The Plunge Down Under

Royal Melbourne Show

A few weeks ago people started asking us if we were going to the Show.  I of course had no idea what they were talking about, but on Wednesday of last week, thanks to the suggestion of a friend, we found out for ourselves first hand.  I would describe it as two parts county fair, two parts carnival, and two parts 4-H farm show, with one entirely foreign-to-us but all-pervasive aspect thrown in, the showbags.

For this adventure, I decided to try taking all the kids on the tram into the city.  It turned out to be so easy that I wished I had attempted it sooner.  We walked to the end of our street, waited about five minutes for a tram, and then boarded.  I inserted the requisite amount of coins into the machine to purchase four tickets (James is free for one more year), and off we went.  Within thirty minutes we had landed at Flinders St. Station in the heart of the CBD.  From there we boarded a special train to the Flemington showgrounds.

Going to the Show requires first waiting in a longish queue to purchase tickets, all for the privilege of shelling out more money to stand in line yet again, whether it be for food or rides.  For this reason, and perhaps others, some of our acquaintances here have never been.  We brought our own food in with us, and focused on the free activities.

The Show is Melbourne's largest public event, attracting about 700,000 visitors according to the University of Melbourne's website.  It serves as a bridge between city and country, with roots that go back to the first decade of the previous century.

 

We spent a lot of time in the Fast Forward Government of Victoria exhibit which handed out lots of freebies.  The gentleman below talked the kids through operating the kind of helicopter used to dump water on bush fires.  We were reminded frequently to dial "000" (rather than "911") for emergencies, which was useful, and James even received a t-shirt with the emergency number on it. 

The animal nursery was popular with all of the kids.  When we asked James about his favorite animal at the show, he replied without hestitaion, "The baby pigs."  It was all I could do to drag him away from their pen. My pictures don't really reflect all of the agriculture on display that we enjoyed.  The lighting made for poor photographs, at least with my point and shoot camera.  I thought of my friend Vicky when we toured the Arts and Crafts building and wished she could have been there to see it with me.  Hopefully it will inspire me to get back into creating something.

 

After the crowds of people, the first thing I noticed were all the bags hanging from strollers, prams, and shoulders.  Showbags have their own dedicated pavilion, although you can find them through out the fairgrounds.  They are a peculiarly Australian custom that date back to the 1920s when they were handed out for free. Now they are a big commercial enterprise, filled with all sorts of goodies catering to different ages and genders.

We waited until late in the day to visit the showbag pavilion.   The attendants seem to enjoy talking to us, and we were frequently asked where we were from.  They found it unbelievable that we don't have showbags at similar venues in the U.S ("Not even at Disney World?," asked one).  I had brought with me a few handfuls of loose change which I divvied up amongst the children.  Since coins here include the one and two-dollar varieties, I had more with me than I realized, meaning that by the time the kids were finished spending their coins, they had many more lollies than I had anticipated.  They were quite excited, of course, and I left shaking my head at my lapse in judgment.  Fortunately we were able to share some of the candy over the next couple of days, and I felt a little better when I remembered that they will not be trick-or-treating this year.

 If you end up purchasing too many showbags, as we did, there are shopping trolleys for sale to help you cart them all home.

The conclusion in our household was unanimous, at least among those under twelve, that the Royal Melbourne Show is a wonderful event. All of the children begged to return next year, but I told them that if we did, they would have to bring their own money and be limited to one bag of sweets.  Ross joined us at the end for the Monster Truck show and fireworks, and once we figured out where he had parked the car, we were able to all drive home together.

   

 

 

One Sunny Day

We are all a bit blue around here as Ross has gone to London for a few days.  Thankfully yesterday the weather gave us a beautiful gift.  Instead of clouds and rain, we enjoyed warm sun all day long.  Nothing like a little deprivation to make you appreciate sunny skies.  We celebrated by eating our (simple) lunch  outdoors for the first time, and then soaking up the therapeutic rays all afternoon on the patio.  I also took a few photos, of course.

