Day 11 - Melbourne

Day 11 - Melbourne

Not only are the nights brighter with extended daylight here in Victoria, but in the morning, it feels like 10am when it's only 8am. I woke up in the guest bedroom of my cousin Matt's place, and caught him as he was leaving for work. I thanked him again for everything yesterday, and reiterated how happy I was that he could play hooky for a day and hang out. Matt said no worries, and that he had fun as well. He reminded me of which tram to take in which direction once I head toward downtown to do some sightseeing. Matt then told me to help myself to the fridge, but then he had to split for work. I didn't bother lounging around for too long at Matt's; I had a city to discover.

Mum wanted to spend some quality one-on-one time with Aunt Marg at her place in Richfield, located just outside Melbourne. Since they're close siblings who live in opposite hemispheres, these three days we were here was a rare opportunity for them to hang out before we left Melbourne. Meanwhile, I was free to do what I pleased today. My day began with a trip to a neighborhood milk bar I had seen earlier to grab a coffee coupled with a slice of Australian everyday life. In Australia, a milk bar is a hybrid of a convenience store mixed with a newsagent (newsstand). Milk bars have pastries, meat pies, fruit and coffee available behind the counter. Of course, they sell milk as well. I found that they sold half and half, regular(2%), lowfat (1%), skim milk, as well as chocolate, strawberry and buttermilk. When I asked why it's called a milk bar when so many other items are available as well, the sweet 19 year-old girl behind the counter with multiple facial piercings shrugged and said the term is a bit old-fashioned. I bought a coffee and a newspaper, and sat at a table outside while I kept an eye out for the next downtown-bound tram. When I saw one approach, I sculled (Aussie for chugged) my coffee and bolted toward the stop.

I hopped onto the tram, and was instantly confused as to where to deposit my fare. I didn't want to seem like a dumb Yankee tourist, so I casually strolled up and down the bus a couple times before I found a machine in the center of the bus that accepts coins and notes. After inspecting the machine for a good minute, someone sensed my confusion and showed me the ropes with regards to paying bus fare in Melbourne.

After I purchased an all-day, all-access pass for $6.50, a card spit out below. I took it, stuck it in my wallet, and grabbed a seat. Next to me sat an elderly lady, a middle-aged man, and one of the cutest, most eloquent 3 year-old boys I had ever seen.

I overheard the lady, whom I presumed to be his grandmother, calling the boy Jackson. He had a smile which cheered up even the most downtrodden of morning commuters. His ability to make observations and carry a conversation better than most 4 year-olds I've met was simply stunning! He began singing his favorite song, "Wheels on the Bus (go round and round)." The grandma as well as the gentleman, whom I took for his father, sang along. I couldn't help chiming in a bit after I chatted with the three of them. When the charismatic Jackson struggled to remember the second verse of the song, a man clad in a suit carrying a briefcase seated a few rows back jogged Jackson's memory. By the time we began singing the third verse, half the tram was singing "Wheels on the Bus!" It was one of those precious moments that would make you want to have kids someday.

The family gave me the heads up that Flinders Street, my stop, was fast approaching. I was relieved I finally figured out how to pay my fare, because as soon as I hopped off, the first person to greet me was a police officer, checking people's proof of payment. I showed him my all-day pass, and he then bid me good day. I then took a look at my surroundings, and was instantly reminded of a California city halfway around the world. From the light morning chill in the air, to the older, complex architecture of the buildings, to the eclectic array of locals and tourists walking up and down the sidewalks, to the variety of shops I saw in such a condensed part of town, I was convinced I was in Australia's version of San Francisco. I walked into a vintage clothing shop after a set of flyers caught my eye outside advertising upcoming summer music festivals all over Australia.

I consciously decided not to bring my backpack today because I had little desire to schlep a bunch of trinkets around town, and lacking a backpack would also help to prevent buyer's remorse later on.

Flinders Street has a great number of restaurants and stores in its alleyways. It seems that, at least in this part of town, no real estate space goes to waste. As I was a bit hungry, I decided to pop into a Panini café to enjoy a Turkish Panini, which had black forest ham, sun dried tomato, and provolone cheese. Not exactly sure what makes it "Turkish", but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

When I headed back for Foundation Square, the touristy intersection where the tram first dropped me off, I could hear crowds cheering, but was unable to detect the source of the cheers until I looked down the street and saw enclosed makeshift bleachers I hadn't noticed before. Upon further inspection, people were filing up a set of stairs past a couple ushers to their seats. I followed the crowd to see what was going on, half expecting to get stopped by an usher and charged some sort of fee. Instead of charging me, the usher gave me a schedule of events. What I saw when I reached the top of the bleachers gave me a new perspective on both poverty and sports.

I found a place to sit, and then looked down at an enclosed miniature soccer field similar to the type of pitch indoor soccer was played on in the 1980s: Astroturf on the floor, small goals, and tinier dimensions relative to a regulation-sized field. Five-on-five soccer was being played by a group of men that didn't exactly demonstrate the skills of professionals. When I looked at the schedule of events, it showed that Holland was about to play Italy, amongst dozens of scheduled international matchups. I asked another usher what was going on, and he said I was watching the 2008 Homeless World Cup. This is a tournament comprised entirely of homeless people: from the impoverished contestants to the dodgy-looking ushers, even a few of the spectators were indigents. This year, the tournament happened to take place in the sports mecca of Melbourne, home to the 1958 Olympics and nine of 14 Australian Rules Football teams (imagine having nine NFL teams in one city!). However, I noticed that most of the crowd, comprised mostly of tourists and a few professionally-dressed locals on their lunch break from work, was rather passive save for a handful of enthusiastic Italian and Dutch countrymen. After the Azzuri (Italy) pasted the Dutch 9 to 3, I was about to leave until I heard that Australia was up next against Ghana. Since the games were only two 6-minute halves and my schedule was essentially wide open, I decided to stick around for one more match to see what kind of response the "Socceroos" got from their home crowd.

You know that Australian war cry? The one that goes "Aussie!Aussie!Aussie!Oy!Oy!Oy!" Not even repeated attempts by the most diehard Socceroo fans could galvanize the generally indifferent home crowd to help their team fend off Ghana from a sound 7 to 2 drubbing. I guess when the home team doesn't really have its local fan base rallying behind it, this really is a Homeless World Cup!

Disappointed by the lack of energy from the Australian crowd, I decided to leave before Russia took on Denmark in the next match.

To gain more perspective on Downtown Melbourne, I resolved to do some sightseeing around town from the comfortable confines of a train. When I reached the entrance to the subway station back at Flinders Street, I was unable to locate my all-day pass. Although I rummaged through my wallet five times, I couldn't, for the life of me, find that damned pass! I relented and purchased a two-hour pass for $2.50, pissed that I misplaced the card. Of course, the pass magically appeared in my wallet hours later when I counted how much money I had left. I hate when that happens!

I rode the train, but didn't want to go too far, fearing I might lose track of how to get back to Flinders Street without asking a bevy of locals. Melbourne Central Station seemed like an appropriate place to hop off.

Melbourne Central was located within a shopping mall. I had been in a few malls in Australia on my trip so far, and they're by and large quite similar to the US in both layout and architecture. They've got stores like Borders, McDonalds and The Gap, but most shops are exclusively Aussie. The biggest department stores in Australia that would rival stores like Macy's & Bloomingdales in the US would probably be David Jones and Myer. But I'll get more into department stores in a future journal entry.

