You Put the Buff in Bluff Knoll.

BUFF!

As noted as one of the top 25 best hikes in Australia, you definitely need to be buff to hike this non-knoll in Western Australia’s Stirling Range. Perhaps, if not definitely, chosen for it’s well-known name and fame, I was not prepared for such physical activity. And by not prepared I mean: 1 run in the last month and a half, lifting bottles of wine and cases as the most exercise I get every day, 30C cloudless weather in the middle of the day, the caloric endurance of half a banana, a Cadbury egg, and leftover wine swimming in the system from the night before, and no water bottle to accompany the hike. Let’s just say that if I were thrown into the Hunger Games, I would not survive. While I was climbing up the steep incline, if I wasn’t thinking about fainting or about my knee popping out of the socket as it often does or about whatever creature was lurking in the leaves around me or concentrating on my non-inhaler breathing techniques, then I was thinking about the silver parcel floating down from the sky delivering me a bottle of ice-cold water. It never arrived to drown out those other thoughts from my mind and I thought I would certainly evaporate into the heat. Actually, the top of Bluff Knoll actually does get snow - maybe one of the few places in Western Australia that does - although it was hard to fathom such an idea at the time.

1,000 million years old

 I did make it to the half way point - 1.6km up - and had a lovely viewing spot to contemplate whether or not the photo opps at the top or my pride were worth the physical exertion required to make it the rest of the way. I did try to continue, until JD came bounding down, saying that the second half is much steeper and the view was impressive but all I needed was a shrug of convincing to turn around and head down towards water and lunch. 

view of the carpark down below.

The Stirling Range National Park is home to over 1,000 different species of flowers and plants and amongst those along my way, I actually saw a lizard the size of my arm walk out in the path in front of me - which for a 5'10" person is of impressive length - but I could not muster up the energy to take a picture of it as I tried to swallow my panting and not scare it away. But as I could have lied and said I made it to the top, I didn't, because I am a terrible liar, so you will just have to believe me when I say it was Huge.

Awkwardly trying not to fall down the ravine below. Awkwardly. 

Every Little Bit Helps: A Bit of Appreciation Not to Lose Sight Of.

On our long road trip's way to Monkey Mia, JD started to question what he was doing here in Australia and what rewards his job were giving him. Sounding a bit disheartened, I reminded him why he had applied to the company in the first place, that ultimately his concern and interests were in the reduction of energy, for the good of the environment, and that every little bit he is doing helps, even if the scale of work was different in Australia than in America. Even though the commission and the amount of energy that is being reduce is significantly lower, these Australian companies are participating in a lower-energy scheme in times of need then they usually wouldn't be without the help and advice of JD and his company, therefore making their part in relieving the power grid rather than everyone losing out all together. It’s like the probably-more-than $4 plastic bottles of water in Starbucks that donate, I don’t know, 30 cents or so to water-starved places in Africa. Even though you don’t want to pay that much, or know better than to buy another plastic bottle, every little donation is 30 cents more than they would be receiving without the customer’s help. It’s easy to lose our ways and forget about our priorities or our initial reasoning behind doing something, but generally, or hopefully, every little bit helps.

I know there are a couple reasons why I signed up to WWOOF.  One was definitely not to say, “I’m a WWOOFer,” or “I’m here WWOOFing.” OK, but seriously, one reason was a chance to live and eat “for free” in exchange for a couple hours of work each day. This also includes the chance to travel to places I might not normally go to, and meet new people within a new lifestyle in another country. Another was a chance to have a unique learning experience - whether it was learning how to make cheese on a goat farm, or herding cattle (prob not), or learning about organic farming practices, or learning about healing herbs, or being a part of a hippy community, or working on a vineyard - but in all honesty, it was a continuation of a stage I was creating for myself and another opportunity to learn hands-on, as I am a visual learner, by being a part of a production process.

(and really, in serious all honesty, it's because it gives me the chance to be able to stay in Australia for a second year, if I so desire). 

This also includes my way of understanding appreciation. I’m a firm believer that to be able to appreciate something, and to fully respect it, you really have to experience it for yourself. For example, from working in a restaurant, I understand what it’s like to be the dishwasher, to bus tables, to be in the front of the house and the back of the house. From those experiences, I have a better understanding as a customer in a restaurant for knowing why something maybe go wrong or why things go well. This gives me more patience in these circumstances because I know what it’s like to bust my ass and still have things go wrong, or the rewards from a successful, flawless night. To further the example of appreciation and understanding, as I see it, it also means that I may not know what my mother and father went through raising us, until I’m a parent myself. That doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate them, it just means I can’t fully realize the decisions and choices they made until I am forced to be in that position to make them myself (don't laugh Jess.) I can only hope I can be so good, but I have no idea what it’s like right now. If that makes sense. Anyone that knows me knows that I absolutely adore my parents. And anyone that Really knows me, knows that when I say adorable, I mean it. Stemming from that, I wanted to WWOOF to make this exchange experience a way that I can fully appreciate food/wine by being a part of it’s production from start to finish to understand how its made from a hands on experience rather than just eating/drinking or reading from a textbook (HA! Should I say website? UNISG get your act together)

