Red Hill and Other Epicurean Fun

During the last week of J's Spring (nothing says Spring quite like October) school holiday, I managed to convince my overworked, overwraught, overseas husband to take a four-day break and venture together into Melbourne's epicurean heartland, the Mornington Peninsula for a little quality family time.

The plan was for beachwalks, bushwalks (Australian for treks or hikes), wineries, cheeseries, patisseries, and all and sundry epicurean providores in and around the town of Red Hill about an hour or so south of Melbourne.

We rented a little cottage, sweetly dubbed "King Louis's Cubby" in reference to the plethora of King Louis and Rosella parrots that arrive regularly during the day on the cottage's landing strip to feed off sunflower seeds and jasmine flowers.  Our Cubby was set deeply in thick gum forests and surrounded by a large and wildly fragrant herb garden which J and Murphy thoroughly explored and fossicked (Australian for foraged).

Our Rosellas

Upon our arrival, we headed straight to Tuck's Ridge Winery for a gorgeous al-fresco lunch, glass of their own Chardonnay and beautiful views overlooking the vineyards. We followed this up with a Brownie the size of Tasmania from the iconic Merrick's General Store and a walk on Point Leo beach.

I think all of us, including Murphy, dip into some magically peaceful part of ourselves when we discover these beautiful, deserted Australian beaches.  We have almost an unspoken, collective pact to search them out, discover their secrets, and let their magic go to work on us.

The following day, we spent FIVE hours, yes, FIVE hours at an amazing place called the Ashcombe Maze and Lavender Gardens.  Here we embarked on a Gnome and Fairy Hunt (9 hidden gnomes, and 8 hidden fairies), through stunning gardens, winding mazes, and little bits of Australian wilderness.  J was completely enchanted and even hard-to-impress C2 was seduced by the beauty of these natural gardens.

Naturally, we followed up this very busy day with a glass of wine at a winery just up the road from the Cubby.  This time it was the Vines of Red Hill winery and an excellent glass of Pinot Noir overlooking the vineyards and bordering red gums.

That night, we walked from the Cubby down our red dirt road through the Eucalyptus forest to The Long Table restaurant, a '1-Chef Hat' (think Australian Michelin stars) for a meal so wonderful in an ambiance so beautiful that we went back the following night and would have again had we stayed another night.

Day three took us to the tiny coastal town of Flinders and another beach walk on quiet Flinders Beach followed by a lovely lunch and a visit to the Mornington Chocolaterie.

We spent the afternoon on an amazing walk down the cliffs from the Cape Schank lighthouse.  The lighthouse is on the scrubby southernmost tip of the peninsula and separates the wild seas of the Bass Straight from calmer Western Port Bay overlooking Phillip Island.  We bore witness to some truly amazing scenery and again found that spiritual, calm place these Australian seas seem to give us.

A quick stop at the T-Gallant winery in Main Ridge for a glass of Pinot Grigio before we had another memorable meal at The Long Table.  We followed dinner with glasses of champagne, games played with large tic-tac-toes, and dominos by candlelight in the restaurant's front room.  J won all the games...he might have cheated.

Our final day dawned cool and cloudy.  Our original plan was to head into Mornington National Park and a 6km bushwalk.  Upon arrival at the trailhead, however, Park rangers were present and dogs not welcome, so we turned around and undecided, headed back in the direction of Flinders.  C2 spotted a tiny carpark off the road a few kilometers outside of the National Park and pulled in.  What followed was the crowning glory of our time on the Peninsula, and one of life's memorable moments.  A short bushwalk led to a walking track (Australian for trail) down to a wildly beautiful, utterly desolate beach littered with sand dunes, 50-million year old lava rock, a waterfall, and the sea which offered monster barrel waves that exploded onto rocks explaining the lack of surfers or swimmers.

Where else but Australia do you encounter this fella on your bushwalks?

We spent a couple of hours alone, together.  C2 experimented with his amazing photography, J slid down sand dunes and clambered over lava.  Murphy swam in the shallow water near the beach chasing sticks, and I watched everyone's backs for rogue waves.

