It's strange to be heading into the barbecue season here, at the end of September.
Yesterday (Saturday) was a glorious spring day: temps in the low 80s, sunshine, a warm breeze, and newly mown grass, flowers blooming, and eucalyptus (gum trees) spicing the air.
Steve and I let the fire in the woodstove die out in the morning, and while having brekky of scrambled eggs and cantaloupe (called rock-melon here) played a rousing game of Super Scrabble. The board is bigger, has quadruple word scores, triple and quadruple letter scores and twice as many tiles. I won, which is a rare occurrence, with a score of 626 to his 587.
Anyway, the day was spent leisurely...my housework, his lawn mowing, and at the end of the day he started up the smoky Joe for a dinner of barbecued steak, sweet corn on the cob, and more cantaloupe. We also watched Field of Dreams, which he'd never seen. I love it when a man is so moved that he gets tears in his eyes during a movie. But I digress...
We weren't the only ones getting into the "spring" of things here. Our other neighbors on acre-blocks mowed their lawns and fired up their grillers. It made me think of something I read in a book we have, called Aussie Etiket, or doing things the Aussie way, by John O'Grady. By the way, Aussie is pronounced "Ozzie." Anything in brackets [such as this] are my comments.
On barbecues: "Barbecues, on fine Saturdays or Sundays, are a feature of the Australian suburban and country landscape. That haze that you see covering the continent as you fly in is not fog. It is chop-sausage and steak-flavored wood or charcoal smoke which will delight your nose when you descend from the aircraft.
"Anti-pollution laws do not, and probably never will, apply to barbecues.
"When you have made friends with a few of the indigenous inhabitants of our country, you will be invited to a barbecue. The etiket:
"Dress: Extremely casual. Never, never, never suit and tie. An attractive and interesting female will be welcome, since there is no sex segregation at barbecues. But an off-white butcher's paper parcel of cookable meats will insult your host. He will always 'know a butcher' who gives him the 'best cuts' and he will have 'laid on' enough for everybody. If you feel that you must bring something in lieu of, or in addition to an interesting and attractive female, bring half-a dozen of beer or a flagon of Red Ned. (Red Ned? 'Vin rouge ordinaire,' officially labeled claret or dry red.) [Likely in salute to Ned Kelly, a notorious and killer bush-ranger which for some reason is considered a hero in Australia...look him up in Wikipedia. The American version of him would be close to Jesse James.]
"Conventional decorum: Women prepare the salads and all other trimmings, organize the plates, cutlery, glasses, condiments, etc. (Your bird's [woman's] offer to help will be appreciated) and your host cooks the meats. He will be, by his own admission, the best barbecuer of steak, chops [lamb or mutton] and sausages 'this side of the black stump.' And even if his chops are burnt, and his steaks ooze blood, and his sausages burst open at both ends, you must congratulate him and eat everything he puts on your plate. The words, 'Bloody good tucker, this,' will be appropriate. [tucker is Australian for food]
"You must also register a favorable reaction to his humorous apron and funny hat. But--and this is important--you must watch your language. The word 'bloody' is all right, but avoid all profanity unless and until your host gives you a lead.
'He may, when the women are washing up (and your offer to help will get you in good with the women, but will be politely refused) entertain you with a scurrilous song or two of Army, Navy or Air Force origin. In which case, any contribution you may be able to make will 'get you in good' with him.
"Finally, do not be either the first or the last to leave. A too early departure will reflect unfavorably on the quality of the hospitality, and an unduly delayed one will get you a sarcastic offer of 'a bed for the night.' Go with the 'strength,' and do not neglect to thank your hostess with a few appropriate words and a kiss on the cheek or hand. This will 'go down big,' and ensure you another invitation."
This bit of wisdom is true, as I have observed. Barbecuing is a male thing here. When we have a a lot of people over on a summer afternoon, the men congregate around Steve while he handles various meats on our large gas barbecue and the smoky Joe. They compliment him on how he turns the meat and rotates corn on the cob in foil and flips thick-sliced potatoes and onions. Women are in the kitchen, all have brought salads of some sort, and help me clean up.
If someone stays late, Steve announces he is going to bed.
