually didn’t. Just the opposite really.

Ok, maybe I didn’t love it, but I really enjoyed China. Now, I’m not signing up to move there ever, but it was something so different and so interesting to see. There were some really friendly people there, and once I learned how to push people and completely ignore signs telling me to queue up, I sort of fit in ok. My main concern was food, but I ate well thanks to Deona, Ross, and Jonathon. There were some incredible things in China – including the Great Wall and the Terra Cotta Warriors – and there are so many more things like that across the country. The history is long, the culture is rich, and the landscapes are beautiful… when you can see them through the smog. I actually do want to go back and see more – just as soon as my lungs recover from this last trip. It’s a shame that people are cut off from so much information and that the whole country seems to be just putting on a show for the rest of the world. Underneath, I don’t think it would take all too much for the country to stumble and crumble some. Maybe ignorance is bliss? Maybe not. I guess we’ll see what happens in the next few decades…

The Other Shanghai

2011-11-14T22:39:00.000+11:00

First there was Shanghai. Then there was the other Shanghai.

I spent a few days with my Aussie friends – Ross & Jonathon – and got to sample the expat lifestyle. It was… anything but Chinese really. It started off in their penthouse apartment with a view like no other:

On a side note, the blue sky in this picture was taken early the morning I left. It was the only blue sky I saw the entire time I was in China. Notice the dark gray/brown pollution in the background.

Expats can live quite well in Shanghai, as foreign companies often pay top dollar to move employees and executives out there, and rent often isn’t as expensive as it is in western countries. You have enough money left over to import some of the finer things in life:

Yeah, we’re not really in China, are we?

As expected, the weekend revolved around food and drink. Our first stop was a pretentious bar full of expats. There was a fat dude dancing in a bathtub in the middle of the bar (you read that right) and people were smoking cigarettes (they apparently still allow that there). Also, some French Canadian dude starting talking to me in line at the bar and told me all about how he cheated on his girlfriend but felt really bad and was going to make it better. Can I go back to the real China now?

But things got better after that. We wandered over to the French Concession the next morning. The French Concession is a part of Shanghai that was under French control for nearly a hundred years until right after World War II. Note that tense of the verb: was. It is no longer under French control and therefore it really ought to be called the Former French Concession. I refuse to concede anything to the French.

Anyway, point of the story: the Former French Concession is quite trendy and full of expats and there were lots of little cafes and such so Ross and I went for brunch and I found a Chinese bagel and cream cheese!

Yay! Except it was pretty much just a bread roll shaped like a bagel. But that’s ok. I still had a bagel in China.

And you know what else I had in China?

FUCK YES!!!! All day Mexican brunch BUFFET!!! This combines three of my favourite things in the world: Mexican food, brunch, and buffets. Love it! Now, I was a bit skeptical at first. After all, I was in China. Not Mexico or Texas. But it actually turned out good. They had a full buffet of tasty food for us:

And don’t forget dessert! Rice pudding and churros!

And of course, no Mexican meal is complete without margaritas. They were free flow as well, so I sucked down about eight of them I think.

And that was on top of the few glasses of horchata I had! How is it that a random Mexican restaurant in China has horchata but none of the Mexican restaurants I’ve been to in Australia do? Shameful.

Anyway, the owner came around took a photo of us and spoke a little Spanish and proved her Mexicanness. That explains it. The key difference: all of the Mexican restaurants in Australia are owned by Americans (except for the one that’s owned by some dude from Alberta – wtf?) but this random one in China was owned by a real Mexican! That’s probably why the price was so good: roughly $50 for all you can eat food and all you can drink margaritas and horchata! Though they may consider raising that price after seeing the amount we consumed…

Now, it wasn’t all western food all weekend. We had fancy Thai food one night and fancy drinks on a fancy rooftop that overlooked the river and the Pudong New Area and fancy drinks at a fancy hotel with fancy toilets that had tons of fancy buttons that would spray water from all angles at your fancy parts (hehe!) and there was the Sherpa – a fancy delivery service that delivers food from all sorts of restaurants to fancy expats in their fancy apartments (I had falafel) and of course we had to throw in one actual fancy Chinese meal so we went to a fancy westernized Yunnan restaurant in The Bund:

I say “westernized” Yunnan (a region in southern China) cuisine because the Shanghai Boys considered it westernized but it was way more authentic than P.F. Chang’s and not nearly as scary as dim sum (or yum cha as the Aussies call it) so to me it was the perfect blend.

Now, in the few spare minutes we had when we weren’t eating and drinking, we wandered around the city a bit and had the chance to snap some good daytime photos down by the river:

And we went back at night as well:

And our last bit of spare time was spent at Shanghai’s Aussie pub where they were showing the Rugby World Cup. Look around. Hundreds of Aussies and Kiwis watching rugby on the big screens.

Seriously – are we still in China?

Shanghai

2011-11-13T14:40:00.000+11:00

Final stop on tour: Shanghai! First stop: a Chinese acrobats show! How many Chinese girls can you fit on a bicycle? I think the answer was 8:

But I’m not entirely sure. It’s a bit difficult to count. Here’s an easier one: how many Chinese idiots on motorcycles can you fit into the “Ball of Death”? Easy: 5!

If one crashes, they’re all dead, but that’s ok. This is China. There are 1.4 billion more, right? I myself will steer clear of the “Ball of Death”… or the anything “of Death” for that matter.

Shanghai was the most western of the cities we visited in China, but there were still touches of the real China all around. In the morning, locals do Tai Chi and some random dances in the streets:

The Shanghai Museum gave a great cultural history of China. Featured were jade, pottery, garments, calligraphy, furniture, sculpture, and of course, the scariest water pitcher ever:

Creepy.

There was a bit of time for shopping! Just like in Beijing, markets were all around in Shanghai. While the salesladies weren’t as aggressive in Shanghai as they were a few days earlier in Beijing, I still got grabbed by one of the shop owners. She refused to let go of my arm so I had to forcefully rip it free and hop on an escalator to get the hell away from her. She cried. And after that whole ordeal, I took a small amount of pleasure in her tears. Don’t try to rip me off, bitch.

There was a whole section of one of the markets devoted to pearls. They aren’t natural pearls, but rather cultured ones. So they are real, but they are given a helping hand by humans. Here is a much friendlier pearl store owner making a necklace:

After the tour ended, I spent a few extra days in Shanghai with my friends, Ross & Jonathon. The Shanghai Boys, as I refer to them, are friends of mine from Sydney who moved to Shanghai nearly a year ago and were the inspiration for my trip. I got to do a bit more sightseeing in those few extra days, and a few of the things I saw were pretty interesting. One of them – off the beaten path – was the Shanghai Propaganda Poster Art Center.

Inside, there were a few rooms filled with propaganda posters, mostly from the Cold War period. There were a ton of anti-American posters and even more pro-Communist and pro-Soviet posters. One in particular caught my attention: a poster of a muscular Chinese man holding hands with a muscular Russian man. The poster was illustrating the friendship between China and the USSR. To me: it just looked really gay. So I bought a copy.

On a different note, I was also able to check out the Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum.

Shanghai was one of the only places in the world to not limit Jewish immigration in the years leading up to World War II. So, roughly 30,000 Jews escaped Europe and made new homes in Shanghai. Today, all of the Jews have left for western countries, but their synagogue remains and has been converted into a museum. The museum featured an art gallery, a timeline of events, and several personal stories of select Shanghai Jews. I had no prior knowledge of Shanghai Jews, so I found it all quite fascinating.

Back on the metro… I wasn’t alone. I think 1.2 billion of China’s 1.4 billion must be on Shanghai’s subway system at any given time. Ross informed me that this was actually quite empty:

Stop pushing me! Ugh! I strolled around The Bund – a waterfront section of Shanghai full of old European buildings:

Across the river sits the Pudong New Area. Formerly farmland and countryside, the Pudong New Area was declared a Special Economic Zone in 1993. From there, construction took off, people moved in, and buildings went up… and up… and up. In less than twenty years, what used to be nothing has turned into this:

Pretty crazy. More to follow on that two blogs from now. I dipped over to the Pudong New Area via the subway. I was looking for the China Sex Culture Museum which was sadly kept hidden from my view. Instead, I hopped down into the Bund Tourist Tunnel to take me back under the river to the main part of Shanghai. There wasn’t a very good description in English of what the hell was going on, but I later found out that the tunnel takes you on a journey from the centre of the Earth to outer space (or vice versa depending on which way you are traveling). I’m always game for a little tacky touristy, but this…

This was tacky beyond belief. I paid how much for that?

The Award for Best Chinglish

2011-11-08T23:03:00.001+11:00

We interrupt these touristy blog posts to present… The Award for Best Chinglish!

The internet is littered with hilarious examples of the English language gone awry overseas – mainly in Asian countries. With respect to China, this phenomenon is called “Chinglish”. Per Wikipedia, “Chinglish is commonly applied to ungrammatical or nonsensical English in Chinese contexts”. We were told that this stems from the Chinese simply entering Chinese language into an online translation engine and putting down the first thing that pops out – not taking into account some basic grammar, vocabulary, and other differences between the two languages that online engines just aren’t sophisticated enough to pick up and which completely throw the translation out of whack.

As an avid checker of the Chinglish-filled website engrishfunny.failblog.org, I was super stoked to get a first hand look at some of the Chinglish in China. And what I found was… ungrammatical, nonsensical, and not at all disappointing! I’ve collected some of the best Chinglish from the trip and included them here for your viewing pleasure. So, which one wins the Award for Best Chinglish? I’ll let you decide… and remember: you can click the pictures to open them up actual size.

