Australia

Ethiopian Cuisine

Ethiopian Cuisine of Delights


If Ethiopia is one of the oldest locations of human existence known to scientists, then their food better be damn good.

I’ve been to the far north of Africa in Tangier, Morocco and to the very farthest tip of South Africa. But as of yet have missed out on all in between, including the eastern horn of Ethiopia. When friends were dining out for an authentic Ethiopian experience here in Brisbane, how could I not invite myself along?

Driving to Made in Africa Ethiopian Café and Restaurant in Moorooka, I was completely oblivious as to what to expect. While driving from Brisbane city center I was told that Moorooka was a suburb undergoing gentrification. I inquired about what they deemed to be a community with a need for such redevelopments. I could only scoff at the thought, despite high immigrant populations from the Middle East and Africa.

From my observation, Brisbane has a less culturally diverse population then other cities. Therefore gentrification is a concept I didn’t think existed here. I thought back to the organic-loving Jewish guy from Oregon I dated who lived in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn – also Jay-Z’s original hood. I was the only Caucasian person on the A train; let alone I needed to be escorted from the subway, and not because I’m dainty. He was the only white boy on the block with big dreams of opening a coffee shop at the cusp of the neighborhood reinventing itself, and he succeeded. Don’t talk to me about gentrification.

We found the small café-restaurant in a shopping center catering to other African restaurants, shoe shops and hair salons.  My handsome and endearing friend walked his tall walk and claimed our reservation for 6 people upon entering. Aside from a table of three Sudanese regulars, we were the only customers on this Friday night. Reservations are recommended but not always necessary.

The place is no frills. A few cheap tables with plastic chairs, cheesy African decor, a painting of a topless black women on the wall, a map of Africa next to it, and some other trinkets tucked away in corners. Many of the mementos as well as spices and coffees are for sale through the sister company http://www.madeinafrica.com.au.

The menu, as thick as a wallet, gave the impression it was filled with pages upon pages of options. In reality it was one menu front and back; breakfast, lunch and dinner on one side, drinks on the other. The rest was filled with clear pages as a facade.  The good news was options were limited and it was very cheap. We’ll have the lot!

The lovely host of an owner came to take our order, and we inquired about the handcrafted baskets nestled in the corners. We told him we wanted a traditional feast, and so he prepared a flat silver tray with the best on offer.

Ethiopian Cuisine

Ethiopian Cuisine of delights

Sitting on top of injera (Ethiopian flat bread), was a beautiful spread of Alicha Wot (mild beef stew sauted in onion and turetic), Tibes Wot (diced lamb sautéed in herbed butter sauce and seasoned with onion, green pepper, rosemary), Keye Wot (beef simmered in a red pepper sauce with garlic and cardamom), Doro Wot (chicken stew in red hot pepper sauce with hard boiled eggs), Gomen Wot (collard greens boiled with garlic and onions), Shiro Wot (split pea stew made from roasted and ground split peas), Yatakilt Wot (vegetables in rich fresh green cabbage, carrot, potato, green pepper and onions, sauted in garlic and ginger) and Lentils Stew (lentils with cardamom and onion). The plate was enormous and we each used just our hands to dip the injera into the various thick stews.

The website, keeping to traditions states, “Normally you break a piece of Injera and roll it in the Wat and put it in your own mouth, but sometimes you may tear a piece off, roll it in the Wat and place it in you friends mouth!”

Gebena

Gebena (coffee)

We didn’t feed each other, however ended the night after a few St. Georges beers with a traditional coffee pot (gebena) of the most aromatic coffee I’ve yet to taste.

St. Georges Beer

St. Georges

The experience left me filled to the max, with an appreciation for a cuisine I’ve never thought to try. All for a very cheap price might I add.  We didn’t know, and therefore missed out on the hand washing and coffee ceremonies that are also options, but at least we have something to look forward to next time.

I expected the injera (bread) to be sour, but it was delicious. We weren’t sure if they could cater for our gluten free friend, but they did with rice. And I looked over to my friend who also has a bit of hard time getting down the spicy options and I challenged him to challenge his spice as I do. A little practice in time creates a new appreciation.

And we ate it all!

And we ate it all!

Dear United


I’m hoping you may be able to provide some clarity on some details of your international flight routes. Specifically, customer comforts such as in-flight entertainment and refreshments? I thank you in advance for reading, despite the length of my letter, as I think it’s important that you hear my story. I’ve also shared my story with the readers of my travel blog www.thesetwoeyes.com and look forward to disclosing your feedback with them as well.

Firstly, I’d like to acknowledge the economic situation and the impact it has had on the airline industry. As a fellow person in business, day-to-day I see various industries shifting and shuffling trying to make ends meet to keep afloat. Those that I value the most are the companies that look to the future and acknowledge customers’ needs, rather than cut corners to hit hard budgets. In all business, customer loyalty and word of mouth can fortunately or unfortunately make or break you.

In the United States we’ve seen trends such as this take over the industry and for much of Europe as well. The airlines that get the most praise are those that are doing something different than the rest and give the perception that they’re customer focused; airlines such as Jet Blue and Southwest come to mind. Internationally, there are handfuls of airlines aspiring back to the days where it used to be a privilege to fly; as a customer on a plane you were treated with respect for your time and loyalty, even in economy. I’ve experienced this myself on Qantas, Emirates, Thai Airways, Air New Zealand, British Airways and others.

As a loyal Continental flyer for a number of years, I can honestly say that I looked forward to flying domestically. With Newark Liberty International Airport being a fantastic hub for a northern New Jersey resident, I always made Newark and Continental my primary choice for flying both business and leisure. I found the service hospitable, the planes in tidy condition, and even appreciated the small snacks like the turkey sandwiches. This truly gave them a competitive edge while others were taking away perks such as complimentary baggage and even soft drinks.

When Continental merged with United I got a bit nervous; what could this mean for my favourite airline? I found out too soon after cashing in my hard earned miles for a flight from Newark to Sydney, Australia in November 2010. As a frequent international flyer, I was astonished at what I found on the other end of the jet-way. I’d like to acknowledge that yes, I did cash in my miles and despite the taxes this flight could be classified as “complimentary” however I do not think any service should be downgraded due to this.

