The Death Stare in the Supermarket

AM

Least: Within an hour of 3:00am, I slumped into a white taxi for the outrageously expensive cruise from Shinsaibashi to Tezukayma. Despite my incredibly blurry state, I noticed that the driver had a small plasma TV installed on his dashboard. The screen had a deep shade so the driver could watch it at any time he chose. Without surprise, I saw that even in the early hours, it was still possible to watch insipid variety shows. I was too drunk to tell whether or not Terry Ito made an appearance.


Most: Just after rising at 11:10am, I slid open my balcony door to discover the surprise that the day was not searingly hot. A coolish breeze fluttered the washing and gave me the hint the summer might just be on the wane. The forecast still warns of above 30 degree days, yet the painful maximums are beginning to lower. Hopefully the nights will be cooler and more sleep friendly too.

PM

Least: At about 3:20pm, I squeezed into the local supermarket to buy some overpriced groceries. What made this dull experience even less interesting was the swarm of houswives blocking every isle. In the fruit section, Rosie reported seeing be-aproned women scanning  bigger-than-A3 catalogues for any bargains they may have missed. You'd think that the old bag who graced me with her death stare as I sidled up to the packing counter would've been more cheerful, given that she'd had just managed to save 23 yen. Tightarse.

Most: Just before 4:00pm, I was again intrigued by another mention of last year's Tsiolkas book 'The Slap', During my visit to Australia a few people urged me to read it and empasised its light-shining value in terms of naughties suburban Melbourne. Having not read any of the book, I settled on a debate on the First Tuesday Book Club between the usual hipster, author, journo and guests. The interesting thing about the usually uninteresting show, was the faith-like defence put up by the Australians after the Britisher dismissed the book for its soapiness. It's always warming to hear familiar suburbs or types mentioned in print, but perhaps the interest fades as soon as you live outside of the good pages of the Melways. Given the rifts and the raft of recommendations though, I'll need to give it a read. At least Hardy has removed that distracting flower from her hair.

The Girls in Orange

AM

Least: by about 9:20am, I was immersed in the teeming culture of Coolangatta Airport. The length and density of the queue suggested that somewhere in the stinking bowels of that half-finished terminal chaos ruled. Worse, were the shifty blonde Jetstar staff. One of them quietly failed to tell us that Rosie and I weren't sitting together, then upon complaining, we saw them making snide remarks via their 'walkie-talkies'. The orange girl at the information desk fed us a pile of turds until we got what we wanted.

Most: Close to midday, I was closing in on the end of And the Ass Saw the Angel. For some yet to be determined reason (and despite my initial complaints) the book was almost a page turner. The story of the inbred mute living in absolute squalor and at war with the townsfolk needed Nick's outrageous use of language to give it legs. While jetting up the east coast, I could almost smell the slime and filth dripping from me. Worth a read if you've time on your hands and you own a good dictionary.

PM

Least: By about 1:00pm, it was blindingly clear that being in the middle isle of an Airbus A330 was incredibly uninteresting to the point of being painful. I began to hate the people in front of me, who'd paid for their reclining leisure with my cramps. I began to think poorly of the guy sitting next to me - how long was he going to sleep? Being in row 45, I could experience every visitation to the three toilets just metres from my tiny perch. The food was appalling.

Most: Perhaps around 2:00pm, the flightdeck told me that to our left was a rare view of Port Moresby and a chain of PNG's islands. My some miracle, it coincided with a rare walk down the isle to the rear toilet. Through a porthole in an emergency exit, I could clearly see the city and the white-fringed islands trailing into the distance. I should've snapped a photo - it was the last thing I saw outside until Kansai.

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Saturday 15 August 2009

AM

Least: At about 10:00am while driving down the Monash Freeway, it became obvious that this part of the journey would be the least interesting event of anyone's day. The roadworks, bogan ute-drivers and incoherent line markings all mount to a painful experience. A Ducati was left on the side of the road awaiting it's master's return. Probably a drink-rider from the night before.

Most: Not long after 11:30am, Rosie and I arrived at a Coburg address for an incredible brunch with family that included baked cinnamon scrolls, onion pastries, croissants, watermelon, juice and baked eggs. What an amazing send off meal for our too brief trip to Melbourne and surrounds. Ceridwen is an excellent chef, mum and sister! Awesome.

PM

Least: At about 3:45pm, the sight of a providore style food shop one street back from the decreasingly interesting Brunswick Street, boringly reinforced what has been obvious for years. The richer Fitzroy becomes the less interesting it seems to be. It's all so comfortable and predictable that it's barely of interest to notice it. Black leather jackets appear to cover most of the stinking offenders - but the 80s still reign.

