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Happy Australian Anniversary…

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…to me.  Well almost.  By the time you read this I will be 1 week shy of being in Australia for 1 whole year.  This is on Sunday 4th August.  Granted, I have had a couple of weeks back in the UK, but the milestone has come around so fast.  Plans are in place to celebrate with friends with a monster schnitty (chicken schnitzel) at one of my favourite drinking haunts, The Bavarian in Crow’s Nest.
This comes with the added bonus that I recently found out that the following Monday, 5th August, is a bank holiday!  However, note the wording, “bank holiday”.  This doesn’t quite mean the same here as in the UK.  It means you only get the holiday if you actually work for a bank.  This is true.  So my friends don’t get to share the same privilege.
The last month, since we last spoke, has gone by in a blur of sporting success and free flowing beverages.  (Some of them quite hoppy Chris).  Although the first event almost turned in to a personal disaster for me.  This was, what subsequently turned out to be the unforgettable Lions match in the Sydney Olympic Stadium, now rebranded as the ANZ Stadium.  In the excitement to get on the beers, I had rushed around at home, got into the obligatory Lions jersey and got picked up.  Relaxing with a cold stubby, enjoying the sunshine, and ready to head off to town, I was asked, “final check, tickets?”.  Shiiiiiiiiiiit.  Seriously?
I’m just glad I was asked at 1.15pm, so we had time to remedy this emergency, and not when we had got all the way out to the stadium and in a slightly more inebriated condition.  I would have missed one of the greatest nights in Lions history as we tore the woeful Wallabies to pieces.  Lions! Lions! Lions!
The following weekend saw me heading out west of the city, sadly not on a big yellow bus, to celebrate “Xmas in July”.  I am not sure of the exact provenance of this tradition, but from what I can gather, it is for European ex pats that wanted to celebrate Xmas when it was cold and in winter.  OK, I agree with the winter part.  But cold?  I suspect it is just another excuse to get out the mistletoe. 
We had a fabulous time, with the carols playing, having a secret santa, and sat around the table having a full xmas dinner.  The host had also gone to the trouble of making some rather excellent homemade mince pies.  Mulled wine and marshmallows toasted around the open fire ended a great evening.
Weekend 3 in July brought the arrival of Man Utd for their Sydney leg of the pre-season tour.  On the Friday night they held an open training session, selling 20,000 tickets for this at $15.  At just over the price of 2 beers this was too good an opportunity to miss so off we went with the hordes to the Sydney Football Stadium to watch the new manager Moyes put the lads through their paces.
I’m not sure it was just as a result of that particular training session but the following night we crammed 83,000 fans in to the ANZ Stadium and watched Utd stay in first gear as they battered the A-League No Stars 5:1.  It should have been the “A-League All Stars” but in a team bereft of Alesandro del Piero and Shinji Ono there weren’t many stars on show.
Other stand out events in a fun packed month include an Italian cooking class at Signorelli’s with the whole team from work.  Around 50 of us were broken up into small teams, and after watching and learning from the head chef we had to go and make various dishes.  Caprese salad, pumpkin risotto and a bit of wagyu beef completed the evening’s menu.  Relaxing after with the complimentary wine (free flowing all night) we found out that our team had won.  I now have a brand new cook book as a prize.  Dinner anybody?
I have booked my next scooter course which, if passed, will allow me to move off my learner (L) plates and onto my provisional (P).  12 months on the Ps and I can remove altogether and will have a full licence.
Finally, in a fit of extravagance, I have now bought my first TV in Australia.  And a DVD player.  I am coming into the modern times.  Apparently I can also get the internet on the television but that might be a step too far for me right now.  Baby steps.  And whilst I was at it, I have finally ordered Foxtel, the Aussie equivalent of Sky television.  I have bought the sports package, obviously, that shows every English Premier League game.  And despite them being on at odd times I will have Sky+ so I can record them and watch at my leisure.  Life is good.  Just need the season to hurry up and start now.
Well, I think just about sums up July, and year 1.  If you are still reading, well done.  And thank you.  I promise to have a shorter blog next month.  I don’t expect it to be half as eventful but things have a funny way of working out.  Before we know it, I will be writing about Xmas (not the one in July) and all that brings.
But until then, stay safe, stay happy, and keep living.