In terms of appreciation, so far, I have done a lot of manual labour. It’s line work. Repetitive. Almost mindless. I say almost mindless because you’re repeatedly doing the same thing over and over again and it’s easy for the mind to wonder, but actually it’s really imperative to keep up with the work and pay attention. "make attention, people." One pause or change of pattern and the work will fall behind. But this experience will (hopefully) ultimately lead to an appreciation for the work that goes into making wine.

Because it’s still new, I’m still in the excitement mode of the novelty of the process, despite the aches and pains throbbing throughout my body from literally the cramping of my fingers to the blisters on my ankles. The reason for this post is that I was thinking today of the advice I gave JD in the car, and because of all this grueling-tiring-intensive-manual-labour work, I hope I don’t lose sight of the reason(s) behind why I’m here and don’t lose the sense of excitement that I currently have. But I know it’s not a job that I will be doing forever, and that makes it tolerable to endure and manageable with an end in sight (It’s still new, let’s not even begin to think or talk about what comes next after this). 

I sometimes think, as I’m packing bottle after bottle into a box, or picking through grapes, what am I doing this work for when I have a great education, a wonderful background, and a lot to offer. Why am I not sitting in an office like everyone else? Why can’t I be normal? What am I doing here and with my life? But I think about the hands-on education that I am gaining that not many people have: whether it is learning about the in’s and out’s life and work of a winery, the dedication and hard work of the people behind it (especially a family-run estate), the little details no one thinks about as they are drinking or ordering wine based on prices and labels, or just being a part of the process, I appreciate it, and I hope I don’t lose sight of that. I know I don’t have any obligation to stay here, maybe a sense of pride not to give up and no other current option to leave to, but I hope, and I think, that the hard work will pay off and if anything else, the sore body parts will turn into shapely muscles that have never been used before ("heyyy sexy fingers"). Every little bit helps.

So next time you’re in the wine store or "bottle shop" buying a case of wine for your dinner party, or for your Tuesday night on the couch, think about the person who is putting the wine into the boxes, minding the cardboard apparitions, and appreciate it.  Because, I know, now that I have been a part of it, I will. 

The Last Days of Perth and a Road Trip to Monkey Mia

(the little outburt of land in the very top left hand corner is Monkey Mia, Frankland is somewhere in the unidentified land in the very south, above Denmark, below Kojonup, to the left of the Y in the white road.)

 Right now I’m on the bus to the Great Southern region of Australia. A four hour ride to my next step and all I can think about is the whirlwind of the last few days. I guess I have absolutely no idea what to expect on this next adventure so it’s easier for me to think about what has happened and what has led me here. Tuesday, Valentines Day, was a day to celebrate getting a WWOOFing opportunity and to play bingo at the Claremont Hotel. Wednesday was filled with errands and departure preparations and then some more-celebratory beers and oysters in Fremantle. Thursday was more organizing and packing. Then that night there was Frankland Estate’s annual Riesling release event at Must Wine Bar in Perth. The event was quite busy and I started talking with a German couple who had been living in Perth for years and had actually been down to Frankland Estate.  The chatty wife was very opinionated about her Riesling, refilling her glass frequently so I learned a bit about the wines from them. There were three different Rieslings from Frankland Estate, from different vineyards on their property, which resulted in all three of them tasting completely different. One was quite light and easy to drink, the next was a bit more complex with fruitier notes while the third was much sweeter and had a fuller texture like most people would associate with a Riesling. There was also a French Riesling from 2001 that was reminiscent of petroleum – depending on your taste is a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s kinda funny like the wine wheel describing wet  cardboard: who actually knows what this taste likes….(!) Apparently that is a sign of an aged wine and definitely an acquired taste. I introduced myself to Hunter, one of the winemakers who was the son of the family and then met Brian, the husband of the woman/brother-in-law I had been emailing with. I also met Felix, the German guy who was also working at the winery with me. He is studying wine and this work is part of a three month internship. He has worked on vineyards before and is actually fully studying wine, not just WWOOFing so I think, and hope, that I will learn a lot from him. They were all incredibly enthusiastic and extremely friendly. It really eased a bit of my hesitations and I actually left the bar really excited about the new opportunity I had ahead of me to work with these guys.

