Now that's a busy beaver...

Really, its been to the salon and had its nails done. It even visited the beach. (Actually, I think we all can agree this beaver's a 'she' not an 'it.')

If you haven't given up on this post out of sheer confusion, thanks! But really, copy and paste the link below. It's for a feminine hygiene company in Australia, but don't get freaked out. Trust me, it's so worth it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxM57E9u_QM

This ad caused quite a stir here in Oz. According to Australia's Advertising Standards Bureau, it has been the most complained about ad of 2008.

I think this ad is fantastic, though! It's hilarious and adds a light, creative spin to a subject that has been taboo for far too long. This ad would never make it anywhere near American air waves, which makes it all the more cool to me. Sure, beaver's never been my favorite word for it, but that's neither here nor there....

Despite its controversy (and to my delight), the company has released two more ads along this same theme.

If you'd like, check out the link below for a critique from The Gruen Transfer, a brilliant Australian show that discusses today's advertising industry:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XJgRxXil0lQ&feature=related

I never thought I'd say this in August...

...but it's the last day of winter! While that makes me very happy, I can't help but think I'll be back in the season before long. And brutal Midwestern winters--unfortunately for us all--are nothing like balmy Aussie ones. Oh well, I'll try to hold off dwelling on that til December.

A proper Aussie tea party

If Australian culture's rubbed off on me, it's most evident by my new found tea-drinking habit. Actually, addiction is a better word for it.

I can't remember the last morning I've gone without a cup of tea within 10 minutes of waking. It's part of me now. I've already picked out the kettle I want when I return to the States. It's a bright red one from Crate and Barrel--you can't miss it (if anyone's interested).

While I drink about seven cups of tea daily, I only very recently enjoyed a proper afternoon tea. My Aussie friend, Keren, was kind enough to introduce me to the practice (and some new carbohydrates along the way).

Besides serving the tea in a proper pot (unlike my not-so-charming way of simply flipping on a dingy, old kettle), Keren also whipped up a variety of sweets. We ate scones with jam and double cream, miniature lemon tarts and eclairs with a mocha frosting. She's like a pint-sized, honest, Aussie Martha Stewart.

The scones were my favourite. And I'm sure the double cream will--in some way--remain on me forever. Whatever. It was fun and classy.

Inside the Opera House

While I couldn't take any photos of David that night, I did get some very cool pictures of inside the Opera House.

Top: A staircase directly outside the concert hall.

Second: A huge pipe organ located behind the concert hall stage.

Third: A sculpture hanging down from the ceiling.

Bottom: The skyline as seen from a huge panel of windows in the southern foyer. I took this while waiting in line for the book signing.

Everybody has their Sedaris

I recently saw David Sedaris at the Opera House. Anyone who's known me for about 10 minutes understands that this is kind of a big deal for me.

I actually wrote an article about my experience for my magazine class this term. Feel free to check it out below. And if anyone has any insight on what a president in a half shell means, let me know.


Everybody has their someone. Most often, people worship rock gods or sports heroes. There might even be a dozen out there who admire politicians. But I look up to a short, squeaky-voiced, middle-aged author named David Sedaris.

Having an author as an idol might not sound so strange, but it is for me. To be honest, I don’t really enjoy reading. I get bored, my eyes dry up, and I would just rather be listening to my iPod.

I was introduced to Sedaris’ work five years ago, when I was required to read “Me Talk Pretty One Day” for a nonfiction writing class. Some pages are still sprinkled with rounds of wrinkles from loose tears during fits of laughter. I now anticipate a new Sedaris release in much the same way I look forward to my mom’s egg casserole on Christmas morning. And trust me, that’s saying something.

So upon discovering that Sedaris was holding a reading as part of the Sydney Writers’ Festival, I located a pair of tickets so fast it was like my life depended on it.

The show was slated for 18 August, only one day after I returned from a trip (though I would’ve seriously considered ditching it to see the show had the timing not worked out). Another bit of luck came courtesy of a venue change. I bought tickets expecting to see the reading at the shabby Metro Theatre, but unexpected demand moved the event to the concert hall at the Sydney Opera House.

I arrived at the show 45 minutes early. I could’ve sat in the front row, but I took the modest road and sat in the second row, centre. For the next half hour, people flooded into the hall. It was amazing—a man who simply writes about his life in an off-beat way had sold out the Sydney Opera House’s concert hall.

I couldn’t help but notice the crowd. Gay couples, polished academic types, aging women with streaks of grey, white people, black people, Asians, college students with thick-rimmed eyeglasses in blazers. Maybe it’s his acute sense of humour about his childhood or the way he views his life and those roped into it, but something about Sedaris resonates with an astonishing array of people.

He read from his newest book, “When You Are Engulfed in Flames,” but also sent the crowd howling with some prized, yet unpublished, gems. Most notably, his rendition of a piece meant for radio about a former professor who had an annoying habit of selectively adopting a Latin American accent was unforgettable. I, for one, might never be able to hold a straight face upon hearing “Nicaragua” again.

