Explore with Fran

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

Happy New Year, and all that

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If you are reading this, the zombies didn’t come and get you either.  Or you had a very effective anti-zombie kit stashed under your bed.  Whichever, it’s good to speak to you again.  Zombies and Mayans have been avoided, at least for 2012.  <<breathes a sigh of relief>>.  Then again, the Mayans were notoriously bad at calendar management so the threat from those chaps may come around again this year.

It’s been a while since my last blog, and I know that I split December up because of so much happening over the festive period.  In fact, I think too much has happened, or the copious amounts of mince pies, Tim Tams and Freddos, washed down with litres (quite literally on Christmas Day!) of wine, have addled my brain to the point where writing something coherent for you to read will be a challenge into itself.

How did 2012 end?  I had recounted the two Christmas parties I had and all that was left was a few quiet drinks with mates on the final Thursday before breaking up.  Did I say quiet drinks?  These boys just don’t know when they are beat, and just as I was saying adios, another round was procured, of Coopers Red ale.  Yes, the bloody strong stuff.  Salud gents!

One sausage, or two?

Christmas Day rolled around, along with my big birthday plans to spend it on the beach, in our Santa hats, getting slowly inebriated.  And what happened?  We had the wettest Christmas Day in Sydney since 1942.  I kid you not.  That is an official stat.  I just about managed to cook up the breakfast on the BBQ, sipping Bucks Fizz, and the heavens opened.  And they stayed open all day.  All day.  Plan B wasn’t too bad, setting a challenge to drink 4 litres of goon (cheap Aussie wine) whilst watching “It’s a Wonderful Life”.  And we completed the challenge, worryingly rather too easily.

Typically, and thankfully, that was the only real bad day of weather and normal service was resumed on Boxing Day.  We waved off the boats in the annual Sydney to Hobart race from Georges Head lookout.  One of the city’s finest vantage points in my opinion.  With sweeping views across the whole harbour, and out to the sea between the North and South Heads.  Watching the start of the race is a bit of a tradition for Sydney-siders, one that I can easily see me adopting.

Waiting for the starter’s gun
The evening saw my first ever visit to the SCG (Sydney cricket ground) for the 20/20 match between Sydney Sixers and Hobart Hurricanes.  We were fortunate enough to see two Australian cricket legends face off against each other, Brett Lee and Ricky Ponting.  The 20/20 is all a bit razz-ma-tazz, with cheerleaders and loud music, but it was great fun.

The rest of the Christmas holidays have been filled up doing great tourist things.  A meal up the Sydney Tower in the revolving restaurant with amazing 360 views of this stunning city.  A visit to Taronga Zoo, where the giraffes surely have the best view of any captive animal in the world.  The Aquarium and the Wildlife centre were great.  Once again seeing my favourites such as the sharks, wombats, koalas and Tasmanian Devils up close and personal.

Finally, we had the coup de grace.  New Year’s Eve.  Knowing there would be a few of us, with a number coming from the UK, I had been very prepared and bought tickets for the party in Luna Park (affectionately renamed La Luna Park in reference the excellent restaurant in Halifax run by Tony).  And what a night it turned out to be.  Starting off at Cormack HQ, we had a couple of bottles of Prosecco just to get warmed up.  We then went to Barton/Hannon-Dalby HQ for further beers.  Although not sure everybody in our party needed much more at this stage.  No, she hasn’t had a stroke, it’s her “wine face”.



A short time later we were in Luna Park, drinking, and working out which of the rides to go on first.  Yes, it may have been an adults only party, but all the rides were open.  I’m not sure us all going on the pirate ship that swung us upside down was our best idea.  But what fun.  In a nefarious attempt to make me sick (I believe), we went on something that just span us around, very fast.  Queasily, I gingerly stepped off, to get my land feet back.  A cold Tooheys helped.

