The Last Hurrah

Its been a busy couple of days trying to finish my portfolio (which i finally turned in friday morning) and fit in all of the remaining things I wanted to do around the city. After a morning jog through Glebe and an asian feast in Darling Harbour with Dan, I trekked to the imposing, neo-classical Art Gallery of NSW. I was a little disappointed that the pieces didn't have explanatory plaques (unless I happen to have studied the piece before I like to be given a background on what I'm looking at) but I still managed to find some paintings that struck my fancy. I was thrilled to find a Sidney Nolan section that contained many of the paintings I was already familiar with from photos I had seen in class. However, my favorite painting by far was one that I hadn't ever encountered. Its called "Kelly" and although thanks to the lack of explanatory plaques i can't be sure, I'm pretty confident it alludes to Ned Kelly's aboriginal-like connection to the lands he roved. As you can see, Ned's neck appears to be a tree trunk and Nolan painted his face using the same color palette as the landscape. There are also blossoms that seem to be growing out of the rest of Ned's body. This explanation would make sense based on the Kelly Gang's bond with the lands that harbored them during their exile.

Art Gallery of New South Wales

Sidney Nolan: "Kelly"

Speaking of aboriginals, I was sort of surprised and disheartened to find that the Gallery of NSW's aboriginal art section was in the basement. I probably shouldn't read to far into it, but the fact that I had to ride down 4 escalators to see the aboriginal art when it's one of the Gallery's most popular attractions seemed a bit strange.

I could have spent a lot more time in the gallery than I did, but I also wanted to make it to Potts Point and Kings Cross so I had to cut my visit short. I spent a while roving aimlessly through residential streets trying to find the heart of Potts Point (and a decent coffee) but instead stumbled on the Coca Cola sign that I recognized as the beginning of King's Cross - Sydney's red light district and den of sin. Living up to its dubious reputation, King's Cross Road was dominated by adult bookstores, strip clubs, sex toy shops, and coffee shops, I guess for those who are unfortunate to wake up there and need a strong cuppa joe to piece together"what the heck happened last night?"

I kept wandering and was shocked to find how quickly King Cross' seediness gave way to Potts Point's polish. One second I was walking by a mannequin with pasties on and the next thing I knew i was in front of a beautiful laneway of watewashed apartment buildings. What gives?

I found the King of King's Cross

King's Cross. Fun Game: How many "adult shops" can you count in this picture?

Potts Point

After getting my fill of Potts Point and reaching my sleaze quota for the day at Kings Cross, I jumped on the train and head home to get ready for the night's excursion to Pericles at the Opera House.

I feel a bit ignorant admitting this but I have always hated Shakespeare. Maybe its because I was introduced to his plays when I was too young to understand them(we read Julius Caesar in 7th grade at my middle school), or that I find his use of obscure phrases and words affectioned* but in any case I've ne'r* been a huge fan.

*(affectioned = full of affectation; ne'r = never)

So usually when the question is to see a Shakespeare play, or not to see a Shakespeare play, my answer is a resounding no. Therefore I was pleasantly surprised to find that I absolutely loved last night's performance. The story-line is more like a soap opera gone wrong than a Shakespearean drama (incest, pirates, and prostitution all play prominent roles) and it was fantastically adapted by the director. Japanese drums and oriental costumes gave the production a liveliness and contemporary flair that I had never seen before in a Shakespeare show.

You can almost see the Opera House in the background...

Saturday, I rolled out of bed and walked the one block to Glebe to check out Glebe Markets. I've realized while living here that I am obsessed with markets. They are a feast for all 5 senses. Incense muddles with Turkish gozeleme (which i'd never heard of before but is an absolutely DELICIOUS feta, spinach and pancake creation), Obama T's chill next to florid vintage dresses, and techno from one of the trendy clothing stands melds with the boom box blasting the Ramones in the used-cd section. I love flipping through the musty used books, rubbing the silk scarves against my cheeks (sounds creepy, feels amazing), and munching on the candied nuts.

