No Tour: Naarm Day 2 and change

Soundtrack: “Changes”, David Bowie

After a night of excellent sleep (sassy tracking bracelet’s words, not mine, though I felt I slept pretty well) I headed down to my regular little laneway breakfast cafe. A place where I’ve gone most trips in the past few years, where I can sit in a slightly untidy corner next to various boxes of ingredients, enjoy a spicy and hearty Eastern Mediterranean style pile of eggs and other yummy things (though checking back to my last visit I went with eggs benedict as they’d started drifting more Mexican inspired). This time around it’s more change, big change, under new management type of change. gone are the pile of boxes, reprinted are the menus in full colour, and the breakfast choices are a little fewer and a lot more western european. Not wanting the eggs benedict, I opted for “turkish eggs” without reading the full description, so the result was a couple of poached eggs on sourdough, lots of greens, a decent tzatziki-type sauce with lots of dill, and cherry tomatoes and cucumber. In hindsight, it was probably what I needed, in terms of a decent vegetable load, and it was tasty, but I doubt I’d order it again.

My plan was to hike into the wilds of south east suburbia, not the feral wilds of Frankston, but the general wilds of Clayton South. I was a little confused by the phone map, as it was telling me to catch the train at “Town Hall Station”. I’ve been visiting Melbourne regularly since 1997, so I know the Melbourne CBD stations are a loop of Flinders, Central, Parliament, Flagstaff, and Spencer Street (Southern Cross for the millennials). Ain’t no Town Hall station, right?

Change.

Change change change change change.

There is now, all those times I’ve visited and Swanston St has been half blocked with construction, now I know why. There are several new underground stations, and a big shiny tunnel. And these new stations aren’t on the CBD loop, meaning the Pakenham line doesn’t stop at Flinders St anymore (only now, a day later, I realise I should have gone and checked if there was still a Pakenham clock among the array at Flinders). Not only were there shiny new stations (I think they’ve only been open for a few months) they have shiny new trains too, all kitted out with dynamic route map displays showing all you need to know. Well almost all, the one thing missing, and they lose marks for this, is the lack of direction as to which side to leave the train. With all the other stuff, surely they could add this, right?

I managed to get off the train on the correct side, and did the 25 minute walk to the Gameology warehouse — well it’s a warehouse with a shopfront, and they don’t let shoppers into the warehouse unfortunately. I picked up some interesting things and listened to the staff deal with people who wanted to buy random cards of one form or other. I think it’s wonderful that there are folks so passionate about these games, putting serious coin into trying to get special or rare or something cards, though it’s not my thing. As long as folks are having fun and not hurting others (or doing smash and grab ram raids to steal bulk packs, that’s a thing, too) then let them play.

Was feeling a bit tired after training back into the CBD, so I was ready to skip my second mission, hitting up Dixon’s second hand CDs in Northcote. While the station exit put me right in front of the required tram stop, I figured I’d only go in the next tram along was the one I needed, and started dreaming how good it would be to just sit down, have some lunch, then an afternoon nap. So of course the next tram was the right one, and a deal is a deal, so I was Northcote bound.

I like CDs. Sure I was a late adopted, not really starting to acquire serious numbers until the mid 1990s, but today they are still my music medium of preference. I like vinyl records, but being a lazy git don’t always want to get up every 22 minutes to flip them (though I’m probably at the stage requiring larger print liner notes). Digital music is fine, but it’s transient, today’s downloads could be deleted tomorrow. So I’ll stick with CDs, those semi-permanent discs of music that are also much easier to pack when travelling, and hold out hope they come back into style.

My CD collection is like my brain, it contains some cool rare things, a fairly solid span of styles, way too much of some artists, and decent compilations for others. It also has some gaps that I find sadly obvious and embarrassing, as well as some deliberate omissions I’m quite proud of. You won’t find The Eagles gracing my shelves until hell freezes over again, no Genesis, Nickelback, Train, Mariah Carey/Michael Buble xmas albums, Nickelback, Manic Street Preachers, Ed Sheeran, Nickelback, or Nickelback. Coldplay only sneak in because of Parachutes. It does have some noticeable gaps, where I must have been looking the wrong way at the wrong time. Late 1970s/early 80s UK punk is a little sketchy, there’s a gap where Linda Ronstadt should be, I really should own a chunk of Tom Petty up to the mid 1980s, the Monkey Grip soundtrack, The Beatles, The Sundays’ Blind, The Who, Bob Dylan, Dusty Springfield, and undoubtedly a bunch more. And with second hand CDs harder to find, and others attracting ludicrous prices ($40 for a second hand copy of www.tism.wanker.com. I think not) filling those gaps is getting a bit challenging. Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow was one of those CDs I always thought I should own, and it seems someone in Melbourne got rid of their Jefferson Airplane collection, as there were 5 or 6 CDs in the stack, so I filled the gap and also grabbed Volunteers and Crown of Creation for good measure. Other gaps filled included Cyndi Lauper’s She’s So Unusual (also picked up a CD of her doing covers), and The Slits Cut. A haul I’m happy with.