 

Grand Final Ends in a Draw

Imagine if at the end of the Superbowl the score was tied, and the players and fans were all told to return next week for a rematch.  That is what Ross and I witnessed yesterday at the world's largest championship game of any professional sport, the Grand Final of Australian Rules Football.  After an incredibly exciting game, during which the underdogs (the St. Kilda Saints) came from behind to even out the score at 68 all against the Collingwood Magpies, the lack of final resolution felt anitclimactic, to say the least. We walked back to our car shaking our heads that the regulations permit such an unbelievable thing to happen.

As we approached the MCG (Melbourne Cricket Grounds) before the game, we had no idea that a draw was even a possibility. I was surprised at the number of people dressed in suits and ties.  Long knit scarves were everywhere, of course, red, black and white stripes worn by St. Kilda supporters, and black and white stripes for those barracking for Collingwood (barrack is Aussie slang for "cheering for your team or player").

The pre-game show included a hot air balloon in the shape of a football.  It rose into the sky, and hung there while the trophy was delivered from the basket to the ground by an acrobat diving headfirst.

 

We listened to the orchestra play whilst watching them on the big screen, or so we thought.  We found out from a new acquaintance this morning, Ken (who plays in the orchestra and was there yesterday), that it was all pre-recorded, and that the musicians were there for show, miming as the music played over the loud speakers.

 

The St. Kilda players charged onto the field, burst through their banner, and then half of them dropped to their knees in front of the remaining half for a quick photo opportunity. They were followed by the Magpies shortly thereafter.

 

Below you can see the St. Kilda fans cheering as their team started to come back during the third quarter.  The atmosphere was electrifying as they surged ahead in the fourth, only to fall behind again, and then tie it up during the final minutes of the game.

I didn't think to take a picture of the final score.  We were still trying to absorb the information that the game was over, but not over really, as it would have to be played again the following week.  The weather had been beautiful all day, but with perfect Melbourne timing, the temperature plummeted as we exited the stadium, and within minutes the skies opened up, causing us to scramble for our rain ponchos.  Rescue was not too far away, however.  As we approached the Yarra River, we found a water taxi with just enough room for our party of four.

Andrea, seen below with her husband Gary, just arrived in Melbourne last week with their two children and dog.  They have also relocated here with Heinz from the Cranberry area of Pittsburgh.

 

The game was great fun, and we realize that we are privileged to have been there, but we have no plans to return next week.  May the best team win (and may it be St. Kilda).

Lost and Found in the Land of the Helpful

Today we had the privilege of going to the Royal Melbourne Show a second time.  Much to my dismay I realized last night that my camera had been missing since the night before when we were returning from the Show.  Hoping for the best but assuming the worst, I called the center for "Lost Persons and Lost Property" (not called lost and found as I quickly learned) Friday morning, a day and a half or so after misplacing it.  Much to my relief, unbelievably, the camera was there.  It had been turned in by a woman named Caroline at 8:45 pm on Wednesday night.

While we drove to the Showgrounds and back, I had plenty of time for reflection over just how much help and genuine good will we have experienced so far in our sojourn down under.   The ladies at the Lost Persons desk stayed on the phone with me until they came up with a plan to help me find a free parking space fairly close by, and then waited until I confirmed that I had found directions to get to it before they hung up.  We were allowed through the gate with no questions asked, and even escorted part of the way (the entrance worker must have sensed that I don't do well reading maps).

The LP women seemed genuinely pleased to reunite me with my beloved camera, and discussed how they had worried yesterday when no one called about it.  Their pleasure more than made up for my frustration over getting to the Showgrounds, in which I drove more than four miles out of my way, over a long bridge which is undergoing road works (aka construction), in bumper to bumper traffic, a mistake made all the more frustrating because I have now made it a grand total of four times in the space of two weeks or so.  Each time I am determined that when I exit the very long tunnel that goes underneath the city, I will definitely, for sure this time, choose the correct ramp in the maze of exits, tollroads, bridges and freeways that confront me.  My car seems magnetically, hopelessly drawn to the West Gate Freeway, however, which does not allow you to exit until you have driven over an excruciatingly long bridge.  You then have the privilege of driving back over it again, through more road works of course, to get back to where you were ten or fifteen minutes ago.

