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Join me on the journey as I travel, eat, and drink my way around the world

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Mar del Plata – the Atlantic Coast

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After a great 6 days exploring beautiful Buenos Aires it was time to take this show on the road. And with that I headed off on the 5 and half hour bus journey down the coast to Mar del Plata, beach playground in summer of the Portenos (Buenos Aires residents).

I was wondering when I would have my first mishap on the road and it happened on arrival in Mar. Nothing major you understand but when you are tired, hungry, thirsty and just arrived in a new town not knowing where you are, little things take on a greater magnitude. So when I recovered my bag from under the bus, flung it over my shoulder and started looking for a taxi, I thought it odd that I had water dripping down my leg. On closer inspection it turned out that my bag was absolutely drenched. There must have been a leak under the bus. When I got to my hostel and unpacked, everything was wet. And I mean wet. So much so that I could actually wring water out of my clothes. For the next 2 days it would be a race against time to dry them out before repacking.

First impressions can often be deceiving, and so it was with Mar del Plata. My first look around, albeit i was tired, I was struck by how much it was like Blackpool, but with much more glamorous sun-seekers. However, after a good nights sleep, and heading away from the beach front, I was struck by how quaint the town is. Suburbs that are very reminiscent of something you would see out East in Sydney, like Bronte or Waverley. Beautiful little houses, well kept gardens and great corner cafes where I was able to get my café cortado fix.

I had a great, but very very long, walk along the coast and down to the port. Here there was a sea lion colony and further along, advertised as a tourist sight, a statue of San Salvador. I’m glad I made the trek, if nothing else it burned off a few of the beers that I have been getting used to, but in terms of tourist sights, it wouldn’t rank near the top. A poor man’s version of Rio’s Christ the Redeemer.

All in all, I have enjoyed Mar del Plata, great beaches and a very welcome diversion from the hustle and bustle of Buenos Aires. But my time here is almost up. Tonight I leave on the night bus for Puerta Madryn, my first port of call in Patagonia. Think of me as I endure the 17 hour bus journey south. Some consolation can be had in the quality of buses. The seats are gigantic, very comfy and actually recline flat so you can sleep on them. You even get little snack packs like on an aeroplane. Hopefully I will arrive in Patagonia refreshed and ready for whatever is in store for me there.

You are so cool

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There is a great advert on the TV in the UK for a broadband service based in Yorkshire.  In the advert, lots of fanciful things are just about to begin before the protagonist shouts the inimitable catchphrase.  Recently I’ve had many an occasion, way too many to be totally truthful, to recant that phrase, if not out loud, but then most definitely sotto voce.

And what causes this mild form of tourettes?  Sydney has been taken over by the “hipsters”.  Starting with the Bondi Hipsters, Bondi Hipsters – YouTube

, the phenomenon has made it’s way either by stealth, or good transport links, over to the North Shore.  No longer can I leave the apartment and walk a few yards before encountering a hipster clothed in Mosman mulberry.  And not mulberry of the very expensive handbag variety, but mulberry the colour.  I thought it was plum.  But no, I was corrected.  Definitely mulberry.  And it has to be the right tone of mulberry.  I was told this by a English friend who turned up in what looked suspiciously like a pair of washed out mulberry shorts.  Hmm, I have my eye on him.
To complete the look you have to also wear a pair of achingly cool old style, black rimmed glasses, sport a haircut that looks like something from the 80s with a laughable quaff, have one of the ubiquitous “fixie” bikes without gears, and you have your look.
And it’s everywhere.  As though the locals are bred in some kind of test tube and released into the world when they grow into their mulberry chinos.  I feel like I am in some kind of Hipster version of the Stepford Wives. 
Which leads me back to the advert, and the catchphrase, “You can stop that nonsense”.  You see, that’s not how we are made in Yorkshire.  We are simple, down to earth folk really.  Not feeling the need to look like everybody else to fit in.  We realise that by looking like everybody else, you become that exact opposite of cool.  And that bike, the fixie with no gears, yeah, maybe it does carry an air of cool about it, but I’d like to see you ride it and not just push it to the café, casually resting it against the wall whilst you order your soy skinny decaff mocha latte chino.
And don’t get me started on the lycra brigade.  Maybe next time…

