My garden blazes brightly

Ok, ok, ok, I need to get another post done before my life is absorbed into WACE marking for a few weeks. The marking will be a new experience for me - the kind of thing you do for professional development, not money apparently. I like the idea that the marking is conducted online so that I can do it from the comfort of home. However, I'm also a little concerned about the incredible potential for procrastination working from home may provide. Shall I use it as an opportunity to become a better person? *sigh*

The 'lifestyle' for which Perth is renowned has returned with the warmer weather, including a post-work beach swim yesterday. It is officially Spring, but quite often feels like we've skipped to Summer. Yesterday reached 36 degrees.

One of those deserted beaches.

We celebrated the advent of Spring with a camping weekend near Margaret River. I've moaned before about the lack of bush camping sites near Perth. There are plenty of caravan parks, and actually plenty of National Parks but not many places to camp in them. So Contos Campground is a slightly too long drive for one night, but it was worth it. We absolutely love this area (see my gushing Margaret River report). It was too cold (for me) to swim, but we had a great walk along a deserted beach (of which there are many). True to form, there was some rain, but I think my highlight of the weekend was cooking bacon and eggs on our new campstove and eating directly out of the pan while the Fella held an umbrella over us. We also had a poke around Prevelly where the Margaret River meets the ocean and surfing types congregate. On our slow drive home we stopped at Mammoth Cave for some subterranean fun and detoured to Bussellton to walk on the jetty. Except it's closed. Maybe later? 


The following weekend was a veritable cornucopia of activities. On Friday night I went with some lovely Greens friends to see David Suzuki speak at the Convention Centre. He is a fantastic speaker and a very inspirational and likable man, but damn it was depressing. The Legacy lecture is based on the premise 'what would you say if you had one last lecture?' Well, it seems what David wants to say is that we are all in a speeding car heading for a brick wall. Instead of putting on the brakes, we're arguing about where we're going to sit in the car. The people who might know how to put the brakes on are locked in the boot. Ouch. (That is my man Suzuki's metaphor, not mine by the way).


Off to yum cha the next morning in Northbridge I decided it was finally time to try congee. It's not that I've ever been squeamish about it, but it's not often offered to you as I think the trolley ladies sometimes assume that anglos only go to yum cha for prawn dumplings and pork buns. I can conclude that it is now my absolute favourite rice porridge breakfast dish. No, there really isn't any competition but I did love it and ate far more than I should have after several rounds of other delights.


After yum cha we headed off for an essential WA Spring experience: wildflower viewing (spotting? stalking?) No need for a long journey, you can see flowers from all over WA at the Botanical Gardens. Here is a small selection for your enjoyment. 

Don't enjoy flowers, eh? Best to skip the next few paragraphs then. Lucky you didn't pay for this blog. Oh, you might be interested in these flowers that seemed to grow straight out of the ground. Aren't they dainty? I call them 'Ground Banksia.'

 

One of the things I'm loving about Spring here is that flowers are everywhere, not just in carefully tended gardens.They sprout madly all over the verges and other neglected locations. This lovely lot was thriving in a pile of rubble across the road from our house. In Claremont where I work, gardens tend heavily to the cultivated end of the spectrum. Spring has brought out the professional landscapers, plant pruners, weed pullers and leaf sweepers. Gardening, it seems, is something you pay other people to do. The advantage of this, is that there are healthy overflowing rose bushes every few steps on my walk to work.

After our journey to the wildflowers we had an afternoon sailing trip on the Leeuwin II, a tall ship which is based in Freo and is used for youth development programs. It probably won't surprise anyone to know that I'm not a natural sailor as it turns out. Some key quotes from the afternoon: "Ow, the rope hurt my hands." "Uh oh, I think I'm going to be sick. I'd better have a sausage roll to calm my stomach." And most frequently, "It's so COLD and WINDY!" The Fella on the other hand, loved it and could have quite happily sailed on to South Africa.

I did enjoy seeing the Sea Shepherd ship, the 'Steve Irwin' with its Jolly Roger flying, docked in Freo harbour for maintenance.The captain of the Leeuwin specifically instructed us all to wave hello, which I also liked.

And of course, yet another Freo industrial sunset.

The following day we had a (fairly tame) Sunday session at Clancy's in Freo with some dear friends from Sydney and their 10 month old cherub. I've been doing so well lately with making new friends that I'd forgotten the particular pleasures of spending time with people you know and love well. We've been quite blessed with visitors lately and there are more to come. We really are lucky kids.

The Bali Report

The Bali report is finally here by popular demand (ie. one anonymous commenter who I obviously know personally - love your work!)

We stayed first in Seminyak, described by one of The Fella's colleagues as "the posh end of town", by one of mine as "a bit like the Gold Coast" and by an ex-colleague as the place to go for good food. So you can see that we really relied on Workmates Travel Inc. for guidance. Hmmm.... Well it was quite busy, and there were lots of fancy shops and restaurants. We mostly walked around, read by the pool (beginning a successful theme that continued over the week) and ate. Actually that sentence could describe the whole trip. We had one particularly spectacular eating experience. Sardine was a short cab ride away with a beautiful bamboo building overlooking a rice field lit up with lanterns, fresh seafood and delicious cocktails. Yes please.

