excuse me, can you tell me which way is up?

Oooooooh.... my head hurts.

I got to and left San Francisco all before 1:15pm on July 5th (and had an hour & a half with my pal Q in SFO in-between) — this after somehow having spent 14 hours on a plane that left had left Sydney shortly after 2pm ON THAT SAME DAY;

realized en route to Philly that the moon is lit from a different side here than it is in Sydney and shortly thereafter heard a fuse pop in my brain;

managed to arrive in Philly just in the nick of time to run — and I mean RUN — to another terminal to catch a train to yet ANOTHER terminal (dropping, breaking, and cursing a bottle of wine I had purchased in Sydney for my sister) only to arrive breathless and find out that my flight was delayed an hour;

got really upset in the bathroom over the bottle of wine and heard another fuse in my brain pop and did a quick patch by buying myself a mock mint chocolate chip ice cream cone ("We're out of mint." "No you're not, it's right there." "No, that's pistachio." "Fine. Give me that. I'll pretend.") from a closing airport newstand at 1059pm and ate it while sitting on a shoe-shiner's chair because DAMMIT, I HAVE BEEN TRAVELING FOR ALMOST 24 HOURS AND I AM TIRED AND IF I WANT TO SIT IN THE HIGH CUSHIONY SHOE-SHINER'S CHAIR AND NOT HAVE MY OPEN-TOED SPORTS SANDALS SHINED THEN I WILL;

walked back to my gate and upon hearing that my flight was delayed for yet another hour began to smell smoke which I think was coming from my ears and so I sat down in the massage chair because DAMMIT, I HAVE BEEN TRAVELING FOR ALMOST 25 HOURS NOW AND I AM TIRED AND IF I WANT TO SIT IN THE CUSHIONY MASSAGE CHAIR AND NOT PAY FIVE DOLLARS TO MAKE IT VIBRATE THEN I WILL;

boarded my flight outside in the rain, making the tarmac of the cursed Philly airport my first step on American land since April;

listened bemusedly as the flight attendent — after a flight so short that not even drinks were served — told us as we descended into Syracuse that we needed to pass all remaining service items such as our drink cups to the aisle for collection;

entered into the final stages of dilerium as I waddled my luggage from baggage claim out to the curbside pickup to wait 20 mintes for my sister to arrive (I always know when it's her picking me up, as she never arrives in time to meet me at baggage claim), telling her no, wait, can she do another lap around the terminal because then it will make my total travel time 28 HOURS and please oh please can I wait some more;

collapsed into a bed a half-hour after that at 230am and awoke 8 hours later (feeling much much better) to a funny smell and these 2 things staring me in my face...




...though I still cannot figure out what these "penny" things are that people keep giving me for change or why my the plug for my computer (which still thinks it's in Australia and can't figure out while it's on at 416am on July 7 if it's really 216pm July 6) won't fit in the electrical outlets.

And then there's that problem of figuring out which way is up.

Oooooooh.... my head hurts.

Big Ole Jet Airliner

This is it. The end. I'm getting on a plane.

Now, before you panic, know that I will be posting a few more bits and pieces of "3 Months Down Under" in the next month or so when I am back in the States.

But then, it will end.

This blog was intended to only last 3 months, and so I'm sort of embarrassed that it's not wrapped up now. I actually don't like blogs very much, but this medium suited my needs during my time here in Sydney.

Thank you so much to everyone that checked in periodically to read about our escapades here. Apparently it was successful enough, as my own mother did not email or call ONCE while I was here, saying that the blog "made it feel like I'd never even left."

I'll take that as a compliment.

Off I go~

"Melbin, Act 2" (June 11)

This is a continuation from Act 1, the story of our trip to Melbourne in June.

. . . . .


S U N D A Y,  J U N E  1 1

Sunday morning we set out for a day in St. Kilda, one of Melbourne's beach-side neighborhoods. We purchased an all-day "Sunday Supa Saver" transit pass from a nearby 7-11 and took the light rail to St. Kilda. First stop was breakfast, at a place called "Cushions", that by night is a hoppin' little dance club. It was odd that they served brunch in a way (imagine eating breakast at Fremont's "Nectar"), but it was yummy, and fairly priced.

I was tricked into getting the bacon because they referred to it as "Crispy" — it was not. It was just ham in sheep's clothing. (Or however that phrase goes.) That was the last time I've had "bacon" in Australia; I've given up.


St. Kilda Pier

After breakfast we walked towards to water; first stop being the Pier, to do Pier things. Like walking on the Pier. And more walking. Then a little more. Then some pausing. Then some turning around and walking back. It gave us a beatiful view of the beach and the city.















St. Kilda Beachfront

Back on the beach, we contemplated the washed up wooden boat wreck. The sign that talked about it was blurred (I think they actually printed it with an ink jet printer and then laminated it), so it was hard to tell if it was "living history" or an Burningman art piece that had washed ashore from San Francisco. Either way, it drew plenty of attention and made for some nice artsy photos.














