Monthly Archives: June 2009

Progressive? Or just for laughs?

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I was told, and knew to expect before I came to Oz, that it was a very progressive country.  This means “liberal” in the American sense, although “liberal” means the opposite here when it comes to politics, so let’s just stick with the word progressive for now.  So it was no surprise when I saw an ad for feminine hygiene products that featured a beaver.  Yeah, you heard right, the animal that builds damns across water.  The tagline was something along the lines of “it’s the only one you’ve got, so be good to it.”  Yes, it was funny, and might have been played on MTV in the US, but probably never made it as an ad during ANTM (“America’s Next Top Model” for those of you who don’t know) but during ANTM is precisely when I saw it the other day (of course the A stands for Australia’s out here).

But, I don’t think you would ever see and ad in the States for help with premature ejaculations that featured an, *ehem* animated logo.  I’ll let your imaginations sort that one out.  And even though it was a documentary, on after 10pm, I’m not sure KCET would have ever played “The Perfect Vagina.” This British documentary featured no shortage of “fannys” or “lady bits” (as the Brits call them) and even footage of an actual labiplasty, a surgery I hope to never have to talk someone out of.

But among all the eyebrow raising ads, are hints of what I would call a few old fashioned notions.  Advertisers still imply that making a good roast is women’s business, and watching rugby is men’s.  The other day while walking around my neighborhood, my attention was attracted by a bright pink van.  Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a handyman service called “Hire a Hubby”.  As cute as the van was, with it’s little stick figure wearing a tool belt as a logo, I’m sure the company name would have never made it past the planning phases in an American business model.  Even if it had, some political interest group or another would have attacked the company for promoting the stereotype that women can’t preform household repairs and, lacking a husband, must turn to a handy-MAN.  If you’re anything like me, you would think that they should go out and find something better to do with their time, but that wouldn’t stop them from getting press.

Of course, are all these ideas really so different from what we get bombarded with in the states?  Isn’t dishwashing soap still sold to women, and large TVs for watching “the game” still sold to men?  There is still a rating system for televisions shows, and it functions on parameters similar to those in the US.  Even the word “balls” was bleeped out during and episode of The View, though in the states we’ve grown far past “The 7 dirty words you can’t say on television”, of George Carlin’s day.  (well, maybe not most of them, but I think the FCC has come to at least accept “tits” (the word, not the act of exposing them during the Superbowl))  I think the only real difference is, that Americans worry much more about who they might offend, and get offended a bit too often.

Documentaries aim to bring about an understanding of something we couldn’t possibly understand if they were edited down.  Cute company names are created to help you remember them.  And funny ads are simply that, funny.  So I can only hope that my exposure to Australian media will, in addition to re-familiarize me with “Magnum PI” (You haven’t aged a day Tom Selleck), also encourage me to lighten up.

Weekend life in Sydney

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A weekend in Sydney.

Now that we have finally gotten past the phase of jetlag that makes you want to pass out around 8:30 every night, and we have a place to live so that concern if off of our shoulders, we were able to actually enjoy weekend life in Sydney.

Friday night in the CBD:

I get the impression that, once again, the CBD functions like New York; leave work early on a Friday and commence drinking.  Every trendy bar was packed by 7:00 and there was a decent amount of people stumbling a bit and walking around barefoot, high heels in hand, an hour after that.  The only real difference between a Friday night in NY and a Friday night in Sydney, is that in Sydney you also gamble while you drink.  Not every bar is a sports bar with betting pools or a casino like environment with “Pokeys”, but every other bar is.  We managed to find the perfect compromise between the two: a three story bar with a pub-like area serving greasy food on the ground floor, a trendy lounge above, and pokeys below.  We opted for greasy food and watching pop videos on the TV in the pub.  Lots of American and some European music videos played, only one or two Aussie stars in the group.  But it was still a good way to get a pop culture fix.