While we were in Seminyak we took a trip to Kuta to see what all the horrified fuss is about. Certainly the Australian accents multiplied, but they were already very abundant in Seminyak. And yes, there were loads of tacky shops, including a prolific chain of shops selling very professional, and relatively expensive, fake watches, and of course the usual tourist rubbish of Bintang branded everything (12 pack of Bintang beer coolers anyone?) and offensive t-shirts. My favourite t-shirt slogan: "Go to Bunnings, buy some cement and harden the f*ck up." It's the Bunnings reference - hilarious. (No, I'm not really afraid of swearing but my mum reads this blog and I don't want to drag the tone down. Hi mum!) Maybe it's because we were there in the afternoon rather than the wee drunk hours of the morning, but it just wasn't the big terrible pile of skeeze I was expecting. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to hang around, or stay there, or ever return, but it wasn't SO terrible!

After two days in Seminyak we left for Gili Trawangan, one of a group of three Gili islands near Lombok. This involved being driven to a harbour to catch the 'fast boat'. Except our boat wasn't all that fast (no fair! that one has 4 engines, we only have 3!) and wasn't in motion at all for the first 45 minutes while one of the engines was being fixed. Once we got going things were ok. Oh, except for the rain coming in through the roof and the really big waves and several hours of feeling on the verge of throwing up. Oh boo hoo! We had an un-fun trip to paradise. Don't worry, I'm telling myself to shut up.

Gili T (as some, but not me, like to call it) has quite an unusual form of transport. Not cars or motorbikes, but cidomo. Or horse-drawn carriage if you want to be less fancy. Our hotel was about a 25 minute walk from the main part of town so the cidomo were very necessary at times, and especially with our luggage. It turns out that horse-drawn carriages are fairly uncomfortable on bumpy roads and occaisonally feel like they might tip over. Did you know that? I didn't. Here is the view from our first cidomo journey.

And here is one of the hard working horsies having a bath at the beach.

 The other local form of transport is bicycle. We rented some from our hotel and rode around the island. It took about 45 minutes, but would have taken 30 if there was actually a path the whole way round and not all those sections of track made out of soft sand that force you to get off and push your bike. Still it taught me not to laugh at everyone else in the same situation. How it works is that you see the sandy bit coming and pedal faster to see if you can somehow make it through and then inevitably your bike will do some kind of gnarly fishtail manoeuvre and you'll fall off. And then you'll push. Good times. But our bikes were not nearly as cool as this one.

Our hotel was right on the beach in front of a great snorkeling spot, so you could just swim out from the beach and straight into a tropical aquarium. We also had a trip to the other Gili islands (Air and Meno) and did some more snorkeling. And saw turtles!! Much bigger than these ones.

 After four days of high quality relaxation on Gili we headed back to Bali to stay in Ubud. In case you're wondering, the boat trip back was fast and comfortable. Yes, we were relieved too. 

First impressions of Ubud: green, jungly, humid. This photo of a temple we discovered in our wanderings sums it up for me. Everything is covered in moss and vines and seems to be decomposing before your eyes. Love it!

We got down to business in Ubud. I finally did some shopping (a huge pile of DVD's and a few pairs of earrings) and had a massage. The Fella watched some rugby league. We went to the monkey forest and managed to escape relatively unmolested. Life was good, my friends.



And then suddenly it was time to go home. But since that was only a 3ish hour flight away with a public holiday the following day it really wasn't too traumatic.


In closing, it wouldn't be a trip to South East Asia if I didn't come home with at least one photo of a cat. I have broken all records of restraint this time and come home with only TWO photos of cats. Here is one of them. Hello little puss!

It's been a while

It's been a long while really, and I'm heartily ashamed of myself. Though, if I don't get any comments on this post perhaps I can console myself that nobody noticed my absence?

Where shall I start?? I know, how about I just dive in and leave aside notions of coherence?

I've nearly reached the next term break now, but in the last holidays I had a visit from a very dear friend and had a lovely time showing her around and relaxing. I remember those days as a blur of chatting, drinking and eating - including several cheese plates. Sounds delightful, non? Highlights included a great mid-week yum cha lunch in Northbridge and a beautiful meal at Greenhouse. Greenhouse is an amazing place built of sustainable and recycled materials and covered with loads of pot plants. It wasn't looking very green when we went in the middle of Winter, but I think it might be worth a special Spring visit to see how verdant it is now. Anyway, the food was delicious. But I think I was most impressed by the toilet. Yeah, you heard me. Check it out! The water from the sink is used to flush the toilet!