After a brief conversation with Australian comedian, Judith Lucy, Sedaris began the book signing. His book signings have lasted as long as nine hours, in great part because he enjoys a bit of a chat with each person who shows up.

Fortunately, I barely had to wait an hour to meet the man who is literally living my dream. I had been tortured for weeks over what perfect line to deliver. However, to say I dazzled him with my wits couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Now what does Kelly do?” he said, as if talking to a two-year-old.

“Journalism,” I said blankly, like a two-year-old. “I am a journalist.”

Throughout this caveman-esque conversation, he was drawing. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was. I had to ask.

“It’s Abe Lincoln’s head,” he said calmly. “On a turtle’s body.”

Brilliant. He slid me my book, smiled, and I was ushered aside. For those 30 seconds, he must’ve thought I was just another half-wit. And maybe he’s right because I’ll be wracking my brain trying to figure out what that drawing means. But that didn't matter then. I left feeling exhilarated.

With all that said, maybe my role model isn’t so strange. Idol worship is, after all, relative. And if David Sedaris proves anything, it’s that the most normal life is always worth a closer look.

Another helping of Hobart

Top: Morning on the harbour

Second: Mt. Wellington

Third: A ship docked right alongside Fish Frenzy

Bottom: Downtown Hobart

More market photos

Photos:
Top: This guy working the apple stall was a character. He didn't heckle those who passed up his booth--he was all over those who actually wanted to buy from him. Funny guy.

Second: I've seen figurines like this before, but they photograph well so I thought why not?

Third: The Federation Chocolate stall. They didn't sell just plain chocolate, but offered interesting flavours like Strawberry, Honeycomb, Caramel Nougat, Rum & Raisin and Bourbon.

Last: The Indian stall where I brought my dress. The woman in the red with her back to the camera knew I was a sucker from the moment she laid eyes on me.

A slice of Salamanca

One of the many things I love about Australia is their love of outdoor markets. Maybe I'm just not paying attention, but this is something I haven't seen back in America.

I've been to Glebe and Paddington markets in Sydney, Queen Victoria Markets in Melbourne and the Victoria Park Market in Auckland. Some are quite high-end and others sell little more than souvenir crap made in China.

Hobart's Salamanca Market beats the living daylights out of every one of them.

The Salamanca Market are held every Saturday. Here's what so great about them:
1. The quality of products: There was little souvenir junk at these markets. Much of it was homemade by the seller and was really great quality and Tasmanian made.

2. The range of products: There were organic produce stalls, flower stalls, Indian gift stalls, stalls that sold items made out of kitchen utensils, books by Tassie authors, hand-knitted hats and fuzzy scarfs, loads of jewelry, even a stall selling dog coats--a huge range of stuff.

3. Buskers: Australia has a vibrant busking culture, and the talent present at the market was fantastic. There was a trio of kids playing traditional music, a pair of flautists, even an amateur opera singer. It really enhanced the whole atmosphere.

4. Space: Paddington Market in Sydney also boasts high-quality goods, but it's fatal flaw is it's lack of space. Salamanca is spread out up and down Salamanca Place, so you can walk comfortably among the stalls and not have to worry about being constantly rubbed up by some complete stranger. Also, it's not too spread out. Jenny and I walked from one end to the next at least three times, so we were able to check everything out without being completely exhausted.

5. Food: Okay, this whole food thing is becoming a joke. But again, it looked and smelled really good! I actually didn't try any of the market food (because I wanted another smoked salmon sandwich from Drifter's), but I did jump at the chance to buy apple cider (or hot apple juice as they call it) because I hadn't yet seen it in Oz. The market offers loads of food--bratwurst, strawberries and cream, chocolate, meat pies, lamb wraps.

Of course I did buy a few things, including a couple gifts I won't mention. But for myself I bought a jar of creamed honey. This was completely novel to me, but apparently it's sold at any grocer in Australia. It's basically honey that's been whipped at very high speeds, so nothing's added to it. Somehow, though, it tastes so much better!

I also bought a reversible silk dress from an Indian gift vendor. It's actually quite casual, though who knows how much I'll actually wear it. But as my friend reminded me, it still serves a purpose. It'll always spark my memory of the day.

I heart Hobart

All the factors were in play to make my trip to Hobart, Tasmania, pretty undesirable. But despite the ever-present drizzle and my lack of left-hand driving skills, I found Tassie to be a wonderful place.

Jenny and I spent the first day wandering around Hobart's city centre. We discovered some really great shops, notably Holy Sheet! (a really cool home store) and Funky Homes (yet another cool home store). There were also plenty of antique shops and used bookstores, places that keep both Jenny and I pretty content for the better part of an afternoon.

We spent the following morning at the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, which was expansive and impressive considering it's free. We also walked through Hobart's Battery Point district, which is the oldest part of the city. Hobart is actually Australia's second-oldest city, with Sydney being the oldest.