United LA to Sydney

My thoughts from November 2010 flying United LA to Sydney

I have my notes from that flight still today. I was so uncomfortable with my experience that I took the time to write them down and it’s unfortunate that I’ve waited this long to notify you. What is most interesting is that on my flight from Newark to LA I had a fantastic experience. The plane was in impeccable condition and I had an empty seat between my window seat and my neighbour in the aisle. I was surprised and grateful that I had my own in-flight entertainment in the seat in front which made the long journey go by pleasantly; something that was not expected for a domestic flight. I remember specifically thinking to myself to not watch any of the good movies yet, I’ll save them for the long haul flight on my next leg.

From LA to Sydney is where my real complaint comes in. The plane was dated and the interior was in poor condition. I didn’t feel as if it were going to fall apart, however I am always comfortable in the interiors of Virgin and British Airways and expected the same conditions (if not better) for an even longer haul, especially the leg room. I thought to myself, how was my domestic flight superior to this?

My biggest disappointment had come with the entertainment. The last time I’d been on an international flight in economy where the entire plane had to squint to watch the same program, as there were no personal entertainment systems, was on an Olympic Air in 2008, and despite their bankruptcy, I swore to never fly with them again. With average meals and no complimentary alcoholic beverages it makes me wonder how United can stay in business against the likes of Virgin Australia and Qantas on this same route?

I am now residing in Australia and take the international flight from Brisbane to New York, or some similar combination whether it be from Sydney or to Philadelphia, a handful of times a year. I am very loyal to Qantas due to their service, professionalism, entertainment, efficiency, and refreshments being above par. So much that I rave about them quite regularly on my blog www.thesetwoeyes.com. In fact, I make a point to ask every person I meet who has travelled via LA to Australia what airline they took. Before even answering I know by their expression if was United. It’s a common joke amongst cross-Pacific travellers that if you have a United flight, you might as well not even go because it’s anticipated to be that bad.

As the holidays are approaching I’m returning to the US on another long haul flight.  I cannot express the intensity of my disappointment when the only option within my budget during overpriced holiday season was with United. I write this to you because I don’t want to have the panic that I felt when I spent over $3,000 on a flight and already anticipate a horrible experience. I am not cheap, I will pay for a bottle of wine or sandwich if that is what is required however after already paying $3,000 this is completely unnecessary. And as far as entertainment goes, I think your flight crew may have a more pleasant time if their customers were distracted and content watching what suited them on a personal level rather than overhearing their neighbour snoring because they can’t see the communal television.

I can appreciate that all of these may sound like superficial complaints but for a frequent flyer who enjoys flying, who looks forward to the experience and has praise for many airlines that get the formula right, I’m asking you, United, when are you going to lead the pack? Or as a minimum, improve your services to be on par with your direct competitors? What are you doing about in-flight entertainment, service, leg room, and refreshments for long haul flights?

An Australian colleague recently said to me, “We look to the United States as a global leader, as someone who always has the best. How is it that flying a US airline is one of the worst experiences a traveller could have?”

Thank you for reading this lengthy letter. I do anticipate your response and look forward to hearing about how my experience and future travels will be improved.

Kind Regards,

Lisa

Please take my poll below.

Stephens Croquet Club

Come dressed in your croquet best


Come dressed in your croquet best, or it’s off with your head!

Stephens Croquet Club

‘Get to your places!’ shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.” – Alice and Wonderland, Lewis Carroll.

My first croquet experience wasn’t nearly as abstract as the game played in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. The mallets were traditional square or round pieces of wood, the balls colored blue, red, black and yellow, and the arches white metal posts. There was no Queen running around screaming “off with your head” in a jealous rage, but there was definitely merriment being celebrated for Nidya and John’s 29th birthdays.

Stephens Croquet Club

Me and John on the grounds

I wasn’t sure what to expect when the invitation called for a game of Gin and Croquet on a Sunday afternoon. I don’t drink gin and I’ve never played croquet, but there’s always a first for everything. To make the day even more exotic, guests were invited to dress to impress. “You must come dressed in your croquet best, be it 20’s, cricket whites, bowler hats or pipes – I don’t care. Dress to impress my bloomers off.” Now, that to me sounded like a challenge.

The day was hosted at Stephens Croquet Club in Annerley. Yes, croquet clubs actually do exist. In fact, Stephens was just one option of a few in the area. Seriously. But I couldn’t be more pleased with our experience. When we first arrived 4 elderly people were sat out front on the bench welcoming us. My initial thought was that these poor people are here for their Sunday regular, and they’re going to be disappointed when then find a rambunctious birthday party ruining their quiet tradition. But that was not the case.

For $15 each person got a go at a game of croquet. Before we got started one of the gentlemen from the Club asked everyone to gather round as he explained how the day would work and we’d all get a chance to play what he pronounced ‘croke-e’. The Club grounds were divided into four courts, with four people playing at each so a total of 16 people could play at once. The four lovely people who were seated outside the Club when I first arrived in fact were volunteers for the day. Each took a group of four over to their designated court and walked us through a simplistic version of an abridged game.

Stephens Croquet Club

Gail showing Louise technique

My group of four was split with myself and fellow New Jersian Noble on a team playing against Louise and birthday boy John on the other. Our instructor Gail, explained how we work the arches around the four corners of the court first, before moving into the two center arches and finishing by hitting the ball against the wooden stick in the very center. She then explained that the balls go in order of blue, red, black and yellow alternating teams and John being the birthday boy won the coin toss and got to go first. With a few practice swings of holding the mallet between our legs and giving it a good wack, we were on our way.

Stephens Croquet Club

Gail telling Noble where to put it

I have to give a special shout out to Gail who strategically worked us through various techniques. In fact, our game lasted about 2 hours, the longest of the day as two or three other games finished by the time my group got through one. Sad to say Noble and I lost, but luckily we got one in through the arch at the very end.

Stephens Croquet Club

Happy Birthday Nidya and John

Gin, birthday cake, sausages on the grill and outfits ranging from all whites with suspenders to visors and colorful frocks, I found a new appreciation for a sport I never thought I’d play – croquet.

