State Fair - Southern Hemisphere Style

As most of you dear readers well know, every August the true Minnesotan’s heart turns to thoughts of corn dogs, cheese curds, crop art, “sturdy” people in Van Halen t-shirts two sizes too small, and all sorts of culinary delights on-a-stick. In other words, the State Fair. Unfortunately, Matt missed the Great Minnesota Get Together this year, and Marlys only went once – truly an insufficient amount of “somethin’ cultural” (to quote a former Sweeney’s co-worker).

Imagine our glee when we learned Melbourne hosts its own agricultural show turned citified carnival – The Royal Melbourne Show. Like the Minnesota version, it started out in days of yore (1880s) with events to determine who had the best pie, cow, horse, sow, etc, but as the area gentrified and urbanized the Royal Melbourne Show slowly but surely dedicated itself to rides, carnival games, home improvement booths, and other events that were more to the taste of the city slicker.

We approached the Royal Melbourne Show with a great deal of excitement. Jacob, the brother of our friend Lucy, was working in the farm animal nursery, and he scored us free entry ($27 per person!) as well as a backstage tour of the animal exhibits. Herewith is our comparison of the MN State Fair (MSF) and the Royal Melbourne Show (RMS):

Food
At the RMS we had fairy floss (cotton candy), chorizo sausages, corn on the cob, souvlaki, chips and Matt tried something not even our Aussie friends had seen before – a yabbie burger. Yabbies are crawfish, and for the burger the yabbies were basically mushed into an inch thick paste and spread on a hamburger bun with a piece of lettuce and a lashing of mayo. Everyone tried a bite and the opinion was unanimous: not nearly as bad as you think it would be.
MSF or RMS? Because it’s about 3 times as big, MSF has a lot more options. However, where they go head to head, MSF only wins in the corn-on-the-cob category. The fries, gyros, and fairy floss are better at the RMS.

Choice, choices

Drink
RMS: Marlys bought a milkshake and only after paying learned “milkshake” = “chocolate milk”. A word to the wise – if you want a real shake, order a “thick shake”. Then, while Marlys and Lucy rode the Ferris Wheel, Matt and Luke discovered one of the two beer gardens. It was run by a microbrewery and had a tasty selection of limited edition beer.
MSF or RMS? The MSF has lots of beer gardens and the Lutheran milkshake stand next to the art building. However, the beer the RMS is better. MSF wins on its (real) milkshakes.

Animals
Again the MSF has a lot more options. More barns, more animals. And the RMS did not have anything comparable to Matt’s favorite MSF animal: the gigantic prize pig. But thanks to the backstage tour with Jacob, we got up close and personal with some of the animals. Plus, there were emu chicks and emu eggs.
MSF or RMS? Matt can go without gigantopig one year. We’re giving this one to the RMS animal barn.

Clientele
Each event is a good spot if you are on an anthropological quest for people with mullets, interesting dress sense, profanity laced t-shirts, poor personal hygiene, bad eating habits, short-shorts and halter tops, and a limited dental complement. A tie.

Carnies
RMS accomplished what one would think impossible – they make the carnies at the MSF look positively WASPy. The two guys running the “No Limit” ride didn’t have a half set of teeth between them, and one look at them told you they hit their stash of weed during their break. All this makes one a bit queasy when there was also a sign by the ride saying “Safety is YOUR Responsibility”. RMS wins on style, MSF on safety.

Attractions
The rides and carnival games were the same, although there were fewer of them at the RMS and they were more expensive. The RMS has a thing called “show bags”, where you typically paid $10-30 for a bag full of goodies from a particular exhibitor. For instance, there was a Cadbury showbag, Pirates of the Caribbean showbag, Dora the Explorer showbag, Barbie showbag, etc. We didn’t buy any, although Matt was tempted by the Hasselhoff showbag ($20 worth of Hoff merchandise!). Some showbags get very expensive and include holidays including airfare, 5-star accommodations, etc. This year the ‘ultimate’ showbag ran a cool A$10,000 and included a large fridge with beer tap, a year’s worth of beer, a freezer filled with beef and a number of other beer or beef related accoutrement.

Beyond the showbags, there was a sad lack of the hucksters pushing ginsu knives, vibrating chairs, superdusters, closet saunas, and all the other crapola that gives the MSF its cosmopolitan air. MSF – victor.

Price
As usual, everything in Melbourne is more expensive than comparable items in Minnesota. MSF wins hands down.

Verdict
Overall, while we had a great time, the Minnesota State Fair will retain its title as the Best Fair Anywhere. Now can someone please mail me a porkchop-on-a-stick?