The expat’s goals for 2013

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I’ve recently been thinking of my goals for 2013.  I wonder why that is?  
And I have come up with a short list that I’m sure is achievable.  Well, at least 3 of them I’m sure of.  One of them I’m less sure but feel that by writing it down and sharing publicly with you, I’m more likely to commit to it.  I may even blog regular updates, until you tell me you are bored with them.
Anyway, here is the list.  Can you spot the one that fills me with trepidation?
–  Drink less.
Not abstinence, as I love (really love) drinking.  But definitely reduce my intake and frequency.  Perhaps tailoring my current philosophy of only having a drink on days with a “Y” in them.  And limit myself to spirits, less calorie laden than my usual Coopers Pale ale, or Dirty Granny cider.  This of course will have to wait until after Australia Day on 26th January when it seems the whole country shuns sobriety.
–  Lose weight
This will no doubt be aided by the one above but also by reducing my intake of Tim Tams, Anzac biscuits, Lamingtons and Charlie Lovett’s banana bread.  I also have my bicycle now so have no excuse not to get out on it on a weekend, helping trim inches off the burgeoning waistline.  I don’t think Mosman, or indeed the rest of Sydney, is quite ready for my truffle shuffle just yet.
–  Travel to new places
This appears on my list every year, and will continue to do so whilst I am still breathing.  However, now I am based on the other side of the world, and am upside down, I should explore the opportunities now open to me.  Places like Vanuatu (which I had not previously heard of) immediately spring to mind.  And Tasmania, one of the only major places of Australia that I have yet to visit.  And what about all the gorgeous little coastal towns, with sun kissed beaches?  Friends of mine are going to Jervis Bay soon so I immediately checked it out on the internet.  It looks amazing.  And not far from home.  In a car, not on the aforementioned bicycle, or my beloved Besbi scooter.  I could spend the whole year exploring places like this.  Even better, fulfill a life’s ambition of travelling in a campervan.
–  Read “War & Peace”
In literary circles, widely regarded as one of the THE best books ever written, this is one of Tolstoy’s that I have yet to tackle.  At over 1400 pages long, it is not an undertaking to accept lightly.  Having completed the 1079pages of “Infinite Jest” (David Foster Wallace) last year I know tomes of this size are possible, but how many other books would have to be sacrificed?  I suppose there is only one way to find out.
So there we are, my (potential) goals for 2013.  Now, do I commit to them???

Europe Revisited

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I seemed to countdown forever, but the trip finally arrived.  My visit back to the UK and a tour of all the culinary delights that I have been sorely missing.  Although I should probably clarify here, the purpose of my trip wasn’t just to put on the half stone that I did.  It was primarily to see family and friends.  And if those visits entailed long, leisurely lunches and decadent dinners, who was I to complain?
In keeping with my documented goals of 2013, I again travelled somewhere new in the world.  Kicking off the holiday with a weekend in Munich for the, now annual, boys weekend jaunt.  Munich is somewhere that has been on my bucket list for a while, but actually for Oktoberfest.  That said, even if we had waited a few months I’m not sure even we could have drank many more pints of good German beer. 
And talk about good hangover food, I think we had more visits to the Golden Arches than we did hours sleep.  Munich itself turned out to be a very beautiful city.  Full of big open squares, leafy gardens and the odd beer hall.  But a word of advice.  If you ever plan to visit the outstanding Allianz Arena (home of Bayern Munich), don’t go in searing heat, with a hangover, when there are works and restrictions on the train lines.  Just saying.
With regards to hangovers, Steve, shame you never managed the world record, but we always have next year. 
After Munich, came England, and specifically beautiful Yorkshire.  For the following couple of weeks I gorged myself on traditional English fayre and the Yorkshire countryside.  And when I say traditional English fayre I don’t just mean pies and pints of Copper Dragon Golden Pippen, but also delicious garlic laced curries of the sort that don’t seem to have made their way down under. 
Amongst many highlights, some would say the coup de grace was the amazing lamb henry, slow cooked one Sunday morning and served up at lunch with copious amounts of wine.  Oh, and cider.  And vodka.  And port.  I think it was a good day, but I’d need to ask somebody else who was there to confirm.  If the amount of time it takes you to eat a bacon and black pudding butty is a barometer of how drunk you were, I’d say some were very drunk.  At least the alcohol made me forget the rice pudding you could hang wallpaper with.  If I was the chef, I’d stick to main courses. 
Family, friends and a sun baked Yorkshire treated me well.  I ordered sunshine to remind me of my antipodean home and boy did the old country deliver.  The 2 weeks went by in a flash of catch ups, belly laughs, food, beer and wine.  
Reminding me of who and what is important to me in life I was truly sad to be leaving.  If only I could have stayed longer.  There were people I missed out on this time, due various reasons, including conflicting holiday plans.  I know I will see them all next time, whenever that may be.  And there are others I already can’t wait to see again, and I know I will, all in good time.  I just need a little patience.
Beautiful Yorkshire
For now, I return home with some fantastic memories, ready to face the start of my second year of this Australian adventure.  And what a start it will be.  Going to the 3rd Lions test in Sydney, which of course is now going to be the decider.  Watching Man Utd in the same stadium, some 2 weeks later play a team of A-League All Stars.  And celebrating “Xmas in July”, an Aussie tradition, in between. 
With new motivation, a game plan to be agreed upon, and the aim of getting fitter, the rest of 2013 could turn out to be one of the biggest years yet. 
Signing off, the Yorkshire Expat.  
Films watched on plane(s)
Django
Killing Them Softly
Stand up Guys 
Side Effects 