When I think of the Great Wall of China, I always think of two things:

1. Civilized Sightseeing

2. Safe driving

Personally, I prefer my sightseeing to be uncivilized. And driving unsafely only adds to the thrill if you ask me.

Beijing was fairly void of Chinglish thanks to a major dechinglishization prior to the Olympics. But we did pass by this:

Glory mall

And all of the straight people reading this have no idea why this is funny, but that’s fine as long as all the gays (and fag hags) have a snicker.

So, Beijing was disappointing, but once we hit Xi’an, the Chinglish came at us from right and left. Our hotel was a Chinglish gold mine – just one find after another!

Warm notice

The drinking water needs to heat by the cold water then drinks.

What?

Warm notice

“Careful skid prevention” In order to assure your safety, please draw in the bath curtain when you shower and use the skid resistant turban or skid resistant pad, thanks!

So, moral of the story, ask one of your Middle Eastern friends if you can borrow their turban when you shower, but make sure they have one of those fancy skid resistant turbans! If not, ask your girlfriend if you can borrow her pad. Again, inquire about its skid resistance.

Warm notice:

In order to raise the elevator operating efficiency, asks you to choose the pressed key reasonably, thanks!

First of all, I always choose the pressed key reasonably. Second of all, who is asking me? Third of all, why are all of the notices warm??? Oh yes… warm = warning!

And then, after choosing the pressed key reasonably – very reasonably – you enter the elevator to find pictures of a bunch of Chinese people (as you would in China) with the following caption beneath:

They are the best waiter in the Guanzhong Hotel. Did you see them before? Are you really happy with theirs service? You could recommend the housekeeping whom you satisfied to us. And also you could fill in opinion book with your opinion and the suggestion. So that we could improve unceasingly. Thanks for monitoring.

Firstly, they aren’t waiters – they are housekeeping staff. Secondly, while their service was fine, I guarantee that I did not satisfy them as your text is suggesting. And looking at the pictures of those employees, I can guarantee that I never would satisfy them. Ever. But I’ll keep “monitoring” just in case you ever hire a hot one.

Next up: Hangzhou! And once again our hotel was full of Chinglish! This hotel was a strange hotel, however, as it did not have any actual hotel rooms or guest rooms.

(SECURITY SCATTERING SKETCH MAP)

DECLARATION

- Please don’t panic if a fire is occurring. The advanced dispersing facilities of the fire control system will help you transfer safely.

- Please follow the green direction route to the safety corridors and there safeguards will take you out to the safety region. The red solid line is the best circuit.

- The red point shows your excellency seat.

That’s right: no hotel rooms, no guest rooms, no rooms of any sort really. Just excellency seats! I’ve always wanted an excellency seat! Yippee! Unfortunately, it does not appear that my excellency seat is in the safety region. Crap. Well, at least they have those advanced dispersing facilities…

What the hell was I just talking about? Anyway. Moving on.

Dear Guest:

When you ente into the washroom. Please take care of the ground if you have a bath. Please use a shower mats or vobe.

Because the ground is fragile and it really needs you to take care of it. But if you’re not having a bath, you don’t have to take care of the ground. In fact, if you’re not bathing, you can tell the ground to go fuck itself and that’d be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to head to Bed Bath & Beyond. I’m in dire need of a new vobe. I hope they have some in stock!

Chinese restaurant

Because, you know, in the small canal town of Wuzhen, I was totally expecting to find a Mexican restaurant. I’m so glad they clarified.

Now, despite being a cosmopolitan city with many expats from the western world, Shanghai had its fair share of Chinglish too – more than you would expect. And once again, it was our hotel that was the main culprit.

Joy diffuses the magnificent hall and fragrance swims across chrysanthemun hall, where dclicious daintics, tender feeling, drink to your heart’s content and family ger-together are satisfied fully.

I honestly have not a clue.

Luxurious suite: You may enjoy unusual metropolitan feelings of relaxation and sketch utmost sentiment in the comfortable and elegant suite full of tender feelings and equipped well and arranged reasonably.

Meeting room: It is equipped well and provided with complete functions, where information or messages may be sent or received freely and conveniently, and unlimited business opportunities are revenled to the tullest.

Deluxe double room: You may nourish your spirit and store up vigor for getaway in the next day or several friends have a chat and chat and enjoy romantic fancy by the light of a candle in simple & bright, silent & fragrant room.

Now, I’m usually a sucker for unusual metropolitan feelings and you know that I love a hotel room full of tender feelings – especially if that room is arranged reasonably – but I may have to go with the deluxe double room this time around. The romantic fancy is just too good to pass up!

And after that romantic fancy, if you have any… remnants… to dispose of, well, I know just where you can stick them:

LITTER CUM RECYCLABLE COLLECTION BIN

Two quick questions: why do you consider it litter and why on earth are you collecting it for recycling???

(Ok, yes. I understand what this actually means. But they really ought to have someone less than 35 years of age checking these things. Do you not understand why this is funny? If you don't get it, that means you’re likely over 35… or just a very sheltered person… or far more mature than me…)

So, back to my original question: which one wins the Award for Best Chinglish? Personally, I think the one with the romantic fancy was the funniest, but you’re entitled to your own opinion even if it’s wrong… Feel free to comment. Or not. There’s isn’t actually an award. It’s figurative.

Venice of the East

2011-11-06T22:05:00.000+11:00

Just over an hour outside of Hangzhou, we stopped at the small town of Wuzhen. The town is called a water town or a canal town and is occasionally referred to as the “Venice of the East” because of its canals and gondolas.

So yes, it’s just like Venice, except it’s smaller and polluted and Chinese. But close enough. The town is pretty much a tourist trap, though I must admit that souvenirs were cheap there. The town is gated off like an amusement park. You have to buy a ticket and go through a turnstile before you can enter. Keep in mind people actually live in this town. I suppose it’s a pretty clever way to boost the local economy – everybody who doesn’t live there has to pay to be there. Nuts! Imagine Sydney or London or New York charging an admission fee. That might be a good way to get the US back on track!

Anyway, once you get past the strange touristy nature of it all, the town was quite scenic:

Aside from the canals, the town had some small back alleyways that needed exploring. I wandered around with Joel and Lauren.

And there were a few treats as well. The town is known for a few things such as teapots:

You can stand on these teapots and they won’t break. Crazy! And if you’re buying a teapot, you might as well buy some tea to go with it:

Notice the wooden cylinders at the bottom middle of the picture. Those are filled with rice wine – another specialty of the little town.

I bought two different flavours. The apricot rice wine was ok, but the three rice wine tasted like ass. Unfortunate.

Did I mention there were cookies??? I love cookies!!! All of these little plastic wrapped rolls contained a row of cookies:

Actually, they called them pancakes, but that’s wrong and I didn’t have the heart to correct them. They were cookies.

I rest my case.

And of course, every small town has a small town lunch. And I just have to say one thing about that…

Dear Susan,

You may be lazy, but we love you nonetheless.

Most sincerely,

Phill and friends

Hangzhou

2011-11-03T22:55:00.000+11:00

Third stop: Hangzhou! Most westerners have never heard of Hangzhou, and indeed, I had not either despite my near-superhuman knowledge of geography. But upon landing at the airport, I was super excited to be there… mainly because I was super excited to be off the plane.

Lucky to be flying them or lucky to be alive? We arrived safely, but I’ll still leave that question unanswered.

I’d also like to point out that you get frisked every time you fly in China. Ain’t nothing like a little touchy touchy to start a trip off right! Anyway…

Hangzhou is another large metropolitan area, with the population of the city and the surrounding region adding up to over 8 million. The city is one of the wealthier and more educated cities in China due to its strong industry. Our tour guide told us that most things we see abroad that are “Made in China” are probably made in Hangzhou. Now, down to business: food. We were on our own for lunch, so my awesome British roommate Joel, sassy Aussie Lauren, and I popped into a famous local restaurant that has a 150+ history. The menu looked… terrifying. There was a picture of a fish in a bowl on the menu. Yep. Just a big bowl of broth and noodles with a whole fish just lying on top of it – the two ends of the fish hanging over either end of the bowl.

Kill me now.

The “vegetarian” options clearly had some sort of seafood in them from the pictures, so I opted for the one item on the menu with the word “chicken” beside it. It was on the picture-less side of the menu, so it was really a shot in the dark. And survey says:

Score! Oh yes! Chicken and peanuts and capsicum (Aussie lingo for red bell peppers)! And if that wasn’t enough, it came with a big bowl of chicken broth and noodles! I love noodles! One point for Hangzhou!

It was then that we noticed the old man at the table next to us. His finger was so far up his nose I swear he was scratching his brain. And then he spat. Just right there. Spat. In the restaurant. Spat. On the floor.

Hangzhou giveth, and Hangzhou taketh away.

Then it was off to Hangzhou’s largest tourist attraction: the beautiful West Lake.

Ok, so the lake is probably a bit more beautiful when a thick layer of smog isn’t obscuring the view, but still pretty. The lake itself is actually quite large. Our guide estimated it would take 5 hours to bicycle around it or 13 hours to walk. So… we just did a little bit and then turned around.

Once again, I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with my favourite American ladies:

And our whole group took in a water show at one of the more touristy corners of the lake.

Hangzhou isn’t big with western tourists, and it was clearly evident from the number of locals (or maybe domestic tourists) taking photos of us as we walked around the lake. We were told that most of them don’t see westerners very often, if they’ve ever seen us at all. There must have been dozens of people throughout the course of the afternoon taking photos of us, some semi-discreetly and others not so much. Some of them even had the balls to ask to get in a photo with us. Finally, I decided that something needed to be done. The next local I saw taking a photo of me – I took one back:

Haha! Take that! ::evil laugh::

Xi'an

2011-11-02T21:51:00.000+11:00

After roughly 2 days in Beijing, our group boarded an overnight train. 14 hours and 1 Ambien later, we arrived in Xi’an. I’d like to take this opportunity to congratulate myself on a successful avoidance of the “toilets” (holes in the floor) on the train. Aside from the abominable bathroom shituation, the train was actually fairly clean and comfortable, though scaling the wall to get to the third/top bunk was a bit of a challenge. The bunk was roughly 10 feet off the ground. Crazy.