Some dressed to impess highlights:

Stephens Croquet Club

The King and Queen of Croquet

Stephens Croquet Club

Noble – I didnt win – McNaughton

Stephens Croquet Club

Cutest couple alert – Susan and Henry

Stephens Croquet

Mr. Guy Frawley himself

Road Tripping


On September 26, 2012 my New Jersey state driver license expired. For months leading up to this day anxiety had been seeping in.  I doubt I’ll ever drive again, I thought.

It began back in 2006. Yes, I know, 6 whole years ago! I cleaned out the interior of my Hyundai Elantra hatchback, parked it at the top of the drive, locked the doors and barley looked back. Mere hours later I was on a plane to London where I’d live for the next 12 months. Public transport became my haven. It felt like nearly every other weekend I was catching a bus at 4 am to a remote airport to fly a budget airline to a random European city where I would hop on a train to get downtown where Id ride a ferry down the river to admire the views and then walk back to my hostel. Yes, public transportation very much so became my haven.

Salzburg Airport

Arriving at Salzburg Airport in 2006

I returned to the US in April 2007 and took my good old hatchback for a few spins around southern New Jersey while painfully interviewing for jobs. But just one month later I relocated up north, and became one of them city folk. A Car! What car? All I heard amongst the sirens and horn beeps was hassle.

City parking meant street cleaning on the 4th day at 3rd hour of the week each month. And who wants to move their car every week? Or drive around the block 15 times until your head explodes and you start imagining that your car is smaller than it really is and maybe, just maybe it will fit in between the yellow lines very close to the fire hydrant but really, what are the chances they’ll need to use it today? But it doesn’t fit anyway. No way I say. See you for good Hyundai Elantra.

So I got a bike. And I loved it. And I rode it to work every day. Up the hills, on the sidewalks, to the bars, and safely locked it out front of the gate next to my brownstone’s stoop. And nearly every other weekend for someone’s birthday, engagement, shower, wedding, fiesta, just because I’m your friend/related to you I was on the Bolt Bus traveling from 34th and 8th in Manhattan to the parking lot of Red Lobster outside the Cherry Hill Mall. It costs $12, has leather seats and free Wi-Fi, and beats battling my own personal road rage. Back in town though I took the subway, and cabs, and my own two feet when not on bicycle. And it worked. For four whole years.

Beach Cruiser Bike

My sweet cruiser

Then in May 2011 I arrived in Brisbane. And I said again, a car, no way! Not me…I haven’t driven in years. You don’t want me driving on the other side of the road anyway. So I take two buses to work. It takes 30 minutes, but if I walk home it takes 45. I also take the train, rarely the ferry, and too often a much overpriced cab. And it seems to go okay.

Why Not Street Brisbane

Why Not Street Bus Stop, West End, Brisbane

But then September 26 started approaching. I searched high and low the New Jersey DMV’s website and it seemed impossible to get a license renewed when living abroad on a foreign visa. So then then I thought I’d renew it when back in the States last, but then I realized I’m ‘technically’ now a resident of Pennsylvania, and that’s a whole other piece of sticky red tape. So, I came to terms with the fact that I may never drive in the foreseeable future. Or at least, in order to do so I may actually have to take the driver’s test again. Gulp.

Who knew though, apparently the people who informed me did, that getting a Queensland driver license was as simple as pie? It’s okay that I haven’t driven in 6 years, and have never driven on the left hand side of the road, and cannot drive a manual car. I walked into their Department of Transport, handed over my passport and nearly expired New Jersey license, paid $250 for a 5 year licence, and wallah! I am still a licensed driver for the next 5 years now under an Australian driver’s license. But, you’re not allowed to smile. They’re very strict about this one element of it.

Next week the true test comes into to play. I’m traveling to South Africa, have a reservation booked for Avis rent-a-car and will be road tripping the Garden Route from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth with a friend. A friend, who very similarly moved to London in 2006 (pictured with me at the Salzburg airport in fact), and has been living in Manhattan ever since. What I’m getting at is that we’re in the same boat. The good news is they say it’s just like riding a bike, something I’m proud to say I am very good at!

Stay tuned to hear all about it…

Degustation Sensation


Microsoft’s Encarta Dictionary is not familiar with the word degustation, degust or degusting. The dictionary must not be a foodie.

All those contributors to Wikipedia know it though. “Degustation is a culinary term meaning a careful, appreciative tasting of various foods and focusing on the gustatory system, the senses, high culinary art and good company. Dégustation is more likely to involve sampling small portions of all of a chef’s signature dishes in one sitting. Usually consisting of eight or more courses, it may be accompanied by a matching wine degustation which complements each dish.”

And there you have it, the art of degusting. It’s not disgusting at all. It’s delicious.

For my recent birthday I put a message up asking who would be willing to fork over $150 for a degustation wine pairing at a place high on my list of atmospheric dining experiences, Anise, however only one person replied so I opted for the much more sensible Himalayan Café instead.

Luckily, this week was the James Street Food and Lifestyle Trail, a culinary adventure of the delights from the best of what trendy James Street has to offer with pop up restaurants, food and wine pairings, and cultural events. I could only choose one, so Wednesday evening it was off to recently opened Gerrard’s Bistro (where I last tried sheep brains) for their Special Degustation Menu with Ben Williamson, head chef – and a mighty good looking one might I add.

Reservations were required for this art deco restaurant turned food frenzy. Arriving before the 7 pm start, tables were set neatly with cutlery, various wine glasses sized for pour and the evening’s menu set out in the middle. Our group of four was sat in front, a perfect location to listen to chef Ben Williamson explain each course in fine detail following the Red + White wine rep depicting the evenings pairing.

I took out my little green moleskin notebook to begin jotting notes, assuming to go unnoticed, but then was caught red-handed. Yup, I’m a note taker – just in case I feel compelled to write home about it.

Course 1 – Cuttlefish crostini with jamon Serrano, melon Biancavigna ‘Brut’ DOC NV Prosecco, Veneto, Italy

Rumor has it that Prosecco is actually outselling Champagne these days due to popular demand. The pouring was generous and they even came around to top us off! The melon on the jamon was a refreshing touch of sweet summer on the salty dry meat.