View from the Ferris Wheel

Melbourne Marathon

Last Sunday Matt ran the Melbourne Marathon. He finished in 3:42, which was pretty good considering (1) the last 10 miles head due north and there was a strong north wind that day and (2) about 3 weeks ago he injured his knee when a dog hit him and it flared up so bad during the race that he walked a good part of the last 4 miles.

But he he made sure to run the last bit of the race, which ends with a lap around the inside of the MCG. It was pretty cool to compete in this legendary stadium, and people at work were duly impressed - Matt was twice asked "What does the grass on the field smell like?"

As always, Marlys was the support squad extraordinaire and because the course passed near our house a few times she could easily ride her bike to cheer for Matt at different points. We both noticed that Australians cheer runners much less than Americans. At US races people clap or yell for everyone who goes by, but most Aussies only seemed to encourage people they knew.

Matt is still sore today and has no plans for another marathon. For now.

Over One Billion Served

The billionth jar of the most amazing yeast extract spread ever, Vegemite, has just been sold and that’s the number one news story today in Australia. If you have even a passing acquaintance with Australian culture you’ve heard this black paste celebrated in song (Men At Work singing about a Vegemite sandwich in “Land Down Under”) and universally acknowledged by Americans as the worst aspect of Australian culinary traditions.

It’s hard to overstate just how important Vegemite is to Australia’s sense of self. This picture is from our kitchenette at work: you can see no fewer than 4 jars, all individually labeled.

And in the grocery store you’ll see the Vegemite section, ordered by size of jar starting from the little bitty starter to the huge, gallon size family jar.

When you go to breakfast at a hotel, they’ll have little portion size packets for spreading on your toast – like the little jam packets you get at a diner in the US. And it permeates popular culture in a myriad of ways. If a TV character is late for work in the morning, he's shown rushing out of the house with his Vegemite toast in his mouth. When someone is content they’re referred to as “a happy little Vegemite”. It is also reputed to be an excellent hangover cure, but we will neither confirm nor deny that assertion…

While people will eat it at any occasion, Vegemite is most commonly eaten spread thinly on toast with an underlying layer of butter. People will hotly debate the best type of bread (ciabatta? white bread?) and proper butter/Vegemite proportion. Matt prefers his without butter on whole wheat bread. Marlys prefers hers to remain in the jar.

So happy billionth jar, Vegemite! We’ll try not to remind the Aussies their icon is owned by Kraft – headquartered in the good ol’ US of A.

Shipwreck Coast – Koalas, but no Whales

Back in 2003, one of the more memorable and visually stunning points of our trip was a day spent driving along the Great Ocean Road (GOR) southwest of Melbourne. But when it was time to return to Melbourne, we wondered: what comes after GOR? The answer? The Shipwreck Coast. And with a name like that, who could resist a trip to continue along the road and see what it’s all about?

The Shipwreck Coast stretches along the Victorian coastline from the western end of the Great Ocean Road to the South Australian border. It is so named (duh) because of the many shipwrecks that occurred there, which were caused by the exceptionally stormy seas of the Bass Strait, known to bedevil even the most seasoned captains. Gales would blow sailing ships directly into the miles of steep jagged cliffs that stretch along the coast.

We made our way via an inland route, skipping the more picturesque but winding Great Ocean Road but saving a half day of driving. We arrived in Port Campbell (where the Great Ocean Road ends) to see the famous Twelve Apostles rock formation, one of the most famous – and spectacular - natural landmarks in Australia.



From there we began the journey up the Shipwreck Coast. Our goal for the day (and where we stayed all weekend) was Warrnambool. Warrnambool (pronounced “Warrmbul” - and as one syllable) was a major whaling port in the heyday of whaling 150 years ago, principally because Right Whales and Blue Whales would winter and calve in the bay there – literally yards off shore. Nowadays, only the occasional Japanese “researcher” worries whales, and they have returned to shores of Warrnambool in such good numbers that people flock there July-September (winter) to catch a glimpse.

A few facts about Right Whales: They’re called right whales because whalers thought they were the “right” type to catch. That is, they’re big, blubbery, and float on the surface when dead. The females give birth to a calf every 3 years like clockwork. And they don’t eat the whole 3 months they’re in the bay calving. Sadly, we didn’t see any whales but we vowed to return until we spotted one.

That night we drove just 20 minutes down the coast to Port Fairy. Port Fairy is one of those seaside villages for which the term “picturesque” was invented. The charm of the town reminded us of places like Mystic and other places on the east coast of the US. We wandered around the main street (not one traffic light) and then headed to our dinner. We were lucky to score reservations at the Merrijig Inn, one of the best rural restaurants in Oz. Merrijig has just been granted an additional “chef hat” by The Age Good Food Guide, the Aussie equivalent to Zagat or Michelin. The extra ‘hat’ was well deserved -- we had a delectable meal.