I had plans to meet up with my first “friend” – the Irish guy who worked down by the Swan Bells. Since meeting him that first day, I had gone back a couple times while in Perth just to chat and we finally exchanged numbers. We met at the Cure ("come here for your hangover cure") where he was out with his friends. It’s funny in Australia – the Irish bars are only filled with Irish people. And it doesn’t matter if it’s 2:30 in the afternoon on a Monday or a Saturday night. I don’t know if it’s because Irish peple just like to drink together. Pajo, let’s call him, calls Irish people sheep: they all flock together. He thinks that they give themselves a bad name to the Australians because they say there is no work in Ireland, making the place sound horrible and poor, but Pajo, his roommate and his girlfriend, and other people he knows actually left their jobs to come to Australia so it’s not like there’s nothing there for them. But anyways, there we were, him from Dublin and me “just moved here from Donegal,” hanging out in the Irish bar like all the other baa-ing sheep. We left though to go to the Brass Monkey – a pretty well known beer bar in Northbridge. They next day, with nothing better to do, we continued our joke-filled tour of Northbridge. As my first friend in Australia, I had a lot of fun and a lot of laughs on my last days. 

Two sausages are frying in a pan. One sausage says to the other, gee it's awfully hot in here. The other sausage responds, AAHHH A TALKING SAUSAGE!

(this joke also works with muffins in an oven)

Saturday morning, JD and I left really early for our road trip up north.  We were driving over 800 kilometers north to Monkey Mia in an attempt to swim with the dolphins as it was one of the things on the “list” to do in Australia. JD kept thanking me for the trip, but I swear it was his idea to go there. I had read somewhere that it was only about 6 hours, not 8 or 10…Even with speeding (the speed limit is 110  on the highways) it took us about 8 and a half hours. JD drove for the first couple of hours out of the city and then I drove for about 5 until I uncomfortably couldn’t drive anymore. Driving north out of Perth, the towns got smaller and more hick-ish with great distances of cattle farms and grain fields in between. At times it appeared very “outback-ish” but we were nowhere close to what the Outback actually is like. After we passed Geraldton, the empty expanse of land really exposed itself. The red clay soil lined the sides of the road and on either side of the road, dry prickly low bushes covered the land. My eyes of course were peeled for kangaroo’s, always, but only a few lying on the side of the road could be seen, drying out and half eaten.  You're welcome for the description. 

We drove through an area called Wildflower County that apparently is just blooming with colorful wildflowers between July and November. I can only imagine how impressive it must be. We drove on and on, as the names on the road signs slowly were crossed off as we passed them, overtaking massively intimidating road trains and speeding as fast as the little rental Toyota Corola could handle and bear it’s "high performance vehicle ability" until only Denham and Monkey Mia were left.  We entered Shark Bay, Western Australia’s first World Heritage area granted in 1991 for matching four natural criteria: it’s stromatolites, seagrass beds, extraordinary scenery, and fauna: 26 mammal species, 13 reptiles threatened to extinction, 3 types of rare birds, 12% of the world’s dugangas, and a large loggerhead turtle rockeries.* 

*According to Scoop Mag (the same one I think that told me it was only 6 hours away).

As we came over some of the hills, the dry land cleared away to absolutely breathtaking aquamarine water and crisp white sand lining the coast. It was so pristine, so empty, you could really understand the appreciation for the World Heritage protection of the area. 

Signs for people crossing were everywhere, but where were these people coming from, and where were they going?

Denham was a quiet sleepy town on the water with a couple hotels and boats docked in the water. We drove on though, for another 24 kilometers to Monkey Mia. It had a cooler sounding name and we only do the cool things. Monkey Mia, is basically a little resort community. There is the Monkey Mia Resort which has villas, camping site, hostel accomodations, and caravans. There is a small pool and hot tub, tennis courts, games to rent, a bar and a restaurant, beach access and of course, the opportunity to feed dolphins. Monkey Mia is the only place in Australia where wild dolphins will come up to the shore to bed fed daily, rather than seasonally. Except for Sunday, Februrary 19th. That was not one of the “daily” days. Apparently they will come to shore between 7:30 and noon, but on this particularly day, when we were there, there was a warm current filled with fish so the dolphins were out to sea and didn’t need to come to shore to be fed. They seem to be smart animals, habitual animals, so they know to come back if they want to but since Monkey Mia is part of the World Heritage area, they do not encourage the tourism of the site into making the dolphins circus animals. I liked that and commented on how easily you could see the place bening like a Club Med with daily activities like water yoga and kids camp but it was more of a relaxation spot for travelers – a little out of the way, but definitely a worthwhile reward.

 the view from our beach side hotel room.

the beach.