Course 2 – Yellow-tail tuna, apple and spring aromatics La Raia, Cortese, Gavi, Italy

The Cortese was nearly my favorite wine of the night. An almond, buttery undertone with a touch of apple at the finish. It perfectly complimented the apple accompanying the “caught that day” raw tuna.

Course 3 – Coal grilled quail, roasted beet, hazelnuts, baby leaves, spice Louis Jadot ‘Cotes de Nuits Villages’ Pinot Noir, Burgundy, France

I’m a sucker for a good Pinot Noir. When my friend mentioned that she doesn’t do foreign wines, I explained that this was the reason I love a good Pinot. Also, another reason why I shouldn’t buy cheap Pinot. The bite size quail though was tender and salty but the beetroot and hazelnuts was a good balance.

Course 4 – Saltbush lamb ‘tagine’, dates, orange, candied olive, ‘shirin polow’- jewelled rice Marchesi Mazzei ‘Zisola’ Nero d’Avola, Sicily, Italy

My first try of the Zisola was that it was too sweet and my immediate inclination was to dismiss it, but after a few swirls and sips I really opened up to it. The lamb tagine was to die for, melt in your mouth, succulent tastes of joy. Really, this was by far the best dish on the menu.

Course 5 – Rose marshmallow, sheep’s yoghurt sorbet, pomegranate, strawberry leather, spiced rosé
Domaine Ott ‘Les Domainiers’, Grenache/Cinsault, Provence, France

When my wine was poured pink I almost didn’t even give it a try. Rose, no way. But the guys at Red + White are good. Although I was indifferent to the dessert, yes the sheep’s yogurt sorbet was sweet and who doesn’t like a good marshmallow, I could have done without. More memorable was how approachable the Rose actually was. Very mild, not overly sugary and I just say, I would drink it on a warm summer day.

Nearing 11 pm this degustation has gone on for hours. Would you be surprised if I mentioned that by the end the whole room was buzzing from the euphoric atmosphere and lavish wine pours? So much so that instead of complimenting the chef on the amazing meal I was tempted to thank them for stocking my favorite Japanese soap, Aesop, which is always a pleasant surprise to find in a restaurant bathroom.

Unfortunate that I could only afford one event on the James Street Food and Lifestyle Trail but I look forward to future events.

Where the beer flows like wine: Margaret River


Take a big whiff. Stick your nose in the glass, hold it by your fingertips and inhale slowly. Using your wrist, twirl the glass around in circles. Take another whiff. Smell different?

Ah, the art of wine tasting. Yes, the likes of France, Italy, California, and Chile all have their appeal but to Australians why would they bother trying such foreign wines when some of the best of the best is in their very own backyard.

I’m lucky that in my short time here (a year and a half already, sheesh) I’ve sampled some fine Shiraz in the Barossa Valley, Semillon in the Hunter Valley, Chardonnays and Pinot Noirs in the Yarra Valley and finally, the Cabernet’s and Sauvignon Blanc’s of Margaret River – with a few others in between of course. It almost seems like no matter where you are in Australia, you’re bound to stumble upon some damn fine wine.

Lucky for me just 3.5 hours drive south of Perth, Western Australia resides the small wine region of Margaret River. A friend from Brisbane was also in Perth the same weekend so it was a no brainer to rent a car for a full fledge road trip to indulge in another yet to be undertaken wine region.

As with everything I’d experienced outside of the city of Perth in WA, the landscape traveling south was barren. Flat farmland stretched for miles with mom and pop service stations scant. Running out of petrol (aka gas) was not an option. Music pumped, windows down with the sun setting over striking vineyards we approached the endearing town of Margaret River.

Interestingly enough, Margaret River is the name of the region, river, and town. And a beautiful region that is, with hiking trails, beautiful beaches and world renowned surf breaks, endless vineyards and more or less one main drag in the center of it all, Bussell Highway. This small and quiet town is consistently invaded by pinky finger sipping tourists and grape picking backpackers. And at the heart of it after a full day of exploring is the main pub in town, Settlers Tavern, as they quote “the kind of pub every wine region should have”.

Lucky for us arriving at about 7:30 pm on a Saturday, coinciding with the AFL (Australia Football League) Grand Final with the Sydney Swans taking the reins, it was off to the Settlers Tavern for some good old fashion pub grub and a taste of some local beer, specifically the quite mild yet delicious Margaret River Pale Ale on tap. The townies were a bit too celebratory so it was back to the hostel where I befriended Hazel from Wales, the boys from northern England who coined me “Alabama” because they couldn’t remember where in America I was from (a first) and a few other locals before eventually making my way back to where all things end, the Settlers Tavern again just a few hours later to rock out to Zarm, a fantastic live Rastafarian band who were as good as Bob Marley himself.

After a very late night it was an early rise to meet Bushtucker Wine Tours to indulge in what we came here for, to taste the fabulous wines of Margaret River. A small group of about 15, it was nice to actually join a tour that was in the vicinity to where we were staying, as opposed to on my excursions having to travel outside of a city, into the country etc. Getting back without having to pee is always a struggle, but thank goodness for Margaret River’s locality, wooh.

Stop 1: Adifern Winery

We approached our first vineyard at about 11 am. I found the tasting very rushed and detached. Being that it was a holiday weekend (strangely it was the Queen’s birthday but not really they just moved it to this Monday randomly) it was quite busy in the area and I felt we were hurried in and out. With that, none of the wines particularly stood out for me, although others on the tour disagreed, so I had my samples and moved on. The property however was beautiful, with bright flowers, endless fields of vines and farm animals roaming.

Before traveling on our guide did something that made me very unhappy at the time. She asked everyone to get on the bus and to sit next to someone they don’t know, introduce yourself, and have a chat until we got to the next place. I was not interested in playing this game one bit, so I sat in the row with the single seat hoping it would save me while I heard my friend Louise chiming away a few rows behind me. In the end I spoke to my neighbor Caitlin, who coincidentally is also from Brisbane and was traveling by herself. Darnist thing, now she’s our friend and we’re organizing dinner parties and making introductions to our groups of friends back in town.