We climbed back to the walking track up the side of the waterfall.  Murphy drank fresh water from it, and provided our comical moment of the trip by confidently stepping into what she thought was a few inches of shallow water and what was actually about a meter.  She sank like a rock, emerged covered in moss, ego damaged, and further humilated by our howls of laughter.  Still how many 13-year old Labs can still climb up a waterfall?

Murphy's epic "swim" and pride damage, J and I were howling with laughter

Pride restored if a bit muddy

We ended our lovely little holiday with woodfired pizza at the T'Gallant winery sitting in their herb garden, the scents of rosemary and sage wafting by.

A Wet Thursday Afternoon

How do you pass a stormy late Thursday afternoon during the school holidays whilst fighting the second nasty cold in as many months and after spending a busy morning visiting friends and running errands?

This did for a start...

Murphy thought chewing on her boney was a great option...

J thought playing with his new Ninjago lego worked...

These bright Spring tulips on my dining room table kept reminding me that despite the cool weather today, Spring really has sprung...

I should have been exercising but I ate a home-made Brownie instead, c'est la vie!

A "J" Day

Term 3 ended on Friday, and as J and I had Saturday to ourselves, I decided to gift him with a day under his direction.  That is a day where he made all the decisions, chose what to do, where to go, and what to eat, when to go to bed provided it didn't cost much money.

To back up a moment though, we celebrated the end of Term 3 on Friday after school with two of our favorite things, cupcakes from one of the iconic cake shops on Acland street in St. Kilda and book browsing.

Ok, back to Saturday though, it started with a 7:00 am wake-up call...groan, quickly followed by Peanut Butter and Jam sandwiches and NO FRUIT!  A game of Ninjago lego versus Harry Potter lego was succeeded by a wand fight between Harry Potter (J) and Lucius Malfoy (me); Harry won, big surprise!

Then we jumped into the car to collect J's bestie Jules and back out to St. Kilda, clearly one of our favorite parts of Melbourne, to the St. Kilda Adventure Park, a community built and run playground not for the faint of heart. 

St. Kilda is a fascinating mix of neighbourhood gentrification, unique cafes, restaurants, and community interests on Acland, Fitzroy, and Barclay streets.  St. Kilda is also a beach community during the long summer months with a fantastic boardwalk and pier.  This neighbourhood can still reflect its' red light history after dark and be just this side of dodgy but it is staunchly individualistic, revels in its' eclectedness, is colourful, has heaps of of character and we love it.  But I make J keep his shoes on whilst playing at the above-mentioned park in case of needles or other undesirables left on the ground.

J loves this park.  It's a no-holds, no-prisoners, and most importantly no-rules venue where the slides are built by locals, go-carts tear down inclines (at your own risk), and the trampoline doesn't have nets.  It's a "check your helicopter-parenting at the door" free-for-all that is reminiscent of the way I played when I was a kid.

J and Jules

Community donations to support the park - ya I know he kinda freaks me out too!

After the park, J requested that we go to Danny's Diner for burgers and coke.  Danny's self-proclaims to have the best burgers in Melbourne.  Well, I don't know about the best but they weren't bad.  Hours of out-burping each other followed leaving me despairing of these two orangutans.

After lunch, we spent a short-time having a fast run-around on the beach before the wind chased us over to the St. Kilda community gardens where we had a fantastic time laughing at the whimsy, marvelling at the colours and size of everything growing, and making wishes at the wishing well.

We staggered home late in the day, popped some popcorn and flopped in front of 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix', and a whole lot more burping.  After Jules left, I whipped up J's favorite dinner of Pesto Pasta with shredded chicken which we ate in front of 'Lord of the Rings - The Return of the King'.

"J" Day was a pretty awesome day and funnily enough, not all that different from what I would have chosen had I been in charge.  Except maybe for all the burping.

Two Goats Don't Make a Sheep

When I was pregnant with J, I remember visualizing calmly working in the kitchen while my baby slept peacefully and contentedly in the nearby baby swing; classical music was playing quietly in the background and all was serene.