FC

Mary in Mosman (dedicated to my amazing mum)

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As regular readers of my blog will know, I have a long, and lasting, relationship with Australia.  Having done my rite of passage backpacking trip in ’94, I seemed to spend a month here every second year.  Not always with the same person, but I like to think I was doing my bit for tourism, and the local economy.
I’m now on first name terms with the local Hunter Valley wine testing tour guide.  And if I go on one more Captain Cruise tour of the Harbour I think I will be offered shares.
Mothers’ Day cruise
I digress. 
All the trips here, the developing love affair, all led to me becoming a permanent resident of this glorious country, and hence the inception of this blog, documenting my travels and travails along the way.
In this time, if I had a dollar for each occasion mum said “I will come out one day and see Australia”, I would have more money already than my sister seems to be managing to save in her tin for a trip here.
So, on a long scooter ride last year, wind buffeting me and the Besbi, with time to think and with thoughts racing through my head, I made a decision.  I went home that night, and booked a return flight home.  And a flight back with me for mum.  This was the only way it was going to happen.  I had to take charge.  If you were reading this blog last year, you would be forgiven for thinking I may not have even still been here right now.  In Australia I mean.  Not anything more sinister.
I decided that mum was coming to Australia.  Before life took over.  She was coming.  All I had to do now was break the news to her.  That was an emotional Skype call, but in a good way.  Once mum had run off outside for some fresh air, and returned to my little glowing computer screen, it had become a reality.
Not having flown further than Europe before, I did wonder if I had bitten off more than I could chew.  This could prove to be an ordeal.  Twenty four hours, with a couple of stops in Munich and Singapore along the way, cooped up in a glorified tin can.
But it has to be said, it was “too easy, no dramas”.   I think all the food served on the plane took mum’s mind of the actual flying.  At one point I thought I’d fallen asleep and woken up in the middle of an episode of Man (or mum) versus Food!
Surely, she didn’t have room for a Magnum ice cream after ALL th……..oh wait……
Mary versus food
In no time at all we had touched down on Australian soil, were in a cab, zooming across the city, and Mary was in Mosman.
What followed was a fantastic 3 weeks of showing mum around the back yard.  Where I have chosen to currently call home.  Show her what keeps me here. 
One thing I had resolved to do was get mum being a bit more adventurous when eating out.  Go to any pub / café / restaurant with mum, hand her the world’s largest menu, and I can predict with eerie accuracy what she will order.  “Scampi and chips please son.”
Well, we were having none of that on this holiday.  Although she did try. 
I’m not sure she was too impressed when on one of her first days here, I took her for seafood.  With NO scampi.  Her face was a picture when I offered her some octopus tentacles.  And prawns that required the heads pulling off, and peeling were not what she was used to from Wetherspoon’s.
Another first was a wine tasting trip.  Being Sydney’s most loyal customer, Sam the owner provided my trip at half price, with a promise that my next visit would be complimentary.  I am already checking the calendar for when I will be taking him up on this offer. 
I had purposefully chosen this particular trip, as on the way to the Hunter, we have morning coffee at a wildlife centre.  Giving you the opportunity to get up and close with all your Australian favourites, although I think this little fella is everyone’s fave!

I think the wine was less of a hit with mum, but I benefited from this, having double tastings.  Now this was MY kind of trip J
Can’t see any shrimps on that barbie!
Other highlights included the Mother’s Day lunch trip around the Harbour, a trip to Summer Bay (aka Palm Beach), an amazing high tea at Boronia House, a visit to Bondi beach (everybody has to on their first trip, despite what the locals say), and the numerous BBQs we had. 
A particular highlight for me was mum frequenting the many stores in Mosman.  Could I keep her out of the haberdashery?  How much knitting can one granny do?  And who would call a homeware store “Bird bath and Table”?  Nobody but mum it seems…

Mum, we had a great time.  You were a fantastic house guest.  I miss you every day.  And I look forward to seeing you again on these shores next year.