Life of Pi
Trance
TV series watched on plane(s)
The Thick of It  – whole of season 4 (bloody brilliant)

Schoolies for Toolies – Surfers Paradise 18 years on

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You could put it down to a scheduling issue. Which, when you think about it, is quite embarrassing for a project manager.   But in my defence, I delegated the booking to my trusted lieutenant. I wasn’t to know he would be bloody useless at it.


So this is how we found ourselves, 3 grown men, on the Gold Coast, at Surfers Paradise, bang at the start of schoolies week.  OK, further mitigation could be had that we are from the UK, and don’t (didn’t) have the foggiest idea what schoolies was.  My readers from the UK may want to Google it, then try and suppress your childish giggles. In town, with 30,000 schoolgirls, with our reputation!  (said in the manner of the Fast Show, aka Paul Whitehouse, just in case anybody reads that as a literal statement.)
When word got out at work, via my boss!, to the whole bank, via her boss, that I was off to schoolies, a week of constant piss taking followed.
Apparently, I would now be a toolie.  Somebody of an older generation who purposely goes to “observe” the (away from home for the first time) schoolies.  Have I got my hard hat? For unidentified flying objects being dispatched from windows.  It was even suggested, once I had explained what they were, that settees have been known to come out of the sky.  I said I’m not sure what helmets they sell but not sure any would save me from an errant flying settee!
Our, not so, salubrious lodgings!
Another theme was that I was going to be locked up.  For what, I could never really establish.  Tagged and having to remain at Mosman.  Deported.  Oh, I could go on.  That said, I did work out that it has been 18 years since I was last in Surfers Paradise, and most of the 30,000 schoolies hadn’t even been born then.
Yet, here I am, back in one piece, still a free man, without so much as a stain on my character.  And what a weekend it was.  Much better than I had actually anticipated, after all the hype about what carnage it would be.  As has happened before, I do wonder what a lot of Australian’s frame of reference is.  Mine, for carnage, would be a night out around Liverpool or Newcastle (UK), where you could be lucky to get home in one piece.  Surfers, even for schoolies, was very tame by comparison.  Great fun, but tame all the same.
Being back in Sydney, and seeing some of the news headlines and coverage of it, I’m convinced it is all a result of media hype.  It is just a bunch of kids, being kids.  Letting off steam and enjoying some new found freedom.  And good luck to them I say.


