Written by lainie at 03:59 AM on June 4, 2009 in melbourne, Holidays / Road Trip.

I was at SkyHigh (not the teen flick), Mt Dandenong over the weekend. I saw some rosellas (colourful parrots indigenous to Aust) the moment I got there, which was a pleasant surprise.

It's a beautiful place to get away, and on the way up, you pass by so many shops that sell trinkets, tea, fashion -- all trying to charm you with their individuality and lure you into their niche markets. I like how Aussies walk their dogs a lot here. This lil puppy, Mia, was crying out for attention while her owner was shopping for tea.

SkyHigh, true to its name, allows a panoramic view of Greater Melbourne from its observation deck  -- the Mornington Peninsular, Port Phillip Bay, a two hour drive from my residence in the CBD (also visible), You Yangs, the Great Divide.

Usually, with such a view, I'd prefer to stick around for a sunrise/sunset, but we had to leave because I wanted to go see little penguins at St Kilda's .

Anyway, the entire reason for this post is to ask a question. SkyHigh has a lot of sculptures in their gardens. This is one of a loving couple I saw in there. Two halves of a whole. Unfortunately, the girl half is broken.

I think it's a pity the sculpture seems broken -- I don't know if it's intentional or not. Well. Now my question is....Do you see how the change suggests a different, yet recognisable form?

See it? See it???

Written by lainie at 01:47 PM on June 12, 2009 in melbourne, Arty stuff.

Ohai.

I've been trampling all over the pavements in Victoria.

Check out the interactive light installation, Volume, by United Visual Artists. It's a part of the Light in Winter Show in Federation Square.

This is a video I took walking through the installation, each LED column emits a sound/light display when it detects motion. Nifty.

Also bought a bunch of things I convinced myself I needed:

Necessary objects of affection:

1) Sauced Fine Preserves, Chili Garlic Mustard spread, from Queen Vic Market.

2) Get Lost travel magazine, was told it'd be suitable for me.

3) Moleskine volant set of 2 plain notebooks, 6.5x10.5cm (GLOMP!)

4) Garlic crusher. Because Gazel really hates doing it the way I do, with a chef knife, chopping board, and latent homocidal tendencies.

5) Because being scatterbrained is trendy.

6) Soaps! Mango butter, lime and lemongrass! So I emerge from the shower every time, smelling like a tropical rainforest dessert.

Gotta work, and if I finish work early today, I will head to two birthday parties tonight. Laters!

Written by lainie at 12:53 PM on June 15, 2009 in melbourne, Daily Life.

One of the things people told me that never really registered, is that all the foods I liked back in KL aren't crazy pricey here. Ergo, grilled bacon, egg & avocado sandwich (with a bit of mild garlic and chilli mustardseed spread) on multigrain bread.

Groceries are subsidised here, making it affordable to cook more at home. I usually ask friends online what I should be doing. Meesh, Alia and chi too have been asked questions along the lines of "What is a garlic bulb?". I need the kind of recipe website that assumes I am not equipped with "common knowledge" when it comes to cooking.

Now I'm off to Safeway (tis Monday, the regular markets are closed) to pick up some veggies for tonight's cooking. Eventually, we'll ask my cousins over for dinner. When I can figure out how to fry an egg without screwing up (not an exaggeration), it will be time. Meanwhile, my sister and bro-in-law remain my experimental subjects.

I need to eat at home more I can feel my body rebelling against the cumulative unhealth that was Prita's one week visit to Melbs.

My thumbnail is bright red because something about sober girls around my drinking self, that gives them the compulsion to paint my nails. If I stay over, they want to groom me and do my hair. T____T

Written by lainie at 11:09 PM on June 16, 2009 in melbourne, Stupid, but fun..

I'm too tired to do anything but sit on my bed and zone out, so I may as well blabber here. It's been a while since I've seriously regretted a post anyway. I've been thinking of some national stereotypes lately.

In Malaysia, my friends sneered at tourists who looked out for treehouses in the city, and laughed at those gullible enough to believe monkeys are regularly trained to do the dishes.

In Australia, some campers declared in disbelief they met tourists who asked "Where are the KANGAROOS?" amidst the shopping malls and art galleries of Melbourne city.

Since I'm going to New Zealand next month, you reckon anyone would deck me if I asked "I've been waiting all my life! Where are the sheep???".

I'd probably get decked, I know. I'd deserve it too. Still, it'll be interesting (if a rather low point) to be associated with one of those campfire horror-tourist stories. Cross another item off those 9834124 Things You Don't Need To Do Before You Die lists.

The one difference between Melbourne and back home that really affects me is how much safer I feel here, even at night, on lonely streets. I'm not saying I feel invincible, but in KL I am jumpy just walking home from the 7-11 round the corner, if I'm carrying a bag. Doesn't matter if it's 2pm or 2am.

If you ask me, living in Selangor means your chances of being robbed are more imminent than highly possible.