Stop 2: Brookwood Estate

We started the tasting with a sweet yet soft sip of the bubbles. Hmmm, yes I can dig this. Normally I don’t purchase the bubbles but with summer nearly here I envisioned myself sitting in the local park with a glass of these bubbles soaking up the rays with some friends and so I forked over the $30 for a bottle to live out my new fantasy. I was also a strong fan of the Shiraz Cabernet 2010 but at the time only wanted to commit to one, so the bubbles it was.

Unfortunately however I found the staff very rude. While trying to decide, Shiraz/Cab verses bubbles, shiraz/cab verses bubbles, shiraz/cab verses bubbles I was hoping to gain a bit more information about the wines, as I also was purchasing a SSB (Semillon Sauvignon Blanc) for the colleague who’s house I stayed at the week prior, and just found this one staff member’s demeanor downright snooty and unappreciative of my business. In the end I still bought the wines, because they were mighty tasty, however I strongly feel it can’t go unsaid.

But then it was lunch time, wahoo! Sitting out on the veranda looking out over the vineyard I sipped the purchased glass of the aforementioned Shiraz/Cabernet Sauvignon 2010 since it wasn’t coming home with me and indulged in delights such as smoked crocodile, fresh pumpkin bread, and locally crafted chutneys and spreads. It was a bit unique offering of cold tapas but in the end was very satisfying and a great intense mixture of flavors.

Then the fun really began. Our guide offered up the witchetty grub to the group. Say what? Yes, it’s a bug or technically moth larvae and is a traditional provision for Aboriginals. The first person who raised their hand got to choose the head or the tail since it was going to be consumed after being cut in half. Immediately Louise’s hand jumped up, and we looked around the table and realized she was the only one who volunteered to eat the thing. The seconds ticked by as I contemplated if I should take one for the team with my friend, but then just before I braved it another girl in the group jumped in and ate the bit with the head. When asked what it tasted like Louise told us “it’s crunchy but soft inside, tastes like a macadamia nut.” I guess I’ll never know.

Stop 3: Tassell Park

In terms of atmosphere and fun this winery took the cake. It might have been because we’ve already sampled two other wineries, had lunch and therefore I’ve shaken my hangover and sour mood but the overall reason was the hostess. She was fun, educational and gave everyone a laugh and a smile. We tried everything from the lower range all the way to the private bin labels. And although in the balmy weather we ended the tasting with a zesty sampling of mulled wine, I walked out of there with a packet so get ready for a Christmas special recipe!

Stop 4: Cowaramup Brewing Company

Yay, beer break. Cowaramup is another town just a few kilometers outside of Margaret River off of Bussell Highway. If you can’t remember the name, just call it cowabunga like I did. For $14.50 you can get a taster of all the beers on tap, which of course is what we did, and then enjoyed the sun in the green pasture out back where we chatted to some other people on the tour who live in a remote area of Western Australia up near Broome. Nowhere zone.  I could have sat there for hours, taking in the rays, sipping deliciousness from light to dark, enjoying life. But then we had to move on.

Stop 5: Margaret River Dairy Company

I LOVE cheese! Cheese, cheese, cheese. This cute little dairy complex had a just enough room to squeeze us in, sample a few, and my golly the feta and brie were fabulous, make a purchase and head out the door. While Louise scored us some deliciousness to divulge later, I wandered around the property snapping photos. It was a quick stop off, and then we were on our way.

Stop 6: Margaret River Chocolate Factory

Whew, this is a lot of stuff isn’t it? I wasn’t event tempted by the chocolate at this stage. Well, that’s not true, this was probably the busiest place we ventured to all day, as all tours stop here. The chocolate warehouse was huge and had chocolates in all shapes, sizes, flavors etc. There was popcorn and ice-cream and it was a bit like heaven I would imagine. I just found my way to the free samples, which is very generous because you can scoop out the serves yourself, and then was ready to move on to the final stop off.

Stop 7: Thompson Estate

The owner of this last winery, a cardiologist, spoke to us all about the family business. I sipped, and swirled and chatted away as I realized this was my last chance to make a purchase. Their wines consisted of the Thompson Estate Range and the Locum Range, which is the cheaper of two. Interestingly enough, at times I enjoyed the Locum Range better than the more expensive so I walked out of there with a crisp bottle of 2011 Chardonnay, a new variety favorite of mine, to compliment the cheeses we just purchased for an afternoon snack.

We returned to Margaret River Backpackers around 5 and as the weather was fantastic that day we found all of our new friends from the previous evening hanging out back on the porch. Louise and I glowing from our wine tasting saddled up to the table to savor the cheese and wine and tell stories from the day. We found our way back to Settler’s Tavern that evening for dinner and then mingled the night away.

On the drive back to Perth the next morning we took our time on Bussell Highway, having breakfast in “cowabunga” where cow statues line the road before stopping off in Busselton to walk the longest jetty in the southern hemisphere. Families were fishing off the jetty enjoying the Monday holiday in the sun. As we casually made our way closer to the city we realized we made the unforgiving mistake when the gas light ticked on and we needed to find a servo (gas station) fast. Luckily we did, but the stress got tenser as the clocked ticked on, the traffic backed up, and my flight back to Brisbane inched closer and closer. Luckily for me, Louise’s skilled driving dropped me at the Perth Airport a mere 10 minutes before the flight departed, some charming skills convinced the ticket agents to print a boarding pass even though the flight was closed and I rushed through the gates after getting picked on for the bomb swat test, every time! And only to find the flight delayed an hour. Whew. I swear though, walking the longest jetty in the southern hemisphere, 1.8 kilometers across Geographe Bay, sure was worth it.

Dubbya Eyh


These two eyes have expanded. They’re growing wider and wiser. They’ve stretched themselves up and down the east coast, along the southern states and finally made it out west. Hello Western Australia, commonly referred to as WA or more accurately pronounced ‘dubbya eyh’. For some reason though I had ignored all of my own first-rate advice. In fact, it didn’t even register for me until after I boarded the plane that I was embarking on a 5 hour flight and spending 10 days across the country. Slipper socks – fail. Inflatable neck pillow – fail. Camera charger – fail.

On my way to the Perth City YHA hostel my taxi driver chatted to me about Perth. “You’ll talk to everyone around here. Actually, everyone will want to talk to you whether you want to talk or not.” That’s the perception about out west. The population is scarce, and backwards, and slow, and friendly. But that’s about it. Or so they say.