On the way home, camera tucked safely into my purse, I continued to reflect over the people we have met during the past two months, and how so many have gone out of their way to be helpful.  This weekend we need a babysitter to attend the Grand Final.  I happened to mention it to Katie's teacher, who commented that her niece lives close to us.  It turns out the niece was not available, so rather than merely declining on her behalf, her mother called around to find someone who could.  In the meantime Ross's colleague volunteered his daughter, who insists she is happy to do it, even though her grandfather's team is playing in the Final.   

En route I received a phone call on my mobile from a woman named Liz.  She is an answer to my prayers as she will be coming to our house next Friday to prepare and serve pizza and ribs to 25 or so people from Ross's team at work.  After losing too many hours of sleep worrying about how I would handle doing it all myself, I found out that Ross's colleague's wife had tentatively booked an acquaintance of hers that night to come to our rescue (thank you Libby!).  Libby has also volunteered her children to help, as well as offered invaluable advice and concrete things like glasses and bowls for the evening.  My gratitude felt boundless at this point, and I didn't even mind the city traffic that held us captive for several minutes at each of numerous intersections before we made it back to the dreaded tunnel.

 I should say at this point that in addition to the above, Libby has drive us to the Melbourne Aquarium, offered to take us on a two hour walking tour in the city (I'm not sure if James is up to that yet), and hosted us for a delectable lunch last weekend.  We felt like we were walking into the show kitchen of a celebrity chef as she put the finishing touches on breaded lamb cutlets.  They were served along with perfectly roasted vegetables, homemade chutney, and a delicious salad of fresh field greens and avocado.  For dessert her daughter whipped up a meringue which was poured over passion fruit ice cream with raspberry sauce and baked to perfection under the broiler.  To top it all off, the twelve year old son cheerfully entertained our younger children at the park, while the daughter did the washing up and served tea, allowing the grown ups time to chat.  Clearly we could benefit from taking lessons in this household in more areas than one during the remainder of our time in Australia.

From this lunch we returned to our house just in time to greet friends that my aunt and uncle, who live in Canada, had met on a vacation a few years ago.  Brian and Loris had been given our phone number, and had called asking to take us out for coffee.  It turns out they live about 20 minutes or so from us.  They were quite happy to talk about Australia with us over coffee, and give us some insider info on the Grand Final coming up.  Loris even offered to babysit if we ever need her on a Sunday, her only day off.

From helpful colleagues, new friends, and strangers at the Show, my mind moved to the homeschooling community in Melbourne.   They too have reached out to welcome us and acquaint us with their wonderful city.  We have been invited into homes for lunch, encouraged to participate in well-planned excursions, and taken on some of the adventures I have described in previous posts.  It is amazing the difference it makes to have friends to do things with, especially when learning one's way around a new city with four kids in tow (special thanks here to Tahnea and her children who have introduced us to many new things and helped us navigate the city with a four-year-old). I am also grateful to all those members at the Rockpool Forum who have answered my questions and offered support along the way.

Finally approaching our house once more, I finished the mental review with our new church family.    It is difficult to describe in this post how warmly they have welcomed us.  They have successfully made us feel that we are a part of their community, a point that was highlighted a week ago this past Sunday when we attended the evening service and supper for the first time. An older lady named Joyce (I have been told she is close to 90 which I find hard to believe) keeps track of all of the birthdays and makes sure there is a cake for dessert if one is coming up in the next week.  She had found out about James turning four, and provided a chocolate cake and candles to celebrate. It was a peculiar, emotional feeling to be in this church kitchen on the other side of the world, surrounded by a small group of people who just a few short weeks ago were complete strangers, singing happy birthday to our delighted son.  For all this, and for so much more, we are truly grateful.

House for Sale

Let me just say at the outset of this post that there is nothing down under about the real estate market in Melbourne.  While we have found the process of buying a house here to be a fascinating one, we are ever so grateful that we do not need to participate in this red-hot market, currently one of the most expensive in the world.  Properties are sold by auction, meaning the would-be buyer or agent must show up with 10% down payment in hand, ready to bid at the time posted on the for sale board.

