Explore with Fran

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

Don’t Hassle the Hoff

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And with the passing of February we say goodbye to summer. Officially the first day of Autumn on March 1st and the countdown to winter begins.
I always chuckle to myself when I hear Australians talk of winter and the need to “rug up”. I mean, winter to us from the northern hemisphere conjures up images of roaring fires.  Central heating on high. Hats, scarves and gloves. Using your work pass to scrape ice off the car windscreen before we can start the trudge of the daily commute. Winter in Sydney means long pants instead of shorts. Maybe putting a pair of socks on.  At a push.
There is talk of acclimatising. Getting so used to the summer heat that our northern skins immediately notice cold 28′ winter days. Inclement weather and nights so bitter that a friend of mine even has to pull the doona all the way up to his chin as he gets settled and tucked up for the night with Harry bear.  I’ll keep you posted if I need any thermal long john’s posting over.
Other then reverting to whingeing pom mode, what tales have I got to regale you with this month?
Some of you may have seen that I recently changed jobs. I left the academic world of the University of Technology Sydney (UTS) and moved to RaboDirect, an online savings bank.  This was not before we had a very special guest appearance at UTS.  We had a visit from Mr David Hasselhoff himself.  Let me make clear at this point that this was totally unrelated to me deciding to leave.
I’m still a little unsure why he had come to Sydney, and even more unsure why he decided to do a public appearance at UTS.  That said, staff meetings were put to one side as me and a good friend, Sponty, decided to go and get a prime viewing spot.  I think Sponty wanted to be as close as possible to hear the pearls of wisdom from the Hoff.  Whilst I was secretly hoping Pamela Anderson might spring out of a box in a Baywatch bikini.  Alas, my hopes were dashed.
Not long after, seriously, it was nothing to do with missing out on Pammy, I moved jobs.  I had interviewed last year for a role at RaboDirect and out of the blue got a request to go back for a chat.  In one day, the chat turned into a 12-month contract offer that I couldn’t turn down.  So now, I’m back in banking, that’s BANKING.  Working for the little guy, trying to “steal back the dreams of savers” that have been taken by the big evil banks, who shall remain nameless.
In between the excitement of the Hoff’s visit, and my subsequent disappointment, ok, maybe the lack of Pammy has hit me harder than I thought, and the start of my new job, I had a cheeky little trip to Hobart.  If you haven’t yet, go and read the blog that I recently wrote about this great little city.
The new job is located smack bang in the middle of Darling Harbour.  A cracking location.  Just as I was starting, my old mucker Rich Medley was leaving.  Unfortunately the time limit on his working holiday visa is coming to an end so he needs to pack up his thongs and return to the UK.  If anybody is looking for an excellent Business Analyst, Medders is your man.  Thanks for the intro at Rabo chief, and I’ll buy you a beer in the Percy Shaw in Halifax come June.
Last week saw me and a bunch of pals head out to the Sydney Football Stadium to watch the NRL rugby league season opener.  The Roosters, fielding Sonny Bill Williams upon his return from rugby union, facing off against the South Sydney Rabbitohs my adopted team. Not really my sport to be honest but a good occasion and as good an excuse as any to have a few beers.
Talking of which, there is a funny story related to this.  Due to the responsible sale of alcohol in Australia (RSA) a person in the ground is only able to buy 4 beers at a time. So along I popped with @scottbarton8 as we needed 5.  Upon ordering I got told I could only have 4, to which I replied there were two of us, and pointed to said friend.
The response? I can still only serve you 4. Your friend will have to buy the other.  Really?  He’s just stood here.  Sorry.  So we had the ridiculous situation whereby I ordered and paid for 4.  Got my change.  Handed it to my mate stood right there next to me.  He then ordered one beer with my money and then also got handed MY change back, despite the barstaff seeing that I had given him the money in the first place. Seriously Australia, your attempts to deal with drinking problems are laudable, but the way you implement them is laughable.
On that note, I’ll go put the winter doona on the bed and settle in for another month.
Hasta luego chicos.

