Parents Day 11

Monday

I honestly cannot remember anything we did on Monday. Oh, yeah, in the morning Mom made the scones that Alice had given her a mix for. We added whipped cream and strawberry jam, but the parents were really disappointed. At least I had the advantage of knowing in advance that scones are not SUPPOSED to taste like anything. Later, I went shopping at Bondi Junction while Mom and Dad went off by themselves to hunt down some antique shops. It was a beautiful sunny day. After an hour or so, they spotted a hotel across the road, but couldn’t figure out how to get to it. Five minutes later, they were tottering on tiptoe on what they describe as a tiny strip of concrete in the middle of a highway, cars rushing past in both directions, the force pressing them forward and back, forward and back. They must have wobbled there for half an hour, they say, before Dad just closed his eyes and basically stepped out, forcing cars to screech to a halt. All I can say is, I’m glad I wasn’t there. Lunch, they said, was not worth the danger.

We packed and went to bed super-early, planning to be up at four in the morning to grab a taxi to the airport.

Parents Day 10

Sunday

Woke up early with the sun streaming in for a hot day. The seven little squash vines looked pretty traumatized. They had gone all saggy and wrinkly. We moseyed around with breakfast and then headed to lovely Waverley Cemetery, where in two or three hours we explored carved tombstones and grimacing angels and a big Irish memorial and the grave of former stewardess who survived the Titanic.

Then we walked back around Clovelly Bay and had a quick lunch at this little fish and chips shop called Out of the Blue. We had a reservation that night at El Bulli, the tapas place where my friend Simon bartends, and we enjoyed some fabulous gnocchi, lamb, prawns, and garlic mushrooms, a jug of white raspberry sangria, and finished with ice cream from Cold Rock (which was, unsurprisingly, just like Cold Stone). We had to stop Mom from going back into El Bulli for tequila shots. Home, we watched some Jeeves and Wooster and were in bed, as usual, around nine.

Parents Day 9

Saturday

We got an email from Ben Hoffman, who is watching the house for Mom and Dad, saying that Holly hasn't moved since they left and he assumes she is "aestivating." I looked it up. It means "to pass the summer in a dormant or torpid stage." Gee, that sure describes Holly, especially if you replace “the summer” with “life.”

Mom and Dad wanted to go antiquing, so I hung around at home finally repotting the squashes, wrapping their unresisting little fingers around two big branches I stole from someone’s yard, and fixing up the snake plant in a big pot of its own, where it no longer must wither from the sheer volume of water required to keep the squashes thriving.

Then I went for a run, cooking my skin in the process to a deep brown. Mom and dad stumbled in a bit later, having had an unsatisfactory lunch at the Cook Hotel and an unpleasant morning chasing public transportation. Dad’s esophagus was also playing him up. So I departed again to do some shopping, and then the parents and I tried to reassemble my bike, which the movers somehow completely destroyed. Accepting defeat, we watched Wooster and Jeeves until bedtime. Dad finished the globe puzzle. No pumpkins, no scary movies, no costumes, no kiddies. Happy Halloween! Photo is Mom and Dad at Mrs. Macquarie's Chair in downtown Sydney.

Parents Day 8

Friday

Weary on Friday, instead of writing my usual blog entry, I simply made a to-do list: 1. Set up reservation for Bondi Icebergs, 2. Set up reservation for Tapas at el Bulli, 3. Two loads laundry, 4. renew library books, 7. is Craig giving me a ride to Canberra?, 5. drop paper off at school, 6. pick up Cairns tickets at Bronte.

I somehow managed most of the above, and Mom and Dad were coherent by noon, so we caught the bus to Bondi Beach. It was a brilliant, sunny day. Just before we arrived at the famous Bondi Icebergs Bistro, one of my Aussie friends called to alert me that a flash mob would hit Bondi Beach soon. I managed to catch the dance through binoculars, from the Bistro balcony—I suggest Youtubing “Bondi flash mob,” it was awesome. When I returned to the table, I found that Dad was pretty happy, operating on half a dozen prawns and three beers. We had lunch (me: barramundi, Mom: jewfish, Dad: rump steak). Mom and I had a quick gelato on the beach and then we walked south through Sculpture by the Sea, a two-week event at this time of year when local and international artists cover the Coastal Walk, the cliffs that run dozens of kilometers along the coast, with sculptures. I was impressed with Mom and Dad’s stamina; we made it all the way to Tamarama Beach, Then we caught the bus home as I realized that my still-soaking laundry was still at the (about-to-close) laundromat. I sprinted up the hill and the Laundromat-owner was nice enough to unlock the door for me, so I recovered all four bags of laundry.