I don't know if I will ever get used to being kissed on the cheek by males and females.
But always, at the end of the day, I am happy and satisfied, and look forward to the next barbecue, whether we host it or we are guests.
Long live the Aussie barbecue.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Back in the saddle
Finally, finally, I am back in "the saddle" (my desk chair) again.
For the last few months I have written from a reclining angle in the Lazy Boy with my laptop balanced on my knees. Not very conducive to writing, and after awhile, I just didn't have anything positive to say.
I struggled with depression and confinement, and the overwhelming feeling of tackling a mountain of e-mails, and stories I wanted to tell and photos I wanted to download. So, prone to my flawed character, I did nothing.
However, during that time I have discovered Australian folklore, historical fiction, and poets, such as "Banjo" Patterson, who is the author of the poem that inspired The Man From Snowy River movie. I've also discovered some Australian movies. Some are interesting, but for the most part, have a lot to be desired. Call me a spoiled American for 'quality' I guess.
But, four months later, my back has healed to the point that I have cleared off my office desk in the last few days so that I can write again. I have a view of Buster the Bird in his large outdoor cage on the verandah to my left, and the Snake Valley Hills to my right, with my computer in the center. It feels good to be "normal" again, being able to sit upright in a chair and walk around, and even do some housework, which my husband is very glad of.
I must say here that Steve has been really great about the lot. Not too keen on ironing and toilet and shower cleaning, but I have discovered he is a great cook and I was spoiled with Aussie meals. Because he was in the Australian Navy for nearly six years, he is also really good at mopping floors. In fact, I think he should take that chore over from me. The issue is in discussion, haha.
In fact, my back has healed to the point where Steve and I have taken some road trips, and I came through with flying colors, although I had to rest a bit afterward. We went to the Murray River-side town of Echuca, which was a bustling place in the late 1800s and early 1900s with produce and wool from parts of Australia's interior making way to the sea, Gulf of St. Vincent, via Adelaide. We took a trip on the Paddle Steamer Alexander Arbuthnot, had dinner in the Bridge Hotel, refurbished from its heydey in the 1800s, and drove the 90 minute trip from there by the light of the full moon on some back country roads, headlights out. In fact, a kangaroo jumped out of the bush on the side of the road, and led us on a merry path, him bounding back and forth between the road edges for about two miles in front of us in our Land Rover Discovery. It was enchanting.
A few weeks ago, we made a trip to Brisbane on the east coast. Two days traveling there, and two back, and three days with Steve's niece and nephew-in-law, Jacqui and Andrew Gold. We had such a great time, and my back held up really well.
We went to Caloundra on the Sunshine coast north of Brisbane for a day, walking along King's Beach, where I saw men in "thongs" (here they are called g-strings, and thongs are what you wear on your feet. I averted my eyes and made noises which Steve thought were hilarious.) We had lunch at a sidewalk cafe with a view of the beach and watched a barge coming toward the harbor carrying shipping containers. As I gazed at the stacked railroad-size containers, totally uncovered and it seemed unsecured, I thought about my things that were shipped from America to Brisbane just a year ago. I marveled that all my household stuff deemed worthy of keeping arrived intact.
After lunch we strolled the tree-lined streets of an old portion of Caloundra, visited a used bookshop (I am so glad my husband is such a book fanatic like me), and enjoyed a Baskin-Robbins ice cream cone. This is the only Baskin Robbins store I have seen here, and Steve said he'd never heard of them outside of the States.
The following day we went south of Brisbane to the Gold Coast, which includes Surfer's Paradise, and I wasn't so impressed. There is a lot of American influence as it is a tourist destination. I couldn't help but wonder why Australians didn't stick to their own unique nationality and its influences. Although there are some things about Australia and its people that drive me mad for the most part (especially journalism rules) it is very unique...not a mini-America at all...and I have enjoyed learning about a new culture, and a new language as well. (More on that later.)