The evening passed by so fast, with surprisingly short queues for drinks and more space than I imagined for a party beneath the Harbour Bridge.  And finally, the end of 2012 drew to a close, and we kicked off 2013 in style, with one of the world’s greatest fireworks shows.  Kylie Minogue’s lips lighting up the Bridge and a coordinated fireworks display across the whole Harbour. 

Breathtaking.

And now, into 2013, and time to look at what my personal goals for the year will be.

Happy Xmas from a sunny Sydney

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What’s this you say?  A blog update from the Yorkshire Expat before the month is out?  Surely he is not in month 7 already?  No folks, I’m not.  And I’m not writing specifically to gloat about the glorious weather and tell you to be safe on the recent outbreak of black ice (if you are reading from the UK).  No, I’m writing for much simpler reasons.  Let me explain.

There are a couple of reasons. 

Firstly, quite a lot has happened this month.  And we are what, only half way through it.  A trifle more, probably, before you get to reading this, so I thought I would treat you all to two installments in December.  Call it an early Xmas present from me to you J

You know how tiresome I can sometimes get, “waffling on” as a friend accused me of recently.  So by chunking into two episodes I am more likely to retain my loyal readership.  That’s assuming there is actually anybody reading this.  My sister always tells me she is the first to read it but I’m sure she is just trying to be nice.

And secondly, perhaps more importantly, more important than mere issues of me waffling on, is that I may not get to write a second blog.  You may not get to read a second blog.  Why is this?  Well, the 21st December is mooted to be the end of the world.  The Apocalypse.  A Mayan prophecy?  It could even be the infamous Zombie Apocalypse but I must admit to switching off when I hear people talk of their contingency plans in the event of an attack.  

I hear that we need to find high ground.  Avoid Coles the supermarket (apparently Zombies would laugh at your stupidity going there and come and snaffle you up).  I’m not sure if it is specifically Coles that poses a threat.  Maybe you would be safe in Woolworths.  Who knows?   The sea is no defence either, remembering zombies can walk on the sea bed.  How could you ever forget!  Basically, if they come, we are up the creek without a paddle.  So just make sure you have your “zombie survival kit” under your bed.  A few tins of beans, water and a shovel should suffice.  Apparently.

Should they come for us*, I want you all to know, I love (loved) you.  Just in different ways.

On a lighter note, the festive party season has commenced.  We have had the work Xmas party, which was very enjoyable.  How could it not be, 200 IT staff in one room together? *tries to keep a serious face*.  We managed to circumvent the free bar closing at 2.30pm by tactically ordering bottles of wine from different, unsuspecting wait staff.  I managed to stop myself from drinking a whole bottle of Cabernet, due to the fact I had a 5.15pm Spanish lesson.  And a true story; what would the odds have been on one of the night’s phrases being, el esta borracho? (he is drunk).  Madre mia.

At the party, a friend said to me, “I have not been this drunk since….September 2009”.  Did I admit that I hadn’t been drunk since…the weekend?  Not on your nelly.

The second Xmas party drinks were hosted by the recruitment agency I got my job through.  Myself and a colleague went along after work expecting a sedate evening.  We should have known this wasn’t going to be the case when we arrived at the venue, a swanky city bar, and were given the wristbands for the free drinks.  And when I say free drinks, we had a choice of a full bar.  That said, I probably shouldn’t have been drinking beer, followed by red wine, followed by spirits.  Or should I?  I had no Spanish lesson to go to, or no other pressing engagements.  I think the alcohol was loosening a few tongues and some of the stories of swinging suburbia in Sydney were quite eye opening.  In another of the tales, exactly how do the knickers of a friend’s wife end up in the tree in your garden?  My weekends are positively tame in comparison.

My last weekend comprised me loaning a Xmas tree off a Twitter friend.  I had mentioned on the micro blogging site that I was on the lookout for a tree and a Twitter follower in Sydney replied that they had one I could borrow.  A few Tweets later and arrangements were made for the drop on Saturday.  So, thanks @NickiGirlStar I still haven’t put it up yet, but the wine remains in the fridge ready for the task. 

