Thank Your Lucky Stars

We all find that from time to time, those cliché sayings come spilling out of our mouths. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,“ Sharp as a tack,” or “Back off, get your own sandwich!” Most of the time we don’t even notice when we use these sayings, since the commonality of them seems daily. Other times, you might catch the roll of someone’s eyes, or a polite chuckle from your ‘witty’ remark.

But did you ever stop to actually think about these quotes? So simple, yet so true. In fact, these old adages have the ability to completely encompass an entire situation, feeling, or intention in one short phrase.  They are overused for a reason – sometimes it’s the simplest way to get your message across.

Before I slip back into my old Bachelor of Arts essay-writing groove, I’ll get to the point. Steve and I have just recently experienced a cliché that we couldn’t be more stoked about.

Good things come to those who wait.

No, I’m not talking about the 6 years it took us to get engaged! This past weekend, the phrase took on a whole new meaning. Let’s back up.

Our micro-apartment does not have a kitchen table. “Big whoop,” you say, “you live in Australia, suck it up.” But honestly, I dare you – try living without one. Even Honey-Boo-Boo’s family has a kitchen table. Steve and I have resorted to eating our meals with our butts parked on the couch and our plates on the coffee table. Shoulders hunched, leaning over our meals, our spines started to curve permanently into the shape of elbow macaroni. I started to be self conscious in public that I was slouching like Quasimodo. We had agreed that once we were working enough, that we would buy a table to eat at, but it had now been 3 months of TV dinners. Enough was enough. We were going to find a table.

 On Sunday we went to the Camberwell Market on our quest against kyphosis. The market was really interesting – a mix of vintage meets garage sale meets crafts meets antiques. We’ll definitely be going back to score some treasures, but we didn’t find an affordable kitchen table. Strike One.

From there, we rejuvenated ourselves (me with a flat white, Steve with a hot dog), and missioned across town to the People’s Market in Collingwood. After being slightly lost for quite a while, we finally stumbled in through the arty gates and discovered a really cool atmosphere smothered in hipsters – but aside from the Ninja-Lime-Mayo on our shoestring fries, there wasn’t much product to peruse. Strike Two. Defeated, we schlepped home to hover over dinner.

That’s when I had a light bulb moment. Walking to work on Saturday, I had seen a small table amongst ripped out carpets and other odd-angled debris. I insisted that we go and check it out – but Steve was feeling the effects of the long day on public transit and opted to stay home. Ye have little faith! (Another one of those pesky clichés!) Stubborn as I am, I set out to see if that little table would do. Some may call it desperate.

Of course, the table was gone. But along the way, I had spotted many piles of trash that resembled furniture. In the back of my mind, I remembered that Melbourne has “Hard Rubbish Day” on the last Sunday of every month. A chance for everyone to throw out their old toasters, infested couches, and perfectly good kitchen tables.

Yep, that’s right. I went routing around the neighbourhood right alongside a white-haired matron with a shopping trolley, knocking elbows with her for the good trash. When I was just about to give up, I spotted it - I couldn’t believe my eyes. A table! A table of sturdy nature, clean, and matching our décor to boot! I couldn’t believe our good fortune, and swooped in. Immediately, I frowned at the weight of it. There was no way I could get this table home by myself. To make thing worse, I had left my cell phone at home.

Should I hide it and come back with Steve? Too risky.

Should I knock on the door and ask to borrow the phone? Too pathetic.

As a slow panic set in over the possible loss of my new treasure, I spotted a shopping cart alongside the road. It was going to be embarrassing, but it needed to be done.  I hoisted the table on top of the cart and started to wheel it home. Not an easy feat. Of course, the cart had wonky wheels, so that it kept pulling to the right. I had to cross the street at traffic lights, and roll over uneven pathways and cobblestone. As ashamed as I was, I resolved not to look anywhere but straight ahead. If I caught anyone’s shocked or disapproving eye, I might shrivel up and abandoned the mission. Stupidly determined, I pushed on.

We made it home, the table and I. Triumph! I was grinning from ear to ear as I showed Steve our free table (well, it only cost the small price of my dignity). We shined it up and rearranged the apartment to encompass the new addition. Now if we only had chairs…

Without drawing this saga out into Lord of the Rings proportions, we found an ad for 4 black Ikea chairs on the internet; when we contacted the lady about their condition she replied “If you want to come pick them up, you can have them for free.” The stars had aligned!!

It was another mini-mission, taking the chairs on the bus – but as we were walking down the street towards home with our prize, that saying popped into my head: Good things come to those who wait. And it really did!  Sometimes I could not be more surprised by the simple generosity of ordinary people or the uncanny twist of fate that the universe throws at us. Maybe we all have to struggle a little in order to really appreciate when good things happen to us.

We could not be more pleased with our new setup – bon appetite! 