The time was about 3:15pm, and I noticed a bunch of secondary school (high school) kids clad in uniforms who were milling about the mall after they got out of class. In general, I noticed the boys' uniforms consisted primarily of sports coats, ties, and shortened slacks or simply slacks (picture guitarist Angus Young from AC/DC minus the hat). The girls are forced to wear hideous paisley-patterned frocks that are better suited for servants than students. I stopped at Baker's Delight, a popular Aussie chain commonly found at malls across the country, to tide over my appetite with a sausage roll. It wasn't as tasty as the roll I had in Queensland on my way to Port Douglas, so I chucked half of it before I finished the roll. I was getting tired after being on my feet most of the day, and thought about heading back to Matt's flat to rest until it was time to meet back up with Mum and Aunt Marg later that evening. Having noticed several juice bars throughout the mall, I stopped to see how a smoothie would taste in Melbourne. The Mango Mayhem I ordered was much better than the homemade one I had in the rainforest of Kuranda, Queensland. I finished this thirst-quenching treat before I headed into a JB Hi-Fi to compare prices of electronics to those in America.

Contrary to its name, this store sold mostly CDs and DVDs instead of stereo equipment. Although JB Hi-Fi had a few boom boxes, microphones and headphones in stock, I was happy to be in a music store, since these establishments are a dying breed back in the States what with the proliferation of digital music sold online. I then wished I had worn my backpack since I saw some cool Oasis and Kings of Leon imports I would regret not buying right then and there.

I walked back to Platform 2 at Melbourne Central to take a train back to Flinders Street, but after discovering I would have to wait 20 minutes for the next ride, I decided on a 15-minute walk instead.

Upon my return to Foundation Square, I boarded a tram headed back toward Matt's house. I realized after about 10 minutes that I hopped on the wrong tram. This would drop me off at St. Kilda beach, where I had lunch the day before. Before I departed, I asked the driver for directions, and he told me to walk a kilometer up the coast to the Pier until I would then see the correct tram to take. Once I started walking, I was instantly besieged by swarms of flies! Now I know where the term "Australian Salute" comes from! I got a call on the cell phone Mum loaned me for a couple days. It was Mum, who wanted to know how I was getting on with my Melbourne adventure. I told her my current location, and that I was walking toward the correct tram stop. Since it was about 5pm, Mum was about ready for dinner, and said she and Marg would come pick me up. A half-hour later, I met the two ladies at the pier at St. Kilda, and we were on our way to Richfield, a semi-retirement community just outside of Melbourne, where Marg recently moved to after her husband passed away. We stopped at Coles to buy some steaks, veggies, and wine for dinner.

Once we got to Marg's, the rest of our evening was pretty relaxed. We watched How I Met Your Mother and Ugly Betty (one of Mum's favorite shows) followed by a wildly popular Australian show in the vein of 90210-meets-Seventh Heaven called Neighbours on "the ABC", one of five Australian television networks. Personally, I thought Neighbours was saccharine crap. Then again, the episode was Christmas-centric.

During dinner, Marg prepped us for Mum's climactic reunion with estranged Aunt Jenny, which would take place the next day. I asked for a quick recap of the history that led up to Jenny and Mum's fallout. Long story short, it boiled down to two stubborn people with different perspectives agreeing to disagree, resulting in three-plus decades of non-communication - hardly the funeral fistfight I had envisioned. After our enlightening heart-to-heart chat concluded, the ladies bid me goodnight before they retired for the evening. I stayed up and checked my email and Facebook page on Marg's computer before closing out my night by watching an exciting Australian-made miniseries on DVD which was recommended by Matt called Underbelly (about an organized crime family in Melbourne in the mid 1990s). I had trouble falling asleep in yet another strange place, so I quietly played Enya's first album on my phone before I drifted off to the land of nod.

Day 12 – Melbourne / Sydney

Day 12 – Melbourne / Sydney

When you're traveling, it's important to get used to waking up in strange places. This morning, I found myself on a blow-up mattress at Aunt Marg's house, and I instantly remembered the big day in store for Mum and I today. I would meet a long-lost relative I had only heard less-than-favorable things about in the past, and have never spoken to or seen in person.
After Marg made us another lumberjack brekky that will probably send my cholesterol over 300, we got ready to head towards Mornington, another suburb of Melbourne about 40 minutes from where Marg lives. During the drive over, I got some more much-needed background on Aunt Jenny, which helps to explain her personality, and hopefully, clears up some issues between her and Mum.
Jenny and her husband adopted a couple of kids from third-world countries many years ago to complement their four biological children. One girl she adopted is from Sri Lanka, and the boy she adopted is from Vietnam. I certainly applaud Jenny's efforts to create a better life for children from developing nations, but the scoop I got from Marg and Mum is that she played the martyr card from time to time, and that pissed off Mum. The two adopted kids (well, they're not really kids anymore – they're grown and live on their own now) encountered some hurdles blending into a new society, especially the Vietnamese boy. By the time he was 15, his family had been killed, and as he had developed some suicidal tendencies, he desperately needed a change of scenery. The adoption agency, which was unable to get the boy situated with a family for quite some time, harangued Jenny to take him off their hands, and eventually, Jenny reluctantly obliged. Soon after Jenny took the girl in, the girl was sent to a private technical school where she encountered mean classmates who mercilessly ripped on her being from a third-world country. The boy had a slew of psychological issues to work out, which would require loads of therapy. Both adopted kids were a handful, and this essentially wore Jenny down as the years progressed. And then there's the story with her husband.
Jenny had only recently moved to Mornington. She used to live closer to Melbourne with her husband, Tim. Unfortunately, Tim developed dementia in his early sixties, and eventually required hospitalization. Jenny sold their home, and moved to a more modest place so his institutionalization could be properly funded. They don't live together, but she maintains contact with him, and checks in on him several times a week. If you're familiar with dementia, you know that some days are better than others with regards to the afflicted. Today, everything is fine, and tomorrow, you're being berated in a crowded supermarket with some of the foulest language that would make sailors need to cover their ears. Basically, dementia turns someone you love into a vitriolic person you hardly recognize, let alone married.
Now that you have the scoop on Jenny, I'll take you back to the point where we drove up to Jenny's new home, situated a block from the beach in Mornington. After we knocked on her front door, I could feel a rush of anticipation culminated with the tingling of the hair on the back of my neck. As soon as she opened her front door, I was relieved that there wasn't one shred of tension I had feared. Jenny hugged me tightly, and I sensed that this encounter was something she was really looking forward to for quite some time. It seemed like Jenny was on her best behavior, so our time together should go smoothly.
Initially, the plan was for us to squeeze in an hour and a half with Jenny before we had to leave that afternoon for Melbourne to catch our flight back to Sydney. Nobody really had any idea what to expect from the meeting beforehand: it could have turned out great, or things could have gotten ugly. Either way, the allotted time could have either been far too long, or a mere tease. Since Mum might not visit Australia for another ten years, today might be the last time Jenny and Mum get to meet face to face before either of them gets too old. So it seemed necessary, at least for Jenny, to attempt to restore the relationship before the opportunity passed. Perhaps Tim's failing health cast a light on the fragility of life and good health, causing Jenny to reach out to Mum via Marg.
Jenny made us a cup of tea, and we chatted while she showed us pictures of her grown-up children. Her biological kids were all successful professionals scattered around Australia, including one that lives near Seattle.
I was amazed at how much Mum looked like Jenny, who maintains an athletic physique through a rigorous walking regimen coupled with frequent trips to the lawn bowling green. Armed with a set of muscular shoulders that would make Madonna jealous, Jenny is also quite tan. Although Mum's a bit of a newbie to lawn bowling, Jenny, along with Marg, is a seasoned veteran who is in a league and has a bowling partner. Lawn bowling is about as popular in Australia as "ten pin" bowling is here in the US. Mum and Jenny have slightly different body types, but their faces possess very similar physical traits. One example is Mum, Jenny and I all have the same nose!
After the ladies and I finished our tea, we went out for a walk down to the shore. Mere milliseconds passed before Mum whipped out the camera, and we snapped some photos of this historic day. I'm not sure if the entire Victorian coast is like this, but I once again found myself feverishly swatting flies away as soon as I reached the beach. I expected swarms of bugs in a tropical climate like Queensland, but not here!
Once we finished our walk/photo shoot, we went for lunch at an outdoor café in the commercial district of Mornington. While I chowed down on my salmon burger, we were surprised by Tony, an older gentleman who happened to be Jenny's lawn bowling partner. Tony was a handsome hale man dressed sportily in a Fila track suit. He looked about Jenny's age, early sixties. He told us he used to be a surgeon before an injury ended that career; he's now an author. Tony amused me with his animated personality, but Mum and Marg didn't care for him at all. After Tony left, Marg, the eldest sister, voiced her displeasure, calling him a "smaht ahss". Even before Marg's comment, I got the vibe from Jenny that she might have preferred he not pop by our table for an impromptu visit, let alone hang out and chat up the long lost relative for fifteen minutes. We checked the time, and realized we had to wrap up lunch and make way towards Melbourne Airport. In hindsight, it would have been nice to spend a bit more time with Aunt Jenny to learn a bit more about her considering I may not see her again for years, but I'm glad everything went so well.
Marg and her son Matt ordered us a Mercedes Benz sedan to whisk us off to the airport. The driver was a nice gentleman in his early fifties with five grown children and a wife that left him for a life of leisure in Bali years ago before the kids finished school. Although he said he always wanted to visit the States, he wasn't able to with his heavy home life. He mentioned Las Vegas a couple times with a wistful look in his eye. I bet he could use a weekend in Sin City! After we encountered a minor delay on the highway due to "roadworks", we arrived at Melbourne Airport with time to spare.