Melbourne, Open

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There is a certain satisfaction in finally doing something that you have wanted for many years.  All through that sultry antipodean summer in 1995, mesmerised by the bright blue courts, and the luminous furry yellow ball darting from one side to the other.  Thousands of heads first looking one way, then in miraculous synchronicity, switching to the other.  All appearing to say “no” with a shake of the head in a seemingly interminable slow motion.
Pete Sampras reigning supreme, as he would again in 1997.  When players are so omnipotent, we think they will hold their crown for ever.  But then another generation come through, and we see the likes of Agassi (4 time winner), and then Federer (4 time winner), and now the machine that is Novak Djokovic, going into the tournament holding a record of 5 Australian Open titles, and exiting it claiming his sixth, in straight sets against Andy Murray.  Djok’s 11th grand slam title.
Rod Laver arena, ahead of the battles to come
Some 21 years on from that hostel in Glenelg, Adelaide, I find myself at the famed Rod Laver arena in Melbourne, first for the women’s, then one of the men’s semi finals.  Finally, I am here.  No more talking about what I would like to do.  No more saying “one day”.  One day has a nasty habit of becoming “never”, so when I saw Jetstar’s “take a mate” flight deal, effectively buy one, get one free, as soon as you could say “hidden charges”, I had booked return flights with the “budget” airline. 
Melbourne is a city I had been too a few times before, and greatly enjoyed.  Most of our short trip there would be consumed by the tennis, but we also planned to make the most of the free time we had.  Garnering recommendations from Melbourne “ex pats” we knew, we strategically shaped our agenda around brunch spots, top coffee shops (when we could find them hidden down alleys), and some of the best small bars Melbourne had to offer.
One of Melbourne’s finest
Having not been for a few years how would it compare to home, here in Sydney?  Well, that could depend on who you ask!
For people not from this neck of the woods you may not be aware that there is a certain rivalry between Melbourne and Sydney.  Bordering on animosity.  I’m not sure where it started, or even how real the actual rivalry is.  Some they there is a rivalry between Adelaide and Melbourne, although nobody in Melbourne has ever heard of this rivalry, nor cares what anybody in small town Adelaide has to say.
Sydneysiders claim to live in the best place in Australia (maybe the world, some of them espouse), and Melburnians (from the cultural capital of Australia) beg to differ.   Esteemed journalists such as Mosman based Peter FitzSimons even waded into the debate in his weekly column in the Sydney Morning Herald.   Somewhat disparagingly I would say, to our friends in the state of Victoria. 
Sydney is seen as a place to kick back with a cold stubbie, and enjoy the beach life, in your wife beater (vest) and thongs (flip flops).  Melbourne sneer at even considering something so uncouth.  Melbourne dines out, quite literally, on it’s foodie scene and sublime coffee culture.  Not forgetting that the small bar revolution currently hitting Sydney in fact started in Melbourne some years ago. 
Lock out laws are currently in the news (for NSW and now Queensland), a subject that deserves a blog all on its own, but it is yet another example quoted by bar flies in Melbourne of the superior approach to creating, and maintaining a world class, 24 hour city.  And I would agree.  Whole heartedly.  There is more than one way to create a more harmonious society, and imposing curfews, and ridiculous laws around the sale of alcohol are not the most effective way.
In the whole of NSW, about 3 and a quarter times the size of the U.K., you can no longer buy a bottle of wine after 10pm.  It is deemed too dangerous, and reduces the risk of you going out after your 7 course degustation dinner, and bottle of Sancerre, and clobbering somebody in the street.  Apparently.  And woebetide you would like a Macallan 15yr old single malt past 12am.  Waaay too dangerous.  This contravenes the “responsible service of alcohol laws”, and can only be bought by you if served with a mixer.  I shit you not.  This is the nanny state that Sydney is, no, has become.
Melbourne tried such draconian measures a few years back.  And 3 months later, against massive public revolt, they were repealed.  The result?   Melbourne, and it’s nightlife, continues to go from strength to strength.
But I digress.  This blog is not the place for politics.
How did Melbourne compare to Sydney?  Very favourably in my opinion.  It feels like a “real” city compared to Sydney.  A city with logical layout, grid like, as seen in places like New York City.  I often got the eerie feeling of a flashback to previous city breaks, all over the world.  Sydney is based around so much water, the glorious Harbour, and amazing beaches, that it feels more like a holiday location than a city.  This obviously isn’t a bad thing.  Just very different to most major cities.
The vibrant Degraves St
The small bar scene is booming, even if it looks as though you only now need the corner of an old car park, some wooden pallets to sit on, and some large old soup containers to hold the DJ’s decks, and you have a bar that can legitimately sell $20 cocktails.  Coffee has, and I feel always will be, one of Melbourne’s everlasting loves.  A love that I share.  And you don’t have to look too hard for damn good coffee. 
Together with a progressive approach to city transport, with a tram system in place for years that Sydney can only hope to replicate the success of, which also includes a heavy emphasis on catering to cycling as a bone fide way of commuting, Melbourne has much to offer, and much to proud of.
Nothing beats rattling around the city on the free tram
I now have one eye on the Jetstar website, so I can once again revel in the wondrous laneway culture made famous by the capital of Victoria.

