Posted on November 2, 2010 - by Jennifer

Melbourne Diaries, Week Three: Jen-o!!!

So, for those of you who finished reading last week’s installment of the Melbourne Diaries and were just dying to know the answer to the question about why some mornings there are balloons in the Melbourne sky, I have solved the riddle.¬† In fact, I had solved the riddle last week and just did not know it.¬† It is, in fact, Australians saying, “What a great morning for a balloon ride!”¬† Apparently you can spend a pretty hefty chunk of change (about $300) and book a sunrise balloon ride over the city. ¬† The tour operators call at¬† some ungodly, pre-dawn hour to confirm that weather conditions are favorable and you can go up and then they pick you up around 5:30 am and then you float around for a while.¬† Since this is Melbourne, the balloon ride is followed by a champagne breakfast.¬† I guess it’s never too early for champagne.

Which brings me to another interesting, alcohol-related aspect of life here in Melbourne – the open container.¬† So, Melbourne is much more relaxed about booze in general.¬† A lot of restaurants, even high end restaurants, will allow you to BYOB.¬† They may charge you a corkage fee to drink your wine there but you can bring your own.¬† You can also take the bottle of wine you have purchased at a restaurant with you.¬† So, no need to guzzle it down there just because you’ve paid for it.¬† Also, it is perfectly legal to stroll down the street with an open can of alcohol.¬† Technically, I believe there are laws governing when you can do this but I’m not sure they are strictly enforced.¬† So, you will routinely see someone in broad daylight strolling down a main street with a can of beer.¬† We live in a¬† relatively posh area so these are not homeless people or students or backpackers (who do also hang out here in St Kilda).¬† The well-heeled of St Kilda will sip beer as they walk their posh dogs.¬† The best (or worst) experience I have had with this was near Flinders Street Station downtown where I encountered a gentleman walking with a can of Wild Turkey.¬† Firstly, I was not aware that you can buy Wild Turkey in a can.¬† So, I was taking that in.¬† Secondly, I was slightly queasy just thinking about what it’s like to drink Wild Turkey from a can.¬† For you Washingtonians, this would be the equivalent of casually strolling around Union Station with a can (and I must emphasize that it’s in a can!) of Jim Beam.

Also, not to dwell too long on alcohol, but what I have NOT seen here is a single can of Fosters.¬† I don’t even think it is Australian.¬† Probably, like Hagen Daaz, it is made in New Jersey.

Perhaps because you can stroll around town with a can of beer (or bourbon or whiskey), people watching is a great pastime here.¬† I continue to spend time on Chapel Street at the Supa Store because the goods are cheap and the people-watching is priceless.¬† This week, as I examined some pillow covers, an Eastern European lady basically tried to take me out from behind.¬† I’m not exaggerating. She was old and short and wide and I did not see her coming!¬† Next thing I know, I am flying through space.¬† I’m not quite sure (since I was still reeling from the blow) but I think she had decided that in spite of my being in a VERY narrow aisle and in spite of her having a not very narrow frame, she could “squeeze” past me.¬† It was a strange decision, given that there was a perfectly wide (and empty) aisle close to where I was standing.¬† But, nevertheless, I was apparently the path of least resistance.¬† She did sort of mumble an apology (either that¬† or she cursed me for getting in her way).¬† I was still kind of trying to process the hit that this woman had just put on me, when I made my way to the counter with my pillow covers ($2.50 each, by the way, for the best faux silk in China).¬† As I was walking up, the Japanese woman behind the counter was exclaiming very enthusiastically to a tanned man in his early 40’s that he was getting a fantastic bargain because last week the item in question had cost $150 and now it was $99.¬† Naturally, I looked to see what he was buying and it was a giant replica of the Eiffel Tower meant, it seemed, to be used as a lawn ornament.¬† i’m kind of rubbing my eyes at this point, wondering if I’m just seeing things but, no, this gentleman really was feeling extremely fortunate to have found the last Eiffel Tower replica (and on sale, no less!) at the Supa Store.¬† I meekly paid for my pillow cases and wondered if I should go find myself a can of Wild Turkey?

This past week I had an email from someone who said, “So, are you doing anything in Melbourne other than eating and drinking?”¬† And, I thought to myself, “What a strange question? Other than sport, those are the pastimes of Melbourne.” I might argue that since my time is largely spent in pursuit¬† of the best coffee, food, and wine (when I am not playing or watching sports), that I am being extremely culturally sensitive!¬† I mean, long term there are plans for hiking in the outback and snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef but in Melbourne itself, people are obsessed with only a few things and those include where to swim and where to eat and drink.¬† Oh, and the weather.¬† In fact, in Melbourne, I have learned that the weather is not one of those things you talk about to be polite and neutral or when you have nothing else to discuss.¬† The weather is a major and important topic of conversation.¬† People discuss the weather here with the seriousness with which they discuss politics in Washington D.C.¬† They check forecasts constantly. In particular, what people like to discuss is not the weather you are currently experiencing but the weather that is coming.¬† So, it could be a gorgeous day without a cloud in the sky and you could be sitting there enjoying the feeling of warm sun on your face and a Melbournian will say, “Hmmm‚Ķit’s supposed to get windy later” or “The forecast for this weekend is really shit”.¬† I was discussing this strange phenomenon with my Swiss-Italian friend Aldo as we sat at our neighborhood beer garden. I went to get us some beers and, I swear, the young bartenders were not discussing girls, or sport, but the weekend weather.

