So we’re still going through old family photographs, and a definite and perhaps worrying trend has emerged from my childhood. The photographs are cute, for sure, but why do so many of them feature me holding, sitting on, or being photographed with a bucket? Though no one remembers exactly why, but apparently I had a childhood thing for buckets. You learn something new every day.
Over lunch (at The Tilbury) my good friend and I chatted about swimming. She’s quite a serious ocean swimmer whereas I’m more of a casual paddler. As a child, I was actually a little scared of the water, and was never a good swimmer at all. Getting my 50m medal was a major achievement, and the idea of the 1500m was well beyond my dreams. In the last few years, however, I’ve taken up swimming again, though noting it’s more “recreational” “pleasurable” than anything to do with fitness, for example. And it’s all in the “safe” environment of a swimming pool. But as I looked down at the water at Woolloomooloo, I contemplated something more adventurous : swimming in the harbour. The water was looked so clean. Gorgeous weather. Lovely day.
At about ten o’clock last night, I checked the time. “Happy Anniversary”, I said to Sue, congratulating her on twenty-four hours in Spain. “Cheers”, we all said, as we raised our glasses. And what a whirlwind twenty four hours it had been.
After meeting Sue late last night at the airport, and checking in to our hotel, the Hotel ibis Madrid Aeropuerto Barajas, we had a bite to eat at a nearby restaurant. La Vina de Nerea. The food, wine and conversation were excellent.
An early morning start had us on the almost four-hour train trip to Barcelona. We were both somewhat overwhelmed as we contrasted train trips in Australia and Spain. The railway station in Madrid, and the train itself, were both clean and orderly. And the speed. For the most part we travelled at close to 300 kmh.
One of the really surprising things about the trip between Madrid and Barcelona was the lack of any major development in between. Yes, there were farms, and the occasional town, but the landscape was overwhelmingly bare. Not that it was unpleasant. In fact, I found it very engaging, and snapped a quite a few photographs from the window of the train.
On arriving in Barcelona, we headed straight for our apartment, located in the Gracia district, where we settled, bought a few necessities for the next few days, before heading for a walk around the nearby Park Gruell.
“Barcelona is such a beautiful city at night”, I commented to my colleague, Damian as we walked off last night’s dinner. He’s here with his wife, Kate, currently working at the university. It was lovely to see them, as they told us many stories about what’s been happening in Barcelona, in the midst of the independence movement. They’d recommended we had dinner at Cafe De L’Academia, after a brief earlier catch-up at a nearby tiny bar called, Vin.
Back home, we discussed further our activities for the next few days, which included booking in for a visit to the Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família. It’s not the “peak” of the tourist season right now, but you still need to book ahead, and unfortunately, we weren’t able to secure a place on an English-language tour. Nonetheless, we had places on a self-guided tour with audio commentary, and that’s probably better, anyway.
This morning, we’re headed off on one of those “free tours”, which I hope will be really terrific. Wake up, Sue, it’s time for breakfast :)
I had a big lump of lamb for the second time in three days today. The first time was at dinner the other night. The second time was for lunch today. And my goodness, it tasted good.
I was invited to a mate’s place for lunch today. We often have a meal together on a Sunday, though it’s been a few months (obviously) since we’ve done that. We get together, we listen to some music, chat about our lives, and have some really good tucker together.
And today it was lamb. “I know you like it a bit raw”, he said, when I commented on how tasty it was. And added to the lamb was some mint jelly. And there was a side dish of cauliflower, beans and carrots.
It’s been a warm day in Sydney, one of the hottest so far this year, according to the news.
So after lunch I walked back from my mate’s place at Centennial Park via Oxford Street (Paddington), down through Darlinghurst, and then along Crown Street back towards home. It’s such a beautiful time of the year in Sydney.
Nothing much to report from tonight aside from a bit of television watching (don’t ask me what I’ve seen, because nothing was memorable), a bit of computer surfing, and some chatting on the phone. Don’t you hate it, though, when you ring your family and get voice mail? “Where are they?”, I thought to myself.