The changing face of travel

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Reading an article recently got me reminiscing about the first real trip I did.  Not the week I had in Tunisia riding camels.  Not the week in Ibiza, avoiding San Antonio.  An actual backpacking trip.  Years before flash packing was a glint in an entrepreneurs eye.  There was no “flash” in the travel we were to embark on.  Not even on the camera we had.  No, seriously, it had NO flash.  There are probably people reading this who don’t understand that statement.  Does this help?
Example of 110 camera, introduced by Kodak in 1972 
My, oh my.  Taking pics on that old thing.  And wandering to the chemist on Pitt St Mall in Sydney, paying extra to get the 1 hour processing.  The height of excitement.  Then, when the pics came, nervously flicking through to see what of the night out in Kings Cross actually got captured.  I lost count of the times we either exclaimed, who IS that?  Why is that girl sitting on your knee?  Who are those lads drinking schooners with us?  Those halcyon days.
The intention is not to rehash the original article I read, but to give me chance to reflect on times past, and the changes that seem to have happened over the years without me really noticing.  I still feel like that excited 23 year old.  Knowing there is a whole world out there to explore.  I am a little older, and wiser now, but I still have that excitement about the world.
Traveling in 1994 was very different to traveling now.  No email.  Internet?  What was that?  All we had was our trusty guide book of choice.  Mine being then, and still, Lonely Planet.  But what hefty tomes they were.
Booking your next hostel over the actual telephone.  The big ones in the street, that you put coins into.  Not the one in your pocket the size of a small caramel slice.  No kids, those weren’t invented at this point.  Mobile phones, not caramel slices. 
Passing on your contact details by getting out a pen, and ripping a piece of paper from your travel journal.  Knowing that you were never going to see, nor contact 99% of the people.  But it felt good to do it anyway.  With your new lifelong “friends”.   That is something that never changes, whatever the technology we use as enablers.  Friendships don’t need social media. 
And as for writing to let people know what you were up to.  Well.  You had to actually write.  With a real pen.
Poste Restante.  What a quaint idea.  If you wanted a letter to reach you on the road, you told people which city, or town you would be in, and added c/o Poste Restante.  And miraculously, it arrived.  You went and queued up with all the other travellers, and vagabonds, with your identification.  And collected your mail.  I still have a box full of letters from that time, collected from post offices around Australia.
A few years after that seminal trip, I found myself back down under, travelling around New Zealand, tying in a quick visit to the sister, who at this time was living it large in Bondi.  Sans children.
What was this strange phenomenon whereby fellow travellers were jumping straight off the bus upon arrival in Christchurch, and running into the nearest café?  All lined up, clearly visible through the front window of the cafe, each sat at a computer terminal.  Were they taking some kind of online exam?  Playing computer games?  No, the age of the Internet cafe had arrived.  With pay as you go access to email, and allowing you to upload (if you had the time and money for the incredibly frustrating upload and download speeds) photos.  At lot had seemingly changed since 1994.  A brave new world indeed.
I had to join this brave new world, and so, far my next major trip, a round the world (RTW in travel parlance) I found myself travelling all the way to Leeds to hunt down an elusive Internet cafe.  I say ALL the way to Leeds, and those readers from home will know this is not far at all.  But in those days, it just highlights how few and far between these mythical Internet cafes were.
Not that I knew what one of these places of magic and mystery were, but I had read that I could go there and get an email address.  Whatever that was.  A legacy of this remains to this day, the reason I have “99” appending fcormack on my hotmail account. This was the year I set it up.  A poignant, and constant reminder of a marvellous year.
Having an email address was only half the story.  Finding a place down a dusty side street in Delhi that somebody had told you had a computer so you could email…who exactly?  I think I was an early adopter in this email malarkey, which meant the options of who I could write to (electronically) were very limited.
And boy, were these internet connections slow!  You paid by the 5, or 10 mins usually.  And before you had written “wish you were here” you had spent next week’s beer and bed budget.  Imagine my relief some years later when Stelios finally got into the game, creating his big orange “EasyInternet” cafes.  Game changers at the time, that I have used in places from Berlin to Barcelona. 
Traveling now is unrecognisable from my early days.  My last real trip was at the end of 2010/start of 2011, all around South America.  Most people I met were carrying expensive bits of kit such as MacBooks, and large expensive SLR cameras.  Not to mention the mini computers, masquerading as phones, in their pockets.  Or it’s the ubiquitous tablet, used to capture and share every waking moment of their trip.  Be it the food.  The amazing sunset.  The “undiscovered” beach they have just discovered.  The one first mentioned by Tony and Maureen Wheeler in the very Lonely Planet guide to South East Asia, Across Asia on the Cheap, from 1973.
I have a wry smile to myself, seeing some of the content in today’s travel blogs.  From the “digital nomads” currently traveling all four corners of the earth.  They sometimes really believe they are exploring uncharted waters.  Seeing things with human eyes for the very first time.  The reality is that they probably aren’t even the first person in their hostel to see it.   But you know what, that is part of the beauty of travelling.  Thinking you are Phileas Fogg.  Educating the masses to the big wide world out there. 
What is true is that the act of travel is no longer a luxury.   Or even a rite of passage as it once was.  It’s just something you do.  Because you can.  Because life is short, and it sure beats working.  And because the world has shrunk to the point that any of us can be anywhere we want to be.