Hobart: A love affair

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A love affair with Tasmania

Regular readers of this blog, and if you aren’t one of them, why not?, will recall I wrote a piece about my goals for 2013.
Amongst these was the objective of continuing to travel to new places.  I’ve started achieving this already with my recent trip to Hobart.
This was my first visit to Tasmania and now means that I have been to all the Australian states.  Hobart itself is the southernmost and second oldest capital in Australia.  Once a place teeming with convicts, Hobart has transformed itself since the 1970s into a thriving, dynamic, bustling cosmopolitan city.

Domestic travel in Australia

Like train travel, which I adore, flying domestic in Australia is a breeze.  Just turn up, board, and go.  But one thing I can’t quite understand is why there are no restrictions on liquids on the plane.  There I was, like a good little, well travelled passenger, and had all my liquids, in little 100ml bottles, in a see through bag.  And I get to security.  Nothing.  Bag goes straight through the scanner.  It transpires that the only restrictions are on aerosols and laptops.  Who knew.
My carriage awaits
Security cleared, obligatory airport drink drunk, it was time to make my way to the plane.  I was flying Jetstar, one of Australia’s budget carriers.  This is like a posh Easyjet.  Or like flying business class if compared to a Ryanair flight.  This was my second time flying with Jetstar this year, and despite slight delays both times, the experience was a very pleasant one.  I even had my own seat, with a number assigned and everything.

The Pickled Frog – Hobart

After a short flight, under an hour and half, I was touching down and on my way to town via the airport shuttle.  I was at the Pickled Frog backpackers some 30 mins later.  The Pickled Frog is a large, rambling backpackers converted from an old pub.  Upon checking in I soon found out that the friendliness I had experienced so far in my very short time here was genuine.  Everybody talks to you like an old friend you haven’t seen for a while.  A theme that continued throughout my whole stay.
I had a very fluid plan whilst in Hobart, which entailed eating, drinking and aimlessly wandering the old colonial streets.  A plan that I carried off with aplomb.
I ate well.  Contrary to popular belief, more than just fish and chips as well.  And I drank well.  Hobart is renowned for it’s beers.  And tasty they are too.
Tasmania’s finest food and drink

Historic Hobart

Hobart is a great place to just wander about.  I strolled the historic streets of Battery Point, having coffee at Jackman & Ross.  If you are ever there, check out the cake selection.  I wandered along the shore to Wrest Point, home of Australia’s first (legal) casino.  It looked like Australia’s emptiest casino the day I was there.  And reminiscent of what I imagine Las Vegas casinos to have looked like in the 50s.  My walk then brought me back, along Salamanca Place and into Salamanca Square where an old quarry has been transformed into plush bars, restaurants and cafes.
Sandy Bay

MONA – a first visit

But the best was saved until last.  MONA.  The Museum of Old and New out at Moorilla Estate, 12 kms north of Hobart’s city centre by the dedicated MONA ferry.  Recommended to me by a couple of colleagues who were somewhat taken by the knowledge of the soap you could buy there.
“You will see”, was all they would offer.  And I did see.  But not before having my mind blown by perhaps the best gallery I have ever visited.  Described by the estate owner David Walsh as a “subversive adult Disneyland”, I did wonder what was in store at the $75 million museum.  Let me tell you, it is spectacular.  A feast for the senses, visually demanding.  Stunning.
And the soaps?  Judge for yourself.
Apparently, belongs to Veronique
You can also buy Bianca’s, just in case you were in any doubt!

An Australia I once knew

Hobart, a beautiful place.  Refreshing antidote to the pretensions of Sydney trying a little too hard to be all grown up, a big city on the world’s stage.Hobart reminds me of an Australia I once knew as a backpacker, many years ago.  You can’t halt progress, but it is nice spending time with a city comfortable in its own skin, knows its beauty, and showcases it perfectly.

Hobart, hasta la vista.