After we landed in Sydney at about 5:00pm, I made a point of walking to the Qantas taxi stand to expedite our wait time. When I found out the Qantas terminal was on the on the other side of the airport, I decided to simply stay put with my heavy luggage. After only ten minutes in the taxi line, Mum and I got picked up, and were on our way to Gladesville. The cabbie asked us if we wanted to take the toll tunnel, and Mum told him to stick to the freeway. I was about to object given that we were driving into the teeth of peak hour traffic. It took us over an hour to get home, and we definitely would have saved time and money paying the $4 AUS tunnel given the time we spent sitting in traffic accruing cab fare. By the time we arrived at Chez Manderson, I was quietly banging my head against the passenger side window from all the sitting I had done in Melbourne, the flight, and Sydney that afternoon.
My cousin Luke had pulled into the Manderson driveway from work less than a minute before our cab arrived. I greeted Luke, who was to take me out on a pub crawl that night. I hadn't many opportunities to simply go out on the town in Sydney given all the traveling we had done, but Friday was a chance to not only enjoy the Sydney nightlife, but to also hang out with Luke. I hadn't had much of a chance to spend one-on-one time with him since he came out of the closet a few years ago.
When we walked in the front door, I made a beeline upstairs to the shower to wash the Virgin Blue grime off of my body. I changed into a "clubby" polyester shirt I had brought for going out on the town, and joined Mum, Gerry, Carol and Luke in the kitchen for beer, cheese and crackers. By 7:30pm, we surmised that traffic had died down, so Luke ad I decided to head back towards downtown Sydney, where he lives in a centrally located loft he just bought.
Although Luke is a successful solicitor (Aussie for attorney) who works in television marketing, his flat is a work in progress. He profusely apologized for the dilapidated state of his recently purchased home, and immediately provided me with the ambitious vision for his renovated loft. Since Luke also needed a quick shower after his day at work and fighting traffic, I sat on the living room beach chair and watched a couple of Beyonce videos on MTV Australia while he dolled himself up. After Luke dried himself off, he threw on a white V-necked undershirt with jeans, and came downstairs. I was quietly surprised with his choice of wardrobe, but since Luke is a good-looking guy who stands a towering 6'5" (yeah, I'm considered the short cousin), I suppose he was putting his assets on display.
We walked down the street to a gourmet pizza cafe and sat at a table outside for some grub and people-watching. After perusing the menu, I was amazed with the exotic array of ingredients one could put on pizza at this restaurant. When the waitress came back, I ordered my pie to be topped with lamb shank, grilled eggplant, rocket lettuce, and "yoghurt". Luke? He ordered pepperoni. Before we sat down, I spotted a DJ mixing records toward the back of the restaurant. I was excited to hear some Aussie music in a nightlife setting, but instead, an American 90s soundtrack was played. Between "classics" from Marky Mark & the Funky Bunch and Sir Mix-a-Lot, I was loathe to discover how much of "Ice Ice Baby" I still had memorized from eighth grade. When I stepped away to the lavatory to "splash my boots", Luke surreptitiously paid for dinner. He probably didn't appreciate my calling him a "sneaky bastard" when I told him I wanted to pay!
As the saying goes, my eyes were bigger than my stomach. We had about half a leftover pizza, but didn't want to schlep it around town in a large box all night! I had absorbed a philosophy from my roommate back in Los Angeles, who hates wasting food. As the homeless problem in Australia isn't nearly as epidemic as it is in the States, I couldn't find anyone needy enough within the vicinity I could give our still-hot food to. Alas, I left it on a bench, hoping some hungry bloke would put it to use.
We were a block from King's Cross, the "cheeky" part of Sydney. Given that this is the only part of the city that permits the bars to stay open 24 hours, Luke said that it's probably necessary that I visit "The Cross". He qualified this statement by saying the bars in the opposite direction toward Darlinghurst are probably more fun. I told him let's get King's Cross out of the way first, and then head in the other direction towards his recommendations afterward. Luke was right: King's Cross was peppered with streetwalkers and rowdy frat-boy types. I noticed a library that I thought was curiously positioned between two especially dodgy-looking pubs. He said that library was recently constructed, and the facility used to be a government-funded drug den where heroin addicts could go, get free, clean needles and shoot up in a safe environment. An ensuing public outcry eventually closed the place.
Luke and I went into a bar called The Bourbon, and ordered a pint of Tooley's. I remember it being really loud from all the crowd noise talking over the obnoxiously loud music. Since I was a bit tipsy, I went for the jugular and asked him when he started to realize he was gay. Long story short, he said it was a gradual realization that began in 2002, and it wasn't like he woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and had an epiphany. Aunt Carol knew before Luke did (as many mothers do), and Uncle Gerry loves him regardless.
Once we bailed from The Bourbon,we walked from King's Cross to Darlinghurst, one of Sydney's best-known Eastern suburbs which is also home to a large concentration of the gay community. I had told Luke that I'm not homophobic, and I make a great wingman, so he could take me anywhere. Luke told me, "I'm not taking you to a gay club." We passed a gauntlet of pubs walking down Oxford Street. Each time we walked by one Luke didn't like, he pointed and exclaimed, "Foul!"
Luke took me to an indoor/outdoor bar called The Patio. While we were discussing Amsterdam, our conversation was interrupted by Tosh and Sarah, a couple of attractive 20-something ladies who chimed in with their opinion on Holland. We met their friends, and hung out until the bar closed at midnight. James, a quiet young man with a scruffy beard and a bit of a bohemian disposition, was one of the guys in their group, and he seemed to hit it off when he struck up a conversation with Luke. When the lights in the pub flickered, we decided to travel as a unit a couple blocks to a club with pokies downstairs, and dance music upstairs. The crowd was approximately half gay, half straight. Luke was engaged in conversation with James for a good chunk of the time we were at this most recent stop on our pub crawl. As it was about 2:00am, we decided to skip out.
There is still plenty of nightlife at 2am in Sydney, but some of the bars close, and the scene tends to concentrate. Since most of the open establishments looked too crowded to enter by this point, James said he lived right around the corner. Luke turned to me, and I told him that I was his wingman tonight.
We approached the entrance to an older-looking building when James pulled a skeleton key from his pocket. We walked up three flights of stairs, climbed over a young couple making out in the hallway, to James' apartment. There was a certain vibe to his flat that took me back to my college days. James asked me if I liked Dolly Parton. I told him my childhood would have been entirely different if Islands in the Stream was not burned into my memory. He set the CD shuffler to Dolly, and then Mary J. Blige. James then went to open to his fridge, and realized he had only two beers left! He apologized, and made me a glass of vodka on the rocks with a fresh strawberry. I sipped this while I bemoaned the fact that I had heard almost exclusively American music the entire time I've been in Australia thus far. James dismissed most Australian music as rubbish, but given that he just put on the soundtrack to 9 to 5, I took his perspective with a grain of salt.
My watch read 3:00am. After I took a look at James and Luke, I read the proverbial writing on the wall. It was time for me to find a cab back to Gladesville. I wasn't about to make Luke drive me home since he had been drinking, and the drunk driving laws in Australia are much stricter than in the States. After I made sure Luke would be able to get home safely, I bid the gentlemen good night. Before I left, James taught me the most effective way to catch a cab, which was to stay a block from the main street before the taxis find other customers. Otherwise, prettier, more scantily clad girls will get picked up by a cabbie every time.
It only took me thirty minutes of standing on a deserted street corner in the wee hours of the morning like a desperate hooker before I was picked up. The taxi driver, upon learning I was American, sang the praises of president-elect Obama, and exclaimed how happy everyone in Australia has been since the recent US election. I caught a few tidbits of Obama love at various pubs we drank at throughout the night, and it's pretty plain to see whom the international community was rooting for in early November. $45 AUS later, I was at Uncle Gerry's house at about 4:00am after the cabbie missed our street. I let myself in, and was thankful I remembered the alarm code this time.
Before I went to bed, I called my Dad in Los Angeles, and gave him an update on my trip. Fortunately for Uncle Gerry's long distance bill, my telephone conversations are much shorter than my writing entries!