Though it seems like years ago now and everyone is moving on to Junior Masterchef, I have to mention the Masterchef finale. I have been lucky enough to make friends with a colleague who has very similar interests to me, including music and cooking. We first bonded over Masterchef, with an in depth post-mortem of every episode the next day, much to the annoyance of those who share our office. So, we staged a feast for the finale with recipes from the show. I cooked Alvin's pork belly, which was delicious, but involved twice cooking, a lot of ingredients and some spitting boiling oil. Not a regular weekday evening meal.

The Fella and I went on a great wine tour to the Swan Valley a few weeks ago with my book club. It was very well organised by a company called Fat Decanter and involved lots of drinking and eating, and even a bit of wine buying. One of our favourite bits was the behind the scenes tour at Sandalford Winery. It was perfect for someone like me who likes to drink wine but really doesn't know a thing about it. Here is an oak barrel that particularly impressed me.

Work-wise things are ticking along nicely with us. The Fella's office has moved to Freo and he now commutes to work (all of 10 minutes) on his brand new, very sexy bike looking all dapper and continental in his suit. Once he gets a pannier I'll be able to ask him to buy groceries from Woolworths which is underneath his office. And he'll get to complain to his colleagues about "picking up a few things for the missus." Won't it be great?

I've only been working four days a week this term (times are tough in the international student sector). I have Fridays off, many of which I used to help the Greens in the recent Federal Election (you know, the one that was only just decided in a nail-biting cliffhanger...) I had a big map, 50,000 leaflets and a bunch of lovely volunteers to wrangle. The end result was a 17 point something percent vote in the Fremantle electorate, a Senator re-elected, roughly 47,000 leaflets distributed, some new friends for me and a cosy sense of belonging to the community. Here is the Pusscat helping me with the big map.

I've also been tutoring a year 12 student once a week for a bit of extra cash with a 4 day a week wage. And last Friday I had a day of relief teaching at the Catholic school I taught at in term 1. When I say teaching, I should say 'teaching', for it was in the maths faculty.Those of you who understand my fraught relationship with basic arithmatic will be forgiven for sniggering at that idea. It was a surprisingly pleasant day, and nice to see some the year 12 students I taught in term 1. Being asked, "Miss are you coming back now? Can you teach our class?" is always a nice boost to the ego. And of course shows their refreshing lack of understanding of how employment works. "Um, no I don't get to teach your class just because you want me to. That's your teacher's job. Not mine." Bless them, they'll figure it out soon enough.

So I mentioned another term break approaching. I just have to get through a week of exam marking and report writing and then we're off to prove our WA credentials by holidaying in Bali. The only thing saving us from stifling in a throng of fellow Perth residents is the fact that my holidays start a week early so it won't be school holidays then. That, and the fact that we will stay the hell away from Kuta.

Alright, I think I'm out of words but I have a few random photos to share.

To show you how windy it really is here:

I've never seen hang gliding on basically flat ground before. Aren't you supposed to leap off something high??

Cottesloe looking all iconic and stormy. Just beautiful. Shame about those sharks...

And finally, welcome to Spring. Feels good, doesn't it?

A trip to Margs (see how local I am?)

Well we finally made it to Margaret River and can see why people are shocked that it has taken us this long. I'm wondering why we haven't been lots of times already. I think what I most enjoyed was the very different climate and scenery to Perth. It is very green, with a really charming mixture of forest, farmland and beaches.

Of course you would go broke if you went all the time. Especially if you ate as extravagantly as we did. We arrived Friday night and had a welcome meal at Wino's (highlight: cassoulet and a glass of local red in front of the fire on a rainy night).

The next day we visited a few wineries and The Berry Farm which is a world of condiment yum: relishes, mustards, sauces, conserves and preserves, all made from fruit grown on the property.

Then we had lunch at Vasse Felix which is the oldest winery in Margaret River. It is a bit of an institution, owned by the Holmes a Court family (so don't feel obliged to buy after a tasting - they don't need the cash!). It's quite an amazing location with the restaurant on the second floor overlooking the vineyard and a partially underground, turf-covered tasting room next to a gallery showing some of the Holmes a Court collection of Aboriginal art. But most importantly, the food was delicious. Here is the view from our table when the sun came out briefly.

 A friend from work was in town over the weekend too and we caught up on Saturday night for some red wine quaffing and trivial pursuit. Very nice. We even won the game, with the substantial assistance of the Fella's impressive general knowledge. Although, winning might not be the best way to cement new friendships...

 Some of you may know that I really love cows (hi Mum!) Driving through the country often becomes a cow-spotting exercise with me pointing like a child and saying, "Hello cows!" Thankfully my lovely Fella is very patient and even helps me out with his superior spotting skills. So, a real bonus for me of the weekend wasn't just the real cows everywhere, but also that we arrived in time to catch the very end of the annual Margaret River Cow Parade. How to describe it? Well, there are a bunch of fibreglass cows, artists decorate them and they're placed in various locations all around the region from March to June. This year there were 85 of them. I decided that to keep things under control I had to limit myself to cows that we stumbled across - no special trips to see them. Although we were a bit tempted to see Guernicow. I also managed to limit myself to just one photo. I'm really trying hard not to turn into a crazy cow lady.