One thing that stood out to me was the amount of locals on the Sunshine and Gold coasts with really deep tans. I knew they were locals because we visited in "winter" (August) which is not tourist season. (A few Ballaratians tell me that the Gold Coast tan is unique in that it is so golden-brown and year-round.) I saw a few women and men jogging along the beach and noticed how wrinkled their faces are, even though the rest of their bodies looked smooth and tan. Not for me, thanks. Fully clothed me enjoyed the sun on my face, took pictures, and thought about how far away from my other home I am, and yet just across that vast Southern Pacific Ocean.
I really had a good time getting to know Jacqui and Andrew as well. We played the modern "LIFE" which was new to them, enjoyed going to a Belgian Pub for a beer and chips (thick, beer-battered steak-cut fries to Americans) in Brisbane after a City Cat ride down the Brisbane River and touring the Botanical Gardens replete with myriad tropical plants and trees. The air smelled sweetly of blooming winter flowers. City Cat is a catamaran boat system people use as transportation much like a bus or a taxi. There are various ports along the river that distribute people to their destination throughout the heart of the city for a nominal price. The four of us stood in the front of the Cat. With Steve's arms around me from behind and keeping me warm from the cool breeze, I marveled like a tourist at the views of the city edge, homes along rocky cliffs, and then skyscrapers dissecting the heart of Brisbane. I especially delighted in the sun on my face and my grown-out hairdo streaming behind me. (It's short again as of last week.)
We were in Brisbane for Father's Day, which is the first Sunday in September. Andrew's dad and mum live in the area, so the six of us met for a picnic in a park on Daisy Hill, which is also a refuge for koalas. That park in itself was an adventure. Families played Cricket or Footy (Australian Rules Football, which is a cross between soccer, basketball and American football), and hosted the Australian barbecue which is an art form by itself. (More on that later...geez I have a lot to write about.) Australians have barbecue perfected. Especially the blokes. Sheilas [girls and/or women] don't need to do anything but cart the stuff, along with salads, and to clean up, and look nice.
While we were there, I saw a kookaburra thrashing to death on a log an already dead string of meat stolen from someone's barbecue, two wallabys tentatively hopping out of the bush to nibble on grass near our picnic table, and a very young koala scamper down a gum tree, across a grassy area, stare at a barking dog and all the people gathered 'round, then climb another gum tree and hang precariously onto skinny, bending branches while sleepily stuffing gum leaves into its mouth.
Steve teased me about being so excited about the koala, but I pointed out that every Australian in the park was just as rapt as me and had cameras out to document the little critter. So there.
Last time I posted anything, we were in the frozen grip of winter in July. In August we had snow on and off for a few days (I live in the coldest part of the state aside from the Snowy Mountains.) But now springtime is arriving almost overnight, it seems. Even when we have frosty mornings, the days warm up nicely and I have noticed frothy pink and white apple, pear, cherry and almond blossoms on trees.
In the last few weeks, the overnights temps have been in the upper 30s or low 40s, and the days have been pleasantly warm, even if overcast and rainy. We've had a lot of rain over fall, winter, and into this brand new spring season, and some are saying that perhaps the 10-15 year cycle of drought may be over. Steve mowed our acre lawn on Sunday after church for the second time in one week, which is unusual...we can go a few weeks in between mowings. The air smells sweet and clean, and our two rain tanks are full...they feed our house water system rather than being on town water. The rain water for drinking is so much sweeter, and I have already noticed a difference in laundry and shower water, especially on my hair. The pollution here in the country (about 90 minutes away northwest from Melbourne, which is also dubbed 'the Big Smoke,') is very low. Gum (eucalyptus) trees are blossoming, as are the wattle trees with brilliant yellow flowers against a backdrop of stunning green leaves. Bushy plants in my yard are flowering and attracting bees. The sun rises earlier now with daylight savings time only a week away, and the pre-dawn air is alive with kookaburra laughter, blackbirds, wattle birds, honey-eaters, sulfur-crested cockatoos, galahs (including our own Buster), magpie chortles, and the high-pitched songs of red and blue rosella parrotts. This is my second springtime here, and I find I like it very well.
Anyway, photos to follow, hopefully to compliment this blog, and on my photoblog, heidisphotos, which can be accessed from here.