Day 13 – Gladesville – rest day

Day 13 – Gladesville – rest day

Between Cairns, Melbourne, an upcoming trip to Avalon, and too many relatives to meet and catch up with, I was ready for a day of relaxation on this so-called vacation. All I wanted to do on this Saturday was as little as possible: catch up on email/Facebook after sleeping in, and perhaps go out again tonight if energy permits. Since Luke and I were out until 3am the night before, I had already gotten my party fix. Luke had a work-related engagement to attend that evening, so he would unfortunately be out of the picture.
When I came downstairs after waking up around 10:30am, everyone had already finished breakfast and was sitting in the kitchen sipping tea. Sally and her husband Mike had their wedding anniversary this weekend, so Aunt Carol and Gerry took their boys for a couple days while they spent some quality time together at the condo up in Avalon without the kids.
The thermometer against the window in my bedroom read 34 degrees Celsius, which translates to about 94 degrees Fahrenheit. Thankfully, the heat in Sydney is dry and more pleasant compared to the sauna we experienced that is Queensland.
Mum and Uncle Gerry stepped out to go shopping and asked me if I wanted to tag along. I declined, opting for the air-conditioned confines of inside the house. An hour or so later, they returned with Sally's kids, Ethan and Cooper.
As I mentioned in previous entries, Cooper ad Ethan are both autistic, and can be shy around people they don't know. I had already seen the boys a couple times, and I felt they were starting to warm up to me. Cooper, 4, is the more extroverted of the two, but has a penchant for disobedience. Ethan, 6, is more high-functioning, as he reads at the abilities of a nine-year old, but he's harder to win over. The boys brought their swimsuits, and were about to change and head to the pool. I decided to join them in beating the heat.
I stepped onto the hot brick surface surrounding the pool in the backyard. The first thing I saw was Gerry and the boys in the pool. I then noticed the submerged mobile pool cleaner whirring its way across the bottom of the pool towards Gerry. When it approached my uncle, he grabbed the hose from the unit, and squirted water in my direction. The water, upon hitting my body, was a bit chilly, but altogether refreshing given the sweltering conditions. I warned Gerry that he was bringing a hose to a cannonball fight, and I then proceeded to douse the entire area (Aunt Carol included) with a deluge created by my 240-lb body as I plunged into the pool. The boys loved this, and hopped out to practice their cannonballs. Needless to say, their kiddieballs were laughably puny compared to mine. Somehow, Carol's camera didn't get wet in all this fun! She captured some great action shots, as you can see below.
When I was a toddler, my older brother and sister would toss me around the pool like a rag doll. I decided today would be the day I pay it forward. As Ethan and Cooper were wearing flotation devices strapped to their arms, I wasn't worried about drowning the little buggers. From my previous experiences with Cooper, he enjoys being swung around the room by his arms or legs. Gravity and centrifugal force seem to light up his world! I grabbed Cooper by his torso when he was in the shallow end with me, counted to 3, and tossed him about 15 feet across the pool. As he flew through the air, Cooper squealed with glee, and doggy-paddled back to me for more. Ethan followed suit, so I gave him more of the same airborne fun. This continued until my shoulders got sore.
By 5:30pm, it started to get a bit chiller as a cloud cover swept over Sydney. Cooper and Ethan began to shiver when they were out of the pool, so we decided to wrap up pool time. The boys, each shivering and chattering inside in a beach towel, hustled inside, leaving tiny wet footprints behind them while Carol followed them to make dinner preparations. I dried off, walked inside and went to shower and change. Carol decided she wasn't in a cooking mood, so we called Gerry's favourite Thai restaurant to order a delivery. They said that delivery will take about an hour, but if we pick up the food, it would be ready in fifteen minutes. Mum volunteered to go on a food run after Carol ordered.
I'm not sure if the superior quality of Thai food has anything to do with its relative proximity to Australia, but Australian Thai food blows American Thai food out of the water! Over dinner, we discussed international politics, as well as the incoming Obama administration and what that meant for the rest of the world. After our ice cream dessert, we watched The Tudors, show still fairly new to Aussies.
The heat must have sucked a good deal of our energy, because everyone was ready for bed by 9:30pm. I didn't feel like heading out on the town by myself, so I decided to go upstairs, read some online previews for a big day of college football back in the States, uploaded the pool action shots to my Facebook page, and crashed a little before 11pm.