On that note, I will bid you farewell, let you get back to your Baileys, mince pies and Bing Crosby soundtrack, and wish you all a Happy Xmas. 

Eat, drink and be very merry.

*Important note for mum, I don’t really believe the Zombies are coming.  I know how you take everything I say so seriously.  And yet I still love you.

And into month 5 we rock

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I say it every month.  I will probably keep saying it every month.  So, apologies in advance.  Am I in month 5 of this new life already?  The days and weeks are flying by, to the extent that I am already one and half months into my 6 month work contract.  Where did those weeks go?

Now, we are on the run up to Xmas, and some well needed time off work.  I suspect the next few weeks will go equally as fast.  The second half of my Spanish course.  Which, by the way, I am really enjoying.  Something I should have done a long time ago.  Regular gym visits, now I have formally committed and joined on a 6 month contract.  Nothing to do with the manager being a very attractive girl who twisted my arm into joining.  Nothing at all.  How shallow do you think I am?  Football twice a week, with the odd after football beer (or 3).  We do play on Thirsty Thursday after all, and from what I have seen the last few weeks, Thursday looks a particularly good day to wet your whistle.

Santa lording it over Darling Harbour
Did I mention Xmas?  Oh yeah, I’m sure I have seen Santa around town.  But if it wasn’t for the incongruous tree, basking in the mid-day sun in Martin’s Place, or the one below lighting up the interior of the Queen Victoria Building (QVB) one could be forgiven for forgetting we are in the Yuletide season.  Yes, some shops have trimmed up.  Or at least, made a token effort.  Some of the Xmas trees they have put up have seen better days.  If there was a “Comic Relief” charity for sorrowful looking trees, these specimens are the ones you would see on your screen.  Paraded against a backdrop of “Everybody Hurts” by REM.  I saw one in Starbucks that looked as though it had had all its pine needles stolen.  With all the money Starbucks are saving on unpaid taxes in the UK, you would think they could afford a healthier looking tree.

QVB xmas tree, or part of it.  It goes through 3 floors

With Xmas comes yet another birthday.  Not that I have ever worried about them.  What’s age but just a number.  I’ve never let it define me, or influence how I live my life.  That said, I do use the time, strategically placed at the end of the year, to reflect on what I have achieved the preceding year.  And this year, it is fair to say, has been a productive one for me personally, one in which I feel I have continued my growth as a person.  Moving to the other side of the world, on my own, was never going to be easy.  But it was something I wanted to do, and so to coin a phrase, “I felt the fear and did it anyway”.  

And here we are, entering month 5, and the festive season.  A time I am looking forward to, with visits from friendly faces from home, to help celebrate Xmas and New Year.  I suspect it will be a fun filled time, with plenty liquid refreshment and a champagne fuelled, inebriated Skype call home on Xmas Day to speak to mum, my sisters and my nephews and niece.  As I nurse the resulting hangover, I’ll be wondering what next year will bring as I continue to search for my raison d’etre.

Glebe Street Fair

The last month in Sydney has seen my going to a few street fairs on the weekends.  These are always bigger events than I anticipate.  I went to the Glebe Street Fair the other day and was staggered by how busy it was.  Glebe Point Road was full of market stalls, end to end, with evocative food smells drifting in the air, and the number of Sydney-siders who had come out in their droves to support it was truly impressive.  A fantastic community effort all round.  I had a mooch around, sustained by a coffee from Mano Espresso, as recommended by a new twitter friend, @NickiGirlStar.  Twitter really does open up a world of local knowledge when used well.  I have also been getting good coffee and food recommendations from @msnessiel, another virtual Sydney neighbour from cyber space.  It is not who you know, but rather, who you don’t know.