The Elephant in the room…

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The topic that all expats avoid.  The one taboo.  I’m about to break it and point to the rather large elephant sat in the corner.  This is a post I wasn’t going to write, then decided it would be cathartic to.  And so it has proven.  I’m feeling much perkier and have my spring back in my step.  I believe writing this and acknowledging it has helped.
Mum, if you are reading, you may want to look away now.  I know how upset you get reading about anything where I suggest I am anything but happy.  But I am happy, yet have fluctuating emotions.
Homesickness.  Why am I still having such bouts of homesickness after being here almost 7 months?  How can I be?  Surely I am living the dream.  In the promised land.  Sun, sea and endless throwing of shrimps onto never ending BBQs.  Great hats with corks to keep all the flies at bay.  Where men wear thongs with pride.  No snow.  No need to put my favourite North Face coat and boots on for a weekend walk.  Am I insane?  
And because I thought I was odd, having such thoughts curiosity drove me to the web site, www.pomsinoz.comto read of others experiences.
And what did I find?  It was like reading my mind.  My jumble of thoughts and emotions all laid out.  But written by other people.  Lots of other people, all feeling the same.  In fact, many feeling a lot worse than me.  I can’t recount how many posts I read where people were going home within the first 12 months.  Not that I am in a state of mind that I want to return home.  Just yet.  But reading about the experience of others just reaffirmed that I wasn’t in fact going mad. 
I am just going through what lots of expats before me have, and continue to go through.  Especially expats from the UK.  Reading a lot of posts from people who returned to the UK, saying how they finally felt at home.  How you realise what an amazing country we have, given the experience of living elsewhere for a period.
For a lot of people, home will always be home, no matter where you live in the world.  And home is a lot of different things to different people.  For some, it’s family life.  Others it’s the history and culture of the UK.  Some even claim to miss the weather (yes, I’m in that camp).  One of my happiest days last week was spent playing football in the pouring rain.  But for me, it is based on a lot of intangible feelings that lurk around in the pit of your stomach and start infiltrating your brain.  Things that wouldn’t make a lot of sense to people if you said them out loud.  Which I’ve tried.
Football.  There, my number 1 of “things I miss”.  And not just going to football, which I always knew would be like a large hole that I would never fill, but living in a culture where football is so ingrained.  Like a religion.  Countries in Europe, and through Central and South America are like this.  People live and breathe football.  With a passion.  Stadiums are their temples, places of worship.  Football here is little more than a 3rd rate sport, with genuine attempts to raise its profile such as the signing by Sydney FC of Allesandro del Piero.  But even del Piero can’t make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear.  
I did go and watch a game, and vowed never to return due to the laughable standard of football and the terribly plastic atmosphere.  We have yet to see whether the great man himself will renew his contract for a second year or whether the lure of home, and Italia, will draw him back.
Surely, you can watch the football from England people ask.  Not if I want to hold down a job.  As a result of the 11 hour time difference, most of the games are on at between 2am and 4am.  I’ve watched a couple of “early” kick offs, specifically the victories against Liverpool and City, but to function at work, I do need slightly longer sleep time.  I’m not getting any younger you know.
The homogeneity.  One that will surely raise the rankles of any Australian readers, but Australia all looks the same.  Within reason of course.  I could write a whole post about how different the Great Barrier Reef is to the Red Centre of Uluru.  Spill hundreds of words about the contrast between the Blue Mountains (when you can see them through the mist) and the glorious coastline around Sydney.
But, in general, transport me to a high street in Cairns, or a street in Perth, or drive through a suburb anywhere, and it all looks the same.  Which gets kinda dreary.  The beaches are glorious.  But aren’t 90% of all beaches, anywhere in the world?  Have you travelled around the beaches of Cornwall through a glorious English summer?  A beach is a beach, is a beach, is a beach.   
Not that I want to sound ungrateful, although I probably do, but when you have crappy beaches like we do in the UK (aforementioned Cornwall aside), going to a good beach, usually on holiday is a highlight that usually gives you months of subsequent smiles, just thinking about sitting there, listening to the waves, sipping your cocktails, listening to the strains of “bolinhas”, from the local Portuguese doughnut seller.
When you can go to the beach everyday, it loses a lot of its allure, its sparkle, it ability to invigorate.  How many of you would like to celebrate Christmas every week?  Aside from the fact that I would be about 383 years old.  Think it would feel as magical not having waited the whole year for it and endured the endless Christmas carols played in Next since September?
I started this post ruminating on homesickness.  I have slightly digressed but hopefully given you an insight into my feelings in the meantime.  I am not jumping on Expedia to book a flight.  I am not packing up the apartment.  I am not checking out the Lloyds Banking Group job site.  But I am sharing this with you so I can try to better understand how I feel.  And to let myself know that there is no right and wrong decisions per se, just decisions that are right for me at the time I make them.
I often read about the mythical “2 year rule”, in that you should give yourself 2 years before deciding what to do as an expat.  I don’t buy this.  
Firstly, who came up with such an arbitrary number?  What is this based on?  Maybe on the old immigration rules that you had to be here 2 years before applying for citizenship.  That’s now 4 years, so blows that out of the water.  
And secondly, for people who really do decide to go home, why should they sit out their time here being unhappy, counting down the days, ticking them off the calendar until all 730 have passed?  If their gut tells them it is time to go home, then home they should go.
Me, I still have 537 days to go.
Until the next time folks in the life of an expat.