A few weeks ago we noticed that a house not far from us had a large, well-lit sign placed in front indicating that it was on the market.  Ross walked down out of curiosity's sake before the auction started, and, along with a couple hundred other people, was able to tour the house just ahead of the auction.  By the time I made it with the camera, the grounds were filled with people,  forcing me to listen from outside the fence.  When the bidding finished, the house was closed off so that the deal could be finalized.

The whole bidding process from start to finish seemed quite short to me, and sounded much like any other auction I have attended.  There were three bidders, one of them an agent in constant telephone contact with his client.  The final price was rather shocking, A$2.65 million.  The increase alone from start to finish was more than our house (a similar size) in Pittsburgh is worth.

I spoke with an acquaintance who recently purchased a house by auction, and she confirmed that it is a nerve-wracking process.  She and her husband had to bid at least twice before they bought their current house.  She explained that you must know exactly what you can afford, and be prepared to pay 10% of the purchase price on the spot.

 

The housing market in Melbourne has clearly not been affected in the least by the recession that has plagued the U.S. and Europe over the past two or three years.  Rentals are hard to find, and we have been told that in Sydney they are so scarce, that would-be renters must bid in much the same way as if they were buying.  

Houses in our Suburb

I have been taking pictures of the houses in our suburb since our first visit last February.  This always makes my kids a little nervous, but I have continued to snap away.  The house we are renting was built around 1910 we have been told.  Every few houses or so, you will see a much more modern-looking dwelling, and I have included several of these.  I assume that in most cases the original house has been torn down and replaced. They make quite a contrast to the more traditional Edwardian architecture.

Tomorrow we plan to visit the Royal Melbourne Show, something I have been told we must not miss.  It may or may not provide fresh fodder for the blog.  Katie was a little worried when she saw the subject for today's post that I was scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Cameron Trains for Cricket

You know you are in trouble when:

(a) Your primary source of information for the sport your son is about to try for the first time is wikipedia

(b) You do not understand the majority of the terms used in the introductory paragraph of said source.

At some point during the past week we realized that we miss the deadline to sign Cameron up to play cricket.  Fortunately Ross works with the guy in charge of cricket for our suburb, and he assured us that Cameron could just show up for the first training session on Saturday morning.  About fifteen minutes before Ross and a slightly nervous Cameron were about to head out the door, I thought it might be helpful if our son knew a little bit about this mysterious sport.

Ross and I were not in a position to teach Cameron ourselves in spite of having lived in the United Kingdom several years ago.  We would occasionally walk by a cricket ground located on the same country laneway as our thatched roof cottage, and watch men in white run around in apparent circles.  That about sums up my knowledge of the sport before today, other than the fact that there are millions of ardent fans located on several continents.   I am not sure why we didn't bother to learn more about it then.  I think we were completely immersed in baby and toddlerhood in those days, with little to no capacity to learn something so seemingly foreign.

 We did reasonably well with the first three sentences explaining cricket:  it is a bat and ball sport, there are eleven players on each side, and the circular ground on which the game is played contains a rectangular pitch in the centre.  It was when we attempted to understand how the game is played that we ran into trouble.  The first team bats, trying to score as many runs as possible (fair enough) while the other team bowls, and fields, trying to dismiss players.

I skipped the unexpected verb bowls and clicked on dismiss to try to figure out how that happens.  I read that players get dismissed when the batsman is out, also known as taking a wicket or losing a wicket.  Still unclear, I scrolled down further to find the following sentence: 

A batsman can be dismissed in a number of ways, the most common being bowled, caught, leg before wicket (LBW), stumped and run out. Much rarer are hit wicket, hit the ball twice, handled the ball, obstructing the field and timed out.

At this point I conceded defeat, and googled "cricket for dummies," eventually stumbling upon a site that attempts to make the intricacies clear for Americans familiar with baseball.  We made some headway (very little I think in relation to all there is to be learned), and off they went to training.  

The end of the story, for now, is that Cameron enjoyed himself and is looking forward to future sessions and matches.  Perhaps I will eventually be able to understand what exactly he and his fellow players are doing when they play.

