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 Importance of Being Idle

AM

Least: Close to 8:30am, I waded through another short chapter of Nick's And the Ass Saw the Angel. Given his admirable rant on prolix, it is easy (and uninteresting) to begin groaning at the incredible purpure of his writing. He manages to create an interesting atmosphere of disgust impending terror but it's far too self conscious. At the very least, someone should've convinced dear Nick to remove every single use of ah and may for I and my. Nothing a pair of scissors can't fix.

Most: Just after 11:15am I sat on the front verandah drinking steaming black tea in the sun. Being idle seems to be an important feature of my time in the hills. Being idle gives me a chance to persevere with wordy books, examine possible fossils, bake by the fire, digest, cook, stare blankly or simply revel in being part of an idyll. This morning, I poached, read and resisted reading more of And the Ass Saw the Angel, drank tea, fed the magpies and currawongs, spied on superb fairy wrens, looked inside an interesting stone, lit the fire and watched darkening clouds change and drift by. Ideal, but I won't even try to explain it to my more earnest, everywhere, early rising inquisitors.

PM

Least: Sometime around 2:30pm, I inadvertently glanced at some daytime television. The appalling sound capturing every rustle of clothing, every smack of lips and every boring breath took me straight back to memories of days sick at home crawling by. Today's monstrosity seemed to consist of ghosts and flashbacks. Simply awful.

Most: At about 7:15pm I began thinking about my last day in the country and my return to Osaka. This town is almost the exact opposite of my like in Tezukayama. It is cold, completely uncrowded, people only speak English, read hair is common, sashimi is unobtainable and I don't have to work strange hours. This short diversion from my life in Japan will no doubt make Osaka even more bizarre and interesting. Tomorrow back to Melbourne.

Skis. Rain. Lamb.

AM

Least: By 11:15am, my enfeebled quadriceps were screaming at the top of their voice against any further skiing. My snap decision to ski over snowboarding turned out to be a foolish one. I hadn't been skiing since about 1990 and have been largely inactive since the turn of the century. Keeping up with several school students proved to be difficult. The basic skills were there, but the strength and desire to try hard were not. Skiing in the rain was far less interesting than I had imagined. The coffee cost $4.70.

Most: As early as 10:30am it became obvious that my largely intermittent trips to the slopes had left large gaps in my awareness of snowboarding culture. When I had begun snowboarding at the end of the 1980s, I was the target of both keen interest and vitriol from skiers. Since those heady days, snowboards have become ever more symmetrical, probably shorter and relatively less expensive. The swarms of boarders now pass by unnoticed, unless the bogans aboard are causing a ruckus with snowboards or dangerous accidents. I even saw multiple offenders carrying large balls of snow onto the lift to use as ammo against their chums. How times and my levels of tolerance have changed. Helmets are ubiquitous.

PM

Least: Close to 2:00pm, the rain had really started to fall on Mt Hotham, on me, and onto the snow. The snow conditions were worsening with each new millilitre of drizzle that fell. My clothing's defences held up valiantly, but were steadily eroded by a series of wet chairlift seats and leaks around the neck area. By 2:50pm, I retreated into a steamy ski hire centre. The 'Buster Bacon' hotdog I bought at 'The Kennel' cost a sweet $6:50.

Most: Close to 7:00pm I achieved my primary goal for my trip to Australia. I was able to eat heartily from a leg of lamb roasted in an oven. Inexplicably, the Japanese haven't taken to eating lamb on a grand scale. Perhaps it's the strong delicious aroma and taste that deters them. The lamb was expertly cooked and arrived on the table with a generous cluster of roasted vegetables. It is amazing how smells and flavours trigger strong memories. Already it feels like I'd never left for Japan, although the reports of quakes and storms quickly pique the interest. I'll miss the lamb more than ever upon my return to the Far East.

The Relief of Birds

AM

Least: I woke this morning at about 7:30am to discover my ears ringing. The extreme lack of noise outside meant that the faint squeal from the inner reaches of my ears became the loudest sound in the room. The noise of big cities seems to hide and cause all kinds of ringing . The noise of industrial society need industrially loud music to drown it out. Five days a week I shut out the sound of the rails and endless announcements by listening to various variations of rock n roll. Maybe we could measure how close a town is to death by the ringing in ones ears?

Most: By 8:00ish am, some noise had crept into the backyard and relieved the ringing. The birds were browsing the grass for seeds or hapless insects in their daily struggle. Through the window, I could hear and see magpies, fairy wrens, crows, currawongs, satin bower birds (above) and the usual flying mice. As usual the magpies were busy bullying the other aviators out of anything of value. I've always been suspicious of magpies since they pecked blood out of my head when I was three. The crows here don't speak Japanese.

PM

Least: By almost 3:00pm, I had been the victim of several attacks of regional advertising. Universally terrible sound, lighting, acting and scripts set Gippsland television advertising apart from all others. A particularly appalling example repeatedly offended my senses today. During the ad for Bairnsdale Motel, we are given a demonstration to show that the rooms have enough room to literally 'swing a cat'. You are welcome to stay there for business or pleasure. It is not actually in Bairnsdale.

Most: Just after 12:00pm, I walked through the bush to to the old gold mining areas that boosted Omeo to former grandeur. I trundled past numerous examples of the environmental destruction of the past 140 odd years. Deeply eroded gullies, piles of river stones, weeds, decrepit fruit trees, a burnt-out pine plantation, ancient rubbish, dangerous shafts and tunnels make this well trodden track interesting. As kids we used to explore the old mines for hours with string and candles. It is amazing that the local environment is still reeling from the gold rush - but at least it made growing up in this town interesting.

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.