I joined Pinnacles Tours for a full day adventure outside of the city of Perth, heading north into the vast emptiness. This is what I had pictured rural Australia to look like. Driving through the bush, our bus rumbling over flat orange-colored dusted roads, miles of nothingness, no cars in sight, no street lights or intersections, just random clusters of yellow flowers hugging the way.

Joey in the pouch

Our first stop was to Caversham Wildlife Park. As with most tours, no itinerary would be complete without feeding a kangaroo and giving a koala a light pat. So as you do, I did. But this time around I experienced two firsts. I actually saw a little Joey inside a mama kangaroo’s pouch. And although that sounds all cute and cuddly and picturesque, it really was quite awkward. Poor little guy just had one leg sticking out and was sort of in there upside down. To each their own I guess. The other first was that I pet a southern hairy nose wombat. But then, that’s when my camera died.

Koalas are not bears.

My wombat friend

On our way to Nambung National Park and Cervantes, we passed wind farms that sustain the local area’s electricity. For a moment in time I could have been in the Netherlands. 50 windmills source 55,000 homes. Pretty impressive.

Ze Lobster Factory

The quant fishing village of Cervantes is home to the Indian Ocean Rock Lobster Factory. Technically, these lobsters are crayfish, but called lobsters because that’s what they’re more commonly known and appeal to the desirable export locations. Cray cray. At first I thought the notion of going on a tour of the facility was quite silly, who cares, but I walked out of there completely fascinated (and hungry!). It was interesting to see how the lobsters are chosen, sized and then packed live for shipping. Over an audio tour I learned how first they sort them in long containers based on size, as orders come in requesting certain specifications. They starve them so they remove all of the poo, as they can survive for 30 hours without eating, then whisk them off to be packed after checking to make sure all their legs are still intact. A quick dip in freezing cold water stuns them long enough to be packed in a crate with wood chips and shipped overseas. Visitors can then dine at The Lobster Shack or nibble off the tours supplied lunch that was very unimpressive and underwhelming. I should have paid the extra $30 for the lobster.

Big guy, all legs intact

About 250 kilometers northeast of Perth lay Nambung National Park, and the Pinnacles Desert. This is what I’ve been waiting for! Sand dunes more or less comprising of calcified plants and trees that formed crazy looking limestone formations sticking out of the earth, a zillion times over. Breathtaking is an understatement, mesmerizing is more like it.

One with the desert

To me, this represented the true desert in my mind. Rock structures of all shapes and sizes extending for miles. The cold wind blowing against my ear, the fine grains of sand into my eyes and the fresh air abundant. There were tourists, but not a ridiculous amount. You could easily walk a few feet in one direction and have nothingness stretched out in front of you. The Indian Ocean resting on one side, and endless counts of mounds in every other direction with green shrubbery scattered in between. I wanted to just take a seat to take it all in. I felt like I had been let in on some secret, like I wasn’t supposed to be there. If it wasn’t for the tourists, the only sound was the rush of wind.

The Pinnacles

Traveling on to Lancelin making our way back down south, I saw heaps of animals in the wild. There were kangaroos, cows, horses, sheep but another first, an emu – the largest bird native to Australia.

Lancelin is another small fishing village but also a place to explore the massive dunes on four-wheel drive or better yet, taking up the sport of sand boarding. Now, I’ve heard of this being done in the far North of New Zealand which I missed out on, and in Peru, but here was an opportunity right here in Australia. Let’s face it, I was nervous and scared. The dunes were mammoth but all the locals didn’t mind as they casually and expertly glided down. The sand boards provided were the sitting down kind, not the standing up (thank goodness), and so I forced myself to give it a go. Actually, it was quite exhilarating and I attempted one or two more shoddy slides down the substantial hill before taking a spectators seat and offering my board to another.  A few hours drive back to Perth and my tour was over. Whew, what a long day.

Hiking up to board down

Now, back at the YHA it was about 8 pm and I needed to make a decision – what to do tomorrow? Clearly the only way to decide whether to adventure to Rottnest Island or take a leisure day in Fremantle was to think it over a few pints. Down at Packaz Backpacker Bar within the hostel I made friends with Irish lads Mark and Darren who were over here earning some fine Australian dollars to send back to their families in Ireland. According to them, the YHA was like a hotel. Hmmm. I must have missed something here. The damn Irish, they’re everywhere here in Australia. But at about 1 am it was decided, both! I booked myself on the 8:30 am ferry to Rottnest that cost $92 roundtrip with a return at 2:30 pm dropping me in Fremantle. Done deal.

The Rottnest Express was quite an ordeal. The early ferry was crawling with tourists, screaming kids and crying babies and was fully packed. It took about an hour to get to Fremantle to board more passengers, then another 25 minutes to the Island. It was an hour late and I was feeling a bit seedy on the open sea but at least the commentary on board was informative. The ultimate Rottnest experience is to rent a bike and peddle to the little alcoves all over the island to take in some of Australia’s best beaches. Unfortunately for me, the bike line was way too long and I was running short on time so had to travel on foot, which means I didn’t get very far.

As soon as I hit land, escaped the tourists and walked along the beach alone, with the sun beaming on my face, my hangover was instantly cleared and a smile was slapped across it. I realized that the silly move of booking the ferry at 1 am wasn’t so silly after all and well worth it. I made it to Thompson Bay and had the whole beach to myself. Then I went for a wander amongst some of the hiking trails, that is until I heard little critters in the bush and started to get freaked out. I came face to face with a furry quokka – a marsupial known to roam the island, and although harmless, told the little bugger to piss right off. When I came across the sign that read “beware of venomous snakes”, I knew it was time for me to go! In the end, I wish I had more time, and look forward to going back to explore the other beaches, snorkel areas, and hiking trails around the island.

Danger!