YP's Take White Night

Steve and I had our first day of school last week - we both got called in for our first Australian supply teaching job. And so, at 6.30 am we stood on the curb, waiting for the bus and had a friend snap this pic of us, just like Mum used to do on all of the “first days” that came before this one. Only this time, we weren’t kindergarteners who dressed themselves in all of their favourite colours and who had bows in their hair and sticky remnants from breakfast smeared on their cheeks. Oh no, this time – we were prepared.

With briefcases shouldered, we looked every bit of the Young Professionals (YP’s) we were aiming to be. Every detail, down to the eco-friendly travel mug, was in place as we hopped on the public transit to play teacher for the day.  It ended up being a smashing success and I feel as if our teaching career in Australia is starting to gain momentum. We have high hopes that it begins snowballing into a frenzy so we can afford to do all of the wonderfully touristy stuff we want to do down here – and of course, buy all you guys at home lots of souvenirs!

After reintroducing ourselves to the working world again, the weekend delivered some time for the -tions!  (Namely: celebration, relaxation and restoration). Melbourne had planned White Night – a festival of sorts that ran from 7pm – 7am. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that it’s in the family of Toronto’s Nuit Blanche, among other cities worldwide that host a similar fête.

It was a party of mass proportions. Think; house party with no walls and everyone in the world is invited. Streets in the CBD were cordoned off, bands were playing out under the stars, light and art were bouncing off everything. Public buildings, like the Art Gallery, were open for public roaming, and many participants enjoyed some adult beverages waaaaay past last call.  In a massive oversight, both Steve and I forgot to bring the camera downtown, so you’ll have to do with these pixelly thumbnails from my cell phone and your own imagination to fill in the gaps.

 

We returned home at 7am, just as the sky was leaking daytime and crawled into bed. At noon we woke up and ordered pizza for breakfast – the life of a real YP.

Chocolate Wasted

You would think that after eating copious amounts of chocolate, I wouldn’t be sitting here craving it so much that I’m dipping a spoon into an old container of icing and eating it straight-up. Than you wouldn’t know me.

Valentines day is synonymous with the brown stuff – and simultaneously could be the reason I can’t get enough of it. Perhaps being born on the choc-o-licious holiday has entitled me to being downright obsessed. Which is why Steve and I decided to partake in a chocolate tour for my birthday; a chocolate-crawl, if you will. Melbourne, being a city with some of the best chocolatiers, has many fine destinations to choose from. Steve, the researchasaurus, found no less than 9 worthy shops to fill our bellies with handcrafted, cocoa’ey goodness.

We made it to exactly 3 before we were on a sugar high that reduced us to light headed, stumbling zombies shuffling down the street, holding our stomachs. Allow me to explain.

 Monsieur Truffle was in the Collingwood neighbourhood; with its hipster décor and homemade wrapping, they only sold their truffles in the smallest denomination of 6 to a box.  So we picked up a 6-pack of Passion Fruit flavour and puckered up for cocoa kisses.

 

Second came Max Brenner. OOoh Max Brenner, you devil you. Steve and I dined on crepes stuffed with bananas, chocolate praline sauce and ice cream. Devine.

 

Third at bat was Koko Black and their chocolate-caramel mouse slice with a crunchy base and unsweetened cream on the side. Spiraling.

It was at this point that our toes weren’t touching the sidewalk as we navigated our way to number 4. I’m sure you’ve all experienced the symptoms of the chocolate overdose – belly rolls, the glazed over eyes, incoherent attempts at conversation.  We thought maybe lunch with some nutritional sustenance was a more astute option than finding #4. Slowly, we came back to life over burritos and margaritas and made a shrewder decision. We knew full well that 3 chocolate shops didn’t count as a complete tour, but we also knew that ingesting any more bonbons might turn us off sweets for good. Seems like we had failed, right?

Wrong. You can’t outtreat-the-sweeteater. I would find a way. And we did. We stopped off at Chokolait and Ganache Chocolates and got confectionary-doggy bags – which we ate at the outdoor theatre in the Botanical Gardens watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

 

 

The whole overly indulgent day was only lacking one thing – my dear family and friends.  All the chocolate treasure in the world could never replace the love and hugs I missed out on from them this year.

…So it’s a goddamn good thing there’s snail mail!!!! <3 

Getting Our Feet Wet

We all like Saturdays. In fact, most of us love Saturdays. How could you not? It’s the first time in 5 days that you can sleep in, slurp your coffee over a slowly handcrafted breakfast, and decide what you want to do with your free-ass self for the next 48 hours. The only people who don’t like Saturdays are those high school or university students that basically keep the service industry running, and have to roll their fermented sleep-leeched bodies into the places that you have decided to spend your weekend. My Saturday started off much like a student, and ended up more like an adventurer.

I woke up early to head down to my part-time retail job (which, I’m too hesitant to name, blurbing on the internet, since I signed a legally binding document regarding public slander) and spent the day greeting lazy passersby and discussing the many different kinds of cotton combinations that make the perfect T-Shirt. It could have been torture – but it wasn’t. I had a secret. I had a little seed of joy inside of me that was sprouting by the minute, knowing full well that by 4 o ‘clock I would be on the open road with my fiancé and two good friends finally exploring Australia beyond the borders of Melbourne! Hark!