Xi’an is one of China’s oldest cities, and at one point in time it was the world’s largest city. Today, the population figure of Xi’an sits well below that of Beijing or Shanghai, but at over 8 million people, it’s still pretty sizable. Xi’an is best known for one of the largest tourist attractions in China: the Terracotta Warriors! After seeing a special exhibition on the warriors earlier this year at the Art Gallery of NSW, I was super stoked to check out the real thing. The exhibition in Sydney and our awesome tour guide both gave me excellent histories of the warriors, but neither really prepared me for the sheer awesomeness of what I was about to see:

Pit 1 is the largest of the 3 main pits, and by large, I mean that the structure we were in surely could double as a hangar for a few 747s or A380s. Built as part of a necropolis for China’s first emperor, the warriors were meant to protect the emperor in the afterlife. It’s estimated that over 700,000 workers took part in their construction. To keep the location of the tomb secret, many of the workers are thought to have been sealed inside and left to die upon completion. Numbering well over 8,000 warriors along with roughly 800 horses and chariots, each sculpture is life-size and molded in great detail. It’s an incredible feat, but all the more incredible when you consider that these statues were completed before the year 210 BC. Insane. Look at the detail:

And don’t forget the horses:

The mostly unexcavated Pit 2 wasn’t nearly as big as the first pit, but it’s still impressively large when you take a look at the size of the room:

Fancy Pit 3 is thought to be the command post for the Terracotta Army. Higher ranking officers were located in this pit, which archeologists can decipher from the way their hands are adjusted, the clothes the sculptures wear, and their hairstyles.

After the warriors, we were cooked lunch at a local family’s home. The meal was the first of a good string of absolutely delicious meal I had in China. You can tell from the remnants on the table that we went through the food quickly.

My plans of biking on Xi’an’s city walls – some of the oldest and best preserved city walls in the world – were foiled by torrential rains that lasted all afternoon and into the evening. So, I decided to have a completely different cultural experience…

Oh yes! There is Wal-Mart in China! And just like in the United States, there the prices are low, always.

Ok, so the slogan is a little off but the general idea is pretty much the same. One thing that was completely different was the array of items you could purchase at the check-out counter. While Wal-Marts – and indeed most similar stores in the US – place an exorbitant amount of chocolates and candies and gum next to the register, Wal-Marts in China put these at your fingertips while checking out:

Condoms. I think this has something to do with that One Child Policy. Super Space Pleasure anyone? How about Super Thin & Moist Pleasure? What does that even mean? Is the condom itself thin or is it the you-know-what inside? Anyway…

Moving on to a real cultural experience: a show featuring traditional Chinese singing and dancing and instruments and such! The show itself was a bit boring compared to the Kung Fu Show we went to in Beijing, but it was interesting nonetheless. Here is a very brief snippet:

The best part of the show was the end, because at the end, this happened:

Two words: DUMPLING BANQUET!!! Yesssssss!!!! After denying myself food in the hours leading up to the previous day’s train ride, and the delicious but small and mostly veggie, not-so-filling lunch we had, I was ravenous for a big meal. And this totally hit the spot. Our Lazy Susan was filled with all sorts of veggie dumplings – from the fairly standard cabbage dumplings to the strange and exotic tomato sauce and bamboo shoot dumplings. And I got my share of protein with some chicken dumplings and some duck dumplings too!

Yummy! There were a few dumplings left on the table, but as usual, I was the last one eating and did my best to ensure that the leftovers were kept to a minimum. Now, the big question was…

Dessert?

#15: Great Wall of China!

2011-10-31T22:30:00.000+11:00

The Great Wall of China was officially the eighth of the 103 Things crossed off my list. And I must say that it lives up to its name. It was pretty great!

I was surprised at how high up the wall was. It took a bit of a hike to get up one of the hills on which the wall sits. I was all smiles at first:

But after a few more sets of these:

… I was exhausted. Thirty minutes later, I got my first up-close glimpse of the wall. Totally worth the hike.

You enter the wall through one of various archway entrances:

And then you’re on top and can really see the expanse of the wall.

The wall, in various sections and various states of repair, stretches 3,900 miles. When taking into account trenches and natural features incorporated into the defensive barrier, the entire thing stretches 5,500 miles. Try to get around that, Mongols! To put that into perspective, that’s the same distance as driving from Miami to Los Angeles… and back. Or swimming from Seattle to Honolulu… and back. Or, for those of you who think in Australian terms, that’s like driving from Cairns to Brisbane… on to Sydney… across to Perth… and then up to Broome.

Fuck that’s long.

Despite its long length, the wall cannot be seen from space as it’s not nearly thick enough. That myth was debunked by a Chinese astronaut a while back and the nation’s textbooks had to be changed. Note that the wall twists and winds around a lot as you can see from the photos, so the actual distance from end to end if drawing a straight line isn’t as long. But you know, they built it at 5,500 miles… much of it done before the year 0. How crazy is that?

As the wall is on hills, walking along the Great Wall involves a great deal of steps up and steps down in between the various towers.

So we decided to take a few breaks here and there for some photo shoots!

Sometimes you just need to sit a spell…

Now, on to a very interesting fact. Some of the wall is in its original form, while some has been repaired and restored. Look closely and you’ll notice on some of the pictures that the grout between the bricks is often in two colours (this is best evidenced on the photo of me looking out from the wall – click to expand). The gray grout – usually on the upper bricks – is the new grout used when repairing sections of the wall. The white grout is the original glue and it has lasted 2,000 to 3,000 years. Let’s play a game! The game is called “Guess Which 4 Ingredients Combine to Make the Glue That Sticks the Great Wall Together!” Need some help? Here is a close up view of the thousands-year-old glue that the ancient Chinese used to build this structure:

I’ll let you ponder for a moment. In the meantime, here’s another fun fact! When the Mongols were coming, the first tower to see them would have to alert the next towers, and then like a phone tree, each tower would alert the next. So, how did the first tower alert the next tower? They alerted the next tower with…

A flaming sack of shit.

Oh that’s right! The ancient Chinese would light wolf poop on fire and the smoke from the burning canine excrement would be quickly visible – even in the rain – and made for an excellent means of communication. So that’s what we did before mobile phones!

Ok, back to the question at hand. Can you guess which four ingredients make up the glue that holds the Great Wall of China together? In no particular order, here we go:

1. Sticky rice!

2. Egg whites!

3. Kiwi juice!

4. Limestone powder!

Margaret Cho’s mother was right: never underestimate the stickiness capabilities of sticky rice.

We had a few hours at the Great Wall, but alas, the adventure had to come to an end. I spent the day with three lovely Wisconsin ladies that were on my tour:

… and we decided to take the toboggan down together. You read that right: there’s a toboggan down from the Great Wall of China! There’s also a cable car, and of course those pesky staircases, but the toboggan was obviously the best choice. Penny was super serious:

But Karla was stoked:

And then we were sent down the chute!

And of course, why buy a camera with video capabilities if you’re not going to use them. The video itself isn’t anything special – but keep in mind we were tobogganing off the Great Wall of China!

Beijing

2011-10-30T13:26:00.000+11:00

My first stop in China was appropriately the capital of China: Beijing! My first impressions of Beijing were a good reflection of my impressions of the whole of China – super easy to get around (I took the subway from the airport to my hotel without incident) but enough pollution to give you instantaneous lung cancer. This visibility from right in front of our hotel was pretty bad:

Looking at the sun, I quickly realized how dire their pollution issue is:

I tried to ignore the pollution while sightseeing. And sightseeing is what we did. Of course, we stopped at the most famous tourist attractions in Beijing, starting with Tiananmen Square!

It’s amazing how very few people in China actually know what happened here in 1989. They’ve never seen the iconic picture of the lone protester with the tanks. Oh well. I suppose ignorance is bliss, right? Or not… Anyway, it was a national holiday the week before so some of the decorations were still up, such as this one right in the middle of the square:

And of course, you can’t come to Tiananmen Square without seeing Chairman Mao’s mausoleum:

Luckily, Mao is closed for viewing on Monday, so the square wasn’t as crowded as we were warned. The entrance to the Forbidden City, however, was packed:

Look! It’s me and Mao!

The Forbidden City itself is pretty much void of all of the interior furnishings as they were moved to Taiwan right before the communists took power in 1949. So it’s the outside of the buildings and the architecture that are really on display. And displayed they are: the Forbidden City is like one of those Russian dolls where you open it up and there’s another doll inside, and then another, and then another! You go through one entrance and then inside there’s another entrance… and then another… and another! You just keep going through gates into the next big area where you see yet another gate. So many photo ops…

On a side note, those Russian dolls I mentioned are sold everywhere in China. We asked why. I’m not sure why I was surprised but the answer was that they are made in China… just like everything else.

We also popped by the Temple of Heaven:

Both the Temple of Heaven and the Forbidden City were mostly restored, but you could find sections that either were left to show their actual current state with wear and tear, or just hadn’t been cleaned up yet. See the difference on the intricate outsides of the buildings.

Before:

After:

It wasn’t all sightseeing. We also hit up the Hong Qiao Pearl Market for some shopping.