One of the things I really love about the public transport system (in the centre of town at least) is, for the most part you never have to run to catch the subway (Tunnelbana). Of course there are times when you’ll need to run, for the most part if you miss one, another one will arrive soon. That wasn’t the case yesterday, as I struggled with the stern look of a bus driver who wanted to stay on time, with little concern for the middle aged bloke from Australia struggling with a backpack.’
I had a deadline to meet: I was scheduled to meet my AirBnB host in about thirty minutes. Thankfully I made it in time. I was even a little early. The apartment is better than I thought it would be: more spacious than I expected, located in a terrific area, and my host seems like a really terrific guy. Once again, I’m located on Södermalm, with shops and bars closeby, and with excellent public transport options. As you’ll see from below, there is a bar located in the basement of the apartment block, though I’m unsure if it’s peak hipster or Steptoe & Son.
Before lunch with Robert and Sandra, we had been to see a private performance at the Hardrock Cafe by Isaiah Firebrace, Australia’s entrant in the Eurovision Song Contest. I hadn’t known he was going to be in Stockholm, until a chance meeting on Thursday night.
He performed three songs, had photographs taken with fans, and undertook one of those excruciating Q&As with a Swedish radio announcer (who we learned more about, possibly, than Isaiah himself). “I think you did a terrific job at Eurovision”, I told him. He seemed like a nice young lad.
“The Entertainment Quarter has always been a dog”, a colleague commented today when I told her about my experiences having a drink, and trying to get a meal last night.
Around most areas of Sydney, you can get a pretty standard domestic beer in the range of $7.00-$8.00. At my local pub, the standard price for a schooner of Reschs is $8.00, though I get a member’s discount bringing the price down to $7.30. And of course, it can be cheaper during “happy hour”, being $5,50 at my local pub.
But last night, grabbing a beer at the only bar that’s currently open at the Entertainment Centre (aka Fox Studios), the cost of a schooner of Reschs was $10.12! I was a little shocked when the price came up on the register and on my phone, but I thought “what the hey…” I mean it’s not as if Reschs is a imported beer, or a craft beer. It’s just an average beer.
A friend of mine and I were there to see the new Wes Anderson film, “The French Dispatch”.
The concept behind the film is terrific.
“Arthur Howitzer Jr., the editor of the newspaper The French Dispatch, dies suddenly of a heart attack. According to the wishes expressed in his will, publication of the newspaper is immediately suspended following one final farewell issue, in which three articles from past editions of the paper are republished, along with an obituary.”
The film dramatises these articles.
“He throws everything at it. Black and white. Stylism. Animation” my friend commented as we enjoyed dinner afterwards. Though we both enjoyed it, especially since it was so beautiful, we didn’t think it was remarkable. “I really wanted to CARE about some of the characters, but I didn’t”, I added to the conversation.
By this time, we were having dinner back in Surry Hills.
We had hoped to have dinner at the Entertainment Quarter, but virtually everything was closed. We had decided on the Mexican, which was still quite buzzy. But as we sought to seek entry we were told: “the kitchen’ closed”. “What?”, we asked, “It’s only 8.38 pm”. Yep, the kitchen was closed. WTF!
One stop on the lightrail and we were back in Surry.
No wonder the Entertainment Quarter has struggled over the years.
“But you’ve already had a Christmas Party”, Graeme said to me at the pub tonight.
One of the advantages of changing jobs at the end of the year is you get to go to two Christmas parties. One for the old job, and one for the new.
And today was a party for the new job.
It was a lovely affair, lunch at The Coopers Hotel in Newtown.
I went there a few months ago for lunch with James and John and was impressed that it was low-priced, and had good food and atmosphere. It was a no-brainer to book it for our Christmas lunch.
Aside from that, it was a reasonably intense day back at work.
Thanks to the Crackberry, I managed to keep on top of things while I was away. But not in an obsessive kind of way, just in a quick check kind of way so there were “no dramas” when I arrived back.
Still, there were a couple of things I needed to get done both before and after lunch, and mostly I achieved them.
The day started with a work phone call at about 7.30am, and finished with one at 7.30pm.
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