Next stop Fremantle or Freo as it’s commonly known as. This is supposed to be the cool place. Everyone in Perth knows Freo is where it’s at. It’s on the water, has great restaurants, history, boutiques and is a university town. I stopped off at E Shed markets, which reminded me a bit of Seattle, although I didn’t purchase anything from the stalls. Home of Little Creatures Brewery, I detoured for a pint of their Pip Squeak Cider for a break in the sun and people watching. They offer free tours at 1, 2 and 3 pm daily but I just missed it. Next I was off to Cicerellos known as WA’s first fish and chip shop. Served in paper and doused in vinegar it brought back nostalgia of my first true fish and chips in the Cotswold’s, England in 1996. This was a good day, and I’m happy!

Freo just gave off good vibes. In the green patch of the Esplanade children played cricket, families had picnics, and all the locals were enjoying the outdoors. I stumbled upon some other  markets, some more Irish accents, and then hopped the train back to Perth to meet a colleague.

3 nights I stayed with my welcoming colleague who made her home mine. Home cooked meals, washing done, we visited a few local universities and toured some other sites like Kings Park ,which is bigger than Central Park, and sits above the beautiful Perth skyline lit up at night. I then moved on to Kings Perth Hotel in the center of the city, do not stay here it’s disgusting, yet was the only hotel in town that didn’t cost $400 a night, while attending a conference for the next few days.

Look out from Kings Park

Saturday I was off to another fine wine region, Margaret River. Stay tuned…

The Art of the Long Haul Flight


Flying economy is a skill. I mean this whole heartedly. But flying long haul economy is a talent.

Sort of like the band Nada Surf’s “teenage guide to popularity” in the 1996 alternative hit “Popular”, the below is my ABC’s to a successful long haul flight.

Firstly, it all starts with the airline. There are airlines that I praise, as do others hence why they win awards. They soar in excellence for in-flight service, entertainment, customer care, culinary delights, cabin décor and leg room. Of those I’ve personally flown I put Qantas, British Airways, Virgin Atlantic, Air Canada, Air New Zealand and Emirates on this list yet I know there are still many more to dip my luxury toes in.

Jaime and I on Emirates from JFK to Thailand via Dubai in 2009

Then there is the DO NOT fly list. And I will more than happily cough over an extra few hundred dollars to avoid this list. This includes Olympic Air, Iceland Air, United or better yet, any US airline both internationally and domestically. But those are all a story for another day. Let’s assume you’ve done the sensible thing and purchased a ticket on a credible airline.

Eileen and I not happy campers on Olympic Air on our way to Athens in 2008

You’ll need to arrive at the airport approximately 1.5 hours before the flight, merely due to immigration hold ups as you will undoubtedly experience a smooth check in procedure as your chosen airline is a professional and competent organization.

After checking in and upon clearing immigration, grab that bottle of water and start the stretches. Long haul flights are long, and you want to avoid leg cramps otherwise known as DVT (deep vein thrombosis). Use the furniture such as a chair to prop your leg up on and reach for your toes. Try the big floor to ceiling window next. Put your hand on the glass while admiring the massive plane you’re about to board and the base of your foot against the bottom of the window to stretch your calves. Next grab hold of the vending machine to stable yourself while pulling your leg back to stretch those thighs.

It should be almost time to board. They may call you by row number, or request flyers with more elite statuses to approach first, however I like to assume I’m one of the elite and begin boarding as soon as possible. Yes, it’s annoying to have to sit on the plane longer then needed however people can be stupid, and if you can avoid watching them try to awkwardly maneuver their suitcase into the overhead compartments or tell their child…not that row, keep going, not that one either, hurry up people are waiting…you get the idea.

The big debate – aisle verses window. You’ll need to make this decision the moment you purchase your ticket, because not only do you want your preferred seat you also want to be as far in the front of the plane as possible and this can only be guaranteed if you choose your seat immediately while booking.

I see the perks in both sides of this debacle yet I’ve been a loyal snoozer to the window for nearly ten years. So saddle in to your window seat, remove your shoes and put on a comfy pair of slippers, or slipper socks is what I prefer. Pack your water, Kindle, and journal into the seat pocket in front of you but leave the iPod behind, there’s plenty of in-flight entertainment to satisfy your aural needs. Open the in-flight magazine and let the journey begin.

To put the next 24 hours of flying into context, let’s assume you’re flying from Sydney to New York. The first hour will be spent reading the in-flight magazine from front to back cover, even admiring all those lines dotting around the world map in the very last page while you envision yourself and all the air miles you’d acquire connecting them. While reading, safety procedures will be conducted by the air hostesses in the background.

Once finished the in-flight magazine, turn on your in-flight entertainment screen on the headrest in front of you and scan the entire list of movies, yes even the classics, TV shows, games, destination guides and the flight map. Pick at least 4-6 of your favorites. Begin movie # 1.

Around the time that movie #1 ends you’ll have been distributed a menu for the duration of the flight, as well as some sort of compliments bag containing an eye mask, tooth brush etc. Dinner will now be served, yet it’s probably only noon or 1 pm in the afternoon. Enjoy it, it’s probably delicious and while you’re at it drink at least 2 mini bottles of red wine throughout the process. You’ll need them and they’re free.

An hour of fine wining and dining and then your meal will be collected. You’re now about halfway into movie #2. You may feel the urge to go to the toilet but not just yet, you’re in the window seat remember. Wait until movie #2 finishes, take a peek at your neighbors, and then do the old, “I’m really sorry, do you mind?” with an apologetic smile.

The next part is up to you. The lights are dimmed, it’s probably early afternoon, and it’s time to pretend it’s night time and sleep meanwhile you’ve only been awake for less than 8 hours. You have a few options – movie #3, but then again, you know you’ll never make it through the whole thing; read, but you’ll probably piss off your neighbor with that darn light; or just go for it, sleep. For approximately 6 hours.

At some point they’re bound to get up, and if they do, that’s your one shot. Do a few laps around the plane, and hang out in the very back by the toilets. You’ll thank yourself for getting a good seat in the front and not having all the people like you linger in the back. Plus, they usually store extra snacks back there so help yourself.

It’s movie #3 time and will you look at that, the cabin lights are slowly glowing brighter. Rise and shine! Breakfast is served, and it’s an option of hot eggs and mushrooms and bacon or boring cereal. Go for the eggs! Yawn, yawn but you know what this means, you probably only have 3.5 hours left. This is very exciting. That’s only one more movie, and a few reruns of The Big Bang Theory.