And then more differences between NY and Oz became apparent.  At the equivalent bar in NY, the food would be cheap, and the drinks would be small but potent.  In Sydney the burgers are $18 (beetroot advertised as a key topping) and my gin and tonic contained one very carefully measured shot of gin . . . yes . . . one shot . . . measured.  That’s apparently quite common practice out here too.  Ah, what I wouldn’t give for the heavy hand of an east village bartender.  Needless to say, we didn’t stay for round 2.

Then it was back to the Circular Quay (pronounced key) and The Rocks, which is basically the harbor where all the ferries dock and the area across from the Opera House where tourists and (I think) Sydneysiders gather to spend too much money on food for the sake of a beautiful view.  But since we are in the middle of the Vivid Sydney, a festival of light and music which coincidentally started the day we got here, the waterside walkway was full of people enjoying a stroll and taking endless pictures of the Opera House and the beautiful images projected onto it’s iconic profile.  Perhaps it was mostly because of the festival, but even at the start of winter the area was buzzing with activity, and there was at least one group of people sitting on the steps and sharing a bottle of wine, perfectly legal to drink on the street here, but I’m sure that sight will become more common as the weather warms.

Then we took a ferry under the bridge for our second tour of Luna Park, this time at night.  As scary as the large face over the entry was during the day, it was even more striking at night with it’s spiky hairdo of light and glowing teeth.  I couldn’t imagine a weirder place to live walking distance from, but I’m glad it’s there.  And even though the park was starting to close, there were still plenty of families filing out and, once again, plenty of people having a glass of wine or seven at the one restaurant in the park that allows drinking.  (The few places where you can’t drink outside our quite logically chosen, amusement parks, beaches with dangerous tides and jagged rocks etc.)

And then we got to experience a joy unknown to former Upper Eastsiders.  We walked home.

Saturday at Bondi Beach and Tamarama:

Though the bus took a bit of time in stop and go traffic, it was still a far cry from a trip on NJ Transit or the LIRR.  And the reward for a trip from the center of the city to it’s Eastern edge was the beach, the beautiful beautiful beach.  I’m not exaggerating when I say the water was clear enough to see every shade of blue and green created by the variance of depth, and that the sand was so velvety soft that it actually squeaks under your feet.  And although I thought that the surfers and people swimming laps (yes, iron man style laps) from one end of the bay to the other, were simply brave Australians who felt no cold, the water turned out to be warm.  Warm water!  It’s basically the beginning of December here, and the water is just the right temperature for a refreshing swim.  Which is exactly what everyone was doing.

There was still a decent amount of “seasonal confusion” as I like to call it, something I’m quite used to since spring in NY often sees some people in skirts and some in winter coats on the same day.  For almost every old man in a speedo (and yes, there were plenty) there was someone in a coat.  And since Saturday was the first day of constant sun without the threat of rain, the confusion is understandable.  We even saw one man strip his entire full coverage outfit, revealing a red speedo underneath, pile all his clothing into a large garbage bag and leave in on the beach while he went for a run along the shore.  Not unusual I suppose.  And even for an off season time, the half moon of sand (probably not even visible beneath sunbathers during the summer) had plenty of people enjoying the sun and watching a score of surfers glide peacefully along the waves.

On the cliffs just above the beach is a beautiful coastal walk, that takes you high above the beaches for stunning views that look out over the Pacific, and even past a man who has clearly lived on the cliffs for quite some time.  I still have to get the story behind this one man shanty town on the rocks.  I’ll get back to you once I do.  And if it didn’t seem like enough exercise to run along the path and up and down it’s several staircases, there are exercise stations spaced along the side, with pull up bars and sit-up planks to add that extra burst of effort to your workout.

Once you’ve passed the cliffs that spoon Bondi Beach you find the lovely little beach of Tamarama, a pint-sized and equally beautiful version of the touristy mecca.  It’s a good think we don’t live too near here.  I’m not sure I would ever leave.