Again, loved family and friends, sorry about the delay and lack of communication from me in so long. But I am back in the saddle, and will likely bore you all with frequent postings and e-mails henceforth, and reminders to check my blog. Thanks Jason, my son, for encouraging me to post again after such a long time away. Your note spurred me into action. I love you heaps.
For the last few months I have written from a reclining angle in the Lazy Boy with my laptop balanced on my knees. Not very conducive to writing, and after awhile, I just didn't have anything positive to say.
I struggled with depression and confinement, and the overwhelming feeling of tackling a mountain of e-mails, and stories I wanted to tell and photos I wanted to download. So, prone to my flawed character, I did nothing.
However, during that time I have discovered Australian folklore, historical fiction, and poets, such as "Banjo" Patterson, who is the author of the poem that inspired The Man From Snowy River movie. I've also discovered some Australian movies. Some are interesting, but for the most part, have a lot to be desired. Call me a spoiled American for 'quality' I guess.
But, four months later, my back has healed to the point that I have cleared off my office desk in the last few days so that I can write again. I have a view of Buster the Bird in his large outdoor cage on the verandah to my left, and the Snake Valley Hills to my right, with my computer in the center. It feels good to be "normal" again, being able to sit upright in a chair and walk around, and even do some housework, which my husband is very glad of.
I must say here that Steve has been really great about the lot. Not too keen on ironing and toilet and shower cleaning, but I have discovered he is a great cook and I was spoiled with Aussie meals. Because he was in the Australian Navy for nearly six years, he is also really good at mopping floors. In fact, I think he should take that chore over from me. The issue is in discussion, haha.
In fact, my back has healed to the point where Steve and I have taken some road trips, and I came through with flying colors, although I had to rest a bit afterward. We went to the Murray River-side town of Echuca, which was a bustling place in the late 1800s and early 1900s with produce and wool from parts of Australia's interior making way to the sea, Gulf of St. Vincent, via Adelaide. We took a trip on the Paddle Steamer Alexander Arbuthnot, had dinner in the Bridge Hotel, refurbished from its heydey in the 1800s, and drove the 90 minute trip from there by the light of the full moon on some back country roads, headlights out. In fact, a kangaroo jumped out of the bush on the side of the road, and led us on a merry path, him bounding back and forth between the road edges for about two miles in front of us in our Land Rover Discovery. It was enchanting.
A few weeks ago, we made a trip to Brisbane on the east coast. Two days traveling there, and two back, and three days with Steve's niece and nephew-in-law, Jacqui and Andrew Gold. We had such a great time, and my back held up really well.
We went to Caloundra on the Sunshine coast north of Brisbane for a day, walking along King's Beach, where I saw men in "thongs" (here they are called g-strings, and thongs are what you wear on your feet. I averted my eyes and made noises which Steve thought were hilarious.) We had lunch at a sidewalk cafe with a view of the beach and watched a barge coming toward the harbor carrying shipping containers. As I gazed at the stacked railroad-size containers, totally uncovered and it seemed unsecured, I thought about my things that were shipped from America to Brisbane just a year ago. I marveled that all my household stuff deemed worthy of keeping arrived intact.
After lunch we strolled the tree-lined streets of an old portion of Caloundra, visited a used bookshop (I am so glad my husband is such a book fanatic like me), and enjoyed a Baskin-Robbins ice cream cone. This is the only Baskin Robbins store I have seen here, and Steve said he'd never heard of them outside of the States.
The following day we went south of Brisbane to the Gold Coast, which includes Surfer's Paradise, and I wasn't so impressed. There is a lot of American influence as it is a tourist destination. I couldn't help but wonder why Australians didn't stick to their own unique nationality and its influences. Although there are some things about Australia and its people that drive me mad for the most part (especially journalism rules) it is very unique...not a mini-America at all...and I have enjoyed learning about a new culture, and a new language as well. (More on that later.)
One thing that stood out to me was the amount of locals on the Sunshine and Gold coasts with really deep tans. I knew they were locals because we visited in "winter" (August) which is not tourist season. (A few Ballaratians tell me that the Gold Coast tan is unique in that it is so golden-brown and year-round.) I saw a few women and men jogging along the beach and noticed how wrinkled their faces are, even though the rest of their bodies looked smooth and tan. Not for me, thanks. Fully clothed me enjoyed the sun on my face, took pictures, and thought about how far away from my other home I am, and yet just across that vast Southern Pacific Ocean.