Take a moment to fill out your landing card so you don’t waste time at customs in LAX and flip over to the flight map. Spend the last hour watching yourself get closer and closer to landing. Boom, you’re there before you know it.

Now, you’ll most likely have a minimum of 2 hours in LAX but after clearing customs and having a beer or 2 at 7 am California time you’ll be on another plane shortly. 5.5 hours to New York is a breeze, and because you will have barely slept on the first leg, this is your chance to catch up because once you land in New York, its go time, probably only 6 pm the same day you left Australia. Weird.

So now that you have this excellent advice from a well versed long haul economy flyer, I wish you luck on your travels to visit me here in Australia or elsewhere around the globe. I’m embarrassed to say I just booked a long haul economy flight on United to visit Philadelphia for Christmas and will not be privileged to any of the aforementioned perks however will stretch adequately prior to boarding.

Start spreading the news…


Start spreading the news…I want to be a part of it, New York, New York!

Descending into John F. Kennedy Airport in Queens, New York, I imagine myself landing in the city that so many people dream about for the first time. It’s by far not my first time, I grew up in Jersey for crying out loud, but that feeling still never goes away. There’s so many of them; teeny tiny lights. They’re clustered nearly on top of each other, and appear endless. This is the true definition of population density.

Stepping foot into Manhattan that old feeling rushes back. It’s euphoric, and energizing, and makes me want to scream from the inside out, “ahh, I love you New York!” There really isn’t anywhere else like it.

Walking the old streets again made me feel like I had never left. The smell of Nuts for Nuts, zigzagging the unpleasant bustle of mid-town, instant aggravation. I craved shopping, took one look at Macy’s with lust, then took another look and remembered the vow I made to never step foot in Macy’s on 34th Street again. It’s an anxiety attack jam packed into one old iconic building.

I jaywalk without fear of a ticket, hop in the back of cab to catch up on the daily news, and squeal a bit that I can go so far, for so cheap. I look up at the symbolic Empire State Building and curse myself for never actually making the journey up myself. Then pass the line down the street, the tourists huddled in groups being bombarded by sightseeing companies. I’m just one with the locals; they don’t know I left.

But the even better part is going to the old hang outs. Dirty dives in the East Village and restaurants that deny you a table without a month’s advance reservation. These streets are just every day streets, with everyday people. It’s not chaos, it’s just living. Cab horn beeping, siren blaring, crazies cursing, stroller pushing, frat boys smoking, high heels wearing, beer drinking, cocktail sipping New York!

And I miss the days where I had no pretentions about it. I knew exactly where to get a $2 beer and 2:1 meals. Where live jazz in an unmarked door in the West Village kept me up past my bedtime on a work night. Or when I’d wake in the morning to the sun on a friend’s penthouse balcony in Hell’s Kitchen or to 3 people in a Murphy bed in a studio on the Upper East Side.  But that was a different time.

This is my New York now, nostalgia for all that New York is.

My View of Manhattan from Jersey

 

Never Say Never: Splendour In The Grass 2012


Splendour! Splendour! Can you feel it now…Splendour! Splendour! The madness has begun.

I’m slowly growing warmer and warmer. The joints in my lower back are aching and then, achu! No! Not another sneeze. Cough. Oh no I didn’t!

It’s the evening before departing for a four day bender at musical festival extraordinaire, Splendour in the Grass, and I’m down with the flu. Unforeseen, but then again, the same thing happened to me last year. A full day of rest has me hoping it will blow over and then around 8:30 pm I get the call, “we’re here!” It’s time to head south to Byron.

Splendour in Byron Bay means the luxury of five adults squeezed into a 1 bedroom apartment costing us each 400 bucks a pop. But what I would pay for warm showers and cold beer. About a kilometer walk in one direction is the festival grounds, and in the other the sanctuary of town – where coffee and warm breakfast await alongside the ocean.

With our phones synchronized to monitor the weather as if the apocalypse would come and cancel the event, we were all smiles as 4 days of yellow suns appeared on our iPhones and Blackberry’s smiling back at us. In a rush to devour the must have Hare Krishna feast of Govinda’s, it was quite a shock as the skies darkened outside the food tent and it slowly began to drizzle. Panic set in as our flouro attire and stylish kicks were worn without fear of disaster.

Fork in mouth, I continued to devour my kofta balls observing festival goers embrace the rain and newly acquired mud. The festival now deamed Splendour in the Mud. The gum boot stand apparently sold out of rain boots and people were lining up for ponchos. The kofta balls came to an end and we contemplated heading over to another Splendour staple, the Moroccan Wine Bar, and just then, the apocalypse we never saw coming came. Hail! Mother of all hail, big hail, little hail, fast hail and slow hail. What looked fun at first, looked like it would hurt as it kept coming down.  And then moments later the skies cleared, the sun came out, and we moved on. Did that just happen?

Aside from the mud, my favorite part of Splendour is two things: music and food. Let’s start with the food.  Apart from Govinda’s, duh,  there were  scrumptious corn fritters topped with meat balls, and deep fried crab rolls with cream cheese with sweet soy drizzled on top, and noodles covered in satay. Whew, and I wish I got to try to more.

And then there’s the music. I was a bit upset at first, comparing the set up of Splendour 2012 at Byron Bay to my experience last year where the event was hosted in the Sunshine Coast hinterlands of Woodford. I was expecting an amphitheatre, and outdoor space, and places to chill. I also wanted the plethora of toilets that didn’t seem to be present here. But once all the anxiety settled and I appreciated what was at hand everything worked out.

The attraction of Splendour, with headliners like The Shins and the Smashing Pumpkins is incentive enough, but my personal appreciation for the event is getting acclimated with Australian bands I know I would never come across in the States. Two piece band of awesomeness Big Scary, Brisbane firecracker’s Ball Park Music, San Cisco, Tame Impala, Last Dinosaurs, Jinja Safari and more!

But my 3 top moments were Jack White’s overwhelming performance and belting out classics like Hotel Yorba and ending in a crowd fisting Seven Nation Army; Super cutey Luke Pritchard and the Kooks taking me back to London 2006; and then ending with Smashing Pumpkins reminiscences of my 14 year-old self.

Until next year, thank you Splendour!