Sunday we awoke to pouring rain. It’s not often we see this sort of rain – the cats and dogs type – in Australia. After 10 years of drought we’d normally be thrilled to see sheets of rain falling from the dark full clouds. However, we had been planning to hike in Mt Richmond National Park that day. Luckily we had an hour’s drive, and as we arrived at the park the rain stopped for the rest of the day. Even better, we were the only ones at the park – presumably because the day had started so miserably. We literally had our own national park. How cool is that?

One of the reasons for selecting Mt Richmond Park was to correct a nagging problem. We’ve been in Oz for a year and we’ve still never seen a koala in the wild. Sure, we’d seen them (repeatedly) at the animal sanctuary, but considering all the Koala Crossing signs we see on the road, we’ve been completely shut out every time when it comes to seeing one in the wild. Twenty minutes into our hike, we finally scored: a mother and baby sitting out on a branch plain as day. And then, with the curse broken, we started spotting koalas all over the park.




After another picnic lunch (olives, bread, cheeses, sausages, almonds and a shared beer) we headed to Cape Bridgewater. Cape Bridgewater is a moonscape along high cliffs with dramatic views of the coast. The wind was whipping the waves against the cliffs – easy to imagine why so many ships floundered, lurched and crashed here.

We made another attempt to see the whales. Same result, so we headed off to the main attraction when the whales are hiding: Flagstaff Hill and the Shipwreck Museum. Flagstaff Hill itself is a recreated whaling village and “not recommended” (aka dull as dishwater) although to be fair, they are supposed to have a fantastic light show at night (designed by the same team that did the Sydney Olympics in 2000). The Shipwreck Museum was great, however. They had a small but impressive collection of artifacts from and local shipwrecks. The most famous was a delicate, perfectly preserved 3 foot porcelain peacock made byMinton in England. It was intended to be displayed in theMelbourne International Exhibition in 1880 and was the only item to survive the other wise completely destroyed Loch Ard. Remarkable to think an item this fragile survived a storm that battered a steel ship to pieces is a mystery.

We also watched a fascinating home movie about a sailing ship rounding Cape Horn. It was filmed by a young man in 1929 – in 1980 the now elderly captain who did the filming added a narration. You really appreciated how daring (audacious?) one must have been to sail on those ships. He filmed during a storm from top of the masts (17 stories up). The boat was heaving and water was crashing over the deck – the ship completely disappears in the ocean at times. We practically got vertigo from looking at the tiny deck below. Oh, and did we mention he was hanging free? There were no safety lines at the time.

After that it was back to Melbourne, but for those of you planning a visit we now have the perfect one day itinerary on the Great Ocean Road and Shipwreck Coast.

Australia by the Numbers

We just passed the one year mark living in Melbourne (August 25th to be exact). While contemplating myriad witty ways to quantify or qualify our last 12 months, we found ourselves counting the number of things we’ve done and seen, so in the end we just figured we’d let the statistics speak for themselves.

Herewith, then, some facts from our 1 year (or so) in Australia:

Number of Australian states visited: 4. NT, NSW, VIC and TAS.

Number remaining: 1. A person really needs a reason to visit Canberra.

Number of other countries visited: 2. New Zealand and Singapore.

Number of dents put on the Commodore: Marlys = 1; Matt = 1

Number of new bikes bought: 2. That’s fair…

Number of flats Matt’s bike has picked up: 2.

Number of flats Marlys’ bike has picked up: 0. Life is not always fair.

Number of miles Matt’s flown: 106,423.

Number of movies Matt has seen on an international flight: 36

Number of movies Matt has seen in an actual move theater: 2.

Number of trips Marlys has made to Healesville Animal Sanctuary: 6.

Number of trips Marlys has made to Healesville Animal Sanctuary since we became members: 0.

Number of wineries visited: about 30. Firm count is a bit hazy for some reason.

Number of footy matches: 5.

Number of cricket matches: 2

Number of visitors: 11.

Number of jars of Vegemite purchased: 5.

Number of boxes of Tim Tams eaten: 6

Number of boxes Tim Tams brought to the US: 23.

Number of times we’ve heard the following in actual conversation:

• “G’day, mate”: 0
• “Shrimp on the barbie”: 0
• “Crikey!”: 1. It was just yesterday.
• “Fair dinkum”: 1
• “Things are so cheap in Melbourne!”: a very big zero.

Number of scuba dives: 0. This is disappointing.

Number of new friends: a lot.

Number of US friends/ family missed: all.

Back in Melbourne

We’re back in the land of Oz after a long, but still too short, visit to the States. It was wonderful to catch up with friends and family – regrettably we couldn’t spend nearly as much time with everyone as we wanted and some people we didn’t get to see at all. Highlights for us were the O’Toole family reunion at Green Lake and our annual trip to Vegas (which included multiple deposits into various casinos but sadly no withdrawals). Marlys, who was on holiday, got to spend a long weekend with her college friends as well as few days in northern WI with her folks. She is not scheduled to be back in the US for a long while, so it was a much needed and much loved time with her posse.