Inside there were knock-offs of every treasure you could ever ask for: sunglasses, watches, electronics, handbags, jeans, clothes, etc. The only problem: those bitches is crazy. The ladies that run all of the stalls – and there are many – are absolutely frightening. As you walk by, they block your path and try to sell you things. If you don’t stop, they try to put their products in your hands. And if that doesn’t work, they just grab your arms – sometimes two of them grabbing you at once – and they try to pull you over to their stall. Ok bitch, get your hands off of me! You have to forcefully push them off of you. It’s a bit of a gauntlet inside. And then there’s the haggling. The products are made cheaply, but they tell you the price is several times higher in hopes of ripping off western tourists. You have to haggle. And if you haggle them down to a point where they look visibly upset and flustered, you know you’ve done a good job. It seems a bit heartless to bring people down to that level, but you have to do it. Lucky for me, I don’t have a major problem with pissing people off.

Finally, our cultural event for Beijing: a Kung Fu show! The show was on the second night and proved very entertaining despite my intense jetlag and sleepiness. I think part of it was that there were a lot of topless men on stage jumping around. I’m ok with that. Afterward, like in all of China, they spit you out of the theatre into a gift shop and try to sell you awfully tacky souvenirs – like this t-shirt that my roommate for the trip, Joel, is holding up:

Get it? It’s a Kung Fu show… so those are Kung Fu Pandas! Loving the tackiness! And Joel totally mastered the peace sign thing that all of the Asians do with their fingers in photos. And yes, we saw the locals doing it everywhere! All the stereotypes are scarily proving true…

There was one other very important thing we saw in Beijing, but it’s so special that it deserves a whole separate blog post next…

Name This Continent

2011-10-27T22:55:00.001+11:00

China was my first foray into Asia. And I must admit: I was a bit terrified. Never before had I been anywhere so different than what I’m used to. Up until this trip, Morocco and Jordan had been the most exotic places I’d ventured to, and despite being in the Middle East and Arab countries, they weren’t all too terrifying – mainly because they really appreciate the tourism, enough people speak a bit of English there, and I’m at least comfortable with the food selection (no pork, extra falafel!) But China – well, China is a whole different bag.

Despite a population of 1.4 billion, it’s a bit difficult to blend in in China if you’re white. I stood out more than the Grand Wizard at an NAACP conference… or more than a male at a lesbian bar (unless the man looks like a lesbian)… or more than me in a church. Frightening. Then, as if you don’t already feel awkward enough, add a few hazards and annoyances to the mix to make you totally paranoid. Our amazing tour guide, Deona, took a good hour+ to warn us all of the dangers of China on our first night in town. She really set the bar low.

Pollution. You hear about it, but you haven’t experienced anything remotely polluted until you’ve visited China. You know how there’s a stereotype that Asian people always wear masks? Well, many of them do – and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with spreading germs and everything to do with trying to avoid pollution. The sky was gray/brown – sepia maybe – every day of the trip. There was no blue sky. There weren’t really any clouds up there. Everything was obscured by a thick layer of smog. Go on, look at the sun! Even use binoculars! It won’t do a damn thing to your eyes because there’s so much pollution between you and the sky. Pictures to follow. That leads me to… spitting…

Chinese people love to spit. They spit a lot. And everywhere. And loudly. It’s pretty gross to be honest. I mean, I’m totally guilty of spitting at home in the bathroom every morning – and occasionally you may have to spit on the street in dire circumstances – but you do your best to muffle the noise, right? … Wrong. Not in China. Loud and proud, baby! Hock that loogie as far as you can! One of the big campaigns to clean up Beijing before the Olympics involved a big “no spitting” campaign – of which signs still exist today – even in Shanghai too. Now, after one night of being in Beijing – the most polluted of the four mainland Chinese cities that I went to – I must say that my phlegm came up… red… and black. Pretty fucking disgusting. And when I blew my nose, my boogers were black too. Now, this may seem like way too much personal information, but I’m only telling you this to demonstrate how fucking polluted the country is. My throat was burning. I think I now know why they spit so much…

Now, spitting is one thing, but don’t rule out pissing and shitting on the streets too. Especially children. Parents love to let their kids piss and shit on the street – right on the corner – even in a busy, touristy area of Shanghai! And then they stand there, blocking the goddamn sidewalk, wiping up their child’s poopy ass. Haha…. I wish I was joking. Maybe it has something to do with the toilets.

The toilets are… not western toilets. They are eastern toilets, or squat toilets (i.e. holes in the ground). Now, there is something to be said about not having to touch anything in the bathroom, but there is also something to be said about aim. I was unfortunate enough to peer into a few squatter stalls in various locations while I was looking for that one elusive western toilet that most locations keep hidden away for the handicapped or westerners. And after seeing some of the mess, and smelling some of the smell, I must say that I don’t trust my ability to squat without falling, thus I refused to use a squat toilet. There takes quite a bit of planning around not using squat toilets – especially when a 14 hour train ride is involved – but I must say that it can be done (mainly because I’m a trooper). All it takes are a few precisely timed, small-sized meals leading up to and during the train ride. And speaking of meals…

Food! This was one of the scariest things for me as my tour book advised me that I was going to end up eating pork in China whether I realized it or not. Fun. I’m not quite sure of what I was eating some of the time, but luckily our tour guide was helpful with ordering and knew exactly what I would and wouldn’t eat. But it was tricky when we were on our own. I ordered a chicken dish the first night which I’m pretty sure ended up having pork in it. Luckily it came with steamed rice so I just ate that instead. Then we went to a noodle restaurant which had English translations, but those don’t always tell the whole story. The only thing on the menu for me was the vegetarian noodle soup. From looking at the picture, something didn’t look right. Our waitress spoke a little English and it quickly came to light that the vegetarian soup came in prawn broth. English translations and pictures really weren’t that helpful.

If the pollution, foul toilets, and food won’t kill you, then the traffic surely will. Traffic accidents are the leading cause of death of people age 45 and younger in China. Allow me to repeat that: TRAFFIC IS THE LEADING CAUSE OF DEATH OF PEOPLE AGE 45 AND YOUNGER IN CHINA. Fucking crazy, eh? It is estimated that more than 600 people die in traffic accidents every day. It makes sense to me. There are really no rules on the road. Turn signal? Who needs that? Stopping at a stop sign? Pish! Obeying the lights at the intersection? Well, I deserve to go now despite it being a red light, so I’ll just drive into the middle of the intersection. And if you’re on a motorcycle, don’t dare wear a helmet. And if you’re on a bicycle, feel free to hop onto a major highway with all of the cars. And once again, leave that helmet at home.

For pedestrians, you need to look all ways before crossing the street – and then look again. If you wait for the crosswalk light to turn green and the cars to stop coming then you’re going to be waiting for a hell of a long time. It won’t happen. Just run… run as quickly yet as safely as you can as soon as you see a time when you think you can cross without getting killed. Put your hand up to alert cars to stop. That might help. Don’t forget to check the sidewalks, because cars might be coming from there too… like the one that we saw on our first night in Beijing. He just drove up onto the sidewalk because he didn’t feel like taking the road. Driving along… people running out of the way… typical evening in Beijing. And don’t even get me started on the drivers in Xi’an. Luckily, there is one thing with transport that the Chinese do remarkably well: subway systems. Despite being crowded, they are fast, cheap, and easy (insert “yo mama” joke here!) I figured out how to use the subways in Beijing and Shanghai faster that I did the first time I used the subways in New York, Washington DC, Chicago… or anywhere really. The signs were in English and it was all very self-explanatory. Ok, China – you get 1 point.

But I’ll take that point away because of the pickpockets (all surely to be Muslims as we were warned) and shifty store owners who invite you in to haggle and then lock the doors until you pay them big. Luckily, none of this happened to me or anyone else on my trip. Overall, the China trip was actually pretty incredible. The week long organized tour of Beijing, Xi’an, Hangzhou, and Shanghai was full on and I saw so many things that I would have never gotten to see had I tried to plan it on my own. Spending some additional time in Shanghai with my mates, Ross and Jonathon, allowed me to see a different side to China. And Macau and Hong Kong on my own were the perfect blends of western comforts and eastern culture. The most important thing: I held up fabulously. I ate – some meals more than others, but I ate – and I didn’t have any notable shituations with a toilet or an upset stomach (Shituations, get it? Thanks, Jenny, for that amazing word!) I had nothing stolen and I didn’t get hit by any cars. Our hotels were clean and nice (though I must say that Chinese mattresses are like big blocks of concrete) and our tour group was quite fun. So, Phill’s first trip to Asia: complete success!

I’ll be blogging more about each of the cities I visited in the days to come. In addition, I’ll devote some posts to other China-related topics like Chinglish, the world’s funniest language! Keep an eye out.

p.s. Bonus points to anyone who can tell me what the title to this post is referencing. You can use your bonus points to purchase exciting things like… my eternal love and affection… (until you inevitably piss me off).

Work-Life-Travel Balance

2011-10-06T21:25:00.000+11:00

The United States is notoriously bad for work-life balance. Seriously bad. Standard paid vacation is 10 days and 5 days is the standard for sick leave. 10 days doesn’t go a very long way… especially when you need to visit family and friends in various parts of the country. That leaves about nothing for actual travel to new places.

Work-life balance is just one of the many reasons why I moved to Australia. 20 days is the minimum paid vacation in Australia – twice that of the US – but note that my company allowed me to opt for 30 days with a slight reduction in my fortnightly paycheck. Sweet! My sick days are also twice the US – at 10 paid per year, though I only ended up taking 1 last year. That was foolish of me.

Did I mention that working hours are shorter? Most people work 9 to 5 here, and I managed to keep that up for a year until my team at work rapidly shrunk. We’re building it up again and I’m determined to get my 9 to 5 back before year’s end. But even with that, my hours back in Seattle were generally long on a normal basis – more like 8 to 6. That just rarely happens here. 5pm rolls around and people start heading out the door. When the clock hits 5:30 the office verges on becoming a ghost town.