Just because some people conquered Mt Kinabalu doesn't mean I can't whine about how I was sore days after I climbed in the Grampians.

As for similiarities, since we were on the topic of sheep earlier...I saw herds of them on the way to the Grampians. I actually asked Tim and Daph if they'd like to steal sheep, which is likely illegal in Aust too. And biblically frowned upon, worldwide. But this is what really catches my attention:

“Anyone that would letterspace blackletter would steal sheep.” Frederic W. Goudy

Since we're both Commonwealth countries, and have probably at some point inherited similar laws...Would stealing sheep in this sense be illegal in Melbs? By "this", I refer to speculations on how the purportedly "sanitised" Goudy quote loosely means: fuck with typography = fuck with sheep.

So I guess what I'm saying is...is it illegal to fuck sheep here or what? IS IT?

And in case there were any doubts about it, no I do not intend to shag any number of sheep. I wouldn't tell you even if I did (which I don't).

I was a teenager when Rach and I met a sailor who matter-of-factly told me of the limited options available on certain cargo trips, and the horrible images of desperate men and frightened animals still remain with me today. My lamb chops didn't taste quite the same that day.

Even worse, that's one of my clearest memories of the (very) hazy year I turned 18.

Good night.

[ My sense of grammar goes to pot when I'm tired, but Zedeck's article this week for his True Story column, Abeus of English! takes the cake. Or, take the cakes. I almost wish I'd been on duty to edit that article, would be fun to inject grammar mistakes for once. But really, I'd rather be going for Melb's poetry night. ]

Written by lainie at 11:57 PM on June 21, 2009.

Nothing gets to me like meeting someone who has eaten in Singapore, and presumes it represents the food in Malaysia. Except because Singapore is more developed, the food is better. It kills me. At the wrong time of the month, it could kill the person who says it.

Also, it hurts my conscience to keep that polite smile plastered across my face. But I do, because I don't want to look like that crazy Malaysian girl who hates the tourists in Singapore.

If you are a foodie, and your explorations of Asian cuisine begins and ends in Singapore, you look like an ass. Sorry, there's no avoiding it. There is fantastic food in the region, and Malaysia is foodie heaven.

Every Malaysian who watched Discovery Travel & Living during Anthony Bourdain's review of Singapore's Ampang Yong Tau Foo (a Hakka Malaysian food famous in Ampang, Malaysia) died a little death that day. Despite Singapore being a dot on the map next to Malaysia, it felt like we were the little guys.

On that day, Bourdain became to me an aggravating schmuck who was willing to eat/drink anything, which where I come from, is not a distinguishing characteristic to boast of.

To be fair to him, I don't remember Bourdain claiming to be anything else in his book. And there are other people on tv far less amusing. But they're not in Singapore praising Malaysian food, are they? Bourdain didn't even look like he knew we existed, which was probably the best slight any person in Singapore could have dealt Malaysia

Enough about Bourdain, what am I supposed to do with the people I meet here? Thwack them with the KL guidebook I wrote?

I now live in a country where I have frequently seen on menus, this "Malaysian" item: Rice with skinless, boneless chicken cubes, generously topped with creamy satay sauce.

I know our satay comes with ketupats/lontong and peanut sauces, BUT FOR FUCK'S SAKE???

Meat cooked with satay sauce is, I think, an Australian invention. Alongside the parma, I might even call it their national dish, just by the number of times I have seen it on the menu.

If I saw this menu item all the time, I might not feel inclined to go to Malaysia either. After all, "Singapore Fried Noodles" seem safer and more appealing.

Never mind that you can spot some Malaysians (or Indonesians) new in town, because they will at some point take pictures of the "satay sauce on rice" dish listed in the menu stuck on the window. As I have, out of sheer incredulity.

Still, if you have not been to Malaysia (and by some weird chance got to my blog, or worse; because you are one of those persons who kickstarted this post), read these food blogs from KL/Selangor:

1) Masak-Masak,

2) A Whiff of Lemongrass and

3) KY Speaks

Three food blogs with different styles and approaches to their content.

Right. I'm done. I had some balut earlier and I need to sleep it off. Phew. Heavy.

[ WOAH! I've not been to Masak Masak blog in a while, did she get a fancier camera or what? Pics look way better! ]

Written by lainie at 06:34 PM on June 29, 2009 in melbourne.

Daph's car busted during a recent roadtrip, and I ended up stranded in Ararat with her and Tim.

We got there slightly past dinner time, and there was barely any activity going on. It looked like the kind of place that didn't get too hectic in the daytime either, maybe because it was the long weekend. It wasn't always so --Ararat is the only town in Australia founded by Chinese people, during a gold rush. They have a Gum San heritage Centre there. I actually sit next to a picture of it nearly everyday, from Gazel and Tommy's visit.

The guy who drove the tow truck told us not much happened there. People passed by for the day, not a lot stayed for long. He tows a few stranded people to Ararat every day, he's had this conversation before.