We decided on a slow drive home on Sunday, stopping at a few wineries on the way. My favourite was Cape Grace Wines for the full experience of an interesting chat with the owner/operator. It's really nice to see some small family run wineries motivated by passion rather than money who are producing some excellent wine and being recognised for their efforts. Sorry, I got a bit earnest there.

We also stopped at Smith's Beach, just south of Yallingup. We climbed out onto an outcrop of rocks to catch the amazing view. We definitely want to return and do some more walking around here.

 
After a brief visit to Yallingup - a sweet little beach town with houses perched on a windswept hill - we went to Cape Naturaliste. This is the beginning of the Cape to Cape Track which runs 135km from Cape Naturaliste to Cape Leeuwin. The rain cleared for long enough for us to have a little wander around, including a stroll along a completely deserted beach, with no other footprints. The cold, windy weather suited the desolate, remote atmosphere. As the Fella has said, there are times here when you feel very aware that you're on the edge of the continent. Of course, Sydney is on the edge of the continent too, but the vast uninhabited spaces here, and the fact that New Zealand isn't just over the horizon, makes it feel very different.

And then home to unpack the wine (some to drink now, some later if we can manage it) and start planning our next trip.

Yes, 'Ovens' is a strange name for a submarine

I've got to squeeze out a post now while I have a small window of opportunity. The Fella was away for work last night and will be back any minute to cajole me into watching the State of Origin with him on 4 hour delay. I figure it's imperative to get off the internet soon to avoid accidentally finding out the result, otherwise any shred of interest I have in the match (or in the sport for that matter) will be gone. To add to the misery, the Fella goes for Queensland, despite living in Sydney for all but 5 years of his life, which infuriates me every year. I was raised, like all good NSW residents, to loathe and abhor the Maroons. And I would probably indulge in some kind of mock rivalry over it if I could care, but this week's racism scandal has severely dented my sense of patriotism.

So, I really must tell you about our submarine tour. Last weekend was the Heritage Festival in Fremantle. We went to a vintage bicycle exhibition at the Fremantle Arts Centre (arriving by bike, of course). The Arts Centre is a really interesting place and I'm keen to go back when the free Sunday afternoon concerts start up again in warmer months. But, let's get to the submarine. It actually has nothing to go with the Heritage Festival, except that maybe we were thinking about, um, old stuff.


As I said very earnestly to the Fella that night, much to his amusement, "You know I really learnt a lot about submarines today." Not essential life skills perhaps, but interesting nonetheless. Those of you who already know a little too much about submarines (you know exactly who I'm talking about) can probably stop reading now.

 So, the submarine is at the Maritime Museum (though we skipped visiting the museum itself - all those ticket prices add up). It's called HMAS Ovens and is an Oberon class submarine - the model before the current disfunctional Collins class. I've just realised that you can take take a virtual tour here and learn even more than I did. But you won't risk hitting your head, so it's not nearly as fun. And I should warn you that my tour is going to be a lot less factual.

 The first thing yo.u realise when you get inside is how tiny it all is compared with how it looks from the outside. Most of it is taken up with tanks and batteries and machinery. It's all a perfect size for someone of my limited stature, but the Fella attracted a special "watch your head" warning from the guide before we started. I will try to cherish that experience the next time I'm unable to reach the top shelf of the kitchen cupboards.

The next thing I noticed is how familiar it all looked from the movies. It's all narrow corridors, ladders and round doors to crouch through.

There are teeny tiny bathrooms and bunkrooms, especially if you're not an officer and have to share with about a bajillion others (actually more like 55). So of course, the kitchen is also teeny tiny. I do not envy cooking in here.

Probably my favourite bit was all the dials, switches and pipes everywhere. Mostly they were fun because I didn't know what they were for and didn't need to.

The view towards that bit of the submarine that sticks up (fin? damn, I should have paid more attention). Look, I really did learn a lot, but it turns out you'll just have to take my word for it. And if you ever come to visit, you might be lucky enough to check it out for yourself.


We are planning our first trip to Margaret River in a bit over a week, so I look forward to reporting back about that. But I've got to get through the last week of term first. So folks, until sometime soon when I emerge from exam marking like a hoarder rescued from a collapsed pile of newspapers.

Ahem. Some very important matters.

I had my first homesick meltdown yesterday. It's a long weekend here for the celebration of Foundation Day (fairly self explanatory). I had a conversation with a colleague on Friday about her plans for the weekend. She replied that she would just be catching up with friends. Yesterday I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness that I couldn't do that too. It's ok. I've moved on. Just a shame I had to have the meltdown in the middle of a crowded shopping mall. Poor Fella.

I seem to have accidentally lost a little weight since we arrived here. Breaking out my winter clothes has revealed a not so snug fit in the trouser department. I put it down to the aforementioned lack of friends resulting in a lower volume of alcohol consumption. It's all swings and roundabouts, isn't it? My point is that I realised that I haven't yet reported on the drinking scene here - which seems very remiss for a blog that claims to be offering some kind of insight into this great Western land.