Heading back to the city I stopped off at Rock Salt & Vinegar, a fish and chip shop that does some great social media as well as awesome pics of food. I got caught between going traditional and experiencing potato cakes, so fortunately there was a menu item with both. I used to work in a fish and chip shop, last century, so I’ve done my share of dunking and frying. I’ve cooked a lot of potato scallops, which were a thin slice of potato (maybe 2-3mm maximum) battered and fried. These potato cakes were a fair bit thicker, maybe even 1cm (it’s not like I carry a tape measure everywhere I eat) and while tasty and cooked through, I prefer a more even ratio of potato to batter. However the fish, chips, and squid rings were fantastic: the squid cooked just enough, not chewy, the fish wrapped in a wonderfully crisp batter, and the chips cooked just right with a decent amount of crunch. Other than the potato cakes, the only sadness was I ended up too full to try their battered and deep fried cheesecake. Next time for sure.

The last important shopping stop was for Haigh’s chocolate. I know Haigh’s are a South Australian company, but there’s no Victorian equivalent and they have two shops in Melbourne, so please take my money. Of course there’s always the fun of them regularly handing out free samples — it always surprises me when I see a customer say no, like what sort of crazy turns down good quality free chocolate? I guess Melbourne does have its share of “interesting” characters, often found around the Flinders Street end of Elizabeth Street, like the lady who asked me yesterday “Blondie, what’s your genre?” Not quite “What’s the frequency, Kenneth?” but definite points for originality.

After a digestion rest in my hotel I met G at a tramstop and we headed for dinner, braving the hordes of football fans headed to the Thursday night game at docklands stadium. Also at dinner were B and B, one of the B’s being the reason for the trip as she’s celebrating a milestone birthday this year (21 of course). Dinner was at Wabi Sabi Salon, a “modern” Japanese restaurant, whatever modern means). It was definitely good food, their signature dish is teishoku involves a main with a whole lot of tasty pickled condiments involving beans, soy, mushrooms, tofu, kale, and other things. I went for the wagyu, which was thinly sliced and wrapped around beans and carrot, and it was delicious, the beef wonderfully rich but not too heavy, and the extras all very tasty. Interestingly, wikigoog tells me that teishoku is a traditional and classic Japanese dish, so maybe the “modern” bit is the presentation with the main component of the dish at the front, rather than the traditional back left spot. Marketing semantics aside, it was very tasty, especially with an Okinawan lager and a brown rice sake, and the good company of old friends.

The evening wasn’t without drama, as early in the meal I got a message that the dog we’d been looking after for friends, had managed to escape and was likely out roaming the streets. So instead of kicking on with present company, I headed back to the hotel and got intimately acquainted with just about every lost animal social media page I could find. Long story short, we were able to find the dog a couple of days later, wandering bushland over 6km from our house, a little hungry and thirsty but generally none the worse for the ordeal. I’m beginning to think that dinners with B and B are cursed, as I was supposed to be catching up for dinner last November when instead I headed home to farewell Billie.

Understandably didn’t sleep well that night, with my passive-aggressive watch again saying “needs attention”. The lost dog also took the shine of receiving the magical email that my upgrade to business class had been successful. At least I’d be heading home in a comfy seat with legroom. I also got to relax a little in the lounge, the breakfast savoury options weren’t great but the little doughnuts and muffins were decent. Onboard the breakfast was much better, and knowing I’d have to drive at the end, and having had almost no sleep, I availed myself of the comfy seat and legroom only. The gent sitting next to me hopefully wasn’t driving, as he had a few more than several sparkling wines over the course of the 4 hour flight.

I finished the Judy Blume biography on the flight. Overall it’s okay, though it felt a little dry, and while I now know more about the places and dates and people, I don’t feel the book really gets below the surface of the subject. It reads almost academic, and wanders through her life without really building up to anything. It’s well-researched, and pleasant, but hardy a page-turner. Interestingly, while it devotes many words to the bookselling industry of the time and other young adult writers to provide context, Betsy Byars doesn’t get mentioned.

I went, I saw, I read, I shopped, I ate.