 The water was incredibly warm and shallow and clear. Monkey Mia is in a little hamlet so there were no waves, although the current was quite strong. The sea floor was covered with different types of shells and you could see little fish swimming around you. JD thought he felt a jellyfish in the water, saw a turtle, and a long water snake while snorkeling. Oh and apparently there were sharks in the water, but they were well fed so they didn’t bother with the humans – good to know!

Is that water deep or are you just really short? OMG YOU'RE SO TALL!

 But I don't wanna get out. 

 We had veggie burgers and salt and pepper squid for dinner then played pool with the greatest comeback the Black Widower ever saw and defensive fooseball. I lost both, even with knowing JD was trying to play down his coughmadcough skills. Some beer, white wine, and two tequila shots later, we went to the beach and laid down to stare at the stars.

The sky was absolutely stunning. I have never seen anything like it. And I can't even describe it to you to give it justice. From lying on the sand, looking out onto the sea’s horizon, there were stars just inches above the horizon - I had never seen them expand so far. They stretched all the way over us and behind us as far as we could see, not a cloud in sight - that thing that looks like a cloud, oh, that's just a galaxy, clearly visible to us right now. The Milky Way wrapped around the middle of the sky, directly above us, laying a belt of twinkly clusters of stars amongst the brighter ones. JD was soon snoring*, but I could’ve just stared out upon that sky for the entire night. The clarity of it’s expanse was really was unbelievable. The area around us, in the middle of nowhere of the World Heritage site, was so pure, so clear of pollution, the sky just shone.

*details like these are not only funny, but definitely part of the story and experience. 

 The next morning, a dip in the sea and then we waited by the jetty for the dolphins to arrive. The jetty was full of people standing, then sitting, then dispersed onto other day activities with the dolphin's no show ("they are definitely going to get fired"). Everyone had their eyes peeled from the shore to the horizion, as people pointed at every bird that swooped and fish that jumped making a splash, with the sun sparkling upon the little wave breaks, but none of these were dolphins.

We were two for two: no peguins on Penguin Island, no dolphins at Monkey Mia.

There were howerever a flock of befuddled emu’s wandering around, sometimes chasing each other, sometimes going up and pecking at the grass in front of sun bathers. At first they were a touristy novelty of intrigue and after less than 24 hours they were almost annoying and in the way with their jutting beaks and huge feet. 

“Hey guys, how’s it going, whatcha doing, hey guys, wait up”

….picture Will Ferrell in A Night at the Roxbury….as an emu.

It really was beautiful. We had planned on leaving at 12 and ended up leaving at 2 – 1 because the restaurant for lunch didn’t open until noon, 2 because it was way too hard to leave the sun and views for another 8/5 hour ride and 3 because we couldn’t leave without having a pina colada.

Back in the car, back to speeding and testing the car’s limits in the middle of nowhwere, back to passing the caravans of packpackers, pack to passing the tremendous road trains, back to driving until you're numb and stuck to the seat, back to chugging sugar-free Red Bulls and eating chips until your stomach hurts, back to the shuffle dance party of the iPod, and back to the not-so-clear-aired sky of the city.

So now, after that whirlwind, I am sitting on the bus not really sure where I’m going or what to expect. I am not nervous, I don’t really feel anything to be honest. Just sort of going with it. It’s like, it’s going to happen, there’s nothing you can do about it, and just let what happens happen. There’s no point in fretting, everything works out the way it is supposed to and maybe I have a good feeling about it. I am not scratching or pulling at my hair – that is a good sign. I suppose it helps that I met three of the people I will be working with and Elizabeth seems nice on email. I think if anything, I am nervous about what I have to offer. Sure my letter was heartfelt and personal and passionate and I should have a lot of knowledge from UNISG and the amount of wine I've drunk but I don’t know if I actually have the tasting ability to really know what I’m talking about nor do I have the slightest clue about actual wine making. I am hoping to be trained and learn about the production process. I guess I’m really not worried because I have no  obligations here. I don’t have to stay if I don’t like it. It will be nice to work during the morning, to have a routine, and then if I want to work in the afternoon I will be paid for it. Felix the German guy said that during vintage there is always a lot of work going on but there is also a car so if I want to use that and explore the area I can do that too. Valley of the Giants, Walpole, Denmark, Albany, 40 wineries in the region, Mt Barker, Australia's (or the world's?) oldest mountain range, a couple national parks, Australia's whitest beaches in Esperance, also a salt lake, isolation, remoteness, learning the in's and out's of the life of a winery, tasting pure grape juice, unpolluted air to stare at the stars....seriously, what is there to not look forward to?! 

What I Won't Miss About Perth.

This Bird.

This ugly boringly-black obnoxious annoyance of a speciman.