Parents Day 7

Thursday

Up at 0450 for…Hunter Valley! Dad took care of the arrangements for this one (thanks Dad!): bus to train to bus to Wine Rover shuttle, then the same thing in reverse at the end of the day, for a total of about 6-7 hours travel time. It was totally worth it, though. We hit two vineyards, then a place with olives and jams, then lunch (I had this amazing chicken bosciola—chicken bits and bacon and mushrooms in cream sauce over penne), two more vineyards. Pause here and I will describe the very best vineyard, the fourth one, called the Golden Grape. They offered us, not wine, but our first and only liquors of the day: a light and sweet sparkling strawberry alcohol called Coolatta, a coffee liqueur, butterscotch schnapps, and their infamous Chili schnapps, which tasted like taking a shot of fire.

We moved on to a chocolate/cheese shop and another vineyard—this one with sculptures for sale. I’m not sure if the last vineyard was really the best, or if it was only because the Golden Grape had filled us with liquor so fast that we were all staggering at this point—but I ended up buying not one, but two dessert wines, a Moscato and something called Mesila, brandy and fortified Semillon.

The Hunter Valley Resort was the last stop of the day.

While the tougher among us rounded off the day with beer, I wandered off into the Bush, green fields under an endless sky, discovered some friendly horses, and stepped in some big scary black ants. Mom and Dad jumped back in the Rover to go kangaroo-spotting (look on Facebook for their awesome kangaroo photos—they were incredibly successful). When they returned, Mom and I wandered across the street to a little cheese shop. We knocked until the cheese-seller heard us, from the back room, and hurried out—with his hair still up in a little plastic baggie, for hygiene—and unlocked the door, and he tried to get a word in edgewise while Mom explained to him how curds are made. Generous in our drunkenness, we bought at least thirty dollars’ worth of goat cheese and feta. I guess they’re used to it.

On the train ride home, we saw wallabies hopping beside the track, that is, for the few moments while we still had our eyes open.

Parents Day 6

Wednesday

Mom and Dad took off at ten in the morning for Hyde Park. While they had breakfast croissants and explored the museum and lunched at the Orient Hotel, I played catch-up at home: read and wrote back to thousands of emails, made several important calls, bought potting soil, bought Mom a USB charger for her DS, cleaned the house, boiled some eggs for breakfast for the next three days, tried and failed to pick up our tickets for Cairns next week (not ready for another 24 hours) and got home at 2. Is this what it’s like to be a housewife? As I was scarfing lunch, Mom called from a pay phone. They were at the Rocks near the two famous old hotels, the Hero of Waterloo and the Duke of Wellington, which are half a block apart from each other. One of these is the oldest pub in Sydney. I can never remember which. According to legend, it has a secret tunnel underneath that leads out to the harbour, a few hundred metres away. In harsher days, the British would get drunken Aussies to kiss the shilling and then shove them staggering down the tunnel and out to the water, into a waiting ship. Expedient, eh? I fought rush hour, got to the Rocks at 4, had a quick drink (thanks Mom), turned around and we made it home just in time for my 6:15 Pilates class. Early bed.

Parents Day 5

Tuesday

Another cold day and we couldn’t get the chill off, but we were stirred into action and eager to plan the rest of the trip. We spent most of the morning consulting tour books, searching online, and comparing flight prices, before I headed to Bondi Junction for some necessary shopping. I had seen these awesome yellow vintage pots a few days before and figured it was time to separate my poor smothered snake plant from its neighbor, an enormous two-foot-square squash vine. In fact, this viney lump began as a few tiny beansprout-looking stowaways in the snake plant, which once I got them home, started to morph and then I noticed that thin eager creepers were sneaking all over the bathroom and wrapping themselves around my earrings and creams and trying to slip climbers up the towels and in the process slowly swallowing important parts of the bathroom, like the faucet and the hand towel and the windowsill and my toothpaste tube. Which made using my bathroom a very delicate process. Anyway, the squash was actually really irritating me at first and I planned to kill it when I transplanted the snake plant, but then one day I woke up and the squash had put out a teensy yellow flower that was winking at me from behind my deodorant. Since then it has been flowering like a maniac. So I bought two nice pots, and on the way back, I spotted a travel agency. Me and my pots stepped in and asked for some quick advice. Three hours later—after some racing back and forth to the house and phone calls and credit card disasters and insurance worries and hey who really wants to go to the rainforest, well I don’t if you don’t, can we go snorkeling instead, I want to see birds, I don’t want to go snorkeling, are these refundable, which airline, how lousy is the hotel, do we get free breakfast—anyway after all of that, we were the proud owners of three tickets to Cairns!