And just like that, we are into month 7…

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After a very busy month 6, I have had a bit of transition to deal with.

My impeccably behaved house guest left these shores, presumably to go off and make snowmen. Now I have to re-adjust to doing my own washing up, and remembering where I put the iron.  On the plus side, I can get my diet back under control.  I have never eaten so many peas.
I recently blogged on my goals for 2013.  I should provide a little update.

Fitness and drinking:  I started off quite well, enjoying the mountain bike rather than a mountain of food.  I dusted the bike off and had a good few hours cycling from the North Shore, over the Harbour Bridge and around the inner city.  I’m sure the city didn’t feel that hilly from the buses I’m usually on.  The last week I have lapsed a little, what with the bank holiday weekend, but am determined to get back to the gym again next week.  If I can remember where it is.

Hobart harbour
New places:  Booked a long weekend trip to Hobart, the capital of Tasmania.  Tasmania is an island south of the Australian continent, just across the Bass Strait, and is one of the last remaining Aussie outposts that I have not yet vsisited.  I’m really looking forward to rectifying this, especially after hearing and reading so many great things about it.  One thing I have been told to check out, although it is obviously not my thing, is the collection of 150 or so casts of vaginas, at the Museum of New and Old Art (MONA).  Don’t they all look the same anyway?

War & Peace:  I bit the bullet, and started this behemoth of a book.  Thankfully, besides the actual book, which is helping with my fitness as it’s so heavy, I also have a Kindle version for when my arms get tired.  My Kindle version kindly informs me that I am 13% complete.  We are currently in Austria, fighting the French.  I’ll plod on.



After the success of the Spanish course last year, I have now started level 2.  Another 8 week course beckons, lesson 1 of which was last week.  A timely reminder of why I want to learn this beautiful language.  Nothing to do with the beautiful women that are Spanish speakers.  Nothing at all.

I had a particularly bad week in the the post.  And no, not because of postcards and letters I’m receiving, I enjoy those.  But I received a speeding ticket and $150 fine on day 1.  On day 2, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I received a further $50 fine, this time from the thieves at Thrifty car hire.  Apparently, it costs them this amount in “admin” for them to kindly pass on my name and address to the authorities for the aforementioned speeding ticket.

If I’m to be able to stick around in Australia beyond month 7 I think I better stick to the beloved scooter.

This weekend we had Australia Day on 26th where the whole nation comes together and celebrates; read, drinks beer and waves flags.  I’ll not be complaining though, as we get Monday off as a public holiday so the long weekend will be greatly enjoyed, drinking beer and flag waving.

In other news, I have secured myself a new job.  My current role was only ever a 6 month contract but I have been offered, and accepted, a job at Rabobank in the meantime.  This is a 12 month contract, based in Darling Harbour and gives me an opportunity to work back in the private sector.  

Working at a university has been good experience but I don’t think it’s my natural habitat.  And before I hear you cynics pipe up, I don’t often get to see the students!  Moving to the new role will give me the comparison between 2 very different working environments, the public and private sector.  

Oh, and the view from the office aint all that bad.


That’s all folks.  

