Passion Tamed

Bondi Beach, coastal walk to Coogee today!

Sun, 12 May 2013 02:53:58 -0400

Bondi Beach, coastal walk to Coogee today!

Kangaroos, Namadgi National Park

Sun, 05 May 2013 07:38:25 -0400

Kangaroos, Namadgi National Park

Roos!

Sun, 05 May 2013 07:36:54 -0400

Roos!

Roo-adtrip

Sun, 05 May 2013 07:35:40 -0400

Sipping a cappuccino, the way a good day starts, traversing Australian expanses, a neighborhood populated by windmills and magnificent space.

The roads entering Namadgi National Park were made with aspiring race car drivers in mind. Rodrigo twists and twirls the steering wheel to dance with the pavement, in time to the yellow line. Glee. Pavement collapses into rocky red dust. Up pop ears. Rodrigo spots one, then two…as we pull into the lot they are waiting. Lounging, eating, staring FORTY kangaroos or more!

Surrounded. We are picnicking with them. Hey Roos, goat cheese anyone? Unexpectedly, the wind finds ways to the skin. Through the layers comes the chill of pain. The unending sky funnels Rain. Wind. Rain. Wind. into the valley. We can’t remember if our fingers are there anymore. Rainbow. Hiking through the valley, through the waves of tall grass, sleek swaying masses seduced by the wind. To the shelter, looming rocks overarch Aboriginal paintings. Street art of a past age.

This is an Aussie experience.

Namadgi National Park

Sun, 05 May 2013 07:35:01 -0400

Namadgi National Park

Melbourne, Australia

Sun, 28 Apr 2013 03:44:20 -0400

Melbourne, Australia

Photo

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 05:10:06 -0400

Melbourne Street Art

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 07:41:59 -0400

Melbourne Street Art

Melbourne, a Victorian layover

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 07:37:19 -0400

8am:

We left the keys in the door! Halfway to the airport we had to turn the taxi around, Rodrigo was tested for explosives at the airport and we had a one hour plane delay. Great start. We need this promised coffee…Melbourne is supposed to be the holy place of beans, grinds, foams, and the distinguished palette of espresso fiends. We just can’t get there fast enough.

1pm:

The Victoria market is a Victorian labyrinth of smells, flavors, and sounds. Strawberry laden air whisks by as each sign notes a price lower, and yet lower. The end of the day, prices fly at customers whipping through the air with the intensity of an insult. I am jealous of Melbourne. Go inside, melting ice leads underfoot to the ocean, the pink innards of salmon, the “fishy” smell of every edible thing mixing, salivating the palette. And then, hanging sausages, dried meats of every flavor, cheese wheels out for show, tempting, fresh sauces in rows give way to olives soaking. Rodrigo is silent taking in everything, both wishing we could taste it all.

3pm:

Walking tour, Rodrigo is my guide…leading me through the Victorian styled laneways and arcades, covered walkways with shops on either side. Taking notes on Europe, Melbourne has formed its culture in the cracks and crevices, laneways (alleys in the american sense) line themselves with cafes, places to sip wine during the day, people watching perfection. We thoroughly exhaust ourselves winding through the mazes of tea shops, antique jewelry stores, and pubs. It has a charm.

7pm:

Rodrigo’s craving for dumplings leads us to Chinatown just a block away from the hotel. Flourescent lighting and crumbling walls surround table after table of people, steaming dumplings, won ton soup, all of the classics. i just can’t believe dinner only costs $30. Let’s go spend our money on booze.

8:30pm:

I’m an old person. I go to the pub after dinner. Ro and I treat ourselves to round after round culminating in a 7-Eleven run for TimTams. Chocolately cookie goodness, uniquely Australian, available in every flavor and on every corner. I have a duty to try every flavor right?

11am:

A latticework of alleyways, you walk down a dead end with the promise of a sign, followed by the aroma of espresso, the clang clang of busy baristas and salmon on a poppy seed bagel. The combination of metal and open spaces, a warehouse turned breakfast hideaway.

12:30pm:

Street Art yelps its hidden statements, the size of a postcard, the size of a building, decode my colors, decode my design. Visits from the joker, a sexy nun, Ganesh, please enlighten me.

2pm:

Boozing by the river.

8pm:

Fly back to Sydney, end the trip on a high: altitude reach, screaming baby sirens, red eyes, and a bleary eyed car ride home.

Sydney Fish Market. Barbecued Octopus! Yum!

Sat, 20 Apr 2013 04:03:38 -0400

Sydney Fish Market. Barbecued Octopus! Yum!

Catching Up

Sat, 20 Apr 2013 02:31:55 -0400

Elbowed in, two parts of a living breathing mass, the crowd, watching the New Year explode in colors over Sydney’s Harbour Bridge. With stomachs full of empanadas, watching sparks careen, curtains of light, a waterfall of fire pours off the bridge to the water below, xxxKISS!! Sydney takes fireworks seriously.

The holidays came, New Years came, Valentines day, and now Sydney heads into Fall… I have failed to write anything! Rodrigo and I have hit the pause on traveling to become permanent residents of Sydney (for the time being) and I highly doubt my daily coffee runs and mastering of public transportation would keep you coming back for more. But here it is: catch up on happenings (for all of you family and friends out there) and some punctuating photos.