Most: By 7:00pm, I had the distinct feeling that our surprise attack on Melbourne was beginning to wind down. The most interesting think to strike me during my return was to what extent I noticed how rough Melbourne seems to be. I'm sure that it hasn't changed, but my perception of the inner city must've moved. The sheer numbers of dodgy characters wheeling around the streets was amazing. As long as my eyes met the ground, I felt safe. The most striking moment was the sight of a Japanese visitor buying junk at a souvenir shop recoiling in horror as an old crone scraped the sputum from her chin. The glittering city at its best.

A Tram and Some Minty Houses

Friday August 14 2009

AM

Least: At about 11:45am, I was evaluating my feelings toward tram travel in Melbourne. On the vaguely interesting side is that they are 'so Melbourne' and a little quaint, however on the negative side there sits a grim litany. The tram from Bourke Street to Clifton Hill had a few major flaws. It was hopelessly indirect, weaving through and doubling up on other routes. It stopped at every possible point along the journey. It had an unidentifiable, but unpleasant and uninteresting smell. The bogan electronic voice told me that while I was speaking on my phone, I was not as alert as otherwise. Odd.

Most: The walk to Oakleigh station from about 11:00am until about 11:15am became interesting, if only for the number of weatherboard houses painted mint. All were of similar design and all were in similar states of decay. It was difficult to tell whether people had chosen slightly different shades of mint, or the sun had simply been more cruel to some.

PM

Least: Sometime after 5:30pm, I sat on a graffiti covered seat in a suburban train. The whole carriage in fact, looked like an over made up teenager after a big night on the tiles. Most of the tags were still slightly visible despite the best efforts of the hapless cleaners. White marker on electric blue fabric appears to be a most stubborn stain.

Most: Near enough to 3:00pm, Rosie and I stepped into the 'A Day in Pompeii' exhibition at the Melbourne Museum. The rooms were filled with incredible artifacts from Italy and packed with ooing and ahhing people. The most interesting and haunting pieces were the plaster casts of the victims of the vast pyroclastic flow that engulfed the town nearly 2000 years ago. Scientists think that Naples with be next.

The Traveller and the Attendant

Thursday 13 August 2009

AM

Least: By 10:20am, I was marvelling once again about the longness and straightness of the Hume Freeway. The land on either side is so flat and lacking in changing features that it often feels like the car is on some kind of treadmill. The McDonalds at Glenrowen was slow as usual. Also as usual was the over made-up bottle blonde chugging on a Muggacino. Amazingly, I saw her in the PM in an incredibly uninteresting shopping mall in Melbourne.

Most: Sometime close to 8:00am, I was being driven through on of the highest roads in Australia. Mt Hotham was covered in wet, dirty snow and cloaked by very thick cloud. Despite the incredible views of Mt Feathertop and Mt Buffalo being obscured, it is this part of the five hour drive from Omeo to Melbourne that makes it bearable. It is incredible to think of the contrast between this remote area and the vast sprawl of Melbourne.

PM

Least: At about 2:20pm, I overheard a woman at Oakleigh Station ask the attendant "Does the next train stop at Southern Cross station?" The attendant groaned back "I don't know". This brief is not in the least bit interesting because it probably happens every day. The customer is too lazy to look at the schedule and the attendant is bored witless by his job. It is also uninteresting to tut tut and compare Melbourne's and Osaka's public transport system so I will end here.

Most: Not too long after 6:30opm, I sat with friends and family at an excellent Italian 'straunt in Brunswick. The company and La Bussola delivered the goods. I had been thinking about this particular pizza and veal scallopini for a number of months. The veal was tender and the pizza outstanding. Well worth the long journey from Japan. It is surprising that not more people escape Japan simply to obtain acceptable Italian food. Pizza and pasta in Japan is often very strange and inexplicably covered in corn kernels. Something should be done.

The Crazy Train That Was Late

AM

Least: According to my ticket, I bought my ticket fro the 10:35am train to Drouin at 10:27am. I rushed to Flinders Street in a taxi in the fear that I'd miss my date with platform 10. I needn't of worried, nor did I need to spend $20 on a taxi, for the train was half an hour late. At 10:40am, a crackling announcement assaulted the platform with the news that the train would be delayed by 15 minutes. Wishful thinking. The train was loud and slow and the cars were arranged in no particular order. There were three car Bs. I couldn't find seat number 65.

Most: At about 8:30am, I was delighting in sitting down to a deliciously western breakfast in the company of my sister, her husband and my niece. It was amazing to see how my niece had changed from the days-old baby into the laughing near-toddler of this morning. I left the house in Coburg on a family-high with the hope of catching a quick train into town.