While Hobart spills with beauty (the European seaside architecture, beautiful Mt. Wellington constantly looming in the distance), it was the food that made me fall in love with it.

We went to a place called Jam Packed one day for lunch. The restaurant is built in an old jam factory along a really cool stretch on the harbour. I splurged and ordered the Moroccan Burger with honey-stuffed mushrooms. It was overcooked but somehow still tasted like Gordon Ramsay whipped it up.

Later that afternoon we stopped for coffee at Retro Cafe in Salamanca Place. Here I tried my first Afghan biscuit. It's basically a small chocolate cookie with corn flakes mixed it, then topped with chocolate icing and walnuts. Doesn't sound too special, but it suddenly found itself on my "foods-to-never-eat-if-you-ever-want-a-husband" list. I'm not really sure why they're called Afghans, and I don't think many Aussies do either. Their answer is just to shut up about the stupid name and eat the bloody thing.

That evening we ate dinner at Fish Frenzy, which claims it serves the best fish and chips in Australia. Considering fish and chips are Australia's equivalent to the American burger and fries, I thought this was a pretty huge claim. But as far as I know, it wasn't unfounded. Fish Frenzy's fish and chips taste amazing, and I think it's because they're not very greasy like most places. What I think I liked best, though, was that they were served in a rolled up piece of brown paper. I thought this was very British, and still somehow very cool.

But the gold star goes to the smoked salmon sandwiches on rye at Drifter's Cafe in Salamanca Place. We stopped in Drifter's initially because it offered cheap internet. Once we realized they served food, we decided to order something sheerly because it was convenient. I adored the smoked salmon so much I dragged Jenny back for a second go. I usually hate eating at a place twice while traveling, but this place had me.

I swear I did other things but eat in Tassie, it's just that the food in the other parts of mainland Oz have oftentimes been a bit sketchy. However, I do wish food was the only thing I indulged in while I was there, but I was no match for the Salamanca Markets.

Photos:
Top: A stretch of Battery Point, the oldest part of Hobart. I've never been to England or Ireland, but I imagine the houses looking much like the ones here. Mt. Wellington is also in the background.

Centre: A Tasmanian Devil-themed cafe--one of the few places I did not eat.

Bottom: Boats docked on the harbour, with the jam-packing district in the background.

Sunset, Sydney style

How could anyone not fall in love with Sydney?

This photo isn't even professional--Jenny took it while on a ferry from Watson's Bay to the Opera House. Just an ordinary evening.

I've been a bad blogger

This session, school has demanded a ridiculous amount of my time. Well, "ridiculous" really isn't the correct term--I guess "reasonable" is more appropriate for my degree (I often forget I'm a Masters student).

Anyway, that's one of the reasons I haven't been updating my blog. Also, I really haven't been able to get out very much because I've been holed up in the library or Creative Arts building working on the various things I have going this term. So there really hasn't been much I could show or tell.

I'm only in week 4 and can already tell that this session is going to be way different than the last. I feel like I've been thrown in head first so far. I'm working on a thesis, helping put together a magazine from the ground up and learning photojournalism (which is both my easiest and hardest class because it demands the least time, but I completely suck at it).

I'll be spicing up my blog soon enough, though. Tomorrow I'm taking a short break and hopping over to Tasmania (or Tassie as the locals dub it). This is another one of those obscure places I never in my lifetime thought I'd see, but I'd be silly not to visit while I'm here. Though booking a trip to Oz's southern-most state during the dead of winter proves my head is still not entirely screwed on. Expect pictures soon!

Winter hailstorm

I shouldn't expect winter in Australia to be comparable to those I'm familiar with in the Midwest, but the colder months are just plain weird here.

I'd describe winter in Sydney as one that has characteristics of all the seasons back home. There have been really hot days (summer), rainy days (spring), windy, cool days (fall) and days where ice falls from the sky (winter). Okay, it was actually hail, which typically has nothing to do with winter...unless you're in Australia.

Anyway, today was one of those messed up days where we got slapped with all four seasons at once. By mid-afternoon I noticed that the sun faded under dark cloud looming over Mt. Keira. Having retained some remnants of my meteorology obsession from the mid-1990s, I knew we were in for something big.

Within a half hour, we were in the grips of one nasty thunderstorm. Besides the thunder and lightning, the wind was out of control, the rain was lashing against our roof, and we got a fair bit of pea-sized hail. It was so hilarious because this was the closest thing to snow my Indian roommate Ankita had ever seen--so she was thrilled to say the very least.

But the funniest thing about it all was that instead of the heat and humidity usually associated with thunderstorms, it was freezing outside. I was sitting out on our porch in my winter coat, watching as the hail pelted the crap out of my neighbour's car. Could this honestly be normal weather here?

All's calm now, though I've heard heaps of sirens since the storm ended. Maybe thunderstorms in Australian winters aren't so common after all.