St. Kilda :: Luna Park

We continued along the beach for a bit longer, then moved to the upper sidewalk along the Esplanade.



We found Melbourne's Luna Park at the end of the Esplanade, next to the Palais Theatre — which was sporting signs for both INXS and Foreigner. With the lead singer of INXS being dead, and Foreigner being, well, Foreigner, we weren't sure if the theatre just hadn't been open since the mid-80s, or if both bands truly were making a comeback.



Luna Park itself looked like the one we have in Sydney; but it wasn't as big and the art wasn't as good either. This one seemed to cater more to younger kids, but unlike Sydney, this park had a wooden rollercoaster that dipped and surged around the perimeter of the park. Being a cold, gray winter's day, there wasn't much demand for it — so, much to our dismay, the roller coaster was closed.









Little known fact: This is the only carousel made by the Philadephia Carousel Company that exists outside of the States.




St. Kilda's Esplanade

From Luna Park we turned back and walked along the Esplanade, stopping here and there to check out the arts & crafts that people were selling at the Sunday market. The wind picked up and it started to rain, sending some vendors packing. Others just zipped their jackets a little tighter, hoping to get one or two more sales before calling it a day.

After a bit the rain got to us, and so we ducked into a slightly run-down white-facade "hotel" known to locals as "The Espy". There was construction going on all around it, and it looked a bit run-down, so if it hadn't been for Josh's recommendation to stop in, we may have just passed it by.




We pulled open the old doors and quickly felt at home in the dark pub. Pool tables, bar, couches, fireplaces, old fixtures... it felt a lot like some of the older bars in Seattle's Pioneer Square (like the OK Hotel before the 2001 earthquake).









After a few Sudoku Races we bundled back up and went out to explore more of St. Kilda. (Crash and I compete to see who can finish the same puzzle first. Yes, we're nerds in disguise. But we did do the race over a few mixed drinks — so that we looked like cool, swanky nerds, not dorky Napolean Dynomite nerds.)







Smells like Fremont

We retraced our steps to Luna Park and then continued past it to a populated street full of window shoppers and cafe lurkers. The tops of many of the stores were decorated with odd fixtures (people!), which reminded me of being in Seattle's Fremont neighborhood (those that visited me in Seattle will remember Fremont as the place where the Troll lives under the bridge.)











We spent a few hours walking around and then caught the light rail back to downtown, getting back just after dusk (remember, it's winter here, which means it's dark by 5pm.)


Brunswick/Fitzroy St.

Once back in our hotel room, we changed clothes and decided to venture out to Josh's last recommendation: the Brunswick Street/Fitzroy area. We were on the hunt for food and a nice little bar to hang out in afterwards; we couldn't stay out too late though as we had to a taxi to catch at 545am in order to get to the airport in time for our morning flight.

We cut through a park and were startled by a critter that was not at all startled by us when we shined our headlamps on it, so we let it be and continued on towards the Royal Exhibition Center. Well lit and with a large fountain in front, it was hard to miss. I had no shortage of things to photograph.








We continued on for about 10 minutes or so and finally hit the main area of Brunswick/Fitzroy. There turned out to be so many options that we hopped around from place to place, sampling a little bit of everything, wishing we had one more day to explore.



















Polyester Records & Books: Open one minute, closed the next.






We chose a place called the Cape Cafe for dinner. Decked out in furniture that just might have been stolen from your parent's 1970s basement, it was quite relaxing and had some good music playing. The bartender gave us a seat by the window and apologized that the normal chef was not there.

This normally doesn't bode well, apologies BEFORE you order, but in our case it didn't seem to be a problem. We ordered the tapas plates for 2, which was deliciously yummy and full of seafood. I am embarrassed to say that between the 2 of us we couldn't finish it, which was a shame and a waste of good food. (Kari, Max, when you go to Melbourne, you MUST have this. You'll LOVE it!)



Views from the table out the window:






After a leisurely meal we decided it was time to go back out and explore. We made it about 20 steps away from the restaurant before we found our first bar of the evening. We ducked in for a gin and tonic at the warm and cozy "Bar with No Name."












Then we walked a bit further and were tempted by a place named "Rust." We climbed up a dark staircase, not sure what to find. We were quite pleasantly surprised: lots of couches, lots of candles, not too crowded and $4 gin & tonics.










A few rounds later, right when I was waking up, Crash's "bell" went off. Seems he has this internal bell that only he can hear, but when it goes off, it's a matter of minutes before he falls dead asleep. Not wanting to risk having to carry him home, we hightailed it out of the bar and back to the hotel. Our flight back to Sydney was at 715am, but we had to be up at 530 to meet all our transit connections — so there were no complaints from either of us when we left the bar at 10pm.

We agreed that Melbourne was by far the best city we'd been to yet. Sydney is big and busy, which is great, but it seems to have lost the down-to-earth artsy side that Melbourne has. Or maybe we just haven't found it yet in Sydney. That could take years, I imagine.