So, let's start with glass sizes and nomenclature. The standards sizes here are pint and middy (or half-pint). But we regularly find ourselves pining for a schooner. I find with a pint that I feel full and over it after I've drunk about the equivalent of a schooner. And a middy is over too quickly. *sigh*  What is a gal to do?

I think it's a particularly Freo thing, but you're in luck if you love boutique beer, micro-breweries and obscure imports. If, however, like the Fella, you often just want a beer that tastes like beer, let's say a Carlton Draught (or Car'n as it's more properly pronounced) then you may find yourself regularly cursing. Access to cider is patchy, particularly if you have drunk enough Pip Squeak to last a lifetime. A few places have Bulmers. And I am rediscovering the delights of beer.

And finally we need to address the issue of the Sunday Session (or Sunday sesh). The concept is that one attends the public house early on a Sunday afternoon, preferably one with a water vista of some sort, or at least an outdoor drinking region. Once in attendance with one's companions the aim is to imbibe many a large beverage until it is time to return home at around 9pm, presumably in preparation for a slow Monday morning at work. Popular venues include the Cottesloe Beach Hotel (or 'the Cot' in the local venacular) and the Leederville Hotel (which seems to be a popular location for bare knuckle boxing). It is indeed a failing of mine that this phenomenon has largely escaped my anthropological attentions. Quite frankly, I have become timid and reclusive with advancing age.

There are of course, some very important and complimentary things to say about wine in WA. But I will save that for our trip to Margaret River.

Now, in an entirely unrelated matter. Let's talk cheese. Big cheese. My favourite local Italian grocer, Galati and Sons has had this enormous um, slab? column? trunk? of cheese hanging near the deli counter since I first discovered the shop.

I don't know how long it has been there (there's a reason I've never used that Media degree). But, more importantly, last weekend was time to take it down and eat it. It became a little festival all of its own. Olive oil, Chinotto, chocolate and coffeee tastings were set up outside. Three hardworking musicians scraped away in the corner. And then, there was the cheese.

They worked from the top, on the ladder, sawing away at it like an errant tree branch.

And then slicing, weighing and selling it. Did I buy a chunk? I did not. I don't say this often about cheese, but it didn't really do it for me. It was all a bit too warm and funky. But was it a great spectacle? Indeed.

The procrastination post

I have really struggled to get my blog mojo back since I started my new job, but tonight I've found the perfect reason to write - a towering pile of essays waiting to be marked. I don't think I can devise a theme for this post apart from 'stuff I've been doing.' Eloquent, huh?

We've had a few trips to Mount Lawley recently, to visit Planet Video which is a great shop but should probably be called 'Planet Books, DVD's and CD's But Actually No Videos'. We also dropped into the We Heart Vintage market at the Flying Scotsmen. Although I did buy a new (old) handbag it wasn't a great success. Before we paid the $2 entry fee we would have done well to remember that I don't really like shopping, much as I'd like some new clothes, and there was nothing there for the Fella (who does like shopping). Ah well, lesson learned. We rescued the day with a visit to Ottobrino Meats to pick up some wurst and sauerkraut and then lunch at our favourite Malaysian in Northbridge.

There are a bunch of Perth's best restaurants and bars in Mount Lawley and the Fella began to have some pangs of regret about choosing to live in Freo. My brother suggested we'd like Mt Lawley so we had a look around on our reconnaisance weekend, but it didn't really grab us. I don't regret the decision. Sometimes it can feel a little far away from things here, but mostly it serves our needs well. The Fella will feel much better in a month or so when he's able to walk to work at his new office right in the middle of Fremantle.


The Fella has been in Melbourne for the last two weeks for work and I flew over for a lovely weekend with him last week, visiting dear friends and having a serious case of city envy. I don't feel I can talk about it too much here in case I start gushing and make poor little Perth feel bad. But I will give you a tip in case you ever need to fly from Melbourne to Perth. I flew with SkyWest (I know, I've never heard of them either, and neither had most of the Melbourne airport staff). They tricked me! The flight went via Kalgoorlie! It wasn't mentioned at all during the booking process. So now I can say, technically that I've been to Kalgoorlie...sitting on a plane on the tarmac...

It's been interesting being here without the Fella. It's forced me to feel more like a local in a way, which is nice. I've had a few highlights over the last two weeks, including a delicious meal at Bistro Felix with lovely ladies from work and a last minute invitation to watch the taping of RocKwiz at the Perth Concert Hall. I haven't watched the show very often because it's on Saturday nights and I'm always out raging. Well, out anyway. But it was a blast. Loads of fun. Especially for a Monday night.

Well I need to go and finish cleaning up the evidence of my sloppy bachelorette lifestyle before the Fella arrives home. I just don't know how to break it to the Pusscat that the other half of the bed isn't hers anymore.

Snapshots

I've been in my new job for three weeks now. I'm settling in well, getting to know my students and colleagues and how everything works.