Saturday Night in Kirribilli:

The small peninsula that is our new suburb, with it’s one main street of shops and restaurants, would seem cute and quaint by most metropolitan standards.  But since each restaurant, decorated to trendy perfection, fills to the brim with people at dinnertime, a walk down the bridge side street feels like a walk through the west village on a Saturday night.  And most of the places nearby offer a great benefit to make up for the well measured, overpriced bar drinks; BYOB for dinner.  The centrally placed liquor store (bottle shop to the locals) is open seven days a week, 12 hours a day (13 on Saturday), so there is no reason not to take advantage of the offer.  And in addition to the array of wonderful Australian wines they offer, you can find “cleanskin labels”, bottles that are produced by the same vineyards, but have not been branded with the label and are sold at about half the price.  Nice.

It was only my second meal at a Thai restaurant in Sydney, but I can say that it lives up to it’s reputation as some of the best.  The ingredients taste fresh and flavorful, and even though you pay a premium for eating out (and you can imagine how much that is since this comes from a NYer) you at least feel you get quality in return for the price.

Sunday at Balmoral Beach:

It was sunny again, so what else was there to do but go to the beach?  Located on the Eastern edge of the Norther shore, Balmoral is a more local and family friendly beach.  Even with a smaller strip of sand and practically wave less water, it’s still quieter than Bondi.  Perhaps that’s because if it’s location adjacent to Mosman, a sort of Beverly Hills of Sydney.  Of course, in Mosman the mansions are beautiful arts and crafts style homes, rather than the mish-mosh of a any era stuck on a box style you find in BH.

When it did finally start to rain that afternoon, it only produced a rainbow, the third or fourth I’ve seen since getting here.  And each time, both ends seem to fall in Sydney.  I consider that a good sign.

Monday, The Queen’s Birthday:

Today is a holiday is honor of the Queen’s Birthday.  I’m not sure what we’ll do to celebrate, but I’ll be sure to have some tea.

A Walkabout Week 1

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This all comes to you as I sit on my couch in my new apartment, looking out at the view of the Opera House and the Sydney skyline that I still don’t believe I have.  This is only the 3rd morning I’ve spent in the 6th place that I’ve lived in during the last month so to say the least, I’m still adjusting.  But in just one week in a totally new country I think I’ve managed to learn a lot.  So for those of you who want to know about life in Sydney, here are some random observations from my first little walkabout.

What the guide books don’t say:

To begin with, there are hills, lots and lots of hills in Sydney.  Perhaps this observation didn’t make it into the guide books because the CBD (Central Business District) and more touristy areas of Sydney tend to be a bit less hilly than the North shore and other outlying suburbs, but there is still no lack of ups and downs in these areas.  So, if you would like to walk around Sydney, which is actually quite doable, be prepared for a thigh burning calf crushing workout.  It’s not surprising how many people you see out for runs of a regular basis, you have to be in good shape to get anywhere in this city.

The birds are everywhere.  This is no city for ornithophobia, but for someone who was once charmed by the starlings that would occasionally land on my fire escape, this is a very pleasant change.  And there is no lack of variety either.  There are myna birds and noisy miners (which are different, but barely) and magpies in the streets, white gulls by the shore, ibises in the parks and the occasional stately looking kookaburra.  The sulphur-crested cockatoos are friendly and very curious, but also shriek like Taradactyls (or what I would imagine a Taradactyl sounds like).  There are tiny green parrots that dart around in pairs, and the rainbow lorikeets are the celebrities of the city, attracting and seemingly enjoying, much attention.  There is even a large black bird (I have yet to figure out what it is) that makes a sound like an alley cat recovering from a hangover.  And the only thing that you might find unpleasant about them (other than the understandable fear of being pooped upon) is the fact that they all seem to go a little nuts around sunset and sunrise.  Light sleepers beware.  The rumble of a nearby train is nothing compared to pips and squawks in the trees right outside your window.  And the skies still don’t go quiet after sunset because that’s when the bats come out.  The size of these large fruit bats is a tad intimidating at first, but once you’ve taken a stroll through the Botanic Gardens and walked amongst the trees where hundreds gather to sleep, filling the air with screeches as they fight for branch space, and producing the noxious smell of bat urine, the few you see in the air at night seem as common as starlight.