Reality, J never went into that d*&% swing more than twice without hollering his head off, he always wanted to be held, facing out to confront the world and bellowed his protest the minute we wearily set him down.  Little has changed.

Nobody would describe C2 or I as being placid or hard to ruffle.  We are both loud, opinionated, quick to get a rise from, love to debate, bicker (it's our  thing) and get the final word.  Consquently,  life has always been colourful, interesting, and entertaining for us.  So why should I be surprised that our child is the same.  With him, everything is a debate, a challenge, an often-times sarcastic argument, a reason why it shouldn't be done our way but his way.  Boundaries are continually tested for weak spots and impulse often rules.  Sweet as a Tim Horton's maple donut as long as things are going his way but prepare for a showdown at the OK corral if they're not.  It's exhausting.  But as my darling sister-in-law has reminded me on more than one occasion, two goats don't make a sheep

After another showdown this evening...in fairness at 9:00pm after he refused to eat pasta with sauteed kale (can I entirely blame him?), ripped a napkin in protest, and flung a curse from his wand at me (really a chopstick but that's not the point), C2 and I questioned what we were doing wrong.  Are we too lenient, are we not lenient enough, do we coddle him too much, do we give in too easily, do we escalate arguments rather than defuse them because we are just as stubborn as he?

I don't know the answer, but I know it's not always easy being J's parent.  But is parenting ever easy?  This week, I had a friend dub her two seemingly angelic boys whom I have never seen do wrong "Attitude" and "Feral".  I have witnessed other kids disrespecting the sensei at judo or teachers at school; J has never done that.  He has a healthy respect for all authority but us, and, thankfully, a clear command of the right side of wrong.  OK, so maybe it's not just J, maybe it's parenting in a world where we compete for the attention of our children with the Cartoon Network, Wii, DS, on-line games, and other electronic stimuli. A world where role models are not always positive, influences are many, and where the line between child and adult has become blurred.

I don't have the answers, and I don't know if any parent has it all figured out, but once the dust has settled, I am reminded that my little goat makes me laugh, charms me, fascinates me, amazes me, and utterly slays me with the depth of love, pride, joy, and gratitude he makes me feel....when he's not making me want to rip my head off.

Australian Spring

Ah September, the most wonderful time of the year, when children head back to school all bright-eyed and full of summer stories, there is a slight chill in the air heralding the arrival of Fall, glorious colours abound, gardens are being put to bed, we dream of hot apple-crisp with vanilla ice-cream, cozy sweaters, and... STOP THE PRESSES!

Down under in Melbourne, we are coming out of winter, such as it is in Australia.  Children have been in school for 8 months now and are anticipating Spring Break (ok we call it Spring half-term here).  There is warmth in the air heralding the arrival of Summer, trees are budding, our gardens are waking up, Spring flowers are blooming furiously, and we are delightedly shedding our cozy sweaters.

It feels so unnatural to think of Spring in September just as I imagine it will feel terribly odd to decorate our Christmas tree when it's 30c degrees outside and the air-conditioning is cranked up.  Aussies don't do Christmas turkey either, it's shrimp on the barbie all the way mate!

But I digress, back to Spring.  As a Canadian girl, I had never experienced the tropics except briefly on holiday.  The tropics are exotic, not-quite-real places to where us pathetic northerners occasionally hop a chartered Air Canada flight in order to temporarily escape the miseries of howling winds and freezing temperatures.  Real people don't actually live in the tropics do they?

They do now!  Despite the fact that, barring the island of Tasmania, Melbourne is the southernmost and therefore, coldest region in Australia, this is still a place where lemons, limes, and oranges grow madly in winter, olive groves and vineyards abound, there are palm trees, birds of paradise, bromeliads, jasmine, camelias, cacti, yuka, and azaleas pushing wildly on every corner.

I covet the lemon trees groaning with fruit the size of small footballs in the backgardens of all my friends who laugh sympathetically when I confess to having to buy lemons at the grocery store.  During my late evening walks with Murphy, I practically float into the air following the wafting fragrances of jasmine, frangiapane, citrus oil, boronia, and wild freesia.  It's an incredibly heady experience!