But teaching is such a wordy pursuit. Sometimes I get home and feel like I've been talking all day. And teaching students from a non-English speaking background you spend all day thinking about words too - what they mean, which ones to use, what type they are, how to use them and so on. Well, I feel as though I've run out of words for the moments, so for this edition of Adventures in Federalism I bring you a photo essay. Well that might be overstating it - it's a bunch of photos with no particular theme really except that they are scenes from an ordinary day.

This is a sample of the view that makes me happy on my train trip home from work. As you approach Fremantle the beautiful beaches give way to this amazing landscape of cranes, containers, ships and other large metal things I can't identify. I love it.

This is a view that makes me happy while I'm at work. There are rose gardens everywhere in Fremantle, and in Claremont where I'm working. I stop several times a day for a sneaky sniff as I walk around the neighbourhood. This garden has some exquisitely fraganced roses that I get to smell as I walk between classes.  

Sticking with the horticultural theme, here is one of many ENORMOUS rosemary bushes around Freo (see how I've included the ute in the photo for size comparison?) They are in front gardens as well as in public parks and next to footpaths. You need never buy rosemary again. Last week I discreetly picked a sprig from a garden on my way back from the grocery shopping just to finish off a dish...

 Oh look, here's another one. This one is no good for cooking though. I can only pick sprigs when they are hanging over fences or are in public places - I don't have the nerve for real thievin'.

Now for a few of my favourite things on Wray Avenue, beginning with Frank's Gourmet Meats. See all those signs? He needs those because he sells SO many different kinds of meat. Look I'm actually quite conservative about the animals and which of their body parts I eat but if I wanted to I could pop up to Frank's and buy buffalo, emu, crocodile, quail, rabbit, ox, kangaroo, 22 different types of sausage as well as the usual edible animals. The best part is that there really is a Frank and if his crowd of competent apprentices can't help you he will personally answer your questions and lovingly package your purchases for you.

Right next door to Frank's is Galati and Sons. Outside are piles of cheap fruit and veg, inside are Italian groceries, including a great range of cheese, fresh pasta and cured meats. Mmmmm. And if you look closely you can see a bit of Freo-postcode-inspired graffiti in the blue 6160 sprayed on the footpath.

They seem to have a bit of a thing for mosaic around Freo. There are some examples of very dubious, extravagant quality, but I've chosen to share with you one of many quirky little pieces from the footpath on Wray Avenue. They're so small you might miss them as you tread through the leaf litter.

So that's it really until I have something to say again....

A glorious new era

This week we bring you a special edition of Adventures in Federalism devoted to the business of turning thirty... If you are here for insightful commentary about, um, Perth and stuff, you may leave now.

Turning 30 turned out to be much easier than I first thought. In fact if you take your eye off the ball it can happen without any effort at all. 29 felt much more stressful. Now that I'm here it's all ok. And given that most of my friends are already in this decade (and some preparing to leave it) I figure I'm in good company. So I would like to share with you some observations about life after thirty (a week after...)

My superannuation statement arrived a few days ago. I read it and took note of how much money was in my account and how much interest it had earned. How's that for a long term outlook?

More long term planning - last week I pickled a jar of chillies from a bush we bought, and am preserving lemons. I have to wait at least FOUR whole weeks to use the lemons. See how mature I am?

Yesterday when I was folding up the washing I mustered the maturity to use the lint brush on my black clothes instead of waiting until I was halfway to work and then noticing I was covered in fluff.

I have been wary of complaining too much about my age, but I did let slip to the Fella a few weeks ago, "I know this will sound silly, but I think I can see my hands ageing." Luckily my mum read my mind and bought me some hand cream with SPF 15. I see this as dipping a toe into the world of skin preservation products but am willing to justify it because, hey, it's just suncream, right? It does not claim to rejuvenate, repair, enhance, refine, lift or improve my life.

Speaking of my mum, I have finally decided to heed her advice about using organic shampoo and conditioner (without really understanding why, and while ignoring other very sensible advice about washing fruit and vegetables). Now if only I could just make myself exercise regularly and floss my teeth...

So while turning 30 has proven not to be traumatic, and I actually feel much more relaxed now than I did in the lead up while I obsessed about time running out, I am glad I returned to Sydney to be with friends. Not to commiserate or provide support but to celebrate. And now I have a mantelpiece full of cards to remind what I really miss about Sydney.

Happiness is a warm tent

I have been terribly remiss in my blogging duties. I think this is due to a natural slowing in the process of discovery now that we've been here two months. Also, being unemployed gave me a lot more time for reflection and writing...and whinging...

Since I last wrote we have had the excitement of a very large storm (hey, we take entertainment where we can find it) and no electricity for nearly 3 days. This didn't do much for the feeling that we are living in civilisation, especially since the power company couldn't tell us what was wrong or when it would be fixed. Luckily we didn't have any damage to the house, car, or us, and we have gas for hot water and cooking, so we had some candle-lit dinners and an excuse not to iron clothes for work.