Despite our weekend being very short, flying up straight from work on Friday, and back home on Sunday night, we had a great time and loads of laughs.  I’m not sure if some of the stuff, like random photos, was actually thatfunny, but it could have been the copious amounts of Guinness that lubricated the laughing gene.
What was funny was finding out about hidden desires to be a hairdresser.  A desire surely only let free as a result of the aforementioned alcohol.  I’ve asked the person involved never to admit this again to anybody.  Ever.  Yet, if you travel with him, the GHD straighteners and fancy hairdryer might just give the game away.
I think the world record for eating the most Twixes in one weekend was comfortably broken.  And they were all eaten by the same man.  Not me. 
I also met my very first ever people from Halifax…Nova Scotia in Canada.  Whilst whiling away a few hours, people watching in Kitty O’Shea’s, we got talking to the barmaids, both of whom hail from Halifax.  And yet didn’t know each other until they met at work in Surfers.  It just shows you how small the world is, and how we serendipitously meet people through our lives.  Fate, destiny, or just pure coincidence?  You decide.
Now we need to start thinking of where to take the tour next.  New Zealand and Bali are emerging as hot favourites, yet would need more than a flying visit.

We will keep thinking, but in the meantime, I am off to polish the bugle.  I could have a busy week ahead.

It’s elementary…

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February already and I’m wondering where January went?  Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was trudging back into work following the bacchanalian excesses of the Christmas period?
And here we are, in February, with people pushing the ridiculous notion of “FebFast”, whereby you give up one of your reasons for living, namely alcohol or junk food.  I have never really got my head around people would want to do something of such absurdity.  Be miserable for a WHOLE month?  No thank you.  I mean, I could get knocked down by a bus at the end of the month and where would I be then?  Apart from dead, I would make a very melancholic corpse.
All the above said, the alcohol consumption has dropped off considerably now that I have readjusted to not having overseas visitors.  I’m not saying they drank a lot, but I secretly started googling “liver transplants”.  My lifestyle is still some way from monastic, but the bottle recycling is definitely getting visited less.
This month could a blog to replace the long running BBC film review show.  Maybe a homage to the art of movie going.  Barry Norman, or Jonathan Ross to the younger readers, would be impressed.

I have once again been to the outstanding Hayden Orpheum art deco cinema (The Book Thief 8/10), then had my first taste of Gold Class at Event Cinema (American Hustle 7.5/10) in the city (I may never return to the cheap seats.  Wine and food, brought to your seat, which, by the way, is only a bloody Lazy Boy seat!!), and completed the hat trick with a visit to the IMB Outdoor Sunset cinema (Anchorman 2 6/10) at the resplendent North Sydney Oval.  This was an experience that could have easily turned into a disaster, looking at the ominous storm clouds that hovered above. 
With no umbrella, not even a cheap one, let alone one of the kind that some ostentatious Sydneysiders pay hundreds of dollars for, had the rain arrived, I would have had to hastily extricate myself from quite possibly the comfiest bean bag I have ever sat on.  As it turned out, the rain held off and I was able to enjoy Anchorman 2, with my Crust pizza, burnt fig ice cream, and generous amounts of cabernet sauvignon.  Happy days.
A giant inflatable screen
As much as I love the cinema, I think I may have a month with a new box set, on the sofa at Cormack HQ.  Getting through the remainder of the Christmas booze.  See?  How impossible it is to consider the folly that is FebFast?
For my viewing delight this month “Sherlock” has been recommended to me, and as well as it being based in beautiful London town, who doesn’t love his inimitable sidekick, Dr Watson?  I just need to bribe a friend now to lend me a copy of the first series.  And I think I have just what I need, some “medicine for mummies”, in the form of bottles of Peroni.  Another reason why I’ve always loved the Italians.  Great beer to complement outstanding food.  Molto bene.


On that note, I will wrap up, and go treat myself to a cold drink (yes, before you ask, an alcoholic one) and put together a playlist for a mate.  I agree that The Clash, London Calling is a great track, but why on earth he wants Just Jack, Stars in their Eyes is beyond me.  Oh well, there is no accounting for taste, as they say.
Enjoy February folks.  Remember, it is only 28 days long so make the most of everyone of those days.  At the end, on March 1st, I will be back in the UK, and will no doubt be forced to drink again.
Maybe FebFast isn’t a bad idea after all!!