"Super Obama"

Leaving equally market-obsessed Sydney will be sad, but I've done some research and have found rumors of a few flea markets in NYC. They are by no means as numerous, or as convenient, but they exist and that's good enough for me.

After reveling in my last Sydney market, I walked to Surry Hills to meet my cousin's friend, Francesca, for lunch at adorable Cafe Mint. It was really nice catching up with her but unfortunately I didn't have too much time because I'd told Dan and Nina to meet me in Coggee at 2:30 so we could do the coastal walk.

It was the PERFECT day for it - crystal clear sky, sun blazing, a little crisp - and we had a ton of fun chatting while we meandered along the rocks. I was surprised by how busy the beaches were, even on a chilly day (it was probably 55) and it makes me really want to come back to Sydney during the Australian summer because from what I've heard the city complete transforms. Now is the dead of their winter and while some brave souls continue to surf and suntan at Sydney's beaches, most seem to be miserable. "Oh you came at the worst time!" I've heard over and over again from Sydneysiders, shivering in their down parkas as they clutch hot cocoas. For as much as I poke fun at them for being pansys about the cold, their discomfort has rubbed off on me and I find myself wearing gloves and hats around town when the thermometer drops anywhere below 65.

But i digress.

On the walk we stopped a few times, most notably to watch a rugby game on a beautiful seaside pitch and people "bowling" (though it was outdoors and looked suspiciously like bocce, though supposedly Australians find that comparison offensive), but made pretty good time and ended up in Bondi at around 5 - just in time to catch the tail end of a skating competition. We couldn't really see through the massive crowd and the announcer was bizarre (at one point he made a joke about a "japanese watermellon" before laughing maniacally) so we jumped on the bus and head home.

Crowded Coggee

Australians say "do" or "have" before strange verbs. To think is to "have a think" and apparently to poo is to "do a poo"

Bondi Icebergs

After re-fueling and recovering from our lengthy cliff jaunt, I accompanied Nina to a house party hosted by one of her friend's from work. The other guests were delectably quirky and I had some great conversations about everything from up and coming Australian musicians (I was steered towards the Hilltop Hoods and the Temper Trap), to Disney, to Ned Kelly. One woman, named Carla who is a travel editor for Qantas' inflight magazine and I also had a lengthy conversation about the travel writing industry and our love and simultaneous odium for it. In addition to being very intelligent and sweet, Carla also had the coolest tattoo I've ever seen. As you can sort of see in the picture, it's a mustache inked onto the outside of one of her fingers.

Handlebar? More like WUNDERBAR!

One guy also asked me what my favorite new Australian terms were which prompted me to reel off the following list i compiled over my time here.

Perve (v) ~ to look at in a lustful manner (remember Crazy loon from my post 6/15?)

cop-you-later (expression)~ a seemingly very forward way of saying goodbye

bludge (v) ~ to laze around

chuck a berko (v) ~ show extreme anger

fartarse around (v) ~ waste time

see a man about a dog (v) ~ do something secretly, usually refers to going to the bathroom (or as Aussies say "doing a poo")

old cheese (n) ~ mother (wonder what that makes dad? old wine? old cracker?)

flash as a rat with gold tooth ~ someone that considers themselves very fancy

poo tickets (n) ~ toilet paper

yonks ~ a long time

useful as a 3rd armpit ~ useless

Various words for toilet: boghouse, lav/lavvy, thunderbox (AHAH), crapper, loo, dunny, throne

Various words for being drunk: blotto, faceless, sozzled, shickered, pickled, rat-arsed, pissed as a fart/newt/parrot.

Various words for vomit ~ chunder, spew, do a technicolor yawn (there we go with the "doing" a verb again)

Various insults ~ great gallah, dumbcluck, nincompoop (which i used on a regular basis before discovering its australian origin), boofhead

Oh 'strain, parting is such sweet sorrow! (told you shakespeare was growing on me) Anyway, i must be off to study for my exam tomorrow because today i've been useful as a 3rd armpit and have been fartarsing around for yonks.

Cop-you-later!