More happily, we have just been camping two weekends in a row. The first time to Ledge Point, about 130 km north of Perth. We stayed in a commercial caravan park - not exactly a bush haven - but there are surprisingly few national parks or state forests that have camp sites. Having said that we thoroughly enjoyed relaxing in our newly purchased camp chairs with a book and a bottle of red. The highlight of camping for me is always the moment of zipping up the tent inside your sleeping bag. There is no cosier place in the world. It seems the Fella and I agree in this point. And I am only discovering this now because even though we both enjoy camping enough that we own our own tents, this was our first camping expedition in the four years we've been together.

Ledge Point is just south of Lancelin which hosts an international windsurfing competition every year. So we probably shouldn't have been surprised that it was really, like, windy...  Behind the town is a colossal sand dune. The Fella felt that if everyone in the town left for a few days and stopped sweeping it away the dune would collapse and reclaim the town. Sportier folk than me can hire sand boards to tackle the dune, and off-road vehicles are popular too. It's all very outdoorsy.

Camping was such a success we did it again the next weekend. Despite severe warnings about the availability of sites from the National Parks officer I spoke to, we headed to the Lane-Poole Reserve near Dwellingup on the Saturday of the Easter long weekend (I'd like to thank my agent and the Fella's glass-half-full attitude for giving me the strength to undertake this risky venture). The Reserve is Jarrah forest which was saved from logging by Mr Lane-Poole, with the beautiful Murray River running through it.  Just a little way up the road was a hellishly crowded tangle of tents, caravans and BYO camp showers like suburbia gone horribly wrong. But we found a reasonably uncrowded spot where we could hear Nanga Brook gurgling in the background. On our way out the next day we found a more secluded spot called Charlie's Flat (just up from Tony's Bend) that we intend to return to soon. The roads in the Reserve are all dirt, and that very fine, red dirt that reminds me we're not in NSW. This served well to add some butch to the Forester so we could return to Subaru-infested Freo with heads held high that we'd been (sort of) off-road. Unfortunately some overnight rain dented the image a little, but did make the tent that much cosier.

Now, a few Freo updates. This week I discovered a big, well stocked Asian grocer. I don't know how I managed to miss it while I lamented the need for one in my life. I even went to Northbridge to buy a clay pot cooker! I am also loving the two-shop-sized Italian enclave on Wray Avenue - Frank's Gourmet Meats and Galati and Sons. A proper old-fashioned butcher and greengrocer in walking distance. Brilliant.

There was a Street Arts Festival on in Freo over the long weekend (basically lots of good buskers in case, like me, the term 'street art' doesn't necessarily evoke that meaning). We saw a very talented and amusing young man called Victor Rubilar whose claim to fame is jugglling footballs. He actually held our attention for 45 minutes, which I think is very impressive.

I'm currently in Sydney, which feels a bit like cheating - although I did painstakingly tap out most of this post on my phone on the flight here. I have come here for moral support in turning 30 tomorrow. I'm staying with my brother and my mum has flown down to hang out too. I woke up last night to the sound of proper rain and felt so happy to be here. My brother is spoiling me in the most effective way possible - food! Hand made pasta last night and an upside down pear cake that involved six hours of cooking time. WOW. For lunch today he made Vietnamese pork rolls from scratch. What a guy, huh? So with that it is time to make a cup of tea and assert my right to another slice of that cake.

i can haz internets

Right now I can barely move for the excitement of finally having an internet connection. It took me two hours on the phone this afternoon with an Optus troubleshooter in India who gave me some good advice for my cold as well as fixing the connection issue, so I feel I have earned it. Also, can someone tell me why I paid so much for such a terrible connection last time? I just downloaded the latest episode of This American Life (do yourself a favour, folks - best podcast around). With my Unwired connection this took about 10 minutes. New ADSL2+ connection? Less than a minute. How did I manage?!

Anyway, I'll get over it soon, on to more substantive matters... As of yesterday my week-and-a-bit at the boys school turned into four. The poor man with the nasty divorce isn't going to make it back before term 2. It's a big relief to have work lined up until the end of term, although I was quite looking forward to bidding farewell to some of the more charming boys in my year 10 class. Speaking of charming, the prayer with which they start the lesson asks for the ability to express themselves with "thoroughness and charm." I've regularly had to restrain myself from encouraging them to pray harder for charm.

The headmaster visited all of my classes today with a letter for parents explaining that I'll be taking over the classes until the end of term and generally placating them for the disruption. He took the opportunity to explain to my students that I am well credentialed with a degree from a sandstone university, "and a Masters, mind you, which you can't even get as a teaching qualification in Western Australia." Cultural cringe, or what? Anyway, their need for prestige is working for me right now.

As it is there are other advantages to this situation (remember again, the phone is just not ringing with other offers): I walk about 20 minutes to work in the morning - leaving home just after 8. Bloody luxury. The last section of my walk goes past the back of Fremantle Prison. It's surrounded by a fantastically thick limestone wall. And I always get a kick out of the fact that there is now a children's literature centre there. No kids that's not the key to learning...