Day 14 – Sydney / Avalon

Day 14 – Sydney / Avalon


This morning, I found myself preoccupied with all the football I'd miss back home. Today is Sunday, which means yesterday, er, today…well, you get the point - anyways, my alma mater USC was/is scheduled to play crosstown rival UCLA. There were also many other rivalry matchups taking place across the States in college football that day. But my mind was primarily focused on my first fantasy football game of the postseason, which wouldn't take place until the following day.
Unfortunately, I don't have a Slingbox, so I was ill-equipped to watch any of the games on the Internet. Only one or two American college football games are broadcast a year on TV in Australia, but none today. I packed two days worth of clothes as we were about to leave for Avalon soon.
As I had mentioned in previous entries, Avalon is a beachside community located about 40 minutes north of Sydney. The plan was for us to stay at the condos in Avalon with Gerry and Carol for a night, and then drive up to see Uncle Len in the Central Coast the following day. I had developed a curiosity about Avalon since before I arrived in Australia. My cousin Jacob moved up there with his fiancée Gabby, and Uncle Gerry had recently purchased a second unit adjacent to the condo he already owns. I detected Avalon has a special quaint quality, and was eager to discover it for myself.
Since we would go our separate ways after Avalon, Gerry and Mum each took their cars. Mum and I were following Gerry's car, but had to stop for gas. We were fortunate to still have the assistance of our GPS navigator when we lost him, Carol, Ethan and Cooper on the expressway.
About an hour after we left Sydney, we arrived at the condos in Avalon. Sally and her husband Mike, who spent the last couple days there, greeted us at the older unit. Since the two units were next to each other, Gerry had a vision of knocking down the wall between the units, adding an extra story, and creating a 6-bedroom super-condo someday. For the interim, Gerry was aggressively trying to rent one or both units before the summer holidays like Christmas and New Year's Day got underway. My uncle had been in the process of furnishing the new condo so he could rent it as is. In the back of his Lexus, he brought a new table, chair and oscillating fan he was going to assemble. I could tell he was eager to put them together immediately, but Aunt Carol mandated that construction wouldn't take place until after the family got together for lunch first.
Ethan and Cooper were delighted to see their parents after being away from them for a couple of days. Sally and Mike celebrated their anniversary alone on Friday and Saturday. Based on their body language, I got the impression that the parents might not have minded one extra day without the kids around. Don't get me wrong; Cooper and Ethan are adorable, but they can be exhausting!
The eight of us were to meet Gabby and Jacob at the Retired Servicemen's League club to eat ("RSL's" are fairly common in Australia – they each have a bar, restaurant, Foxtel and pokies). First, we hit a playground on the way so Ethan and Cooper could exert some pent-up energy after being cooped up (no pun intended) in the car since Gladesville. Otherwise, they would be difficult to control during lunch. I pushed the boys on the swings for a couple minutes. I had to watch my level of force when I pushed, as I almost sent them soaring over the crossbar!
Mike thanked me for playing with Ethan and Cooper, and mentioned they really seem to like me. His tone then changed a bit, and he seemed a almost melancholy that I wasn't staying in Australia longer. Mike said that if I were seriously considering landing a job in Australia, it would take closer to a couple months than a couple weeks. The hiring process is a bit different in Oz. You might take six weeks to get hired, but by the same token, job security is such that you can get 3-4 warnings before you're fired! I think Mike liked the idea of having a fellow Yankee around for a while.
Now that it was about 12:30pm, it was time for lunch. I got carded at the RSL (everyone does), and afterward, my Mum took me aside and told me not to order the most expensive thing on the menu. I bowed my head in shame and told her how emasculating that was to hear given that I'm 31 years old! After a rare apology, she said her mothering instincts took over. We reconvened with the rest of the party, and Carol recommended the special of the day, which was roast pork. I took her advice. Such a good Jew I am.
It was fun hanging out with Jacob and Gabby. Jacob seems like he gets away with more boisterous behaviour than Luke. They have their respective roles/personalities: Luke is a bit more refined, but more responsible. Jacob maintains a blue-collar mentality, but since he lives farther away from Gladesville, he can get away with acting more aloof. Jacob also needs to be dragged into the information age kicking and screaming. He just set up his first email address, and Foxtel in his house.
I chatted a bit with the future newlyweds. They said the wedding is scheduled for November 2009, so I told them I would love to come if I happen to be down under then. Jacob's phone rang. After he hung up, Jake grumbled that he had to leave. Appareantly, the Foxtel repairman called a day late to say he had arrived at Jake's house to install his cable. We said goodbye to Jacob and Gabby, and then I talked with Mike about American football for a good portion of lunch. Once we paid for the meal, Ethan and Cooper were itching to go swimming. Unfortunately, the weather had clouded up, and it was too chilly for swim trunks. I wanted to check email and football news, so I asked Gerry if I could use his computer back at the condo. He said sure, but the Internet connection is dial-up (gasp!). He suggested I go to the public library, located three blocks from the condo. I thought this would be a good opportunity for me to check out the idyllic seaside community that is Avalon.
The town was pretty dead for a Sunday afternoon. Stores were mostly open, but I didn't notice much foot traffic except for a few surfers. I saw a movie theatre that was playing Rock n' Rolla. I happen to be a fan of Guy Ritchie's work, so I made a mental note to return later tonight if I was bored with little to no Internet access. As I walked to the library, I noticed a collection of surf shops, moderately busy cafes, and a tanning salon that was closing early. I liked hanging out in Avalon for a couple days, but I think I would go crazy from boredom if I were to live here permanently
The library was empty except for a couple mischievous boys running around and the librarian trying to keep the boys in line. Since I didn't have a library card, I had to pay $4 AUS to use the computer for an hour. I was finally able to see that USC beat UCLA 28-7 earlier. I also joined a group on Facebook that links me with my classmates from Horace Mann, my old elementary school in Beverly Hills. I looked outside, and the weather had cleared up. I figured Ethan and Cooper were itching to go swimming, so I returned to the condo.
Both units were empty when I got back. I didn't feel like changing into swim shorts, so I walked toward the shore. In front of the beach is a tide pool that collects seawater, but enables kids to swim without getting swept away by the undertow. Mike, Cooper and Ethan were frolicking in the pool, but were about to hop out and dry off. The boys were invited to a kid's 6:30pm birthday party at the Australian equivalent of Chuck E. Cheese. Since the time was almost 5pm, it was time to shower and get ready. Given that this was a Sunday, I found the timing of the party curious for a bunch of 4-6 year olds. Sally agreed, but said the restaurant was rented out all other times that weekend.
When the boys were dressed and all strapped into Sally's SUV, she asked her Mum if she was sure Carol didn't want the boys for another couple days. Carol laughed while shaking her head, but to this day, I'm not sure if Sally was joking. Sally's humour is very dark, dry, and deadpan; it also takes a beat or two to get used to. Once I understood her, I came to appreciate this edgy side of Sally.
No sooner than three seconds after the SUV pulled away, we breathed a collective sigh of relief. Gerry went back upstairs to assemble the table, chair, and fan for the rental unit, and I followed him. I put together the fan while he worked on the table and chair. Gerry had become a bit frustrated, as one of the drawers wasn't closing properly. I noticed a screw that was installed back-to-front, and pointed it out to him. He was thrilled I made the observation, and helped him solve the problem. We celebrated the completion of the projects by cracking open a couple of cold Carlton Draughts. I flipped on the telly, and watched an episode of The Simpsons I hadn't seen in 15 years while he assembled the chair.
It was almost dinnertime, so Mum, Carol, Gerry and I decided to hop in the car to do a little sightseeing before we found a place to eat. I would get a chance to visit some of the affluent neighborhoods that are adjacent to Avalon.
We entered a mansion-laden community called Palm Beach, located about ten minutes north of Avalon. It seemed like for every house that was being renovated, another house had a for sale sign posted in the front yard. The waves in Palm Beach are more surfer-friendly, and even at dusk I could see a few surfers out on heir boards in the water trying to catch one last ride in before nightfall. Gerry said there was a nice selection of restaurants in nearby Newport.
We headed to Newport, and started with a fancy hilltop restaurant called The Arms that had amazing panoramic views of the surrounding shore. I saw that this swank indoor/outdoor eatery was fairly busy, and had many young professionals sharing animated conversations over cocktails. We browsed the chalkboard menu, balked at the lofty prices and the noisy environment, and decided to have an inexpensive dinner indoors since the ominous clouds above were moving towards us.
Aunt Carol recommended a roasted chicken place on the main drag in Newport. I forget the name of it, but it was similar to El Pollo Loco. The four of us ordered our dinner to go, and ate back at the condo. We feasted on delicious chicken, three side dishes, and salad for $23, which was less expensive than one entrée at The Arms!
When we finished eating, Mum said she was awaiting an email she would need to forward to a client of hers back in Los Angeles. Gerry plugged his computer into the phone jack, and got Mum online. She wasn't used to the sloth-like bandwidth, and forgot how long it takes to send a 2 MB attachment over a phone line. When she started to show concern that the computer wasn't responding, I told her to relax and give it a couple minutes after she tried to resend the email. Sure enough, the email popped up in her "Sent" file twice shortly thereafter.
When she finished her work, she thanked me for helping her stay calm. I then kicked her off Gerry's computer, conducted some fantasy football research, and made a last-minute move to my starting lineup by starting a different quarterback. I finished making preparations for my postseason matchup that would be underway by the time I awoke the next morning. Everyone else had gone to bed, so I took advantage of the quiet time and typed Day 6 on Mum's laptop (not set up for dial-up) – I'm sooo behind on my journal! When I finally finished, I lay down to christen a brand new bed in this brand new unit, and slept very comfortably.