One recommendation that didn’t come from Twitter was “Scenic Dogging”.  I didn’t know what it was either.  Honest.  On a recent day out at Bradley’s Head, Mosman, (one of Sydney’s best look out points) on arrival a friend said it looked a great place for this afore mentioned, unknown to me, activity of scenic dogging.  I’m not sure what surprised me more.  The fact that I immediately agreed with him, once he explained to naïve little me what it meant, or who the suggestion came from.  Maybe that young man has secrets we don’t know about.  Not as innocent as he appears.  He did seem rather well acquainted with the bush up there.  Stop it!  You know I mean’t the Australian bush.  Such filthy minds.

As we roll into December, we usher in summer.  Scooter rides in thongs (the Australian version), long lazy days at the beach, apple based alcoholic refreshments in the local.  Spending the evening on a new hobby.  Counting freckles.  The sun brings them out you see, and it’s a good barometer of how well you are catching the sun.  Whilst always remembering the sunscreen.  Which is as tenuous a link as is needed to re-post this fantastic song again. Sunscreen song.  Working on getting the tan just right for when Pommie friends visit, and I can sufficiently gloat.  Well, after all, isn’t that why I moved here?

Hasta luego chicos and see you in month 6.

You have a choice…

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Too much choice!

“We are our choices”, said Jean-Paul Sartre.

Which would be OK, if we were actually able to choose.  But that is where the problem starts.

You want to go out for dinner.  A restaurant would be the logical place to start.  But what type of food do you want to eat?  This used to be a simple decision, a process of eliminating a couple of choices and off you go.  Now things are much more complex.  Not only do you have the age-old dilemma of nationalities, curry over chinese, or maybe the English stalwart, fish and chips.  Now you have the problem of nationalities joining forces and creating “fusions” of each.  The word fusion and it’s morphing into a genre of food probably originated in Australia.  A cultural melting pot in which many foods converge, and then merge, giving fusion cuisine.

A great concept.  To begin with.  But has it gone too far?  

Quite possibly when we have Japanese/French, or Australian/Mexican fusion restaurants amongst others.  I don’t want sushi on my pancakes.  If I order a few bbq’d shrimps or a bit of tender kangaroo, I don’t want it in a taco.  Stop!

Technology is as bad.  Not many years ago, going into a shop and asking for tablets would usually result in the question, how strong sir, is it for a migraine.  Now you are more likely to be asked, what screen size?  Retina display?  Do you want jellybean, ios or a google based one?  Help, shoot me now. The market seems awash with tablets and not many a month goes by without either a new launch, or a “refresh” as they are euphemistically called.

And mobile phones?  Don’t start me on mobile phones.  Seriously.  Don’t. 

I recently was looking at ways of organizing the paper based notes I’m making in my Spanish classes.  This proved to be a minefield.  Evernote?  OneNote?  Useless note? (OK, I made that one up).  And where to store them?  The mythical cloud seems to be the place these days.  In Skydrive?  Apple’s cloud?  Dropbox?  The irony of DropBox is the tagline, “Simplify your life”.  Argh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is it too late to want to go back to when the world was a simpler place? We all had the same Nokia phone? People weren’t messing with my food.  My capacity to save documents was determined by the memory available on whatever device I was using.

Am I kidding myself?  I fear the answer is yes.  Have we gone too far in western society?  Have we gone too far full stop?  There are books written on minimalism.  In fact, there are dozens of books on minimalism.  Appreciate the irony in this?

And coffee shops.  Further irony.  The more independent coffee shops we have, offering more choice, they all suddenly look the same.  What was once the homogeneity of the big chain coffee shops, has now morphed into homogenous streets of endless independent coffee shops, all offering the same arty flat whites, or lattes with a pretty little flower made in the milk on the top.  The only way they can differentiate themselves now is by going to such extremes as offering overpriced vacuum made coffee (also called siphon), as seen so long ago as 1945 in the film “Brief Encounter”.  And people are paying for this.  It’s complete nonsense.  Give me an Italian espresso house any day.  Without menus and silly offerings such as skinny decaf soy lattes.  You want coffee, you pay your euro and you get a shot of pure gold.  You want a ridiculous concoction that involves messing with the heart and essence of coffee making?  There is the door.