Spooky.

Of course, this all varies by industry and individual and such, but you get the general idea. The best part of all of this – for me at least – is the travel. I worked in Seattle for four years, and by the time I went to Florida to see my mom, Houston to see my college friends, Dallas to see my grandma, and New York and DC to see my high school friends who had moved up there, my 10 days were pretty much gone. As for proper vacations – not counting random weekends away to Los Angeles or Vancouver – I had one real one during the course of four years. I went to Israel and Jordan for 3 weeks and most of that ended up being unpaid vacation. Thankfully my employer liked me and allowed me to do it.

By comparison, let’s take a look at 2011 working in Sydney. I took a week and a half in January to head to Perth, another week in April to head to Adelaide and Melbourne, and yet another week in July to head to Melbourne and the Northern Territory. And I’m nowhere near done yet. Tomorrow, I have the luxury of taking two weeks off and heading to Asia for the first time. I’ll be hitting up China: Beijing, Xian, Shanghai, and a few places in between, along with stops in Macau and Hong Kong at the end. This would never happen in America. This could never happen in America. But it’s fairly commonplace in Australia.

And the icing on the cake: I still have another week to use. Maybe I’ll carry it over to next year. Woohoo!

Of course, I’ll be busy seeing as much as possible in China – and avoiding squat toilets at all costs – so I won’t be blogging until I return at the end of the month. Don’t forget about me.

All About Lenora

2011-10-05T00:33:00.001+11:00

First Nick came. Then John. And then… drumroll please…

LENORA!

Lenora was my third formal visitor from the United States. As if I don’t feel old enough, Lenora has been my friend since freshman year of high school. That means we were 14. Now we’re 28. So Lenora has been my friend for half of my life. I’m getting too old too fast. Frightening.

Lenora is a rugby enthusiast (the only one in America?) so she hopped down to New Zealand for a few days for the Rugby World Cup. And since New Zealand is relatively close to Australia, it was only appropriate she pop in for a few days before heading back to North America. And by “only appropriate”, I mean I would have taken her for a guilt trip like none other had she not.

But she did. Because she’s Lenora.

Anyway, her brief time in Oz was spent playing condo rummy a few times a day (oh yes, going back to the high school years of card games), scrolling through Facebook mocking nearly everyone else that we went to high school with, correcting her name (Aussies had a hard time with Lenora… no, it’s not Lenore… and no it’s not Loretta… ???), planning our next trip out, planning our retirements, partaking in a trivia night, watching some rugby on TV, and fitting in a few touristy things in between. As with all my guests, I took Lenora on the Bondi – Coogee Coastal Walk and on the ferry up to Manly, and I gave her an itinerary of the major tourist things to do while I was at work (like the Taronga Zoo, the Botanical Gardens, and the Sydney Opera House). I even got to squeeze in a new thing that even I hadn’t done before – heading up to level 47 of Australia Square to check out to the 360-degree, rotating view of the city:

Oh yes, and I fed Lenora too (because I would have been a horrible host had I not allowed her to eat for five days…) As she was in Australia, she needed to have kangaroo. So we got her a kangaroo pizza at the Australian Hotel in The Rocks:

And there was ice cream. We went to WowCow for frozen yogurt, Messina for gelato, and Movenpick for ice cream… twice. And then we bought a container for home one night too, which we finished off the next day. So we had ice cream or ice cream-related desserts six times in five days.

We’re awesome.

Despite the short timeframe, I think Lenora’s visit was a successful one. And since she only saw Sydney, well, she’ll just have to come back at some point to see a bit more. Woohoo!

Waiting in line for the Manly ferry:

At Manly:

Self-portrait:

Cho Time at the Sydney Opera House

2011-10-03T14:39:00.000+11:00

It took me over a year and a half, but I finally saw a show at the iconic Sydney Opera House. Two shows actually! And what a way to break my Sydney Opera House cherry:

The Just For Laughs Comedy Festival was on! And look at that second name from the bottom:

MARGARET CHO!!!!! MARGARET FUCKING CHO!!!!!

Oh yes, Margaret Cho was in Sydney and I got to see her perform at the Sydney Opera House! She headlined the Friday night in the Concert Hall – the largest venue in the Opera House. The joint was packed and every gay in the village was there to see Queen Cho. I brought a few gays with me – and some of our fag hags as well:

And of course, we had to have some bubbly to commemorate the occasion:

This was my fourth time seeing Cho perform live and her performance was hilarious as usual. She Australianized her show quite a bit – referencing Australian politics, headline-making Aussies, and various other cultural issues. She basically took her normal show and tweaked it around some so it would make sense down under. And she tweaked it just right. My hat is off to Margaret Cho, and my abs are still sore from the laughter.

Now, why go to one show when you can go to two for twice the cost? If you noticed, Demetri Martin’s name was also on that poster and I couldn’t pass up the chance to see him live as well. Plus, he’s super adorable… super, super adorable… sadly straight, but you know… tequila… Anyway, his show was in the second largest venue, the Opera Theatre, and came complete with his keyboard, guitar, harmonica, and the Large Pad (just YouTube him if you don’t know why any of that is important).

His show wasn’t very Australianized at all, but he was a riot nonetheless.

Now that I’ve seen two shows at the Sydney Opera House, I can cross that off my list of things to do… and I didn’t have to sit through a boring four hour opera to do it! Woohoo! I wouldn’t mind seeing another show there if it was something good… and rumour has it Kathy Griffin is coming to town in November… fingers crossed the rumour is true!

Funny Fanny

2011-09-29T00:16:00.000+10:00

She was working in a bridal shop in Flushing, Queens

‘Til her boyfriend kicked her out in one of those crushing scenes

What was she to do? Where was she to go?

She was out on her fanny…

So over the bridge from Flushing to the Sheffield’s door

She was there to sell make up, but the father saw more

She had style, she had flair, she was there

That’s how she became the nanny!

Now, just in case you haven’t figured it out yet, that is the theme song to the 1990’s television sitcom, The Nanny. Most of you probably knew that, because most of you reading this are probably Jewish. Or gay. Or Jewish and gay. Jews and gays love The Nanny. In fact, most of you were probably singing along with it in your head. Or maybe out loud. But why am I posting the lyrics to the theme song from The Nanny here on my blog? I’m doing it as a comparison. Below is an interpretation of how Australians hear the lyrics to the theme song from The Nanny:

She was working in a bridal shop in Flushing, Queens

‘Til her boyfriend kicked her out in one of those crushing scenes

What was she to do? Where was she to go?

She was out on her VAGINA…

Oh, that’s right. I said vagina. That’s because Australians use fanny as another word for vagina. Seriously. I was shocked to find this out one day at work when someone was talking about a “bum bag.” I was like “What the heck is a bum bag?” And that person explained it to me and I shouted out “Oh, you mean a fanny pack!”

Did I mention that the word fanny isn’t anatomical like the word vagina? It’s more slang like the word pussy. So basically, I yelled out pussy at work. A few people laughed. A few people shushed me. I didn’t get it.

Fanny means your butt in the United States and Canada. It’s a fairly innocent word that is appropriate for little kids to use – in the same way that little boys use the term “wee wee” for their penises. It’s so non-offensive that it was in a TV theme song and it wasn’t censored and nobody thought anything about it. But here, fanny means pussy. It’s a dirty word. And I can only imagine that every time The Nanny came on the TV, every Australian watching cringed a little in their chairs.

I don’t know how this definition dichotomy came about and Google wasn’t very helpful this time, so I’m going to write it off to the Brits and Aussies being dirty ole buggers. Now, I just need to remember not to sing The Nanny theme song in public… in Australia... anymore…

The Morgan Freeman of Wine

2011-09-27T23:12:00.000+10:00

After roughing it in a swag and hostel in the middle of the Australian desert for a few nights, I felt like I was due for a little luxury. So, just two short weeks after returning from Northern Territory, my mate Jonathan and I hit the road for a long weekend in the Hunter Valley. It was Bank Holiday – which is a holiday where the banks close. Just the banks. Schools and stores and businesses and government are still open, but all banks are closed and all bank employees get the day off. Jonathan works for a bank, and I work for an insurance company which is a financial institution and therefore close enough to a bank to get a day off every first Monday of August. Woohoo!!! I love Australia.

The Hunter Valley is about 2.5 hours north of Sydney. I had been to the Hunter once before – in May 2010 – on a day trip from Sydney with Oscar, Karen, and a few others. The bus picked us up at 7am, drove two hours, took us to four wineries, and brought us back by 6pm. We visited Tempus Two (big and corporate), Blueberry Hill (small and adorable), IronBark Hill (not my favourite), and Tintilla Estate (pretty good). After visiting the Barossa Valley region in South Australia earlier this year, the Hunter Valley faded to the back of my mind, but I was excited to hit up a bunch of new wineries this time to see how they compete with the Barossa, and with three whole days to do it, it was going to be much less hectic than the first time around.

Jonathan and I slept in a little and he picked me up mid-morning on the Saturday. We drove up and checked into our fancy schmancy two-bedroom, two-bathroom villa at the Cypress Lakes Resort (oh yes, we went all out!) After we grabbed some lunch, we headed to an area known as Lovedale to check out five wineries: Capercaillie, Allandale, Tatler, Adina, and Gartelmann. We were very pleased with these wineries, especially Capercaillie and Allandale… and Adina… and Gartelmann. Tatler was ok, but I’m a little annoyed at them because their bathrooms have windows looking right out to the parking lot. Or rather, their parking lot had windows looking right into the toilets. Who designed this place? Anyway, aside from the restroom issue at Tatler, the wineries were extremely nice. So pleased were we that we ended up purchasing 13 bottles of wine on day 1:

And we lined them up to take a photo because... we're ridiculous people. I’ll confess that ten of those bottles were mine. Only three were Jonathan’s. I’ve obviously earned my wino badge, haven’t I? In addition to copious amounts of wine, we also stopped at a chocolate factory because, you know, we drove by a chocolate factory, and when you drive by a chocolate factory the only moral, ethical, decent thing to do is stop in and make a purchase. Or two. Right?