Day 15 – Avalon / Central Coast

Day 15 – Avalon / Central Coast

My first thought of the day when I woke up was that I hope I’m not getting killed in my fantasy football matchup. Although today is Monday in New South Wales, my team is in the middle of a critical postseason matchup back in the US against a first-year player who lucked his way into the playoffs. I’ll be damned if my season ends at the hands of a rookie!

Although we didn’t have a broadband connection in the Avalon condo, Uncle Gerry’s laptop was set up for dial-up via the phone line. I hadn’t heard the screech of a dial-up modem connecting to the internet in years, but that morning, that nostalgic sound was music to my ears! As the webpage loaded, I was especially nervous since the computer projected me to lose my matchup. However, when I finally was able to see my score, I was in the proverbial driver’s seat with a semi-comfortable lead. Furthermore, the controversial lineup change I had made paid off, as my starting quarterback, Matt Schaub (whom I picked up out of the free agent pool the week before), had thrown for over 400 yards! My joy of checking stats lasted all of five minutes, because Mum was breaking my balls to pack up my gear. We were about to leave for the Central Coast, where we would visit Uncle Len and his girlfriend Margaret.

We drove up the coast for an hour and a half, and arrived at Len’s around 11:30am. Len recently moved to a retirement community in the Central Coast similar to Aunt Marg in Melbourne. Upon our arrival at the gated village, I noticed the exquisite landscaping. No expense was spared with regards to the lush, green lawns and the plethora of exotic flowers planted in each individual garden. Although the houses looked similar in their architecture, the unique plant life gave each home an individual sense of character.

We finally found Len’s house after five-minutes of circumnavigating the village. We knocked on his door, he answered, and invited us in. I had heard from the some members of my Aussie family that Len’s health had started to deteriorate after a life of hard living. I was prepared for a withered old man who could barely stand up. This vision I had wasn’t an extreme departure from the truth.

The last time I had seen Uncle Len was when we met for brunch at an RSL in Sydney during my last visit down under back in 1996. By the time Mum and I had shown up, Margaret, his longtime girlfriend who still lives with him, was quite drunk. I remember looking at my watch to make sure it wasn’t, in fact, 5:30pm. Even when I was 19, I could sense that Len wasn’t entirely comfortable during that time we spent together. I vowed to myself and Mum that this time, I wouldn’t pass judgment, even if they were “hammad” (a popular Aussie expression for shit-faced).

Len still had most of his natural hair color, but his face was pock-marked, and he spoke and moved at the pace of a man far beyond his years. Len is only three years older than Uncle Gerry, but seems at least fifteen years older based on his mannerisms and speech patterns.

The house had the distinct smell of stale cigarette smoke from the front entrance to the backyard. In spite of this olfactory onslaught, Len opened a window in the kitchen, lit up, and blew his smoke outside as he chatted with us, as if the house would smell less foul. Needless to say, Mum and I were good sports even though we couldn’t wait to leave this stench behind. Since we were only together with Len for a couple hours, we didn’t want to spend time bitching about his lifestyle or how badly his house smells.

Len gave me the tour of his modest but comfortably sized three-bedroom house while Margaret chatted with Mum. He showed me one of his hobbies – finding radio stations around the world on the internet. He particularly liked an Arizona station that played country/honky tonk music. I showed Len some of my favorite stations in Los Angeles, like 89.9 KCRW, the public radio station I have on most of the day in my car. I then looked for a tango radio station and called Mum over. Mum then told Len and Margaret about her dancing. Len seemed intrigued, but Margaret intimated that dancing wasn’t her cup of tea. This was when I began to take notice of Margaret’s behavior.

Margaret is a strange bird who is a bit socially awkward, but is an overall nice lady. Aside from a church group she gets together with every week, she doesn’t have many friends. In fact, both Len and Margaret are similar in that they choose not to put themselves out in the social community, instead ascribing to the “good fences make good neighbours” philosophy. While many Australian couples traditionally marry young (Uncle Gerry and Aunt Carol got married when they were 20), Len and Margaret never officially exchanged vows, but have been together over 30 years! I wonder how often the subject of marriage came up in conversation over the course of their relationship.

Len asked me if I wanted something to drink – a soda, juice…or a beer. I could tell he was hesitant to introduce alcohol into the equation for fear of sending the expected impression, but I wanted to help him feel at ease, so I asked for a beer. After we finished our drinks, we all took a tour of the village. It had a giant community center, a computer room, a lawn bowling green, and a library. Unfortunately, most of these place were deserted, and it made me wonder why people would pay so much for the homeowners' dues when all the facilites go unused.. We then left the village to walk to a nearby RSL only ten minutes away for lunch. It was during this walk that I really noticed how poorly Len had aged.

Every 15-20 paces during our walk, Len stopped to cough a few times. He doesn’t walk so much as shuffle., but he spouted off one opinion after another on just about everything. His unique perspective on a variety of topics from politics to personal freedom is certainly entertaining, if not inspiring.

We arrived at the RSL, and signed in. The place was predictably filled with mostly older folks who were being visited by their younger friends/relatives. This RSL was much larger than the one in Avalon, and the food was a bit better as well. Len and Margaret insisted we order whatever we want, because when Uncle Vince and Aunt Helen from Canada visited them earlier in the year, Len and Margaret intimated that they were offended by virtue of the fact that Vince & Helen only ordered meat loaf. Margaret recommended I order the Thai salmon, and this turned out to be an excellent choice! I also helped Len carry some drinks from the bar. He only ordered water, but I helped him with Margaret’s chardonnay along with my Tooley’s beer back to the table.

I found conversation with Len flowed fairly well. We had a lot of catching up to do, and shared similar interests with regards to searching for music online as well as sports wagering. He mentioned that he enjoyed betting on the Beijing Olympics, and won some money as a result. We also discussed men’s sports versus women’s sports, and how women are more interesting to watch in sports like tennis, ice skating and billiards (because ladies wear short skirts), while men are more exciting to watch in pretty much every other sport. This political incorrectness is what I love about Len, but is also what makes him seem a bit behind the times. Len then excused himself to the men’s room while Mum and I spent the next ten minutes painfully trying to chitchat with Margaret. It was apparent that Margaret was far less comfortable being around us without Len around.

After lunch, we walked back to Len’s house. It was about 1:30pm, and I was dying to find out how my fantasy football team fared. To Mum’s chagrin, I asked if I could hop on Len’s computer to check stats for five minutes. Thankfully, my sizable lead was still intact, although I would have to worry about my opponent’s lone remaining player coming from behind to beat me on Monday Night Football.

It was time to leave for Sydney, and Mum and I were grateful to Len and Margaret for their hospitality. Based on Len’s declining health coupled with the uncertainty of when I’ll return to Australia, I wonder when, or if, I will ever see those two again.

Mum and I set our GPS navigator southbound towards Gladesville. As we got closer to Sydney, it had started to rain with some of the loudest, scariest thunder I had ever heard right above us, which slowed the drive and made us feel uneasy. To make matters worse, the GPS had started to get screwy, and we were becoming antsy that we had lost our way!

We finally arrived in Gladesville, where it was pouring. We were the only ones home at the time, because we had to open the locked door to Gerry and Carol’s house with that goddamned skeleton key. I became frustrated as I fiddled with turning the key just right while I was being inundated by the torrential downpour. I decided to try the lock around the back of the house, where I was sheltered from the rain. Since it took me longer than 30 seconds to walk to the panel and enter the code, the alarm went off, and soon thereafter, the security company called. I gave them the password that Gerry told me in case they call. Drenched and shivering, I couldn’t wait to hop in the shower!