PM

Least: At about 1:30ish pm, I began the too-long drive to Omeo. The terrain is so familiar that until the mountains it it pretty far from interesting. The dreary towns that interrupt the trip seem to get drearier each year. Unlike Japan, though, there are gaps in the ordinariness filled with over grazed paddocks. At least I didn't get car sick.

Most: At about 5:00pm, I disembarked onto the gravel of a driveway in Omeo. The temperature was about 7 degrees and especially relieving considering the 30 degree 90% humidity of Osaka-town. The hills surrounding the town are incredibly dry and sparse. With little else to do, splitting wood for the the fire was particularly satisfying.

Surprise

AM

Least: At about 11:25am I was sitting in Don Vincenzo eating breakfast. The chatter of other breakfasters was far more annoying than the chatter suffered in Japan. Being back in Melbourne, I can understand what people around me are saying. Eavesdropping is usually uninteresting and I prefer being left to my own thoughts in the fuzzy static of Japan.

Most: At about 10:40am, I boarded a tram towards Fitzroy. The tram was populated with the usual kind of shop-girl, hipster and boomer but also a cheerful chromer huffing into his bag of blue paint. The fact that no-one blinked on the tram says something interesting about Melbourne - were people scared, too cool or just non-plussed?. I wonder how a paint sniffer with an imaginary friend would go down in Osaka?

PM

Least: At 12:40am, I stepped out of a taxi into the whiter than white Northcote and walked into the Northcote Social Club intending to gatecrash a family gathering. No-one was there, not even a distant relative. A phone call full of weather-related lies later, I stood and waited for another taxi. Rosie mused that Northcote used to be more like Oakleigh and more interesting. What middle-class white people like, middle-class white people get- blandness.

Most: Not long after 1:00pm, and after an abortive attempt in Northcote, Rosie and I walked into the Carringbush Hotel in Abbotsford to surprise my family. The wild reaction proved that out secretive preparations had been very successful. As the tears flowed, questions were asked about how we pulled off such an amazing stunt. I ordered a steak and chips and necked a couple of Carlton Draughts not one kilometre from the brewery.

The Secret

AM

Least: By 12:01am I had been at 39000 feet for three hours on my secret voyage to Australia. Between 12:01am and 6:30am, I sat awake, having already watched a bowdlerised version of Slumdog Millionaire and exhausted the 'entertainment' package. The view of thick typhoony cloud out the window, did little to distract me from the constant sneezing, coughing and snoring of hundreds of other 'pax', mostly Japanese. One child appeared to have a nervous cough, another flyer sneezed at a rate of 6 per-minute, while a guy across from me gurgled through his blocked nose like a perculator. It seemed impossible that so many people could be so annoying for so long. The airline food-based farting started at about 2:00am. Two out of the four toilets were functioning.

Most: At about 3:30am, our ship jetted over the Bismarck Sea and Papua New Guinea. By this time a fullish moon had made an appearance and the dead ocean finally coughed up a few lights. A few pinpricks at sea I imagined to be small islands or oil rigs and a cluster on the northern coast of PNG may have been Madang, Sio or old Finschaffen, and another may have been a giant mining operation. Either way, it was interesting to imagine the life that was spending the night down on the ground. Mostly, they were probably sleeping in darkened villages, yet to get a scrap from the minerals being taken from them by the megaton.

PM

Least: As I arrived in Melbourne at about 12:15pm to the news of a 2:00pm check-in I looked with disinterest at the same hipster uniformity that had annoyed me six months ago. In everyone's desperate quest for 'cool' people seem to be as conservative as ever - black on grey on black*. It's easier to look like a young B-Dylan when it's 11 degrees. Beards seem to be on the decline however. (*note me wearing black on grey above)

Most: As we were welcomed to the Windsor by a man in a top hat sometime after 2:15pm, Rosie and I glee'd over our six year anniversary and the success to date of our plan for a surprise visit to Melbourne. Since the 22nd of April we have been quietly being quiet about our holiday plans. An internet blackout and light misinformation campaign in July appears to have worked to cloak our intentions to crash my Mum and Sister's birthday meal in Northcote. Rosie's sister, Virginia literally collapsed in a heap at the sight of Rosie at her door on Tuesday. Tomorrow's big entry will be very interesting indeed - provided our intelligence on the party's time and location is accurate.

_________________
Food Note:

Lowlight: The Jetstar breakfast choice number 1 was an egg and cheese roll on over-herbed bread. The soggy clot was nothing other than repulsive.

Highlight: By about 7:00pm I was delighting in the Deep-Fried Pork-Belly with Red Curry at Cookie in Swanston Street. The costly German Riesling was incredible.