It has the most loud skrill of a cackle that makes it impossible, no matter how annoyed you are by it’s uttering noise, to not laugh at its absurdity. It will disturb you as you walk down the street. It will wake you up in the morning or prevent you from falling asleep at night - so loud, it is as if it is perched right outside your window, personally mocking you. We spent an afternoon laughing at them as they sat above us in the club house of a Perth golf club. They just sat there on the beams with their mouths wide open, drooling probably like idiots, their blank eyes unblinking, and squawking at each other. Although it could be my gift to Australia, we decided, and a personal gift of self-satisfaction to myself, if I wrote what I wanted to do to these nationally protected birds, I would probably be deported immediately.

But believe me, and I have recently learned, that there are many beautiful and fascinating birds in Australia. Penguins of course, gorgeous pelicans, ones that look like little colourful orange and brown turkeys, ones that fly across the road in front of the car with splashes of red across their wing span, others that are neon green, there are little ones that skip, black sparrows that glide, black swans which are the national bird of Australia, white cockatoos, ugly ravens that rank in the negative scale of an attractive rating, and many others I heard the names of that were pointed out to me that I cannot remember. 

I'm sure there are noisy birds in the wild countryside of Franklin, I have heard them already, but it has been hinted at that because of our remoteness, it is less likely that anyone will know if anything has happened to one of these "treasures." Guinea fowl are noisy. And edible. 

PENGUINS

Ok, maybe Rod Stewart wasn't the sole reason I came to Australia. Maybe. The real reason I am here stems from a lesson taught in 3rd grade. In 3rd grade, at Tokeneke Elementary School, in Darien, Connecticut, I learned all about the 17 different varieties of penguins. I can still picture the book we made with the white plastic ring binding that you manually slipped through the paper's holes. There were the magestic King and Emperor penguins who ruled the penguin world. The Chinstrap has an obviously identified demarcation across it's face. The Rockhopper always seemed a bit aggressive. I swear there was one called the Jackass. And sure, there were penguins that were tropically living off the coasts South America and the Galapagos Islands, but it was the Little Penguins, or as I was taught, the Little Blue Fairy Penguins that stole my heart. They lived in Australia. And ever since then, I've wanted to go to Australia. I always thought my chance would come when I could study abroad during my Junior year of university, however, they don't speak enough Spanish in Australia to count towards any credit for my double major. So as time came and went, I got older, and although my obsession with all things penguins may have diminished a bit (remember the catalogue* of all-things penguins: the slippers, the pajamas, the stuffed animals, the key chains, the stickers, the figurines, calendar, umbrella....I wanted it all, I had it all) my dream to go to Australia never did.

*ohmygoodness I can't believe I just found this website....!!

I always imagined, from the stories I heard in 3rd grade, that the penguins lived along the beach on the south-eastern coast of Australia, causing a ruckus of loud squaking noise under the houses, disturbing all the locals except for me. However, three weeks into my arrival in Western Australia, we take a 40 minute trip down south to what is known as.....PENGUIN ISLAND. $12 for a 5 minute ferry ride and I'll be surrounded by penguins, waddling up to me, flapping around in the water. I could barely speak trying to contain my excitement. At first we were sold tickets for an extra 5 bucks that included the penguin feeding but I challenged the extra charge thinking that we were on Penguin Island, we didn't need to pay to see the penguins being hand-fed like in a zoo. On the ferry ride over, the ferry driver announced that we had arrived at the perfect time to see the penguins as they would be mating and on land, most likely under the boardwalks or nestled into the limestone caves. How perfect!

spot the penguins. that's mean.

We got off the ferry and aimlessly followed the boardwalk that traced the island for 2 km. Our eyes scanned the low green bush for penguin nests, looked over the cliffs upon the coast, crawled into caves, and looked under the boardwalk. No penguins.

not penguins.

We did see a lot of different types of interesting birds though - the pelicans were enormous and beautiful creatures that gracefully glided across the air.

pelicans are gorgeous.

first animal we saw. it's called a stinker something. 

As the trail came around the loop, we decided we should wade in the water around the edge of the island and see if we could see any penguins in the caves. As we rounded the corner, we saw this enormous sea lion stretched out upon the sand. A small crowd of us stopped in awe at its proximity and he got up on his front paws (?) and seemed to soak up the attention and show off....but no, he was just doing his business.

just pooping.

 No bother. He slowly scurried himself off the hot sand and under the protection of one of the dark caves. What a life - hanging out on the beach, sleeping in the shade. As we wandered on, we spotted another sea lion nestled somewhat comfortably between the rocks. He had a couple gashes on his thick skin that looked rather raw. The boys snorkeled while I waded with my purse under my arm, balancing shoes and camera in hand while not getting knocked over by the tide or nibbled by little fish or slipping on seaweed, only later to slice my foot open on one of the protruding rocks that was camaflauged with the color of the sand.