The trip back was actually pretty relaxing. We had a nice long layover in LA and got to go out for a last ‘true’ Mexican meal with Anne. This has gotten to be a regular routine with Anne and, in fact, we think we could qualify as frequent diners at the Hacienda. The minute the plane left the ground, Matt fell asleep for 7-8 hours, and Marlys did manage a few hours of sleep as well. Qantas has individual movie screens so you’ve got your choice of nearly 30 films and lots of (Aussie and US) TV Shows. Movies viewed by Matt: The Bank Job and Cactus (Australian thriller, never to be seen in the US). Movies viewed by Marlys: Leatherheads, What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas, and Iron Man. Plus magazines, newspapers, watching the flight path and the little plane showing how far you have left, a video game or two. Amazing what you can do in 15 hours.

The first couple days back meant getting back to work, getting back on the right time zone (and learning there’s not a lot of good TV at 3 AM in Australia), buying groceries, and doing all the other things you need to do after the house has been closed up for a month. After that we did have a marvelous Melbourne weekend. The weather was “spring like”, which means 60 and sunny. Matt went for a hike in one of his favorite parks (time to see the roos), we took naps each day, church at St Johns, we had a pint at one of our new favorite pubs and watched the footy, and we hit an awesome Art Deco exhibit at the NGV.

This Saturday we’re off to the mountains for dinner at a Swiss restaurant with friends (what is Swiss cuisine, anyway?) and Sunday we have tickets to the footy playoffs. St Kilda (Marlys’ team) made a late season charge and qualified. Unfortunately, they drew Geelong Cats – the defending champions who’ve only lost one game all season. But we’ll still cheer loudly for the red, white and black!

OK, one funny story. Matt was driving the other day and came upon a very sooty, muddy delivery van. Someone had written a message into the van’s abundant dust, but instead of the usual “wash me”, the cheeky wit wrote, “I wish my wife was this dirty”. Ahh, the Australian humo(u)r.

Good Morning, Miss America!

A few entries back Matt wrote about his commute from Melbourne to Minneapolis, a trip he makes quarterly for work. Many of you know how I used to travel weekly for work, mostly to sexy hot spots like Green Bay, Omaha, and St. Louis. Moving to Melbourne meant I got off the road, although I have taken the occasional business trip to Sydney (hmmm, never imaged stringing THAT phrase together).

Now a typical commute for me means walking a ½ block to the tram stop. I never look at the schedule like Matt does, I just walk to the corner and wait for one to come. Often this means I walk part of the way and then I hear the screech of the tram wheels along the track as it makes a turn right before my stop and I break into a ridiculous gallop with my briefcase banging against my leg as I “run” along the sidewalk (or footpath as it’s known here). Right before I turn onto the main street (and before my lungs burst) I slow to a walk and casually come around the corner where the other commuters are waiting. This happens most days. Because we are one of the first stops, I’m usually lucky enough to get a seat, pull out my blackberry and catch up on emails. Nearly everyone else is reading, listening to their iPod or both. I must be a Luddite but when did iPods get to be so popular? Everyone has one. The tram is a sea of silent head-bobbing to the separate rhythms. Even people, like, waaaay older than me have them. What are they listening to, I wonder? Is the old Greek woman with the moustache dressed head to toe in black a 50 Cent fan? Sometimes people play their “music” so loud I can hear it - one woman listened to the same Kelly Clarkson song THREE times IN A ROW. I looked at her and (telepathically) said, “Hey, I know what you’re doing there. I KNOW you’ve played the same song three times. And, you know, not even a GOOD song.”

The best part of my commute is getting my flat white. In Australia, they have a different name for every sort of coffee, short black (espresso), long black (regular coffee), or flat white which is I guess like a latte (coffee and hot milk) but not really a latte as lattes are also on the menu - they’re called “lattes”. After I alight from my tram I go to a little Italian restaurant for my morning coffee. The two guys behind the counter, Michael and Angelo, wear black pants, white shirts, and black aprons. Angelo is the one who makes my coffee. He didn’t acknowledge me until I had been there about, oh, 30 times or so, but now I get a smile and a “Hello signora!” from him. Michael on the other hand greets me every morning with “Good Morning, Miss America!” Some days he sings to me: “Nothing like the old songs”, he always says. Dean Martin, Tom Jones, and sometimes, if I’m lucky, an old Italian opera that I don’t understand the words to and, frankly, Michael doesn’t know the words to so it’s sort of a dah dee lala laaaaa dah sort of thing. Regardless, a great way to start my day.