Hunter Valley wine tour with Kangarrific Tours

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Like wine?  Then come with me on a Hunter Valley wine tour with Kangarrific Tours.
Australia is a country blessed with good wine growing regions, a fact probably borne out by the amount of wine that gets exported, ending up in the supermarkets of the UK.  From the Margaret River in Western Australia, Barossa Valley in Adelaide, South Australia and the Hunter Valley, outside Sydney.
The Hunter was where we were visiting, and after a search on the internet we found Kangarrific Tours.  A relative newcomer to the tour scene, Sam of Kangarrific had already started to build up a solid reputation as somebody who provided an excellent day out.  We would see.
We got picked up in the Central Business District (CBD) of Sydney at around 8.00am, ready for the drive north, across the famous Harbour Bridge and up to the Hunter Valley region. 
First stop was at just after 9am, for morning coffee at the Australian Walkabout Wildlife Park, in Calga on the outskirts of the Central Coast.  Entrance fee being included in the very reasonable $99 full day trip price, we were able to get up very close and personal with some of our favourite Aussie wildlife.  Stroking the Koalas, petting the Kangaroos, and keeping a wary distance from the Emus.  This is the sort of place you could spend much longer at be we had somewhere to be and at around 11.15 we got to Lovedale, home of the Hunter Valley Chocolate factory.  A chocolate lovers dream.  Yet still not the highlight of my day.  My reason for coming today was just around the corner, the grapes.  Or more specifically, the stuff that comes from fermenting them.
Meaning “hillside”, Warraroong winery was the first we visited.  A boutique winery giving us the opportunity to sample wines that you wouldn’t find in either the bottle shops, or the big supermarkets, in Australia or overseas.  However, for $10 they do ship to Sydney.  Hmm, hold that thought.
Whilst here we got to try some very good Semillon Sauvignon Blanc (2010 on the Tin Soldier label), Long Lunch white, a 2009 sparkling Moscato, a 2010 Merlot and a Shiraz, finishing with an exquisite Sticky Semillon dessert wine.  The day had officially started for me.
And so we were off to winery number 2.  Much more mainstream, Tempus Two is the sort of winery that does supply the places you are more likely to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home to have with the evening BBQ.  A very corporate affair, the winery incorporates the excellent “Smelly Cheese Shop”, where we had the opportunity to taste some delicious, locally made cheeses.  We were then set free in the deli/shop and I succumbed all too easily to the lure of parting with my dollars.  That said, the cheeses I had picked up would no doubt be perfectly complemented by the Tin Soldier Shiraz I had purchased earlier.
In the afternoon we had winery number three, Wynwood Estate.  Another boutique winery it was here that I tasted, and thoroughly enjoyed, a wine I hadn’t had before.  Originally grown to blend into Shiraz, Chambourcin was now being made and sold as a wine in its own right.  And a bloody good wine it is too, evidenced by my immediate purchase of a bottle.  We also sampled a 2012 Verdelho, a white wine that sits somewhere between a Semillon and a Sauvignon Blanc.  Another purchase was in the form of a Plum Blossom Shiraz, lighter in style than a usual full-bodied Shiraz, so much so that it can be lightly chilled.  Finishing at Wynwood with a dessert wine, an Old Jack Muscat, I was starting to feel the effects of lunch and the amount of wine we had imbibed.  Had there been a hammock knocking about, I could have happily had a snooze in the early afternoon sunshine.
However, we had somewhere else to be and off to the only brewery in the Hunter we went.
The Hunter Beer Company, located at Potters Hotel Brewery resort is open to the public between 10am and 5pm, seven days a week for tastings.  Sam, the amiable and very knowledgeable owner of Kangarrific Tours had arranged a special deal for us and we were able to get two tastings of the various beers for only $3.  I don’t think the lime and coriander infused beer is something that I will be drinking many schooners of.  After a final sour cherry beer it was time to call “last orders” on a very enjoyable day and jump in the bus for the ride back to Sydney.
So my verdict?  An excellent, reasonably priced day out, visiting the Hunter Valley in air conditioned comfort, with a friendly tour guide who obviously knows his beans when it comes to wines.
What are you waiting for?  Salud!

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???