JD snorkling.

Mike snorkling.

We reached the end of the easy wading and realized we could get back in time to see the penguin feeding that we didn't pay for at 12:30 - but not before Mike saw a little octopus in the water, that apparently had blue rings on it, and apparently could kill you in three minutes if stung....Uhhhhh....to the penguin feeeding - immediately!

um.

I'm not sure how as I was limping behind slowly, but we managed to squeeze into the penguin feeding for free. Finally penguins! And they were so cute. Shiny, silvery 10,000-feathered skins, swimming and jumping and bopping for fish in the little fake pool. The girl was very informative about their lives and habits but I don't think I heard one thing I was so enthralled in the little guys. Ok, so it was kinda like being at a zoo. Apparently we were a week too late to see the ones on the island during their mating season. These little ones were not wild, they were spoilt and overfed, they even knew the sound of their own names, but still, they were cute. And still native to the area. I guess it counts for seeing a penguin on Penguin Island.

Maybe it wasn't everything I had hoped and dreamed for, but I still appreciate the trip, am so glad that I went, and I can still look forward to the dog-barking, donkey-braying squeels I always imagined in south-eastern Australia.

they waded back to shore while I laughed at this incredible sign and then limped onto the boat. sympathy? yes please - got loads on the boat and in the bathroom, some French guy implied to JD "i can't believe you left her with all your stuff" hahah!! 

Rod Stewart. The Concert.

When I learned that Rod Stewart was playing in Perth on February 4th, 2012, I knew that was the real reason I was going to Australia, the real reason I was going to Western Australia. Everyone always asks, why Perth? Most of the people I have met who have been to Australia have only been to the eastern side of the country and said that Perth was too far away, yet they generally had a sense of regret in not going. Imagine the size of the United States, and New York, Boston, Miami, Chicago, Dallas, and LA were all along the eastern coast, but there was only San Diego on the west. That's kinda like what Perth is. So I figured, why not start on the west and make my way east. Everyone here think I'm absolutely nuts for wanting to take the train across the outback to go from west to east, but that's such a huge part of the continent....why miss it?? I digress, I DIGRESS! Back to Rod. The real reason I'm in Perth, Western Australia is to see Rod Stewart. There was no denying the fact that I was buying tickets to this concert. Sure, I stalled for a while in buying the tickets as they were so expensive, I wasn't sure if anyone would want to go with me, I wasn't sure where I'd actually be in February, and I wasn't really sure if Rod would still be kickin' it so many months ahead. But, with the eternal thanks and help from Chris and Beth for sponsoring my purchase with my Christmas and Birthday gift, I splurged on the best seats available (with ticket insurance, which I never get, but just in case).

Rod Stewart is one sexy beast.

This night, completely sober with Fun Bobby, may have been the highlight of my entire trip so far. That's hard to beat because I've had a lot of fun and a lot of good nights here. But man oh man does Rod put on a good show. I have to admit, I was a little nervous - how old is he? I kept thinking back to the Justin Timberlake concert with Jess in Boston a couple years ago and how he brought sexy back with those dance moves. Avoiding his ramen noodle hair and looking at his feet could make anyone fall in love with JT. But Rod brought sexy to a whole new level. Sure, U2 is a overly-elaborate concert held together with its classic tunes, I could watch Tina Turner in concert on TV any time it's on, and heck, I even had a great time at N*Sync (or is it 'Nsync? NsYnC*?) , my first ever concert that we were tricked into going - completely covered in bug spray as we thought we were going camping. But Rod Stewart, Perth, February 4th, 2012 was by far the best concert I have ever been to.

 I don't know about old fart Fun Bobby, but I think I was definitely one of the youngest people in the audience. I would even dare to say by even at least 15-20 years. These women were decked out in their leopard print outfits that probably haven't been worn since 1978 when he released his album Blondes Have More Fun (it's true, the Australian sun has turned my hair a funny brassy colour. needs.fixed.asap).

The concert was at nib Stadium which, besides musical concerts, is home to rugby matches. Our seats were on the grass, a bit far back but in the first row of our section. As we sat in anticipation for the start of the show, I commented on how awful a job it must've been to set up all the chairs in the grass, row after row. Two security guards looking quite solemn walked by and Fun Bobby remarked on how terrible a job it must be to be patrolling a Rod Stewart concert - how much trouble could there possibly be? Oh, women will be getting ROWDY over Rod Stewart, I replied. I even have an extra pair of panties in my bag to throw up on stage. (joke. but I did see some flying up on stage). We sat next to this British couple who had seen Rod in concert 30 years ago - I wasn't even alive! The woman got up immediately when the show started and was dancing wildly in the aisle - it was awesome.* But, despite how much fun she and some other people were having rockin out in their old people way, dancing was not allowed. Enter the security guards. Job necessary. Trouble was certainly brewing. One pretty-hippy-looking couple spent more time arguing with the officers about being allowed to dance than probably watching and enjoying the actual show. So the dancers had to keep moving about, always in someone's view, someone always complaining about their freedom of enjoyment, so much so that the husband of the couple next to us said to his wife, "the next time they tell you to move or stop, let me know and I will deal with it." so cute. 