And of course there was a trip to the Binnorie Dairy to pick up some cheese. You know I love me some cheese.

We had a chicken and spaghetti dinner that night which we cooked in our villa’s full kitchen (we are sooo luxurious) but we started out with a little cheese and cracker plate to sample our purchases from the day.

The next day was our organized wine tour, so Jono and I both got to get tipsy. Woohoo! I was pleasantly surprised to learn that our first stop was none other than my favourite winery from my previous trip: Blueberry Hill! According to the owner, this winery is home to the best Merlot in the world. Also, this winery is home to a man that I have dubbed the Morgan Freeman of wine. Seriously. The Morgan Freeman of wine. The sole proprietor of Blueberry Hill has a voice that belongs narrating some sort of documentary like March of the Penguins. Seriously. This man somehow makes the phrases “This wine is utterly delicious” and “The vines that produced this wine also produced the world’s best Merlot” sound matter-of-fact and strangely modest. Incredible. Oscar, Karen, and I loved this man when we visited last time, so this time, I couldn’t resist. I had to duck behind the bar and grab a photo with the Morgan Freeman of wine. Oscar and Karen: eat your hearts out!

The rest of the day’s wineries were new to me. Now, shall I go left or shall I go right? Can’t I go both ways?

Our next stop was First Creek:

Followed by Lambloch:

Lambloch had a beautiful new tasting room overlooking the vineyards:

Just like on my last trip, we stopped at the Blue Tongue Brewery for some lunch and beer samples. And just like last time, their beer didn’t impress me. But it’s ok. We were already tipsy by that time so I kept a smile on my face!

We headed to a winery called Misty Glen (isn’t that a stripper name?) before our final stop at one of the bigger, more corporate wineries: McGuigan!

I had been to McGuigan’s winery in the Barossa Valley, and just like the one in the Barossa, I really liked McGuigan’s range of Hunter Valley wines. The best part was, however, the lady pouring the wine. While I found my friend in good ole Morgan at Blueberry Hill, Jono found his friend as soon as this little lady starting bringing the sass. Oh she was good – putting Jono right in his place with zinger here and a comeback there. I could totally feel the heat from the sparks!

Our tour ended but it still wasn’t 5pm. Luckily, we were in walking distance of our sixth winery of the day: Brokenwood. I made my final wine purchases here right before closing time, bringing my grand total to 20… for day 2 alone. Oh yes. I came back to Sydney after purchasing 30 bottles of wine across 11 wineries in just two days. I think I need a bigger wino badge.

Overall, my second impression of the Hunter Valley was infinitely better than my first. And I’m sorta tempted to go back again… and again… and maybe again. There are heaps of wineries still to be tried. Until then, I’ll be patiently awaiting the release of March of the Winos on DVD, narrated by none other than the Morgan Freeman of wine.

#90: Uluru!

2011-09-24T17:37:00.001+10:00

Our final destination in Northern Territory was the one that I was most excited about: Uluru! Also known as Ayers Rock, Uluru is the world’s largest monolith – or world’s largest single rock. Pretty sweet. What is visible above ground is merely a fraction of the entire rock – it goes many kilometers down into the earth. We started one afternoon with a quick mini-walk around a small portion of the rock and followed up the next day with a longer walk almost all the way around the rock. The shape of the rock was not what I expected. I expected it to be somewhere between an oval and a rectangle, but an aerial map showed a very irregular figure:

I was also surprised by the texture of the rock. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting, but Uluru seemed a bit lumpy. It’s very different up close than it is in all of the far-away pictures you find on the internet or in books:

The lumpiness was accompanied by some pretty cool shapes and terrains, like the Wave Rock:

And this one I called the Whale Rock because it looks like a big sperm whale or something:

There were black streaks from the top down the sides of the rock caused by water flowing down. This isn’t a normal feature as it hardly ever rains, but it rained every day when we were there. The one good thing about that was that the Mutitjulu Waterhole was all filled up:

Uluru is a sacred site for the local Aboriginal people. This was evidenced by the Aboriginal cave/rock paintings found all around the base. Aboriginal cave paintings depict things as seen from above, so these bird tracks actually represent an entire emu:

As it is a sacred site, the local populations ask that you not climb to the top. Now, the Minister of Tourism wouldn’t dare actually close the climb for good as the allure of climbing Uluru brings many tourists to the region, but they do try to deter people every chance they get. The climb is actually quite dangerous and it was closed for safety reasons when we were there (as it is nearly 75% of the time), so it wasn’t something we had to consider, but while I was walking around, I thought I’d at least stand on the side of the rock for a few seconds:

Just like the Grand Canyon, Uluru changes colour at sunset. Unfortunately for us, the cloud cover persisted and the sun was nowhere to be seen setting, so we didn’t get to see the spectacle. But that didn’t stop Kei and I from having a little photo shoot:

Sunrise was actually worse…

Despite the crappy weather, I must say that Uluru was pretty cool - it was educational, geological, cultural, scenic, and iconic... I kept quiet, but I really was just nerding out on the inside the whole time. Plus it was huge - just a massive rock - and there isn't one anywhere in the world that is bigger, so there was no fear of something outshining it (like the Grand Canyon outshone Kings Canyon). But I will say this: Kata Tjuta could give Uluru a run for its money. Good thing you can do both in the same day!

We hopped off our tour early without returning to Alice Springs. We had booked in the Sounds of Silence Dinner – an expensive, fancy buffet dinner with all you can eat Australian foods (kangaroo, crocodile, emu, etc.) and free flowing beer and wine – at the Ayers Rock Resort and were to spend the night at a hostel there and fly back to Sydney directly from Ayers Rock Airport the next day. As the dinner is set outside under the stars, it was cancelled when we were there… because there were no stars thanks to the rain and cloud cover. But luckily, our hostel had a great view of Uluru and we took some time that afternoon and did another quick photo shoot:

I call this one Self-Portrait with Rock:

The hostel also had a pretty good view of Kata Tjuta too!

So, what to do when your fancy dinner is cancelled? Go to the pub of course! I ordered up an NT Draught:

While at the bar I noticed a sign regarding alcohol rules. You must be a resort guest (and present your room key to prove it) or have a resort resident pass in order to purchase beer from the bar. This is intended to keep the Aboriginal populations away from the alcohol. As this is a resort full of tourists from all over the world, the sign was translated into every conceivable tourist language: Japanese, Chinese, Korean, French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Portuguese, German, etc. And next to each language was a flag of the country the language was from. And next to Korean, they had this:

The flags of both South Korea and North Korea. Because, you know, there may be a lot of North Korean tourists visiting here… because they can book trips on their internet… and they have passports…

Anyway, we sat down with beer and dinner and watched the live entertainment. And it took about five seconds and I looked around all confused and thought I was back in Texas momentarily. Watch this:

Rude awakening: I was in the Texas of Australia.

Scary, but entertaining nonetheless. Kei and I may have gotten up and danced a little later on. Maybe…

Kata Tjuta

2011-09-11T21:51:00.000+10:00

I was super excited to cross another item off my list of 103 things, and the excitement only built as we entered Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. Our first stop, however, was not Uluru. We made a beeline for Kata Tjuta. Even though I like to think I’m in the know, I hadn’t heard of Kata Tjuta until shortly before this trip. You’ve probably never heard of it either.

Kata Tjuta, also known as The Olgas, is the other major landmark in Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. It is not nearly as well known as Uluru despite being a mere 25 kilometers away, but as I was soon to find out, it is nearly as impressive.

Whereas Uluru is one massive monolith, Kata Tjuta is a conglomeration of large domed rock formations which are all in very close proximity to each other. That’s the major difference. Geologically, the two have similar histories and both sites hold a spiritual significance to the local Aboriginal people. The rocks aren’t nearly as large as Uluru, but they are by no means small. As a size reference, check out the trees growing on top of this one:

We arrived in the morning and there was quite a bit of fog:

But the fog slowly burned off to reveal a series of large domes:

After a hike around the outside, we peered up into the Karingana Lookout and began our ascent:

The lookout sits between two of the larger rocks, and you don’t truly get a sense of the scale of these things until you are inside looking up and looking out.

Absolutely incredible.

We walked back into the lookout – deeper between the rocks – and a lush interior revealed itself. This was a popular hunting ground for Aboriginals as animals that wandered in often had no escape.

The view coming out the backside of the rocks was just as impressive:

But my opinion briefly changed as soon as I learned that we’d be walking down a very smooth, wet, and slippery bit of rock. Fun times.

I walked away without falling once (woohoo!). I was unscathed and completely in awe of the landscape. Could Uluru be any better than this? I was soon to find out…

Kings Canyon

2011-09-06T21:53:00.000+10:00

When discussing things to do in Northern Territory, everyone always talks about Uluru (Ayers Rock). But for those who have been to Northern Territory and seen a bit more than just “the rock”, the one thing that everyone says is a must see is Kings Canyon. In fact, nearly everyone I spoke to who had been to both Uluru and Kings Canyon said that Kings Canyon was far better than Uluru. It was for that reason that I was super excited that it was the first stop on our 3 day camping trip. Also, I was excited because it took five hours to get there from Alice Springs and my ass was killing me from the excruciatingly uncomfortable seat on the bus. We could have stopped at a camel shit quarry and I would have been thrilled to be there and out of that vehicle even for just a little while.