Well  hello there little Lorikeet, I see you under the Palm fronds!

I Love Love Love Neil Young - Who Knew?

My husband is a wirehead.  And I am forever thankful that he is!  I like to think that I am technically savvy, I mean, I use a MacBook, I try to remember to back it up regularly onto an external harddrive, I know how to navigate my remote control to access cable tv, Apple tv, Netflix, and can update my iPod but honestly that's about the breadth of my technical know-how.

C2, on the other hand, is always on the bleeding edge of everything.  I guess it helps that he engineers some of the most forward-thrusting technology in the resource sector but does that necessarily translate to the comforts of home?  I mean, my dad, bless his heart, was a senior electrical engineer with Hydro Quebec for years but never did our toilet flush properly or the entry door close without some jerry-rigged solution.

Meanwhile, our little Australian house is uber-wired.  We watch Madmen via iTunes on our iPad in bed, watch Harry Potter wirelessly from iTunes through our Apple tv onto our bigscreen tv, and Seinfeld and Saturday Night Live reruns courtesy of Netflix either on our iPad or our tv from our Apple tv.  For the most part, it all works beautifully, just don't ask me how, but C2 knows!

A couple of years ago, we bought a Bose docking station for our iPod to compensate for our stereo which didn't work so well in Switzerland thanks to differing frequency...something about a 50hz cycle C2 informed me.  Anyhow, the Bose allowed us to access our collection of CDs on our iPods with fantastic sound and fidelity.

But, frankly, all of this pales in comparison to the best thing C2 has introduced to our home entertainment suite EVER; a little app called Pandora.  Imagine creating a genius playlist based on a favorite song from your own iPod's musical library, but now imagine instead a genius playlist based on a favorite song from almost ALL music in the known universe.  Pandora allows us to legally access this music and therefore has offered us far-reaching exposure to amazing music that we might not otherwise have heard, invested in, or benefited from.

Now, I must admit, I love my Canadian music, nothing makes me happier than singing mightily along to Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen, K.D. Lang, Tom Cochrane, Blue Rodeo, Jann Arden, Alanis Morissette, but I admit sheepishly, I've never been much of a Neil Young fan.  I had minimal knowledge of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, and pretty much nothing outside of "Heart of Gold".  It all seemed kind of like 'boys drinking beer and toking in front of a bonfire' kind of music.

Well no more, my friend, thanks to Pandora, I have discovered the brilliance, the complexity, the story-weaving of "Ohio", "Long May You Run", "Old Man", "Helpless", "Southern Man", and "Only Love Can Break Your Heart".  Add in a little CSN&Y's "Just a Song Before I Go", and "Woodstock", and holy cow, have I been missing out on some fantastic music for the last 40-something years.

Now if you'll excuse me, C2 and I are about to watch Scorcese's "The Last Waltz" which we just found on iTunes.  By the way can anyone recommend any other artists about whom they are passionate, and no, Jeff, I don't mean Metallica!

Harry Potter, A Bad Cold, and a Travelling Husband

What do the above three things have in common you ask?  What is the common link here, think, think, think....

Well let's start with Harry Potter.  It was around 10 years, two international assignments, and several thousand kilometers ago, that my youngest nephew Jordan and I (OMG, he was like 7 at the time, younger than J is now), started going to see the Harry Potter movies.  It was a thing we did every 18 months or so, dinner at Eastside Mario's and Harry Potter.  The two of us, plus his older brother Justin, also devoured the books and shared them in turn. All three of us, addicts for 10 years.  I personally think that J.K. Rowling is a freaking genius with the most fertile of imaginations that I stand in utter in awe of, a Tolkien for a different generation...but I digress.  Good so far?

Over the course of the last six months or so, on the odd occasion that C2 is in town, he is reading the Harry Potter series to J whose fascination with all things Hogwarts is beginning to rival his cousins' and my own.  They've finished the first two and we watched the associated movies in rapid succession.