He brought us to the Shire, told us we could stay there for the night, and rattled off the names of a few pubs we could go to if we got bored. There was also the old gaol museum, where the criminally insane were held, but it would be closed for the duration of our short stay.

(we were very hungry by the time I took this photo and found a cafe that served what Tim was craving -- parma)

Had our dinner in Red Poppy Bar and Bistro, then spent some time in the slot machines lounge attached to it. Upon reflection, that was the most happening and crowded place we saw in Ararat, but not the place for us. 

We tried to entertain ourselves, but as even the locals sheepishly told us, Ararat is a bit of a hole if you're just dropping by town for a night. Worse, even the few revellers who usually frequent the pubs seemed to have left town for the long weekend.

We decided not to waste the night anyway: the streets were quiet, and we strolled around, peering into the dark windows of the shops near The Shire. We saw police cars patrolling more than we did the locals. The banner for the store display above was a nice surprise: Tim designed it.

We ended up in hanging out at the pub in Leopold Hotel. We took one of two pool tables, us girls playing against Tim. The jukebox blasted cheesy music, we played pool, they drank beer (I gave it a pass).

When the jukebox played

1) Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You",

2) Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2U" and

3) Lily Allen's "It's Not Me, It's You"

the men at the bar started teasing us for selecting those songs. It wasn't us, but I do agree with Daph and me hanging out together, we were the most likely looking candidates. There's some tough-looking bloke in Ararat who likes his power ballads.

A small group of people our age came in. We asked one trendy looking girl where the place to hang in Ararat was. She gestured at the other ten people sitting around. "Yeah, you're here. This is pretty much it".

We're stuck in Ararat, but...you're here by choice....?

"Oh, I'm from Sydney, visiting family. I paid to fly here, it's heinous". Then she stuck some coins into the jukebox (against the protests of the men who wanted the free jukebox music), and formed a small circle with her three gal pals in the comparatively generous amount of floorspace.

They danced a bit, but no one else was convinced. It was a quiet night, and they didn't stay very long.

Most of the people we talked to were visiting family over the long weekend. One of them had been to Malaysia, a long time ago (pre-KLCC era).

Eventually, we left because we couldn't take the jukebox's auto-selection of strange Euro-house music. I like my raves, but even I was overwhelmed. It was a cold walk home, and we passed by a monument commemorating the soldiers stationed during the war in, amongst other places, Malaya. There were some teenagers with unnatural neon hair colours skating near it.

We went back to The Shire, and I rather like how old it was. Fiddly iron doorknobs, a big key for the door (boo to cardkeys!), old light switches, creaky floorboards; both Daph and I used the loo and had panic attacks we'd locked ourselves in.

Apparently, some other poeple are really fond of the building too. The Shire has some long term residents willing to "put up" with noisy backpackers trampling over the wooden floorboards at 3am. You could spot their doors by the keep out/shut up/"this room belongs to" kind of notices.

We (or rather, Tim) tried to clip a cloth to the top of the doorframe so we could block the exit sign's light from our room. The attempt involved repeatedly opening and closing the door, and we woke up a helpful — and probably disgruntled — long term resident.

She seemed to know exactly what we were up to, which means we're probably not the first fools to wake her up that way. Told us to use the hotel's towel, which would fit just right. It took us a while to get to sleep. Most of my ex-roomies know this, but when the lights go off, it makes me talkative.

Not because I'm suddenly in confessional mode, but because I am mildly scared of the dark and talking through it eases me into the idea that if something is in the corner, at least it's not chiming into the conversation. And at least I can bore it to bits.

The next day, Tim made us avocado on toast (yes, our own food). Bless. The heater there was very welcome too.

For both signs, I actually returned to my room to look for a pen to correct the grammar, and maybe make the signs  prettier. My efforts were shot down by my own half-heartedness and the fact that I stuff my backpack without thinking of how everything comes out later. Passive Aggressive Notes, anyone?

Walked downstairs and talked briefly to another resident, taking in some morning air. I don't usually wake up in the morning, but when I'm with Tim and Daph, I sleep early.

In the day time, Ararat has a nice, laid-back weekend feel to it. Just down the road from where we spent the night was a cafe called "Browse & Brew on Barkley".

 Books all around, good coffee, and the relief that a friend had come to our rescue. Cafes should always come with cosy corners and books.

Browse & Brew's tables had old documents from Ararat lacquered onto them -- some their own, others donated. Very nice idea for a cafe in a town that sells its history to travellers. I went to all the unoccupied lil' tables to take a look.

Ararat is a great stopover town...in the daytime. You'd have to stick around a bit longer than we did to figure out what goes on at night.

(Ararat has the lowest road signage I've ever seen, it's looks lower than those "Keep left" blue arrow signs!)

Since I'm visiting the country, I don't mind that I saw more of Australia that day. All incidental side trips are a boon. Who knows, I may be back soon, on my terms, for the wineries and the J. Ward gaol museum.