Burke and Wills

Our most recent excursion took us yesterday to the Victoria State Library, an impressive building located in the heart of the Melbourne Central Business District.  We went at the suggestion of a new friend who had mentioned a free exhibition currently on display there about Burke and Wills.  I am once again indebted to Bill Bryson for introducing me to these larger-than-life figures in Australian history, the down-under equivalents of Lewis and Clark,  albeit with a much more tragic storyline.  As Bryson puts it, "they are far and away the most famous of the of Australian explorers . . . which is perhaps a little curious since their expedition accomplished almost nothing, cost a fortune, and ended in tragedy."

Books have been written about the ill-fated expedition led by Burke that left Melbourne in 1860 with the goal of being the first Europeans to cross the unknown Australian outback (known as the "ghastly blank") from south to north, a distance of approximately 2000 miles.  A cheering crowd of more than 15,000 people gathered to watch the departure of the group led by Burke, a man with impeccable old-boy network credentials, but with limited navigational ability and even less knowledge of the skills necessary for survival in the almost unbelievably harsh environment of the Australian bush.  The team of nineteen were plagued by troubles from the very first day, many of them caused by poor leadership, worse planning, and in-house bickering.

After an inauspicious start in which it took several hours just to get the wagons moving, the squabbling began in earnest, and within weeks of starting out, two of the leaders had resigned.  Some of the more absurd items deemed necessary for the trip included a Chinese gong, a heavy oak table, and dandruff brushes.  Fifteen hundred pounds of sugar were dumped early on, as well as the all-important lime juice which would have helped to prevent scurvy.  It took the party two months to travel the distance to Menindee, a route normally covered by the mail coach in two weeks.  

Six months after starting out, the expedition had only gone as far as Cooper Creek.  Desperate to be the first to reach the Pacific Ocean, Burke chose to split the exploring party in two for the second time, leaving four men to guard the supplies at Cooper Creek and choosing three to make a run with him for the north coast in the height of summer.  Whatever one may think of the folly of such a decision, the determination, perseverance, and fortitude of those who endured this trip boggles the mind.  They did in fact reach the north coast, but by this time they had consumed two thirds of the food they had brought with them, and to their disappointment, they were unable to see the ocean due to the impenetrable mangrove swampland along the coast.

Suffering from malnutrition and exhaustion, three of the four who had traveled to the north coast somehow managed to crawl back to the camp at Cooper Creek.  One can hardly begin to fathom their despair when they realized they had missed their colleagues, who had finally given up on their safe return, by a mere nine hours.  They located the meagre supplies left for them in the ground, but both Burke and Wills perished shortly thereafter.  The remaining explorer was nursed by the local Aborigines but never fully regained his health.  He was the only one to make the full expedition and return alive to Melbourne.

Inside the Victoria State Library we were able to view original paintings and sketches of the main characters and events, documents such as the last notes left buried by the dying explorers, and objects such as firearms carried by the explorers.   We also came upon the armor worn by Ned Kelly, the famous Australian bushranger, in a separate exhibition.  His story, however, will be a subject for a later day.

James Capitulates

A little over eight weeks into our stint down under, our youngest seems to have finally resigned himself to his new living conditions.  He told me today that since he is now four years old, we have his permission to stay in Australia.  He was initially devastated when he realized that he would not be back in Pittsburgh for his birthday, and for a while I thought he might refuse to celebrate it.  It seems ludicrous to think of a child refusing a cake, balloons and presents, but his resistance to living here has been so fierce at times that I wouldn't have been entirely surprised.

His new attitude is a big relief, of course, and hopefully will not be short-lived.  I was not so sure about his level of exuberance this afternoon, however, when we entered the library with more of a bang than I would have liked.  I noticed him crouching at the entrance and muttering something under his breath, but didn't pay too much attention until he burst through the door, into an exceptionally quiet library, screaming "Blast off!"  Apparently he had been practicing counting backward from ten.  I turned around to see the knowing kind of smile that on James's face means, "I know I shouldn't have done that, but was it ever fun and . . . I wonder what my mom will do about it?"  I did think about it, and while I reprimanded him, I concluded that I preferred this to the anger that has been surfacing at all too regular intervals lately.