On the subject of food (and finding the good stuff in a new city), it helps to have a Swiss-Italian friend.¬† So, naturally, I got one.¬† He lives pretty nearby and he’s a consultant who is currently “on the bench” so he has a lot of time on his hands.¬† He took me to a great pizza place in St. Kilda which is not really the neighborhood best known for Italian food so I would probably never have tried it without his guidance.¬† And that would have been sad because it was delicious.¬† They open at 6pm and we walked in shortly after 6 and the staff were in the kitchen dancing to “Time of my Life” from Dirty Dancing.¬† We walked in and the young Italian woman paused, mid-step and fired, “Do you know this song?”¬† And I said, “Yes (slightly hesitantly)”.¬† And she said, “What movie is it from?” And I said, (hopefully) “Dirty Dancing.”¬† And she exclaimed, with great joy, “Of course it is!”¬† And then we were given a table.¬† I am not sure what would have happened if I had answered incorrectly‚Ķ

But now, since some of you are tired of hearing about eating and drinking, here are some other things I’ve learned. Like Americans, Australians like to shorten names.¬† And Australians love a nickname.¬† So, in the women’s ultimate league I’ve been playing in, naturally, my name was immediately shortened to “Jen”.¬† But, then it was quickly modified to “Jen-o”.¬† This doesn’t sound jolly and roly-poly like “Jell-o” when Australians say it.¬† Instead it’s this sort of elongated sound with the “Je” being soft and flat sounding and the “n” being sort of insignificant and the “o” being very loud and enthusiastic.¬† So, when I showed up to play my second game, I was greeted by many shouts of “Hey, it’s Jen-o!¬† Jen-o!¬† Jen-ooooooh!”¬† When I hear it, I picture a scrappy but lovable creature that should live in the Australian Outback. The Jen-o is small and furry with big, endearing eyes.¬† In the Disney movie, the Jen-o would be friends with a wise Kangaroo and a spastic Tasmanian Devil.¬† On the BBC, Attenborough would say, “Although the Jen-o is cunning and resourceful, it is constantly threatened by the ___ that stalks the outback” (cut to shot of a Jen-o narrowly escaping the jaws of said outback predator).

In my continuing tales of adjusting to life in a high rise, this week I learned what it’s like when the lifts (elevators) stop working.¬† Yup.¬† You guessed it.¬† You walk up and down 17 flights of stairs.¬† Basically, you minimize the number of times you are willing to leave your apartment.¬† Delicious pot of mussels at the Belgian beer cafe?¬† I’m in.¬† Checking the mail?¬† No thanks. (Sorry – another food reference.¬† So hard not to talk about‚Ķ)

On a more serious note, I paid a visit to the Shrine of Remembrance, which as I understand it was built primarily (or originally ) to honor Australian soldiers who served in WW1 but was later expanded to include WW2 and the Vietnam War.¬† I did not realize how many Australian soldiers served in WW1 and what a toll it took on the country. An astonishing number of Australians were killed or injured in the war and it was fascinating to read about what inspired young Australian men and women to serve, where they ended up, and how it impacted their generation and the next.¬† The Shrine is currently exhibiting a fascinating photography collection featuring the personal photos of two Australian brothers who served in the war.¬† Although soldiers were often prohibited from carrying cameras or taking photographs for fear they might inadvertently give away positions or alarm the folks back home, these brothers managed to carry a camera with them throughout their service.¬† Since they were obviously otherwise occupied during combat, what they captured with their camera was a part of war you don’t often see – the quiet times, the waiting, hours passing the time in a camp or a foxhole.¬† The photographs tell an incredible and very personal story.¬† One thing the brothers did was to photograph the hastily constructed grave markers that were erected in battle fields to mark the spots were their friends and fellow soldiers fell.¬† Families in Australia were distraught that they might never receive the remains of their loved ones who had fallen in battle and indeed many bodies took a long time to be recovered or never were.¬† So, the Australian brothers photographed the makeshift grave sites so that at least the families in Australia could have the comfort of knowing where the bodies lay and that they had been honored in some way.¬† The collection also features numerous photos taken after the war ended as the brothers and others waited months for a ship that could return them to Australia.¬† It was something I had never considered – that soldiers so far from home couldn’t simply go home at the end of the war.¬† The armed forces had a system and you had to wait until it was your turn to board a ship and then, of course, it took a long time for that ship to sail from Europe to Australia.¬† If I remember correctly, it was 9 months after their service ended that they finally arrived home.¬† So, in the meantime, they photographed they ways soldiers passed the time, waiting to get home to their families.¬† One of the most remarkable things about the collection is that it almost never saw the light of day.¬† When the brothers returned, they bought adjoining plots of land, married, and settled back into life in rural Australia. Like many, they did not speak about their experiences during the war.¬† And they took the photographs they shot and tucked them away.¬† They had both developed a passion for photography so they continued to photograph friends and family. And they kept in touch with the men they had served with until their deaths. But, they never revealed that they had this collection of photographs documenting their experiences.¬† Many years later, the photos and rolls of undeveloped film were discovered in a container headed for the dump, a precious record and amazing story nearly lost.

Next week I’ll have tales from “the races” as we are going to the Darby on Saturday and possibly the Melbourne Cup on Tuesday, a race so big that it’s a national holiday (and I’m assuming that’s because no one would turn up for work anyway).¬† Since I’ve never been to a horse race, I hope to return with stories.¬† Until then‚Ķ