Well, that’s my rant over.  I just suppose I am going to have to deal with the abundance of choice, despite how it makes me feel.

In the meantime, fish and chip pizza anyone?
And if you want proof that too much choice paralyses our decision making abilities, Google “the jam experiment” which details a study by an expert in the field, Columbia University Professor Sheena Iyengar.  In 1995 she conducted an interesting experiment that highlighted just how difficult we find it to make a purchase when given too much choice.

Drinks, art, football and drinks

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As I promised in my last blog, there are a few things that I was going to update you on.  Things I had been up to since my last dispatch.  Not that much of it has been overly exciting but my mum seems to enjoy reading about it.  And it saves me the cost of a stamp, sending her a real letter.  So mum, this is for you, but you may be sharing it with many of my other friends.
A couple of weekends ago saw me attending the annual beer festival at the Australian Hotel (pub, remember) in the Rocks.  I met up with a mate from England who was over here with work.  Budget constraints within Lloyds Banking Group means that they can no longer afford to provide biscuits for team meetings.  However, they can fly a couple of people business class to the other end of the world for beer festivals.  I was assured by Steve that he was also here to work on some other stuff, but I’m not so sure.  I think Steve thought I wanted to meet up with him as we had not seen each other for a while.  Actually, the real reason was that I was hoping he was going to return the box of Lapsang Souchong tea that I lent him in 2003.  I ended up very disappointed.  That said, we had an excellent day that seamlessly segued into an evening bar crawl around some of Sydney’s less touristy pubs.
With a head that was as tender as a heavily worked over steak, I again met up with Steve and Andy on the Sunday, to do the Bondi to Coogee coastal walk, along with Scott and Kelly.  It was like “Yorkshire’s day out”.  All we needed was for one of the cafes along the way to start selling Yorkshire Puddings.  It didn’t happen.  We picked a good weekend for the walk as it was the “Sculptures by the Sea” event.  A random collection of art pieces placed along the walk; some better than others in my humble opinion.  But then, I’m no art critic.  I can’t tell a Manet from a Monet.
Tuesday of the following week saw me attending my first ever Spanish class.  Something that I have been threatening to do for years.  For a long time I have been dipping in and out of Spanish language books, listening to Spanish language podcasts, and even immersed myself in Spanish for 3 months last year whilst travelling around South America.  For the first time I am now formalizing my learning and have started an 8 week, level 1 course.  I have grand intentions of continuing post this course and taking my learning to a level where I could actually have a conversation in Spanish.  Some cynics have suggested that it is my way of trying to meet dark haired, buxom senoritas.  Me? 
My weeks really are beginning to develop a structure, and this continues on Thursday nights with me signing up to an outdoor 5 a-side futsal league.  Futsal is an extremely popular sport around the world, just not so in the UK.  It is essentially “normal” 5 a-side but with a small, less bouncy ball, large goals, and mainly no contact.  The no contact thing is the hardest to get used to, especially with a referee as fastidious on the rules as the one we have each week.  That aside, it is great fun and I’ve met another bunch of lads, both European and Australian.
Two other events of note have been Balmoral Uncorked and the Air BnB party.  Balmoral Uncorked is an annual event at my local beach.  Various wineries of the Hunter Valley set up stall and allow you to taste, and subsequently purchase their many fine drops.  Complemented by stalls selling cheeses, olive oils and various other foods, you had everything you could need for a fabulous Sunday afternoon.
For those not familiar with Air BnB, it is a global website whereby people advertise rooms in their homes to give traveller’s a more authentic experience than staying in a faceless hotel.  I used the site for my first month in Australia, which is where I was unfortunate lucky enough to have met Steph.  Based in San Francisco, the founders of Air BnB held a party on Cockatoo Island in Sydney for hosts and their guests.  So I went along with Steph, together with Darrol and Claire, two more guests that have stayed with Steph.
Not knowing what to expect I have to admit I was blown away.  Ferries were laid on every 30 minutes to shuttle us to the island from Circular Quay.  The bar was free all night.  It was, I kept checking!  And with a great selection of bottled beers, wines and cocktails.  There was free food served up from the excellent food trucks that have been doing the rounds of Sydney recently.  And once the guests were suitably inebriated, there was a DJ spinning some quality tunes, allowing us all to make idiots of ourselves on the dance floor.  Brilliant.  Oh, I did I mention the beautiful actress, Mila Kunis, was there too?  And her eyes are even more captivating real life.  She was with some fella called Ashton Kutcher who is mates of the website founders and did a little speech on their behalf.  
The last couple of weekends have been very quiet and tame in comparison, but judging by the number of shops getting in the festive spirit, I guess Xmas is just around the corner.  That being the case, I better start consolidating my finances and make sure I have enough to celebrate Xmas in style, have a rocking New Year’s Eve and usher in 2013 and all it holds.