We all continue to have our moments of wishing for our comfortable life back home, especially when we find ourselves desperately missing friends and family, or when the unfamiliarity of things begins to wear on us.  Yesterday I drove down the wrong side of our street again, and even though this time I managed to correct myself just before driving the wrong way around the round-about, I began to despair of ever being able to drive here without giving it my undivided attention.  My children love to catch me still turning on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signals, or heading to the passenger side when I am the driver (they don't do any better with this than I do however).

Yesterday, after driving down the wrong side of the road, I began to research side affects of  poisoning from lead paint.  This was more due to our exhaustion levels than anything.  We have all continued to feel so tired, especially Sophie and myself, that I have begun to worry if something is wrong with us.  When I met with several other expatriates today for morning coffee, they assured me that this was normal and could be expected to continue for up to six months. 

Ross has troubles of his own in the work world as he attempts to help make Heinz a more preferred and profitable brand in Australia.  He borrowed my camera the other day to take the following picture in our local grocery store, a can of Heinz soup abandoned in favor of a fresher version.  It illustrates one of Heinz's most pressing dilemmas:  the growing preference of consumers for fresh food from the chiller (i.e.  the refrigerated section) as opposed to canned food.

Pumpkin is a popular food down under, but is considered a savory dish rather than sweet.  I do like the pumpkin soup I have eaten, but would prefer it with just a touch more sugar as well as some creme fraiche swirled on top.  Pumpkin pie or cake seems to be almost unheard of.  Last weekend we were invited out to dinner, and I was surprised to find roasted pumpkin among the roasted vegetables served to us.  It was fantastic---very similar to roasted yams but with a better texture--and I promptly went out and bought some of my own to roast.  Our host explained that the variety of pumpkin grown here is more suited to roasting than that typically grown in the U.S.

I'll finish today's post with pictures of one of our recent favorite foods, the gold kiwifruit from New Zealand.   Ross will frequently go out for an evening walk and return with a dozen or so of them.  They don't last long in our house.  We found them once at Costco in Pittsburgh a few years ago, and watched for them to return, but without success.  The gold kiwifruit is mellow and sweet, and makes me think of butter.  I think I'll have one right now.

Zoo Outing

I was planning to skip a blog entry on our visit to the Melbourne Zoo today.  After all, a zoo is pretty much a zoo, at least in any country I have visited.  My children, however, had other ideas and the older three busied themselves taking heaps of pictures "for the blog." James would have gladly contributed his share had his mother complied with his frequent requests to hand over the camera, but alas, she did not.

The highlight by far was seeing the newest member of the zoo's family, a baby elephant so young (3 days) that he does not yet have a name.  The zoo staff were all very proud of him and told us that we were lucky to visit on a very slow day and to be able to spend as long as we liked admiring him.  Yesterday they counted 5,000 visitors in the elephant section alone, and by next week, when the school holidays are in full swing, visitors will be limited to five minute stretches in the elephant enclosure.  Realizing our fortune, we decided to munch our lunch while watching him.  It was hard to get a good picture as he spent most of his time snuggled underneath his mum.

Below is the zoo's other baby elephant, Mali, about six months old:

At the other end of the cuteness scale were the peccaries, but we took lots of photos anyway.  They seemed to notice the lack of attention from other visitors because they came running over to greet us as we approached them.



I was fascinated by all of the uncaged birds out and about, mainly because they are so different from the birds we would see in North America.  They sound as different as they look, and for the most part their pleasing quality of their voices seems to have an inverse relationship to their outward beauty.  I am still working at my bird identification (in other words, I haven't figured out what most of them are, or, if I think I have, it is quite likely that I am dead wrong). Any help here is appreciated.

Purple Swamphen below?:

Katie loved the butterfly house and took many of the following pictures.

 

Cameron took the giraffe and zebra pictures.  We met up with an American/Australian family today, and their delightful six year-old daughter explained to us that "zebra" is pronounced with a short vowel "e" rather than the long vowel.

 The Australian Fur Seals were a big hit in the aquarium.

 A trip through the Australian bush section section was imperative. One problem, at least with the marsupials, is that they are largely nocturnal, and many must be viewed in dark caves in which they are typically sleeping.  The wombat half-opened one eye at us, and with that we had to be satisfied.