You just need to decide where that is, and make it happen.

Fran versus food

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I have never been an advocate of diets.  Too short-term-ism thinking.  As though your health is a mini goal to be achieved.  It is much better to become a jerf.  No, not a jerk.  Somebody who “just eats real food”.  Do this.  With the right portion sizes.  Keep active.  Sleep well, and for the right durations (for you), and let nature do the rest.
If I ever needed proof that this was as “scientific” as it got, the 4 weeks prior to the recent holiday provided it.  In spades.
The Body Coach, 90 day plan.  Shift, shape, and sustain, each in a 4 week cycle.  The first cycle completed before heading off to the land of food.  Where the unofficial motto is “go big, or go home”.
Initially, I was skeptical.  Firstly, of the amount of food that you can actually eat.  But also, the cost of it.  Good food isn’t’ cheap.  Let’s not start on the opportunity cost.  Of spending most of my waking hours trawling around supermarkets for obscure ingredients, such as kinowa.  What?  That is not how you pronounce it?  Silly me.  Quinoa (keen-wah), the magical grain of the Andes in South America.
However, all that aside, I soon stopped complaining once the magic started happening.  Week 1 done.  Good sized portions of food consumed, with regular high intensity training sessions, and the kilos started falling away.  Four weeks in, and on the cusp of the overseas trip, 4 kilos had been shed.  Just like that.  As I say, magic.
Now it was time to throw it all out of the window, and binge of some of the world’s best comfort foods.
1.    Burger – Stout  (Santa Monica Boulevard, Los Angeles)

I could write on and on about burgers.  Believe me, I could.  Limiting it to just one was difficult.  So I have gone for the very first one we had on the trip.  Which was as good as anything else we had the 3 weeks we were away.  Yes, I finally got to try the famous Californian chain of “In-N-Out”, which I loved.  But they were more a fast food style cheese burger.  Whereas the ones at Stout we more substantial.  Gourmet burgers.  Thick juicy, homemade patties.  In a soft brioche bun.  Washed down with a local craft beer.  A heavenly start to the trip.




2.  Clam chowder – Chowder Hut Grill (Fisherman’s Wharf, San Francisco)
This is my second visit to the Chowder Hut Grill.  The first being over 10 years ago.  And I had the exact same dish.  Second time around?  Amazing.  Even better than I had remembered it to be.  The clam chowder was delicious, with a hint of spice.  And the sourdough bread bowl holds up well whilst you eat the chowder, but then is soft enough to break up when you have finished, to enjoy with the residual chowder.  This is not the fanciest of places, but the chowder speaks for itself.