Steve, Johnny and Rebecca picked me up in a peanut sized rental car that had “BUDGET RENTALS, RENT BY THE HOUR” spammed across every surface – but it was perfect. It was going to be the ‘Little Engine that Could’ that swept us out to Apollo Bay, Great Ocean Road (GOR), and beyond!  The game plan: drive to Apollo Bay and stay overnight in a backpackers, continue on Sunday down GOR to sightsee, and then backtrack it to Melby early enough to make the St. Kilda Festival.

Driving down the winding roads edged on the sides of cliffs, hugging the ocean instantly brought back remnants of New Zealand memories. We stopped a couple times; once, to frolic on a beautiful beach as the sun started to sink, and again – impromptu, but imperative since we spotted wild kangaroos munching away in a farmer’s field. We made it to Apollo Bay after dark, had a quick feed of fish n’ chips and headed to our pre-affirmed late check in at the backpackers.

Uh Oh – only John, the caretaker, seemed to have forgotten about the late-check in, and was in a perpetually grumpy state upon our arrival. When we asked where the nearest bottle shop was, he grunted “There’s no booze where you’re going,” and walked ahead to show us our room. Sideways glances and suppressed giggles turned ominous as it started to drizzle and John stopped outside the outdated room to read us the riot act – it felt like we were in trouble already. Trying to lighten the mood, Steve cheerily joked about the booze-rule, “That’s the silliest rule I’ve ever heard!” John bristled like a pitbull and barked “Them’s the rules boy, and if you don’t like ‘em, you can leave!”

We decided then, that it would be a good idea to conceal the 4L box of wine we brought as we transferred it from the car to the room.

Drinking a litre of cheap wine each on a mattress fort really took off the edge from the creepy vibes we got upon arrival. We stayed up eating leftover chips and laughing until the goon was dry.

Sunday rolled in and we got a good crack on the day, blazing a trail up GOR. Everyone was keeping their eyes peeled, since it’s a well-known fact that wild koalas can be seen up in the trees lining the road. Steve had just finished saying, “Apparently, once you find one koala, you’re an expert and you can spot them all the time!” when, ironically, he spotted one! We pulled over and backtracked to see the little guy.  We all felt like David Attenborough should have been narrating as we approached the tree and stared dreamily up at the fuzzy bundle that was latched onto the branches.  It was a rather quiet, distinctive moment that we all soaked in – our first koala.

Pressing on, we visited the spectacular 12 Apostles – pillars of rock and land that remain apart from the coastline, projecting from the sea.  It reminded me a lot of the Punakaiki/Pancake Rocks in NZ – quite a tourist attraction, but well worth it.  I started thinking – what is it about bits of rock, land and ocean that people get passionate about? The swelling force of the waves, the sheer sizes of the formations, the layers of the earth, flaking off the edge of a country like a piecrust. The beauty and the unimaginable forces that make us marvel and remind us how small and powerless we really are. Humbling.

12 Apostoles

It turns out that the 12 Apostoles weren’t even the most impressive part of the exploring. The Loch Ard George was a bit of a descent, but at the bottom, the silky golden sand spanned to a tumultuous turquoise ocean, which was kept at bay by two massive cliff faces, creating a small entrance to the gorge. (Elora Gorge doesn’t hold a freekin’ candle to this place!) It was every bit of the cliché ‘breathtaking’ that you could imagine. 

Loch Ard Gorge

That feeling continued at Thunder cave – a roaring, surging in-and-out of sea to land.  After a few more stops, each equally as remarkable as the other, we hopped back into the Budget to head towards home.

Thunder Cave

We had one last mission: drive down Cape Otway and play “I Spy” with wild koalas. It turned out that Steve’s previous advice was true – he spotted nearly 10 koalas! One of which was a Mum and baby cradled way up high. It was such fun spotting the languid fuzz-balls and peering into their relaxed lives for a moment in the late afternoon sunshine.

Can you spot the koala?

 My favourite encounter was with a large, grumpy guy that we found in a crooked old gum tree quite near to the ground.  We all took turns tentatively climbing a few feet into the tree (while still keeping a safe distance) to share a breath with the koala. He even ended up putting on a bit of a show for us and posing in what I thought, was a rather Lady Gaga like manner. It was simply fascinating.  

See the resemblance?

 

In fact, the whole 24 hours had been so amazing that we didn’t even make it back into the city in time for the St. Kilda Festival, but we didn’t mind one bit. I did my penance by helping with the drive back, taking ease on the meandering corners and settling back into a Southern Hemisphere state of mind. Steve and I had been a little concerned that maybe Australia wouldn’t hold as much wonder for us that NZ had – but in just one day, we learned that there is a whole lot to uncover.

We slept well Sunday night.