*This will be Mum at the Neil Diamond concert this summer.

Rod came out to Love Train - and the crowd went wild. Decked out in a pink tuxedo, and I swear, Rod Stewart is the only one who could pull that off, he came out with a bang and didn't stop having fun for the entire time. I absolutely love his skinny little legs, his rowdy hair, his laughter ohmygoodness. I don't know where he found them, but the women in his band where gorgeous and could play the saxophone and trumpet and guitar in a little sparkly mini dress and high heels. The whole stage was just sexy. He took off his jacket shortly after, and was only wearing a white button down, skinny pink tie and skinny trousers. Then, half way through the song, an assistant came out and he changed his shoes on stage - to pink loafers. I was dying. I was just waiting for him to strip down to just the pink tie and pink loafers. He changed again to some colorful paisley shirt and at the end of the show he was wearing these fabulous silver trainers - I have to find a pair for myself! I don't know how he gets away with it, but he's the epitome of cool.

I think I had a smile on my face for the entire 2 hours. No wait, I'm pretty positive I did.*

* Think Mum's smile from seeing Neil Diamond at the NYC Thanksgiving Parade - it could not be beat. 

The best thing I liked about the concert, well, there were many, but I loved the fact that the entire ensemble seemed to be having so much fun on stage. The concert wasn't about Rod and touring for money or self-promotion. Everyone that was on stage at least had one solo act where they were showcased and excelled in singing or playing an instrument or dancing - everyone was included and everyone had their part. Rod was happy to go off around the stage dancing and shakin' his bacon while the others shined. Ok, maybe there was one guy who blended into the background ("that's racist") but he too got at least two shining moments of glory and boy did he beam. The two drummers were unbelievable and had a little duo where the lead drummer was going at it, surrounded by this glass orb, wearing a pink handkerchief in the jacket's pocket, and the other guy was just laughing and smiling while going back and forth with each other. It was like they couldn't even try to not be adorable. The background screen always seemed to matched the songs perfectly with lots of swirling colors. Rod joked with the crowds, kicked dozens of footballs (soccer balls) into the crowd, admitted when he missed a tune because he swallowed too much summer wind, showed personal photographs of his family, was not afraid to admit that he was avidly following the Scotland-England rugby game during the concert and keeping up with his favorite Celtics match (You're Celtic, United, but baby I've decided you're the best team I've ever seen) His grandson Alistar, who must've been about eight, or ten, I'm really really bad at guessing ages (but seriously, we were some of the youngest there) wearing a Celtic jersey, came on stage at one point and started dancing and then talked into the microphone - no bother.

The entire time, I was on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear You're In My Heart (if I ever got married or heck found someone who wanted to dance with me this would be part of my wedding) and Sailing. The show ended and although I was too high on a delirious euphoria to think about the fact that it hadn't been played, I consoled myself with the fact that I had it on my iPod to listen to later. But Then. The Encore. and guess what it was. SAILING! I could not have been more keenly captivated.  ohmygoodness.

It was a tremendous night. Everyone in the audience was elated, intoxicated with sexiness, savoring the songs, basking themselves in utter pleasure and exhilaration, singing, swaying, clapping, relishing. But, I really wish Dad was there with me. He would've really gotten a kick out of the concert as well and I can't claim any acknowledgement in my love for Rod without giving credit to my dad. Although I immediately think of Irish pub song CDs, Enya, and of course Garth Brook's The Thunder Rolls blaring appropriately in the truck in Texas, Rod Stewart was always right there in Dad's music collection. Was thinking about you Dad! although you were in Ri Ra at the time, not a bad second best :)

Playlist:

Love Train

Tonight's the Night

Some Guys Have all the Luck

First Cut is the Deepest

It's a Heartache

Baby Jane

Forever Young

Nothing but a heartache

Downtown Train

Have I Told you Lately

I Don't Wanna Talk about It

Oh La La - Wish I knew What I Know Now

Sweeter than Rock n Roll - I know that's not the right song title

Tina Turner's Rolling sung by a fantastic back up singer -> JESS: Tina Turner at a Rod Stewart concert = amazing.

Rhythm of My Heart

Twisting the Night Away

Maggie May

In Your Heart

Hot Legs

D'Ya Think I'm Sexy

Sailing

unknown. too busy clapping and laughing and smiling.