In order to best see the canyon, you have to climb up to the rim. The steps were daunting. Notice the size of the people in the middle of the photo.

But it’s ok – I was just excited to be there!

See – I’m smiling! (Ok, this wasn’t taken too far up the trail… by the end I was no longer smiling and I had declared that I had done enough exercise to last for the remainder of the year). But the view at the top was pretty sweet.

After climbing all that way up, we took some steps down into the canyon…

… to find the Garden of Eden: a valley with permanent waterholes and lush vegetation.

We then climbed back up the other side for some more views from the top.

Even more striking than the canyon was some of the terrain surrounding the canyon:

I must’ve been a bit delirious from lack of sleep because I just had to giggle when I saw this sign:

Hehehehe! Cracks! Hehehehe! And when I saw this one, it just made it worse:

Rim! Hahahahaha! Rim!

Ok, so maybe I wasn’t delirious from exhaustion but rather immature as always. Some signs were helpful though – like this one which declared that the temperature today wouldn’t be hot enough to kill us all. Phew!

And this one which warns you of the dangers of straying too close to the edge of the cliff. Helpful? Yes. Did anyone care? Obviously not.

So, was everyone right about Kings Canyon? Was it better than Uluru?

No.

Don’t get me wrong: Kings Canyon was fantastic. It just wasn’t as fantastic as I thought it would be. Maybe all the hype surrounding Kings Canyon built it up a bit too much. Or maybe it was our tour guide’s completely misinformed explanation of how canyons form (I wanted so badly to correct him but I didn’t want to be “that guy” a mere few hours into our tour…). Or maybe my slight lack of enthusiasm stemmed from me having been to the Grand Canyon before. So far, everything I had seen in Australia had impressed me – from the beaches, to the coastlines, to the harbours, the cities, the wine regions – you name it, I love it! But the US does have one thing over Australia: canyons. Well, at least one canyon. The Grand Canyon is bigger, longer, and deeper (oh baby!), and (as expected) far more grand than Kings Canyon. But Kings Canyon does have one thing that the Grand Canyon doesn’t: a cock in a frock on a rock.

Ok, so I’m not wearing a frock, but does this look familiar? If not, then you’re probably heterosexual. Scenes from The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert were filmed here at Kings Canyon and I’m standing in “Priscilla’s Gap” in the above photo. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Ah shit, Kei! We forgot our costumes!

Camping in the Outback

2011-09-03T16:34:00.000+10:00

We awoke well before the crack of dawn in Alice Springs and got picked up by the tour that we scheduled. We headed out on a 3 day tour of the Red Centre. The Red Centre is the name for the middle part of the country because of the red colour of the dirt, which we could see from the plane as we flew in:

And up close it looks even redder:

The Red Centre is the outback – very outback really. It’s about as far away from civilization as you can get in Australia – and that’s very far. There are no men and no women in the outback. There are no ladies and no gentlemen. In the outback… there are only sheilas and blokes.

This is the stereotypical Australia – the Australia that most Americans probably imagine. The outback is known for its brutal dryness and unforgiving heat. Due to its remoteness, the Red Centre is not a cheap place to travel. As it is far away from everything, everything costs more money. There are long distances between everything so gas is expensive. Water is scarce – driving the price of hotels and restaurants and such up, up, up. So, how do you manage to have the most economically unpleasant vacation in the desert? Take a tour. A camping tour. That’s right, I went camping in the outback! This is sooo not me. What was I thinking?

We boarded a bus full of 20 people – mostly backpackers. I felt a bit out of place at first – mainly because I’m a city-dwelling professional and backpackers are one small step above homeless people – I kept expecting them to ask me for change. But they never did, and I slowly eased into my surroundings… until the camping part at least. Our first night’s campground wasn’t as hospitable as I was hoping. There were no toilets. There were no showers. There were no sinks. I didn’t drink much the first night because I didn’t really feel like walking out into the bush to pee in the pitch black. There was pretty much nothing there. Except mice. Lots of mice. They were bush hopping mice and they ran around our campsite and scavenged on any crumbs they could find from our dinner. At night, they snuck onto the bus and ate their way through plastic wrappers to find muesli (granola) bars and Kit Kats inside. Seriously. Kei had a Kit Kat in her purse and the mice got into her purse, ate through the plastic, and devoured most of her chocolate goodness. Ewwwwww!!!

Note that we didn’t have tents – we were sleeping in swags on the ground. Swags are like big sleeping bags that they use in the outback. You put your actual sleeping bag inside and it actually keeps you quite warm at night. Warm and cozy? Yes. Able to sleep? No. There’s still no tent to keep the critters out, so there were reports that people could feel mice running on top of their swags. Luckily I didn’t, but the mice would make little mouse noises and that kept me up. Is there a Hilton somewhere out here?

Did I mention it was raining? And nearly freezing? Well, it was, and it was. In one of the driest places on Earth, it managed to rain all four days that we were there. All four days! It kept the temperature down during the day so we didn’t have to feel the excessive desert heat, but it was actually quite cold at night. Oh, and it was wet. Sleeping outside in the rain is not fun. Luckily there was a little cover at the first campground. Our second campground was a fancy campground that had actual amenities – like toilets, sinks, showers, and kitchen areas. And the bathrooms were actually fairly clean which was surprising to me. But really, at that point, I wasn’t going to be too picky. At night, Kei and I placed our canvas swags and sleeping bags in one of the covered kitchen areas. It was hard concrete, but I hadn’t slept the previous night so I passed out quickly anyway. Notice our swags are wet from the rain.

We kept warm by the fire before turning in for the night.

And we managed to guzzle down a few beers each. Alcohol helps to ease the pain of camping (as long as there are toilets nearby).

I had heard horror stories about flies in the Northern Territory – how they just cover you when you are hiking. But the rain kept the flies away, so I suppose that’s a good thing. A bad thing was the mud. Red dirt + water = red mud. And the red mud got all over everything. My only thought was “I seriously hope Amazon.com sells and ships New Balance to Australia.”

And that photo was taken on Day 1 of the trip. By the end, there was no salvaging them. They went in the rubbish bin upon our return to Sydney.

The rain was very unseasonal – it was apparently the wettest it has been since the 1950’s. Though I don’t know how accurate that is as I overheard that in one of the convenience stores we stopped in along the way (there’s a petrol station and convenience store about every 5 hours or so maybe?) Despite the normally unbearable conditions, flora and fauna thrive in the Red Centre. While wildlife generally stay away from the more popular tourist places, I was able to snap a shot of one big kangaroo:

And I got a ton of pictures of these crazy mohawk birds:

The eucalypt trees here are verging on white – like something from another planet:

But when they dry out, which is often, the same species turns black. One touch of the bark and it looks like you’ve dipped your hand into a bag of coal.

The weather put a damper on some of our travel plans. The stars are supposed to be clearly visible in the middle of nowhere – but we didn’t really see any because of the clouds. There was neither sunrise nor sunset over Ayers Rock, and our big Sounds of Silence Dinner – where they take you out into the desert, provide with you a buffet of Aussie food and all-you-can-drink beer and wine, and have an astronomer tell you all about the stars – was cancelled. Four days of rain and four nights of rain. And as we walked out onto the tarmac and boarded the plane to fly back to Sydney… the clouds parted and the sun came out.

Fuck that.

Proud to be Aboriginal

2011-08-30T00:30:00.000+10:00

The indigenous people of Australia – more commonly known as Aboriginals – likely came to this continent on a land bridge from New Guinea somewhere between 40,000 and 60,000 years ago – though some estimates place that figure closer to 70,000 years ago. For tens of thousands of years, Aboriginal culture flourished on the continent without any contact from the outside world, but things changed in 1788 with the arrival of the first Europeans. Many of the effects of European settlement on the Aboriginals parallel the very same things I learned about Native Americans in school growing up in the United States. The Aboriginals, much like the Native Americans, suffered widely from European diseases to which they had no immunity. This lead to sharp population declines. Moreover, they were forced from their lands and had to compete with better armed and more technologically sophisticated European settlers for valuable resources.

I admit that I knew very little about Aboriginal history before moving to Australia. What little I did know came from two sources. The first was a movie called Rabbit Proof Fence which I saw back in 2002. The film is based around two Aboriginal children who are forcibly removed from their homes by whites and then escape to make their way back to their native home by following one of the many long rabbit-proof fences which stretched across Australia. This movie depicted what we now refer to as the Stolen Generations – groups of Aboriginal children forcibly removed from their homes as White Australia thought it would be advantageous for them to be away from their birth parents and native cultures. There’s obviously much more to it than that as many Australians will tell you, but for the sake of this being way too long, I’ll leave it at that. My second source of information about Aboriginals prior to moving here was from Bill Bryson – my favourite travel author who taught me much about what to expect when I arrived. In his book about Australia, Bill Bryson tells the story of some Australians who he met on a long train ride across the continent. And while the details of his conversation with them are fuzzy (and I can’t be bothered to grab the book off my shelf and thumb through the pages to find the reference), the general gist was these Australians said to him that schoolteachers in Aboriginal communities have to feed the students because Aboriginal parents take their government checks, line up at the liquor store right when it opens in the morning, and blow all of their money on booze with no money or resources left to care for their children. I thought this seemed harsh, but I really didn’t know the situation.