OK, next.  I don't fall sick very often, in fact, I don't think I have been downed by a cold since a nasty one morphed into an unhappy sinus infection about four years ago.  But 4 days ago? Whammo!  Add to this merry mixture, my currently continent-hopping husband whose frequent absences have at times occasioned casual dinners in front of the tv, and you have all the makings of a movie-watching marathon. Getting the picture yet?

OK, let me spell it out in more detail.  A week ago, I picked the final Harry Potter book "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" out from my bookshelf.  Over the next three or so days, I reread it with fierce focus.  As my ill-health began to intensify, and I started resting more, I began re-watching the Harry Potter movies from where C2, J and I had left off; that is numbers 3, 4, 5, 6, and the first half of 7.  It's so easy to buy movies on iTunes!!!  By the time, I had finished number 7, aka Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part I, I was in a sort of wizarding frenzy desperate to see the concluding chapter.

So yesterday, I packed my red-nosed and hacking self off to the movie theatre at mid-day alone to join a throng of similarly child-free adults with equally wild imaginations for the best two-and-a-half hours I've spent in a movie theatre in quite a while.

I've never been quite so grateful for a cold before...or a travelling husband but that's just between you and me!

Stream of Consciousness

I miss my mum.  She returned to Canada this week after spending 3 months with us.  It was great and now I'm bummed.  I'll get over it and life will return to the rhythm of just us but at the moment I'm sad.  Having her around was like having a sidekick who permanently saw the sunny side of life; she is an eternal optimist and the best Grandma I could have hoped for J.  He will miss her enormously.  We are very blessed with a close family who actually take great joy from being with each other.  Maybe if we didn't live so far apart we wouldn't.  Maybe distances are a disguised blessing which allow us to live in the moment with each other and really cherish it.  I'm sure there are many Grandmas who wouldn't spend the small fortune and 24+ hours on an airplane to come hang with us down under and sing "Would you like to swing on a star" every night to an 8-year old; we're really lucky.

A couple of days before her departure, we spent an afternoon walking on Brighton Beach, a Melbourne landmark because of its' charming multi-hued beach cabanas.  It being winter, Murphy hadn't been on a beach in quite a while.  She's paying the price of racing up and down the water's edge chasing balls, sticks, or anything that moved.  In the bigger scheme of things, I think it was worth the sore legs.

Speaking of Murphy and winter, you have presumably heard of Paunxsutawney Phil, who every February 2 emerges to predict more winter or early Spring?  Well, permit me to introduce you to Melbourne Murphy who in early August in Australia (more or less the equivalent of early February in the southern hemisphere) began to blow her coat to announce the imminent arrival of Spring.  She is shedding on every carpet and soft surface in the house, all over my car, and on every piece of clothing we own.  She even managed to shed on to C2's brand new suit while he was trying it on at the shop and she was at home - don't ask me how; she is talented that girl!

I walked her early Tuesday morning in the Hedgley Dean gardens adjacent to our house.  Usually in the early morning, I am running with all ambient noise drowned out by my iPod; today, however, I stopped and listened to the amazing amount of birdsong.  I've never really heard anything like the amount of birdsong we witness in Melbourne.  The Lorikeets, Parakeets, Cockatoos, Wattlebirds, Turtledoves, and Australian Magpies joined in a choral cacophony, a symphony of song which soared and swooped all around me.  It was a bewitching almost mystical moment.

J's French-side Grade 2 class had a school presentation this week.  They had been reading and learning about New Zealand and Maori culture, so each kid presented a small section about something they had learned.  They followed this up with a fair dinkum (old Aussie expression meaning 'genuine') demonstration of the Haka - how cool is that?  Even cooler was watching him up on stage singing the Australian national anthem "Advance Australia Fair".  Guess he's forgotten the words to "Cé qu'è l'ainô", the Genevois anthem whose haunting melody never failed to bring me to tears.  I really love watching him be culturally curious and think the gift of insight and empathy into other cultures is and will continue to be one of the greatest benefits of this expat experience of ours.