I didn't get the $35 bear.

Although I have the really bad, far away, blurry iPhone photos to recapture the concert's memories, I received a gift that night: a Rod Stewart t-shirt. It was the coolest one of the lot and I got it :) I wouldn't dare spend that much over-priced amount on myself, for a t-shirt, but I wore it the next day around town with the biggest smile on my face, just knowing that everyone around me was incredibly jealous that I was at the concert last night and had the t-shirt to prove it.

I know I said that Rod Stewart may have been the reason that brought me to Perth, but in retrospect, if I had thought about it in a better manner, my sole purpose should have really been to follow the Rod Stewart concert tour around Australia. Seriously, what was I thinking?? 

A Movie in the Park: As You Wish.

"I love you,' Buttercup said. 'I know this must come as something of a surprise to you, since all I've ever done is scorn you and degrade you and taunt you, but I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm. Your eyes are like that, did you know? Well they are. How many minutes ago was I? Twenty? Had I brought my feelings up to then? It doesn't matter.' Buttercup still could not look at him. The sun was rising behind her now; she could feel the heat on her back, and it gave her courage. 'I love you so much more now than twenty minutes ago that there cannot be comparison. I love you so much more now then when you opened your hovel door, there cannot be comparison. There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey. Do you want me to follow you for the rest of your days? I will do that. Do you want me to crawl? I will crawl. I will be quiet for you or sing for you, or if you are hungry, let me bring you food, or if you have thirst and nothing will quench it but Arabian wine, I will go to Araby, even though it is across the world, and bring a bottle back for your lunch. Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you; anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do. I know I cannot compete with the Countess in skills or wisdom or appeal, and I saw the way she looked at you. And I saw the way you looked at her. But remember, please, that she is old and has other interests, while I am seventeen and for me there is only you. Dearest Westley--I've never called you that before, have I?--Westley, Westley, Westley, Westley, Westley,--darling Westley, adored Westley, sweet perfect Westley, whisper that I have a chance to win your love.' And with that, she dared the bravest thing she'd ever done; she looked right into his eyes."
— William Goldman (The Princess Bride)

Kings Park in Perth, which is larger than Central Park in NYC, hosts Ford Focus Moonlight Cinema during the summer showing different movies - both classic and new - throughout the week. When I read that The Princess Bride was playing one Tuesday night, I insisted that we go. It's BYO food and drink so I made an antipasto picnic bread (recipe below). The Princess Bride. A Movie in the Park. In Australia. On a Summer Night. INCONCEIVABLE!


Vizzini, aka Wallace Shawn, used to dine in 202 in Chelsea Market when I worked at Food Network. He was always a favorite celebrity sighting. 

Antipasto Picnic Bread
1 large round loaf crusty bread
2 onions, sliced
2 tbsp olive oil
1 eggplant, sliced
½ cup mint leaves
1 zucchini, sliced lengthwise
1 cup arugula
20 oven-roasted tomato halves
½ cup basil
8 oz goat cheese
1 red pepper, sliced into thin strips

Preheat the oven to 200C. Put the eggplant onto a oven dish and drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast, turning once, until the eggplants are nicely browned. Put the eggplant in a bowl and layer with basil or dried Italian herbs and balsamic vinegar. Let marinate for about half an hour, changing the layers so that each slice gets soaked in balsamic. When the eggplant is done, add the tomato halves, drizzled with olive oil, a dash of balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper and roast until they have softened. Place onions and oil in a frying pan and heat over medium heat for about 4 minutes then add the red peppers and cook for another 2 minutes, until both have softened and the onions are golden. Leave aside. Heat the pan again and add some olive oil and lightly fry the zucchini until nicely browned on both sides. Lay on a paper towel to remove excess oil.

Cut the top off the top of the bread and scoop out the soft inside leave 1 ½ inch thick crust. To layer, place half the onions, peppers, eggplant, mint, zucchini, arugula, tomatoes, basil, and cheese inside the bread and repeat the layers then replace the top of the bread. serve in wedges.


*The recipe called for store-bought grilled marinated eggplant, grilled eggplant, and roasted peppers, but I used fresh vegetables and did it myself. The bread I bought was a day old, on sale, and the perfect crustiness. I only had room for one layer of vegetables within the loaf, unable to repeat the layers, but I had extra vegetables so bought another bread and filled that.

An Australian Sunset

look at the view, dopey.

table or water?

HA

the sunsets in western australia are supposed to be fantastic, and although this may be the first one, and only one, I've captured, it's pretty impressive and satisfying. The OBH is apparently where all the "cool kids" hang out, so, obviously we were there...HA...lots of laughs and old lady cleavage.