In December I found a full-time salaried job for a high end jeweller, spending my days surrounded by stunning Australian opals and South Sea Pearls. I’ve slowly started falling into design, my drawing skills are abysmal but my first jewelry piece was finished just a few days ago. It is thrilling and inspiring to see where the sparkly things might take me in life.

Rodrigo and I finally found a home for ourselves! At the end of January we moved into our beautiful town house style apartment only a few train stops away from my work. The Sydney housing market is not friendly to foreigners…so we consider ourselves extremely lucky, especially considering our proximity to the discount wine & liquor store 2 blocks away! Can Australian wine get any better?

Slowly planning a trip to Vietnam but for now catch some of our weekend trips following…

Ro has long been a fan of Anthony Bourdain…I’ve...

Mon, 03 Dec 2012 02:32:27 -0500

Ro has long been a fan of Anthony Bourdain…I’ve watched long hours of No Reservations as my stomach grumbles, wishing I too could taste the culinary magic that seems to appear. Well, as we slowly travel our way around the globe, we’ll be taking some of Anthony’s recommendations. First stop: Harry’s Cafe de Wheels. An Australian landmark of pie.

Harry’s has been providing the city’s nightlife with sustenance since 1938. You better try the Tiger pie (pictured in all its glory) beef, mushy peas, mash, gravy in a flaky crust…I hate peas..but loved this pie.

Hornby Lighthouse, Sydney

Mon, 03 Dec 2012 02:18:03 -0500

Hornby Lighthouse, Sydney

No sweaters needed, an Australian Thanksgiving

Wed, 28 Nov 2012 00:46:11 -0500

This was my second Thanksgiving abroad. My first I spent toasting champagne with some hostel mates in Munich. There was no sense of decorum or tradition, a glass shattering on the table as I relayed the ever inspiring story of Squanto.

This year, Rodrigo and I set out to do it properly. However, things get complicated fast with the ever present shortages of canned pumpkin and cranberries in Sydney. Yet, we had a plan: Macaroni & Cheese, Mashed Potatoes, Cranberry Sauce, Sauteed Green Beans, Stuffing, Pumpkin Pie, and a mouthwatering Turkey. I have to mention that not only is this my first Thanksgiving cooking abroad, it’s my first Thanksgiving cooking. I took on a real challenge having to do without the comforting food staples of home and unlimited calls to mom for advice. (We did skype my parents the day before…just to get some insider tips on cooking a turkey.)

The morning of our impending feast, we couldn’t find the Macy’s parade to watch. Seriously Americans… get uploading faster so we can watch happily from sunnier, warmer weather.

Down to business, vintage aprons on, ready to face the ominous task of Thanksgiving dinner. Forced to get creative and homemade, we reworked pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce. Rodrigo gently roasted half a butternut squash, (In Australia they are known as butternut pumpkins) scooped out its innards, pureed, a rich orange color perfumed in spices… and in the end the pie came out beautifully. (Probably better than most pies I’ve made in the states…and it hit the spot the next morning…pumpkin pie in bed, dream come true). Cranberry sauce was also a challenge but a mixture of craisins, cranberry juice, and orange rind became the perfect compliment to our juicy turkey.

We made it a true Thanksgiving, everyone eating too much coupled with my exhilirating version of the first Thanksgiving, the Pilgrims, the Indians, and of course ..Squanto. However, there isn’t that same feeling you get in the states, surrounded by family, cozied by traditions, comforted and babied by the fact that no matter how things change you can always do some things the exact same way. Are we afraid to move on, to try new things, or are we merely treating ourselves to a day of indulgence, comforting ourselves with the old and familiar?

I’ve been out in the world, adventuring, testing new traditions… and yet the pang of difference remains. Will it succumb to these new experiences or am i relegated to gingerbread in the oven and the smell of fresh pine?

The first African fabric creation…

Tue, 27 Nov 2012 01:57:52 -0500

The first African fabric creation…

Majesty

Mon, 26 Nov 2012 03:33:47 -0500

Majesty

At the Three sisters!

Mon, 26 Nov 2012 03:33:37 -0500

At the Three sisters!

Geometry Does Not Apply

Thu, 22 Nov 2012 04:03:04 -0500

An hour outside of Sydney, the earth seems to open up and reveal her softer curves, rather than edges. Hiking down steep stairs, carved into the slope slick with the morning rain, your surroundings filter from ordinary to majestic.

Wentworth Falls, the natural wonder, has been traversed by travelers, tourist destination since the days of corsets and skirts. Black and white photos prove women perched on the tiny walkways clutching parasols, daring to breathe against their cinched waists and the overwhelming views.

We can’t stop pausing to take photos, trying to prove to ourselves it’s real. Droplets swan dive to the rocks below, rebounding to a misty laden rainbow, giving the air a shimmering thickness. Juts and edges of dyes, tangerine and steel, organic rock frames guard the valleys. The green curves soften the divide, the land creasing and folding, as fabric over the soil.

The path becomes so steep, scaling encaged ladders, downward, three flights at a time. Have we reached the bottom of this never ending pooling waterfall? Back through the rainforest, slicing peach flesh with the hooked blade of our hunting knife: survival.

The path continues skyward, neighboring waterfalls, bending back and forth, the longest possible distance between two points. Yet, a picnic awaits and nothing motivates like goat cheese. Upwards.

Wentworth Falls, Blue Mountains, Australia

Thu, 22 Nov 2012 04:02:53 -0500

Wentworth Falls, Blue Mountains, Australia

Photo

Thu, 22 Nov 2012 04:02:45 -0500