And then I arrived in Australia and the situation before me didn’t seem too far off. I lived on the border of Surry Hills and Redfern for my first 14 months in Sydney. Redfern is known as a dodgy neighbourhood mainly due to the Aboriginal housing projects that exist there (and thus high crime rates). I wouldn’t see Aboriginal people too often, but when I did, they generally appeared in one of three scenarios: (1) begging for money on Crown Street – though I must admit that they were a bit friendlier than normal homeless begging for money, possibly because they were almost always women (2) walking drunk around Redfern (Aboriginals, not me) – which I experienced on two random occasions including once when I was heckled a bit (maybe heckled but not completely sure as words were slurred and I couldn’t quite get what they were saying, but I assume it was heckling from the tone) and (3) a very angry Aboriginal man knocking over signs and potted plants at the local shopping centre. Needless to say, I was beginning to see what those Australians who spoke to Bill Bryson were seeing. I one day saw an Aboriginal man on a public bus months after my arrival. He was wearing a business suit and I was completely shocked by it. I was as equally surprised when I saw a clean-cut and well-dressed Aboriginal family at Myer, our big department store, sometime later. So, I thought, which way is it?

My online research and TV viewings confirmed that reality was (sadly) probably more toward Mr. Bryson’s book than I had wanted to believe – at least for the largest chunk of Aboriginals. Life expectancy is over 10 years lower than for non-indigenous populations, and Aboriginals are likely to have more health problems. Poverty is a major issue (household incomes are 40% lower than their non-Aboriginal counterparts here) and some statistics show crime and incarceration rates as greater by a factor of 10 or more. Aboriginals have lower educational outcomes, minimal political representation at the federal level (only two Aboriginals have ever served in the Senate and the first ever Aboriginal was just elected to the House of Representatives), higher tobacco use rates, and a much larger problem with alcoholism. That last one – the alcohol – is a major stereotype of Aboriginals in Australia, much as was suggested in the book.

In my experience here, Australians tend to be a bit more overtly racist and xenophobic than Americans – maybe because Australia has a much shorter history of diversity than America does (I’m not a sociologist, so don’t shoot me if you disagree) – but everyone seems to put on their Politically Correct Hats when it comes to Aboriginal issues despite what people may say behind closed doors. In 1992, Prime Minister Paul Keating delivered the Redfern Address – an acknowledgement of the injustices committed against Aboriginal people by those of European-descent over the short history of the country – and in 2008, Prime Minister Kevin Rudd went a step further and issued a public apology to the members of the Stolen Generations. The Aboriginal flag (as pictured at the bottom) was adopted in 1971 and is commonly flown next to the Australian flag on most buildings.

So why am I blogging about this topic now? Aboriginal people make up less than 2.5% of the population of Australia, but nearly a third of the population of the Northern Territory. And before I went to Alice Springs, I received many warnings. Indeed, crime rates are high in Alice Springs – mainly due to the Aboriginal population – and Aboriginals, as I was told on several occasions, are pretty much free to go anywhere on anyone’s land (even private land) due to Native Title Acts. So, if an Aboriginal person wants to swim in your hotel’s pool, they can. If they want to sit on your hotel patio, they can.

The taxi driver from Alice Springs Airport to our hotel advised us to take a taxi anywhere we went even though our hotel was a mere 700 meters from the centre of town – no matter day or night. Hotel reception said we’d be fine walking to town during the day as long as we remained aware of our surroundings. Scary. And as soon as we walked out of our hotel, a little Aboriginal boy – maybe 4 or 5 years old – all by himself – walked right by us and just wiped his hand across my friend’s jacket – as if it was his own. That would have been unacceptable anywhere else in the world. But not here. Indigenous people lined the main street of Alice Springs – just sitting around doing nothing –and when we went to check out the river, there were a quite a few people sitting in there too (as I mentioned in my last post, the river was completely dry). Everywhere we went in Alice Springs, there seemed to be Aboriginal people just chillin’ – and when we arrived at the Ayers Rock resort a few days later, there were natives running around there too. I say “running” because we saw quite a few unsupervised Aboriginal children just running and playing around the resort facilities and around the rock itself.

And just like in Greece and India, there was a serious lack of deodorant going on.

We didn’t see a line of Aboriginals waiting outside the liquor store in Alice Springs (as more than one person told me I would see), but I don’t think I actually saw a liquor store and I’m very glad that stereotype didn’t have the opportunity to materialize. On a similar note, three days later when we were at the Ayers Rock Resort, we were told that we had to present our room keys or our resort resident permit in order to purchase anything from the bar. There are only three groups of people out at the Ayers Rock Resort which lies in the middle of absolutely nowhere: (1) tourists (2) “residents” who are the resort workers and (3) Aboriginals. So the laws were obviously designed with one specific group of people in mind.

There is a massive push to improve the lives of Aboriginals, but there also comes with it much criticism that Aboriginals aren’t doing enough for themselves. This I can see to an extent. I watched a long news report last week which featured a prominent Aboriginal professor who said that the current means of assisting weren’t working and that we needed to create newer, modern, more inventive, and creative ways to help the Aboriginal people realize their true potential – like through reality TV shows designed specifically for Aboriginals that would inspire them to do more with the resources they have (i.e. a renovation show which features ways Aboriginals can easily and cost effectively improve their homes). This was met with praise by both Aboriginal and non-indigenous Australians. It was also met with harsh criticism and resentment by both Aboriginal and non-indigenous Australians. One or two of the Aboriginals interviewed in the report depicted this professor – this Aboriginal professor – as a traitor.

From what I’ve seen and read, it appears Aboriginals harbor resentment against non-Aboriginal settlers or culture as evidenced by the “Invasion Day” protests every year on Australia Day. Aboriginals are proud to be Aboriginal. Other Australians are proud to be Australian. But will Aboriginals ever really be proud to be Australian? Do Aboriginals even consider themselves to be Australian? Probably not. I think there’s a sporting chance that peace in the Middle East will be found before the aforementioned Aboriginal problems are solved.

So what’s my conclusion to all of this? Well, I don’t really have one yet. I’m still new here so it really isn’t my place to judge. How to best address the problems that Aboriginals face is… certainly not for me to determine. (Wait, for once I don’t have an opinion on something? Who knew?) In lieu of some insightful recap, I’ll leave you with the educational tidbits from the previous paragraphs as well as this picture I snapped in Alice Springs:

Maybe one day that sign will read “Proud to be Aboriginal AND Australian”.

Go Ask Alice (Springs)

2011-08-17T23:02:00.000+10:00

This blog is all about Alice!

No, no. Not Alice in Wonderland.

And, no. Not Alice from the Brady Bunch.

Yes! It’s the most famous Alice in Australia… Alice Springs!

Alice Springs, or just Alice as most people call it, is miles away from Sydney. In fact, it’s miles away from anything and everything. Located smack dab in the middle of the continent, the nearest big city is Adelaide – a short 17 hour drive south. Or you can try for Darwin – the capital of Northern Territory, where Alice resides. Darwin is a quick 18.5 hours north. Yet, with a population roughly 27,500 strong, Alice Springs is the most sizable city (town?) in the middle of the country – really the only city in the middle of the country.

When I say that Alice is miles away from anything and everything, it’s not just distance. It’s really everything. Like coffee.

Most Sydneysiders would cringe at this sign. No skim??? No soy??? Where are we?!?!? And don’t even get me started on the beer laws.

No heavy beer in the morning, but go ahead and knock yourself out with a light beer at 7am. And if you want to wash that beer down with a glass of water… well, you’d better hop in that car and head south to Adelaide.

Alice Springs is known for three things:

The first: being a gateway to the natural wonders of the Northern Territory. The main draws of the middle of the country are Uluru and Kings Canyon. As the only city in the region, Alice is a hub for tourists visiting these sites. Both Uluru and Kings Canyon are super close – each over 6 hours away. Huh?

The second: Aboriginal art. The Northern Territory is home to the highest concentration of indigenous people – and I’ll touch on that in another blog post. As such, Alice has heaps of Aboriginal art galleries. Unfortunately, you can’t take pictures in the galleries but I did snap a photo of this rubbish bin (garbage can for my American readers).

Notice the Aboriginal dot painting on the bin. All bins in Alice have these types of paintings. You can buy similar paintings in the galleries for a few thousand dollars. No kidding. I opted to buy a tie instead. It has dot art on it. I’ll get more use out of it and it only set me back $39. Oh, also, there is public art.

Frightening.

The third: being a complete shithole. That’s right. Alice is a complete shithole. You can ask pretty much any Australian and they’ll tell you how it is. My boss warned me before I went. He was there for approximately one day a few years ago and vowed never to go back again. And he was staying at one of the fancier hotels! There are quite a few problems in Alice, including many associated with the large Aboriginal population – which I’ll explain in a later blog which is sure to garner criticism or agreement from many. On top of that, Alice is in the middle of nowhere, there’s really not all that much to do, it’s hot as fuck in summertime, the crime rates are sky high, and there’s an abnormally randomly high percentage of lesbians (and you know that gays and lesbians get along as well as a pack of dogs and a three-legged cat). It’s unsafe to walk around at night and we were also warned not to walk too far DURING THE DAY.

For me, I didn’t mind Alice… for a few hours. It was something completely different. But if I had to spend another day or two there, I’m pretty sure I’d want to do to it what the Americans did to Hiroshima.

Just to give you an idea of how crappy it is, I present to you two exhibits.

Exhibit A:

This is the Todd River that flows through Alice Springs. The Todd River is… dirt.

Exhibit B:

Many cities in Australia have sister cities, and Alice Springs is no exception. But while Sydney has San Francisco, Melbourne has Milan, Brisbane has Abu Dhabi, and Adelaide has Austin, Alice Springs is… stuck with some city in Afghanistan.

The city, called Paghman, is allegedly a popular tourism hub in Afghanistan as it has pretty rural scenery and tourist activities nearby. Also, about half of the city has been destroyed by war.

Yeah.

That makes Darwin’s sister city of Anchorage, Alaska seem pretty frickin’ amazing.