After a hot shower, I got dressed, and it was time for Mum and I to go have dinner at Sally and Mike’s house in nearby Melrose Park. As we got closer, the GPS went haywire again and we got lost. I suppose Mum and I had reached critical mass with regards to the amount of time we spent together in the car, because we got into an argument over how she can’t operate this supposedly user-friendly contraption. She smacked me a couple times out of frustration, and I had to leave the car for a couple minutes to blow off some steam. Mum then called Gerry, gave him our location, and asked him to come find us. Luke, who was already at Sally and Mike’s, showed up five minutes later, saw I was distressed from having it out with Mum, took a page out of fictitious uberagent Ari Gold’s playbook, and instructed me to “hug one out.” Mum and I then made peace, and we all caravanned to Sally and Mike’s house.

Melrose Park can be described as a working-class neighborhood, but Sally and Mike’s house stood out as a veritable compound amid the brick, single-story homes. I would later learn that Uncle Gerry footed the bill to have the original structure renovated into a two-story, five bedroom house to raise the first Manderson grandchildren in.

When we three entered the house, Aunt Carol and Gerry were already there with Sally, Mike, Ethan and Cooper. Carol asked if I would like a beer or glass of wine. In light of my recent drama with Mum, I half-jokingly asked her if she had anything stronger. I settled for a Carlton Draught, which I promptly pounded. Mike was tending to the “bahbie” outside, grilling steaks (for the record, I haven’t heard anyone in Australia call the barbecue a “bahbie” outside of the movie Dumb and Dumber). Mike seemed a lot more upbeat than the first time I saw him in Avalon a couple days before. We made plans to have a couple drinks at a pub before I returned to Los Angeles.

Dinner was absolutely delicious. We had scrumptious prawns as our first course, and BBQ steaks as the second course of the meal! Afterwards, Sally and Carol brought out a cake which would commence my birthday celebration. Although my birthday wasn’t for another week and a half, I would be in Los Angeles by the time December 19 came around. They sang me “Happy Birthday”, and I made the mistake of blowing out the candles before Ethan and Cooper had the chance. I re-lit the candles and let them have a go.

After dinner, we watched “Ice Road Truckers” while Ethan and Cooper played on the computer. I was impressed with how comfortable these autistic boys seemed working a mouse and playing a video game!

It was almost 10pm, and since Mike had to wake up early the next morning for work, we said our goodbyes and followed Carol and Gerry back to Gladesville. I was pretty exhausted after spending so much time in a car that day, so I went to bed shortly after I got back to Uncle Gerry’s and checked my fantasy football team’s official score. Still winning - so far, so good…

Day 16 - Downtown Sydney

Day 16 – Downtown Sydney

I just now realize how much I wanted to do in Australia that I won’t have time for since I’m leaving tomorrow morning. There is certainly more I could have crossed off my personal checklist had I not been so busy sightseeing and doing the meet & greet with the family. On the other hand, I would probably have spent more time on my ass doing nothing, watching NFL, or messing around on Facebook. So, to a certain degree, I’m glad most of the best plans were already laid out, and it’s easier for me to follow a scheduled itinerary rather than make it up as I go along. That said, today was a day for Mum and I to knock out the rest of our touristy stuff in Sydney before our scheduled departure the next day.

Only because Mum had been using her “Aussie Specialist” travel credentials, she was able to get us some sweet hookups around Australia, and today was another chapter in the many benefits this privilege provided us.

Today was the day Mum had to return her “No Birds” rental car back to the office in downtown Sydney, and because the car was due back at 11am, we would have to rely on public transportation from that point through the rest of the day. Against our better judgment, we once again trusted the sometimes-unreliable GPS “Navman” to find our way to the No Birds office. Unfortunately, the towering Sydney skyline created interference, and we once again started getting dodgy directional assistance. I had wanted to toss this gadget out the window from Day 1, as the irritating voice comes in extremely loud, and I hadn’t been able to find a volume control on the console. Furthermore, it served as the impetus for Mum and I getting into a tiff the night before in Melrose Park. It only began to work properly once we were a block away from No Birds. We pulled into the driveway of the rental office. Before she turned off the engine, I looked at the fuel gauge, which read 2/3 full, and asked her if we were supposed to fill the tank first? An expletive-laden tirade would ensue, as it was going to be a real pain in the ass for Mum to back the car out of this crowded parking lot and into busy downtown traffic. Not to mention that we had to find a petrol station. Mum and I had already had it out the night before, so we were over being frustrated with each other. We simply laughed at our collective negligence, and spent the next 20 minutes driving aimlessly around (the Navman was turned off and in the glove box at this point) until we finally found a Shell station. After we threw in about 14 litres and returned the car, we were charged another $8 for outstanding electronic toll road charges.

Mum and I rode the subway to the station just outside Sydney Tower, the tallest building in Australia. As we ascended from the subway terminal, I noticed a young father slowly and methodically carrying an occupied baby stroller up a flight of stairs. I asked him if he needed a hand, and his eyes lit up with gratitude. I grabbed the front wheels while he held the handles, and with gentle precision, we were at the top of the stairs in about ten seconds. He thanked me profusely afterward, and was relieved that his baby in the stroller didn’t wake up! I then asked him where Sydney Tower was, and he smiled and pointed to a huge building right across the street.

Since we lost about a half-hour gassing the rental, we were late for our 11am skywalk at the top of Sydney Tower, the tallest tower in Australia that serves strictly as a tourist attraction. In spite of its enormous stature, the building doesn’t have anything between the bottom nor the top of the structure, similar to the gigantic CN Tower in Toronto or the god-awful Stratosphere in Las Vegas. Tourists were paying $65 AUS to get to the top, but Mum got our passes for free by saying she represents a consortium of tourism agencies back in the US! The manager at the front desk pulled Mum aside, and apologized that they had inadvertently overbooked the 11:30am group, and that we would be helping them out tremendously if we could wait until noon for the next group. Since we were getting to the top for free, we obliged even though we would lose even more time today. We passed through a couple different metal detectors (tight security in this building), and took the elevator to the indoor observation deck with a panoramic view of all of Sydney, located just below the outdoor top deck. We couldn’t have picked a better day to check out the most magnificent view of the city! The weather was warm, and only a couple of clouds prevented 100% sunshine. I bought a tuna sandwich at the upstairs café to tide over my appetite while we waited until noon, and also got a detailed view of various parts of Sydney through the many complimentary telescopes in the observation deck.

When 12pm came around, we joined our group, and the tour guides assigned us lockers where we were to store all of our possessions, including jewelry. Those who were wearing tight-fitting rings on their fingers were given medical tape to cover their rings. Since we were about to stand on the largest lightning rod in the country, the tour guides felt this was a necessary safety precaution to avoid possible electrocution. Furthermore, we were each given breathalyzer tests before we were permitted to change into our provided jumpsuits! They don’t want any drunks stumbling around the top of the tower, and I’m sure this was also necessary for insurance purposes.

Ten people formed our group, including a family of three. The dad was celebrating his 50^th birthday along with his daughter and his 300-pound wife. The latter put the fear of God in me as we walked upon the transparent concourse. That’s right: the surface we were on was sturdy but clear, so you could see Market Street 879 feet below. Oian (pronounced “Owen” – Gaelic spelling), our jovial Irish tour guide, demonstrated the sturdiness of the walkway by jumping up and down repeatedly on it. Before we walked around the top deck, we had to literally attach ourselves to the building with a tethered steel cable. As we strolled around catching the multiple views which seemed even more breathtaking from outside, Oian took several pictures of us. First he had us pose, then he told us to jump for an action shot. My heart skipped a beat as Big Momma landed with a thud after her action shot. I took a final look at the surrounding scenery before we returned inside: I could see Sydney’s suburbs, the ocean, the harbor, adjacent Hyde Park, and the Olympic Stadium that housed the 2000 Summer Games. We then detached the cables from our jumpsuits, went inside, took off the jumpsuits, and bought a CD with our pictures stored on them.