The story of Mega Monday

On Mega Monday I started a week’s work at a school 20 minutes walk away (and had to turn down a call in from another school –typical!), came home to accept delivery of one beloved Pusscat, and then saw Pavement play live.

I got the call with the offer of work while we were moving into the house on Saturday. I was watching the removalists carry the couch in when the phone rang. I got desperate late last week and contacted a few private schools in the area. I say ‘desperate’ because my heart is in the public system, but hey, the phone’s not ringing. Anyway, it turned out to be exceptional timing as it’s fantastic to get a whole week to start off with. The school is a Catholic boy’s college (in the Edmund Rice tradition, meaning that school literature explicitly discusses issues of social justice and poverty, which I dig). Despite having never taught at a Catholic school or participated in Catholicism in any way, this is proving less difficult to adjust to than expected. Every lesson starts with the boys saying a prayer and I’m managing now at the end of day three not to feel completely awkward about it. Quite awkward, but not completely.

I had a particularly surreal moment yesterday afternoon at work. It suddenly struck me – I am living in Western Australia and I am taking a bunch of Catholic school boys to the Basilica for reconciliation (not a right-on social justice issue as it turns out, but confession). How did this happen?!  I then spent the next hour silently keeping them silent while they waited their turn to see the priest. Luckily my secret weapon is an icy cold stare that can frighten a grown man, let alone a giggling 13 year old.

The Pavement gig was loads of fun, despite Steve Malkmus’ obvious vocal difficulties. They are essentially touring a ‘best of ‘album so the set list was incredible, and not a little like the ‘my heart is made of gravy’ mixed tape that my personal music guru made for me years and years ago. I did feel a little offended on their behalf that it didn’t sell out. We caught the train up to the city with loads of large men heading to the ACDC concert. The whole train stunk of booze and cigarettes and rousing Aussie-as accents filled the air. Suddenly the Fella’s checked shirt looked less alt-country, more flanno.

So, the house is just lovely. Actually just having a house is lovely. I caught myself gazing at our stuff with disproportionate affection as we unpacked. I didn’t realise how grounding it is to have familiar things around you. We are loving the fact that our lounge room is large enough that we cantake 7 or 8 steps and still be in the loungeroom. I love cooking with gas again (not a metaphor). I also love these gorgeous bathroom cabinets, and the stained glass windows in the kitchen. And the hallway that’s half the width of a Newtown bedroom.

As for the Pusscat, she was delivered from the airport on Monday afternoon, looking a bit plane-shocked and wary. She knew who I was straight away (phew) and I got a purr out of her within 15 minutes. What a trooper. She has been exploring thoroughly with lots of sniffing and squeezing under things. She loves standing up in the fireplaces and follows us up and down the hallway like a puppy. At this rate she’ll be back to normal in a few days I think. I am, predictably, delighted.

Southside

Last weekend was a long one here in WA with Labour Day on Monday (at my count they have one more public holiday than NSW – they have Foundation Day when we have Queen’s  Birthday and Queen’s Birthday when we have Labour Day – c-razy!) Of course, when you are unemployed (or between jobs, as the Fella prefers me to call it) public holidays tend to lose meaning ‘cause you know it’s just another day off without pay.  But weekends mean adventures with the Fella, so that is much preferable to weekdays. We packed a lot in to our long weekend. Highlights include refreshing beach swims, reading the paper in the park, an excellent session at the Writers Festival with David Finkel about his book The Good Soldiers, our first step into the world of yum cha in Northbridge (thumbs up there too), and the discovery of a North Fremantle burger joint which sells the best burgers we have ever eaten (no exaggeration) next door to a cute bar which lets you BYO burgers (yay!)

 

But perhaps the most exciting event was the discovery of an IGA supermarket in South Fremantle which is open until 8pm on weekends. “It’s like living in a real place!” I exclaimed without a hint of irony. This occurred after realising the previous weekend that Coles and Woolworths close at 5pm. I said, 5! This is to the distinct disadvantage of people like me who decide what to cook and shop for ingredients in the hour or so before eating dinner. And also caused me to mutter very uncharitable things about WA’s  attachment to archaic Sunday trading laws.

I went to a Greens meeting last week and met some lovely folk (including three other English teachers – typical) and spent a few afternoons volunteering in the office of MLC Lynn MacLaren. A good way to get out of the house and feel a little useful.

Our current temporary abode is in North Fremantle. We spent last week in South Fremantle, discovering its delights – just down the road from our new house. Turns out it’s a great area with some very important features: a second-hand bookshop, art gallery, Vietnamese restaurant, pubs, tea house, patisserie, yoga centre, wholefoods cafe, and a beautiful beach with a shady park and cafe. Isn't that list a shameless revelation of my priorities! Not to mention these spontaneous explosions of sunflowers everywhere. 

My final piece of news is that we finally have a moving date confirmed – this Saturday. Hurrah! We are incredibly excited at the prospect of being in our own place with our own stuff. Oh, glorious stuff! The Pusscat will join us shortly after (fingers crossed for a minimum of plane-induced trauma), at which point I will attempt not to smother her.