I really had a good time getting to know Jacqui and Andrew as well. We played the modern "LIFE" which was new to them, enjoyed going to a Belgian Pub for a beer and chips (thick, beer-battered steak-cut fries to Americans) in Brisbane after a City Cat ride down the Brisbane River and touring the Botanical Gardens replete with myriad tropical plants and trees. The air smelled sweetly of blooming winter flowers. City Cat is a catamaran boat system people use as transportation much like a bus or a taxi. There are various ports along the river that distribute people to their destination throughout the heart of the city for a nominal price. The four of us stood in the front of the Cat. With Steve's arms around me from behind and keeping me warm from the cool breeze, I marveled like a tourist at the views of the city edge, homes along rocky cliffs, and then skyscrapers dissecting the heart of Brisbane. I especially delighted in the sun on my face and my grown-out hairdo streaming behind me. (It's short again as of last week.)
We were in Brisbane for Father's Day, which is the first Sunday in September. Andrew's dad and mum live in the area, so the six of us met for a picnic in a park on Daisy Hill, which is also a refuge for koalas. That park in itself was an adventure. Families played Cricket or Footy (Australian Rules Football, which is a cross between soccer, basketball and American football), and hosted the Australian barbecue which is an art form by itself. (More on that later...geez I have a lot to write about.) Australians have barbecue perfected. Especially the blokes. Sheilas [girls and/or women] don't need to do anything but cart the stuff, along with salads, and to clean up, and look nice.
While we were there, I saw a kookaburra thrashing to death on a log an already dead string of meat stolen from someone's barbecue, two wallabys tentatively hopping out of the bush to nibble on grass near our picnic table, and a very young koala scamper down a gum tree, across a grassy area, stare at a barking dog and all the people gathered 'round, then climb another gum tree and hang precariously onto skinny, bending branches while sleepily stuffing gum leaves into its mouth.
Steve teased me about being so excited about the koala, but I pointed out that every Australian in the park was just as rapt as me and had cameras out to document the little critter. So there.
Last time I posted anything, we were in the frozen grip of winter in July. In August we had snow on and off for a few days (I live in the coldest part of the state aside from the Snowy Mountains.) But now springtime is arriving almost overnight, it seems. Even when we have frosty mornings, the days warm up nicely and I have noticed frothy pink and white apple, pear, cherry and almond blossoms on trees.
In the last few weeks, the overnights temps have been in the upper 30s or low 40s, and the days have been pleasantly warm, even if overcast and rainy. We've had a lot of rain over fall, winter, and into this brand new spring season, and some are saying that perhaps the 10-15 year cycle of drought may be over. Steve mowed our acre lawn on Sunday after church for the second time in one week, which is unusual...we can go a few weeks in between mowings. The air smells sweet and clean, and our two rain tanks are full...they feed our house water system rather than being on town water. The rain water for drinking is so much sweeter, and I have already noticed a difference in laundry and shower water, especially on my hair. The pollution here in the country (about 90 minutes away northwest from Melbourne, which is also dubbed 'the Big Smoke,') is very low. Gum (eucalyptus) trees are blossoming, as are the wattle trees with brilliant yellow flowers against a backdrop of stunning green leaves. Bushy plants in my yard are flowering and attracting bees. The sun rises earlier now with daylight savings time only a week away, and the pre-dawn air is alive with kookaburra laughter, blackbirds, wattle birds, honey-eaters, sulfur-crested cockatoos, galahs (including our own Buster), magpie chortles, and the high-pitched songs of red and blue rosella parrotts. This is my second springtime here, and I find I like it very well.
Anyway, photos to follow, hopefully to compliment this blog, and on my photoblog, heidisphotos, which can be accessed from here.
Again, loved family and friends, sorry about the delay and lack of communication from me in so long. But I am back in the saddle, and will likely bore you all with frequent postings and e-mails henceforth, and reminders to check my blog. Thanks Jason, my son, for encouraging me to post again after such a long time away. Your note spurred me into action. I love you heaps.
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