Once we got to the bottom of the tower, there was a nearby attraction called “Oztrek” (I kept calling it “Ozfest” by mistake – big difference). We missed the show by five minutes, and had to come back an hour later. I suggested that we spend some time at David Jones, which was serendipitously located across the street from the Sydney Tower. David Jones is a high-end four-level department store similar to Bloomingdales/Neiman Marcus that carries apparel, house wares, produce, and many accessories. I needed to do some holiday shopping for Uncle Gerry and Aunt Carol to show appreciation for their hospitality. Before I left for Australia, my father gave me his David Jones credit card (he’s a merchandise buyer, and “DJ’s” is one of his international clients). I found a golf shirt for Gerry, a Rayon top for Carol, and a V-neck T-shirt for myself that was on sale. Gerry and Carol are headed to Fiji (less than four hours on a plane from Sydney) in March, so I thought these items would be useful to wear during their holiday. I took the purchased goods to gift wrap, and had them prepare the gifts with lovely wrapping paper and fancy bows. I would return to pick them up after Oztrek.

Oztrek turned out to be more of a kid’s attraction. It was like an IMAX movie coupled with a moving theatre, similar to the old “Star Tours” at Disneyland. We traversed the many different terrains and landmarks Australia has to offer: Northern Territory Outback, Sydney Harbor, Great Barrier Reef, and Ayres Rock in the center of the country. I found the actors cheesy and the movement of the theatre nauseating. Maybe I’m getting old, because that type of entertainment was much more appealing 15 years ago. When we left the Sydney Tower after Oztrek, I was starved. We found a food mart that had a wide variety of $5 dishes. I bought three curry dishes for $10. The first four bites were good, and then I wanted to get rid of the rest of it. I would regret eating even more after Mum suggested we visit the produce section of David Jones before we go back to Gift Wrap to pick up the presents.

I had no idea what to expect when Mum mentioned DJ’s produce section, but I was blown away by a great many delectable items that were ready to eat. Envision Whole Foods meets Barney’s, and that’s DJ’s food court: simply amazing. I was pissed off that I was full from the crap I just ate ten minutes earlier! I took advantage of the holiday sales and bought some delectable chocolate treats for my friends and family back in the States while Mum bought chocolate liqueurs for Gerry and Carol. We then went upstairs to Gift Wrap to pick up the other presents, and finally left the store.

It was about 5pm, and unfortunately, we had lost about a couple hours due to various delays throughout the day, so we wouldn’t have time to visit the aquarium, let alone the zoo across town. This was unfortunate, because Mum could have gotten us into these places for free as well, and I always enjoy looking unique Australia wildlife. We decided to take the Sydney monorail around the city circle for ten minutes of quick sightseeing, and hopped off at Darling Harbour, where we would catch a ferry back to Huntley Point, the ferry stop nearest Gladesville that Mum and I rode in and out of two weeks earlier.

The ferry was full of commuters in business suits: half were playing with their respective Blackberries and Iphones, and the other half were zoned out on the Ipods. 5pm seems to be a more popular time for Australians to get off work than Americans, who would be lucky to work only 9-5! Mum called Gerry from the ferry, and when we arrived at Huntley Point, Gerry was there to greet us. Since it was Tuesday, I was expecting to play tennis and Euchre with Gerry again, but he was skipping the club tonight given that it was our last night in Sydney. When we got back to Gerry and Carol’s, I informed everyone that I would like to sequester myself in the TV room to watch the Monday Night football game saved on IQ (Tivo). After all, my season may ride on this game!

I watched the game as fast as I could, fast-forwarding through all the commercials and downtime that American football offers. I had made it to halfway through the third quarter when Gerry announced he and Carol were taking us out for Thai food, and it was “their shout” (they’re paying). I quietly sighed, put the game back on pause, and put my shoes on to go out. Fortunately, I felt optimistic based on what I saw in the Panthers/Bucs game thus far.

At dinner, Gerry informed me that Mike, Sally’s American husband, wanted to take me on a pub crawl since we didn’t get to hang out one on one much during my time in Oz. We were supposed to go out earlier in the trip, but Mike’s kids got him really sick, and he was in no condition to go out on the town until recently. When we returned from the Thai restaurant, Mike was parked outside the house waiting for me.

Mike took me to several local pubs around the Harbor. These places were the very antithesis of touristy. Mike is originally from Boston, which is how he met Sally thirteen years ago (Sally used to be a New England Nanny before she brought Mike back to Oz). Naturally, he has a predilection for Irish pubs, and took me to a couple which had their own microbrews. We then visited a place called Strike Bowl that had bowling alleys. We were there too late to bowl, but Mike ordered us a beer called “Highwayman”. This brew had to be at least twice as strong as American beer, because I was pretty trashed by round three! Mike and I exchanged a few interesting stories, and had a legitimate bonding experience. He was sorry I was leaving so soon, and told me about how I could have been a millionaire had I stayed in Australia the last twelve years to open up the juice bars like I had mentioned a long time ago (I used to work at Jamba Juice in college, and saw the opportunity to expand the juice empire Down Under, but decided to finish college and work in entertainment instead). Now, there are juice bars everywhere in Australia! We also talked about American football, and since he occasionally wagers a little on NFL, I told him to bet the Eagles against the Browns on Monday Night, a pick that turned out to be a winner (I hope he took my advice).

The drunken conversation then transitioned to a melancholy tone. I lauded Mike for being able to handle it all with Sally (who can be, um, temperamental from time to time) and the two boys, and this was the first time I saw Mike with his proverbial shields down. It was just two of us alone in a bar, I was leaving the country soon, and he decided to vent a bit. He said he jogs a lot to deal with the frustration of having two mentally challenged sons, and is not totally thrilled with the idea that Sally wants a third child – ideally, a daughter that won’t be autistic and will be able to take care of her when she gets older. I can totally see Mike’s perspective: the emotional toll that raising two autistic children can take on the head of a household on a daily basis has to wear him down after a while. In spite of all this, Mike was able to remain optimistic. He told me many kids (as well as their parents) at Ethan and Cooper’s school have been afflicted with much more severe learning disabilities than they have, and at least his boys are sweet and relatively obedient. This bond I had formed with Mike made me sad I was leaving after just 16 days, but at the same time, I felt encouraged to return to Australia in the near future.

We left Sydney Harbor around midnight. Unfortunately, Mike had to go to work the next day, so we weren’t able to get too crazy that night. We stopped at a liquor store where I purchased a magazine for a friend back in Los Angeles as well as bottled water for the ride back to Gladesville. Mike dropped me off at 12:30, and when I entered the house, I was surprised the alarm wasn’t on.

I walked upstairs, and Gerry and Carol were in Gerry’s office waiting for me to get back. They had bought some birthday presents for me, and I was quite taken aback by their generosity. I was given a couple athletic caps featuring an Australian footy team, as well as their cricket team. Speaking of cricket, I also got an authentic cricket ball, and a comedy CD along with a couple of really touching greeting cards. Coincidentally, my father ended up buying me the exact same birthday card back home in the US that Gerry got me in Australia. Small world, or just similar tastes? I told my aunt and uncle how appreciative I was not only for the lovely gifts, but for their overall hospitality and for taking Mum and I around town the last three weeks. I am glad I have such a great relationship with my Australian relatives because it’s comforting to know I can fly across the world to the south Pacific, and have a place to call home.