3.  Fish Tacos – Cheryl’s on 12th (1135 SW Washington, Portland)
If you want to try fish tacos anywhere in Portland, try them at Cheryl’s.  You won’t be disappointed.  The fish portions were immense.  And the salsa probably one of the best I have had.  That’s before I start on the guacamole!  And as an aside, Cheryl’s was one of the best diners we visited on the whole trip.  A fabulous place in the heart of downtown Portland.




4.  Mac and Cheese – Beechers Hand Made Cheese (Pike Place Market, Seattle)
Like mac and cheese?  Like it as much as I do?  Well, I doubt that, but lovers of this culinary delight should head to Beechers, at Pike Place market.  Avoid the queues of misguided tourists down the street at the “original” Starbucks, and get in line here.
Beechers self proclaim their version of mac and cheese to be the “world’s best”.
After two portions, I am inclined to agree.  Using the cheese made fresh on site, which you can watch them making, the finished goods are probably the freshest, tastiest mac and cheese you will ever taste.  Ever.  Take no notice of a little thing such as they don’t actually use macaroni.  It is substituted by penne, but who cares!


5.  Corned Beef Hash – Glo’s café  (1621 E Olive Way, Seattle)
Corned beef hash.  Not the first dish that springs to mind for a lot of people when talking about foods you crave.  But me, I have always loved a good hash.  And nowhere does it better than the good old US of A.
When we were researching food options (believe me when I say we spend a lot of time doing this) in Seattle, Glo’s corned beef hash was described in terms so glowing (no pun intended) I knew I just HAD to have it.  Soon.
Oh.  My.  God.  Literally…OMG!  If the portion sizes weren’t so gargantuan, I would have ordered and eaten it all over again.  As it was, I couldn’t walk out of the diner, and had to be rolled down the hill sideways back into town.



6. Hot Dogs – Dog Gone It (801 Government Street, Victoria, BC)

If you have ever seen the “Hot Diggedy Dawg” stand at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Fran, and was remiss enough to not get a dog, you would also be spending the rest of the vacation hunting down one of these treats.
It did look as though the dog tasting may have passed us by, but thankfully, we did find this place on Vancouver Island.  And what a treat it was.
A classic wiener, with onions, emitting a glorious aroma, reminiscent of fairgrounds of my youth, and one with bacon and cheese, topped with ketchup and mustard.  My mouth is watering just at the memory of it.
And I’m not sure anybody does the “classic” shake better.  Wow.



The one that got away…
Cherry Pie – the quintessential end to any meal in the States, is with a bit of pie.  And I do love me a bit of pie.  In my opinion, the king of pies is the cherry pie.  This harks back to a previous backpacking trip through South America, where I washed up at dusty San Pedro de Atacama in Chile, with enough money for the last piece of cherry pie in a little bakery I found, and a coffee.  All ATMs were out of cash, and I was about to spend my last pesos on this pie.  But lord was it ever worth it.  It kept me happy until the next day when the town’s two cash machines were replenished.  And I have lived on the memory, sat in the plaza in San Pedro, strains of rapid fire Spanish piercing the air, like gun fire, as the sun set, ever since.  A perfect moment in my life.
So, on the trip, it was on my hit list to try.  But, like always, when you want something, you never seem to see it.  I could get everything from pumpkin, to pecan, to pizza pie.  But my beloved cherry eluded me.
The one I didn’t understand…

Having hit Canada, and found a decent bar for some liquid refreshments, we started getting asked if we wanted any “Caesars”.  At this point we weren’t hungry, and only wanted drinks, so politely declined.  It was only after we noticed every bar advertising Caesars that I decided to do a little research, and found that we weren’t actually being offered a salad, but in fact a local drink.  A Canadian take on the Bloody Mary.  It turns out that this Canadian concoction is little known outside it’s shores, so I felt a little less stupid.  However, I never did get to try a Caesar and will have to keep it on my list for the next time that I am in that beautiful country.

Reflections on a fantastic Xmas 2016

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I have said it before.  And it needs saying again.  I live in a very beautiful, picturesque part of the world.  The village I live in has everything I could ever want, or need, without having to leave the confines of the post code.