Exhausted from our acquisitional adventures, we walked the rest of the way to Bondi Junction, checked out Borders, bought some mangos, and were relieved to feel a little bit of sun for the first time in days.

Parents Day 4

Monday

Still frozen and rainy. I trotted off to the gym and returned two hours later to a hot pancake and bacon lunch; thanks Dad! After a few hours of lounging, we set off for the hour-long bus and train ride to meet Alice down south in Jannali. It’s hard to say who was most excited, but Alice definitely won for enthusiasm, driving us to the beach at Cronulla, Suzanne’s apartment, Sharkies’ club, Alice’s own old house, and she would have shown us the pharmacy where she used to work, except that someone finally mentioned plaintively how hungry we all were, and she obligingly turned for home. Frank was waiting eagerly with cricket on the television, and Alice served us chopped lamb in tomato sauce, and for dessert, a deliciously fancy thin crepe and brandy-raspberry sauce and cream. Frank was kind enough to drive us home and we were in bed, stuffed and sated before 10.

Parents Day 3

Sunday October 26

Sunday dawned cold and gray, and Dad opted to stay home. We bought Red Travel Passes, which I must remember because for 38 dollars a week, they give unlimited bus, train, and ferry travel within the City. By noon, Mom and I were in Circular Quay, but within minutes the sky had opened in the worst storm I’ve seen since monsoon season in Hong Kong. I really wanted to go to the Opera House, though (you see, I had this special coupon) and Mom was a good sport about it.

But after only a few minutes elbowing our way through crowds of dripping tourists, we got fed up. We took a last photo in the House and huddled under one umbrella, we dashed madly through the pounding rain and took refuge in the Rocks Café (me: linguine with prawns, Mom: snapper). The fact that Mom’s snapper came at the wrong time, and also still had a head attached so that she had to fillet it before she could eat, was the last straw. Defeated, we headed home to warm up by my little space heater and listen to the howling rain and wind. This is obviously not a photo from that day but here's Mom and me having lunch not far from my house at the Clovelly Hotel.

Parents Day 2

Saturday Oct 25

Having just found out about a cheap membership deal, I was in a hurry to enlist at the nearby gym, and I walked into Bronte bright and early. The gym is the equivalent of the Y at home: nothing fancy or pretentious, just simple equipment, shabby carpet, local regulars, and supercheap rates. Along with my 12-month membership, I acquired a free one-hour session with either Lisa, who “teaches the girls core strength,” or Stuart, who indicated quite openly that I would not particularly enjoy his “hard weights and power lifting” course. (When I said “Oh I definitely would like to improve my lifting,” he sort of blinked slowly at me and repeated, a little louder, “Lisa teaches the girls core strength.”)

Mom and Dad and I hopped the 380 bus to Circular Quay, but halfway there, passing the Paddington Market, we impulsively clambered off. Mom really enjoyed ringing the bell to tell the driver we wanted to stop. The market at Paddington on Saturday mornings is the best ever: an enormous crafts market with hand-carved peppershakers as long as your forearm, homemade candles and jewelry and soap, feathered and bejeweled fascinators for ladies’ hair, and Mom’s particular favorites, the handmade unique clothing, and the stall of hearty little succulents (sadly, no way to get those pretty potted plants through Customs).

Following the advice of Mom’s guidebook, we headed down a side street and found some tiny, posh stores, including a milliner’s, a jeweler, a barbershop, a Continental deli and The London, a famous tavern. Then we walked up Paddington Street, admiring the lines of sycamores. Dad took some great photos of the flowers, the fleur-de-lys and wrought iron grills on the houses.

We lunched at the Paddington Arms (me: lamb souvlaki, Mom: Sheppard’s pie, Dad: bangers and mash). Then we strolled farther up Oxford Street, as far as Victoria Barracks. Drawn by a big sign advertising an Antiques Sale, we walked through the gate and up the path to a huge, historic old house, packed with beautiful 18th-century French pieces, huge armoires, marble-topped and gold-gilded tables. The salesman was quite snippy at our attempts to admire the house—long polished banisters, small creaky servants’ quarters, wraparound balconies—and our obvious non-intent to purchase any sixty thousand dollar bureaus.

We caught the bus home and Mom and Dad napped again while I cleaned up my emails. Then we worked on my puzzle, which is shaped like the globe, until bedtime. We were in bed by eight, a trend that would continue for the next three weeks.