Til the next time amigos…

Let the countdown begin…

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Month 4 folks.  I’ll just repeat that, month 4.  Already.  Don’t know how it feels for you, but for me, it feels like it has just flown by.  Wasn’t just a few days ago that I was languidly sipping cappuccinos in Fremantle?  Exploring Perth and Kings Park by bicycle?  How many laundry days is that?  Ah, laundry day…
Well, it must have been longer than I think because today saw the arrival of November.  With only 7 weeks til Xmas.  I could do the whole “where has the year gone?” bit, but we can save that and do it to death on or around New Years Eve.  Or maybe New Year’s Day as we sober up on the ferry to Manly to recover.
New Year’s Eve.  Now that is going to be fun.  It’s always a great time in Sydney due to the world-renowned firework display.  But over the years it has become so expensive that I was resigning myself to sitting out with a pic-nic and watching them from a spot of grass.  That was if I could find said spot of grass amongst the hundreds and thousands of people who throng the Harbour and all the available vantage points along the various shores and bays.
Many people have essentially been priced out of a lot of the ways to see the fireworks.  Just getting entry to a place like the Opera Bar (where I watched the fireworks for free in 2001) is now costing in excess of $300.  And that is without drinks.  I think you get a couple of peanuts on entry, but I may have misread the small print.  A popular way of enjoying them is by boat, bobbing around the Harbour, but this is now in excess of $500.  But you get a complimentary lifejacket.
So it was with great joy that I stumbled upon the fact that Luna Park was having a New Year’s Eve party, headlined by a winner of the Australian version of the X-Factor.  Don’t ask me, I didn’t even watch the UK version.  Well, Ricki Lee’s presence is not why I booked the tickets.  The fact that they were only $99 each was the reason.  And when you realise the venue of Luna Park is virtually under the bridge, then you get a sense of what a bargain these tickets are.  Luna Park is the Coney Island of Sydney.  A 1930s theme park, which has been around since, well, the 1930s actually.  I think some of the rides may have been updated since then, or at least mechanically maintained, as these are also open to use on the night.  And the great thing is, it’s over 18s only.  So big kids can play little kids, without the inconvenience of little kids getting in the way.
Just 59 days to get through.  And this will fly by I’m sure.  Since we last spoke I have now started work and been there 3 weeks already.  Where does the time g… ha ha.  Working has brought a little structure back into my life.  Without a little ballast I always find myself drifting a little.  I need anchoring to something just to keep me in one place.  And anchored I am, doing the 9 to 5, and enjoying the novelty (for me) of getting paid fortnightly.  It seems to be a feature for many Australian employers to pay fortnightly, for reasons I can’t seem to fathom.  All I know is that I am now nearly skint, yet another payday is just around the corner.  This works for me.  I can even put up with going into one of the ugliest buildings in Sydney each day to earn my corn.
I have other things to update you on but feel I have taken up enough of your time already.  One reader recently accused me of waffling!  How very rude. 
With that, I will say adios, and hasta leugo.