The CBD is just like Manhattan, midtown or the financial district specifically.  So for those of you die hard New Yorkers who feel you couldn’t possibly live any other way, you would probably be quite happy there.  Business, money, style, media, tourism and traffic all travel (often uphill) at a frenetic pace through the heart of the city.  But, unlike NYC where leafy suburbs are a long subway ride away or even across  state lines, 10 minutes on a train, ferry, or even on foot will get you away from the beating heart and into an area where the air smells like trees and you hear more birds than traffic.

They put beets on the burgers, and corn in the sushi.  Iced coffee and iced mocha means there is a scoop of ice cream in it.  Perhaps the guide books I read had mentioned that, but I forgot.  Luckily it was a pleasant surprise when I discovered it.

When the weather report says there is a 40% chance of rain, that means it will rain 40% of the day . . . at totally unpredictable intervals . . . even when it’s sunny out.  And the temperature will bounce back and forth between the high and the low rather than slowly climbing and slowly dropping again.  In the fall/early winter, wear layers and be prepared to strip and then replace them regularly.

There are interesting little corners of the city and hidden treasures everywhere.  Look around and you will find harbor side walks, lots of public parks and gardens, historic buildings and beautiful lookouts almost everywhere you go.

The spiders (even the ones that won’t kill you) are gigantic.  I highly recommend keeping your hands in front of you when walking through dense trees.  You DO NOT want one of those webs getting tangled across your face.

For anyone who has ever gone through the hassle of renting an apartment in Manhattan, imagine the complete opposite of that and you get renting an apartment in Sydney.  Laws regarding tenant and landlord relations are regulated, leases are standardized, owners always pay the brokers fee (which is pretty much nothing compared to the going rate in NYC) and all you have to do is show up and look like you are reliable and can pay the rent, and they will hand you the keys.

Fees galore.  Banks, cell phones, internet and almost everything that can have fees and surcharges for your amount of usage attached to it, will.  Sydney life is monitored in 30 sec intervals and gigabytes.

Australian TV:

I have yet to experience a great deal of it, because if you don’t have cable that means you only have 5 channels, but I have made at least a few observations.  Syndicated TV shows that stopped running in the states years ago are still on all the time out here, like That 70′s Show and 3rd Rock from the Sun.  But just like in the states, The Simpson’s, Friends and Family Guy never stop running.  The best shows come on late (times I have yet to be able to stay up until, since my internal clock is still adjusting) And the shows that masquerade as morning TV shows are actually shameless promotional spots.  Sure every morning TV show in the states features someone selling a book or new CD, but these shows contain constant “interviews” with people who are there to talk about the latest wave in home workouts or garden hoses.  And either acting casual is something they don’t believe in, or market testing showed that the cheesiest way to promote a product is also the most successful.

Public Transportation:

Is great.  The trains, ferries and buses are always on time.  They are pretty clean and uncrowded (although I have yet to commute so that review might change) and it takes very little time to get to most destinations near the heart of the city.  The only thing you can’t know perfectly is the bus routes, which don’t tell you where to stops are and you can’t always figure out which side of the street to get them on.  So I assume that most everybody knows their local routes the best, and forgets the rest of them.

The Taronga Zoo:

I would call it one the the friendliest zoos I’ve ever been too.  The zoo animals are as unintimidated by humans as the city’s birds.  In each aviary, birds zoom around your head and walk calmly across the path in front of you.  And in a special display which contains (I can only assume) some of the calmest Kangaroos and Wallabies in Sydney, they stop to sniff at peoples shoes and cameras, before hoping off to go about their business.  I particularly enjoyed the Australian Nightlife display, which contains more nocturnal animals than I even knew existed, each with complicated and hard to remember names.  I’ll learn it all eventually.  But the best part was the bird show.  You’ve probably all seen bird shows that have large raptors flying back and forth between trainers dispersed across the audience, but only at the Taronga zoo have I seen them follow queues and set flight paths as well as interact with the audience.  But perhaps the coolest part is that they let them do what they do best, fly.  The largest birds get to fly free our over the harbor, following the wind to great distance above the audience.  After all, isn’t embracing the wild what Australia is all about?