Parents Day 1

Friday October 24

INCOMING! I was up at six thirty, on the 7:01 bus into Central Station, my train arrived at the airport just before eight and I took up a position, wearing my sunhat and waving a tiny American flag, watching the North Gate. Mom and Dad’s plane had arrived just before eight. They walked in the South Gate. For the next hour, the three of us ran around the airport looking for each other, like a Charlie Chaplin movie. At last I found Mom anxiously failing to make international calls on the pay phone. We were all very relieved.

Somehow or other we got back to the apartment, where Dad sagged quietly to the floor, still wearing his sneakers, head resting on a piece of luggage, asleep in seconds. Mom and I walked down to Coogee, and she pointed out to me all the trees, plants, birds, and architecture that so far, I had never noticed, much less been able to identify. Yay for parents! On the way back up, Mom discovered why I always complain about the big hill behind my apartment. Under the hot sun, we somehow made our sweaty way to the top in time to wake Dad up, turn around and walk down again.

We lunched at Alice’s favorite restaurant, the Coogee Bay Hotel, a pleasant beer garden by day and a rowdy dance club at night. I had the chicken schnitzel with parmesan, which tasted much better than I remembered it—last time I thought it was too bland. Perhaps my tastebuds have acclimatized to the obviously former-British-colony food. Mom and Dad shared the first order in a disappointing series of Australian oysters. Personally, I think all oysters are gross. Apparently these were worse than usual.

We picked up some groceries and took the bus home. This time it was Mom who lay down on the couch and was instantly asleep. It was six o’clock. Dad and I made a quick exploratory trip down Clovelly Road, and I tried for the first time to teach him to look right, then left, when crossing the street. Little did I know that I would spend three weeks pointlessly trying to teach this lesson, all three of us flinching every time we faced a road to cross. Anyway, Day One had really taken it out of all of us. Asleep before seven, Mom and Dad slept until seven the next morning.

aaaand, back to what passes for normal

Today was a milestone. My bike has been fixed for almost two weeks now, and today for the first time I got up the courage to actually ride it. In the left lane! Surrounded by Australian drivers who don’t know the meaning of the word “yield!” (They really don’t. Their signs say “Give way.”) I was extremely careful to take back ways, even turning around once to avoid one of Australia’s terrifying and ubiquitous five-way intersections. I even went through a roundabout…twice!

When I arrived at the grocery store, I paused a minute to catch my breath and quell my poor heart—pounding from exertion and also from the sheer terror of navigating the narrow, busy streets just before rush hour. I had an even scarier task ahead of me: shopping for holiday ingredients in the food mart. in a forty-five minute span, wandering among aisles of Christmas cake ingredients (their Christmas cake is our fruitcake), prominently displayed hams, and thousands upon thousands of chocolates, I located treviso radicchio, treacle, and pineapple slices but failed to locate marshmallows, golden syrup, frozen cranberries or pie crust. As I stood staring helplessly at the Australian equivalent of Jell-o and wondering why it came in port wine, among other flavors, the radio unbelievably broke into “I’ll be home for Christmas.” My jaw dropped. “We’ll have snow…and mistletoe…” The sweat was still trickling down my back and the sun outside was glaring in its meanest Outback way. I ended up with raspberry-flavored gelatin and short pastry and got the hell out.

I’d like to conclude this segment with a list of items that appeared in my house after mom and dad’s departure, because I believe it will illuminate something about all of us.

One wet beach towel
One pair flippers (men’s)
Two sets of extra housekeys
Four half-empty bottles of sunscreen
One full bottle of disinfectant
Four half-full water glasses
Three empty water bottles
One bottle white wine, one bottle port wine, ½ bottle fortified Muscat wine
$14.55 in spare change
One rhinestone earring
One Australian birding book, a David Baldacci novel, and a Bill Bryson book
One Southern hemisphere star chart
One guide to the Australian flying fox
Five newspapers
Three magazines
Two partly-used phone cards
Three partly-used bus tickets
One box Rice Krispies, half a Cadbury bar, three varietals of tea, two flavors of goat cheese, one box Splenda, one bottle Tylenol, one bag mixed nuts, one bag macadamia nuts, one can Vegamite, one fruit tart, one Ned Kelly pie (ingredients: beef, potato, carrot, and “pie meat”), half of a whiskey truffle, and a single Anzac cookie

Not to mention all my cool new stuff, like the echidna tea towel, wombat-shaped hotplates, a well-greased bike, some cool new plants, and a Lauren Bacall jacket. In other words, it was great having you here, Mom and Dad.

p.s. still finishing up the blog about our adventures...will publish asap.