But when I do venture out, beyond 2088, I am always greeted with new, and amazing sights, and experiences.

That said, into year 5 of living in Sydney, and with the daily drudge of the commute into the city, with everybody else, heads down, engrossed in their smartphones, it is often easy to miss what is in front of you.  Slightly take for granted that my office, in the architecturally magnificent, restored old General Post Office in Martin Place, is in the centre of Sydney.  One of the world’s most visually stunning cities.

So, it is with delight, that when we have first time visitors to Sydney, as we have had over Christmas, I get to see Sydney all over again, vicariously, for the first time.  The first sight of THAT bridge, and the Opera House, as the Mosman Bay ferry rounds the bend at Cremorne, and Port Jackson comes into view, in all her glory.  This time of year, we also have the joy of seeing one of the many large cruise ships, docked in Circular Quay, speculating on where they are headed for the season festivities as they enjoy their sail away party, which is an actual thing, apparently.  Which you would know, if television programmes about cruise ships were amongst your favourite shows too.

In the beautiful Hunter Valley

So, how to best plan for visitors?  Regular readers of the blog will be aware of my love of a spreadsheet.  Not the boring kind I have to maintain at work, tracking annual budgets, and project forecasts.  But the more exciting kind, if there is such as thing.  Burger rankings.  Wine tastings I have done around the world.  And the one that gets recycled the most, the “See everything in Sydney in a week, or two, tour” spreadsheet.  Where all that seems to get changed each time it is used are the dates.

Planning for our visitors, the most recent of which arrived on these shores on December 18th, is spreadsheet nirvana.  Into Google Sheets (other applications are available) I go, save a copy of the last used, update the names of the guests, and away I go.  Wine tour, tick. (Special thanks to Sam at Kangarrific for what is perennially the world’s best day trip).  Bondi to Coogee walk, tick.  Spit Bridge to Manly scenic walk, tick.  Blue Mountains day trip, tick.  Proper Aussie barbie, tick.   Xmas day on the beach, with beers, tick.  Chicken schnitty, tick.  Nothing gets left to chance.  Nothing gets left out.

I’d like to think, and hope, that all our guests go home with a real sense of what Sydney is like, and having had some quintessential Australian experiences.  Tim Tams included.

And in return, I get to learn things myself. Who knew “dabbing” is not just the latest dance craze?  That you could get “black jack” scented vapers? (a pretend cigarette, if like me, you were clueless).  And that you can actually buy “In The Navy” briefs.  Say whaaat?!?  Every day is a school day in my life.  Thank you Serge, and Serge, for those snippets of information.

Much fun was had over the holiday period, and I am just thankful we still had a regular bottle recycling collection.  I think we kept Dan Murphy’s in business over Xmas.

The lads obviously brought their drinking boots.  After we warned them we would be sup’ing.  Being from the area in and around infamous Blackpool, they assumed it would entail many visits to Yate’s wine lodge, Wetherspoon’s, and the Tower ballroom type pubs and bars.  Little did they know this entailed a long board, a paddle, and much balance, as we attempted to traverse middle harbour at Balmoral.

Stand up paddle (SUP) boarding is harder than the people gliding out in the water would have you believe.  That said, one of our party was annoyingly good at his first ever attempt.  Most of the hour was spent trying to dunk him in the invigoratingly chilly ocean, once he had been suitably reassured there were no sharks lurking ready to take a large chunk out of him.  At least in the water he was safe from spiders.  And safe from pictures of spiders, which seem to cause the same involuntary reaction, which at first I worried was a stroke.

What is the first thing an English person wants to do in Australia?  Yes, determine the hottest part of the day, find the spot with the least amount of shade, and sit there.  And sit.  Well, I don’t need to spell out the result to you.  You have all (Aussies excepted) been there yourself.  Day 1, first degree burns.  Whilst my call for shade on the first day ignored, the rest of the holiday followed a “safety first” approach.  Slip, slop, slap.

End of the Bondi to Coogee walk – beer awaiting

I’m sure the good memories will last longer than the pink faces that were still in evidence as we said a very sad farewell.  A great holiday, with great company.  You are welcome back anytime chaps.

Squish squish.