I'm Turning Japanese

Oh wait a minute ... I am.

Thus I am compelled to admit that adzuki bean cakes are one of my favorite delectable sweet treats, first discovered on holidays in Japan in 2004. And to my utmost delight, they can also be found in Sydney, at Breadtop in Chatswood.

The adzuki (also spelled azuki) bean, similar to many other crops that originated in the Far East, has existed as sustenance for China, Japan, and Korea for centuries. It surprised me to learn that it is considered the Mercedes of beans, and is one of the largest legume crops in Japan, along with the unflailingly popular and reliable soybean. Primarily it is sweetened and used as a confectionery item, in ice creams or (YUM!) red bean paste as a filling for various pastries. And for those of you out there like me that must convince yourself it is okay to eat one (or a few), may I make it easier for you by saying it's okay!! They are high in protein and low in fat. Yay!

So if you are in search of a unique, tasty, scrumptious little bit of Japan and have a lot of fabulous shopping to do in Chatswood, I can think of no better way to begin your day than a trip to Breadtop.

Sydney is a Bargain!

4 words that I never thought I would utter.

Cost of Living
1.	Moscow
2.	Seoul
3.	Tokyo
4.	Hong Kong
5.	London
6.	Osaka
7.	Geneva
8.	Copenhagen
9.	Zurich
10.	Oslo
10.	New York
12.	St. Petersburg
13.	Milan
14.	Beijing
15.	Paris
15.	Paris
17.	Singapore
18.	Dublin
19.	Sydney
20.	Shanghai

But it's true! A recent article in the Sydney Morning Herald valiantly attempts to illustrate how, in comparison to other desirable and popular metropolitan destinations, Sydney provides surprisingly affordable food, education, and housing, according to a report published by Sydney Chamber of Commerce.

Family and friends ask me about this all the time. "Is it cheaper in Sydney?" "What are home prices like?" "Is gas expensive there?" (I haven't the heart as of yet to gently remind them that the true and accurate name is petrol. But I also haven't figured out Celsius yet. All in time ...)

I, perhaps like many Sydneysiders, was skeptical about such matters. I have filled my car's gas (petrol?) tank, I have dined out on the weekends, I have been apartment and house hunting. None of these activities would have ever lead me to the conclusion that Sydney is relatively cheap on a global scale. Yet, when I seriously contemplate the cost of that precious liter of fuel, or that fresh nigiri sushi, or that highly coveted plot of land supporting a 3 bedroom 2 bath haven of peace and solitude, the skepticism eludes me...

In the States (in California/Bay Area anyway), you would be considered lucky as a Lottery winner to find a habitable home, a fixer-upper, for the equivalent of 1 million Australian dollars. If you want land, and a pleasant neighborhood, and multiple conveniences nearby, tack on another hundred thousand or so. (Note: Recent articles in San Francisco news reveal that although housing sales have declined steadily for 14 straight months, prices are still going UP. (Come on over to Sydney, y'all!!)

Although the price of fuel in the States is cheaper per se, one could speculate that the inherent cost is significantly greater than in Sydney. Looooong commutes in horrendous traffic, an inability to relinquish the once revered but often maligned SUV/Gas Guzzler, and the stress that will inevitably accompany both. Public transport here is far from perfect as may will attest to, but higher prices encourage people to utilize it, thus using less gas and resulting in less incredulity at the idiocy of traffic jams. (Isn't Sydney lookin' GOOOD??)

Sushi rolls are cheap cheap cheap!! Being a very enthusiastic foodie, I have been pleasantly surprised at how inexpensive most common food items are, whether it's a cape seed loaf at the local Baker's Delight, or a liter of milk at Coles (grocery chain), or even produce at Woolworths. Similarly, I have never experienced sticker shock while dining out; rather, the cost of entire meals might actually be cheaper than the arm and leg one might be forced to pay at well known establishments in the good ol' US. (Foodies rejoice!!)

"Sydney has consistently shown itself to be one of the cheapest global cities to live in," claims the Chamber of Commerce report. But even if your desire is just to sample a sliver of life down under, Sydney will amaze, delight, and never disappoint. Stick with the nigiri and you'll be just fine.

Bloody Hell!

Advertisements. Those consciousness-permeating, behavior-altering, consumer-targeting (and sometimes privately amusing) bits of noise or color or pleas to buy any number of useless products that are irritatingly inescapable, now forced upon us before movies and in toilet stalls, and for the right price, tattooed on your body. No lie.

You might be aware that earlier this year Tourism Australia launched an ad campaign bluntly yet cleverly named Where the Bloody Hell Are You? that provoked spasmodic fits of indignation in the UK and Canada, prompting them to ban the televised version of the ad for one reason or another. This might be labeled, um, futile, as the print and cinema ads were not included in this prohibition. Regardless, after apparently effective lobbying by the Australia Tourism Commission, the ban was lifted and all were once again subjected to this profane and offensive ad.

Interestingly enough, it seems that initially Canada's reasoning was that the ad violated its regulations by implying consumption of unbranded alcohol. Subsequently news stories revealed that the word "hell" was not family friendly and thus the ad would not be run during hours in which children might be exposed to such language. (Imagine your 6 year old running about the playground at school announcing "Bloody hell! Bloody hell!" to all of his or her schoolmates ... )

Admittedly, I am sincerely surprised at how much more relaxed advertising is in Australia ... and by relaxed I mean it contains any number of images that I am not used to witnessing within the various forms of media in the States. Although I have always been aware that outside of the US, nudity, sex, and other "risque" advertising elements are less likely to be met with a giggle or perhaps a modicum of displeasure, nowhere has it been made more apparent to me than watching an hour of prime time Aussie TV. Or wandering amongst the mazes of malls in downtown Sydney, like the Generation Y targeted The Galeries Victoria, whose latest ad campaign claims that TGV is "not like the others". Indeed. The images of tattooed cleavage, "love bites" and multi-studded tongue were enough to persuade me! Not that I really need persuading. Rather, it's refreshing to encounter attitudes and dispositions that treat me as a thinking, intelligent adult. Besides, see this bum? Enough said.

Blast From The Past

Tupperware Parties.

Like dial-up and cheap petrol and Tyrannosaurus Rex, I thought these did no longer exist. Little did I know that they are alive and well, right here in Australia, thriving amongst suburban and city women alike, in search of companionship and a 500 gram cereal dispenser. Imagine my surprise when I received an (oxymoronic) email invitation to this apparently oft-occuring but seldom mentioned all-women event. Resembling a curious inqusitive child visiting the museum of corded phones, VHS tapes, and manual car windows, I accepted, wondering how this icon of the 50's had evolved, anticipating new and improved ways of keeping my potatoes dry and my cupboards neat.

My preconceived notion about this domestic adventure (besides that Tupperware was a relic of the past) was that they were one excuse for a bunch of ladies to get together without their husbands or significant others or their diets, and eat and drink and shamelessly giggle about everything and nothing and plastic containers. Such a notion was partially alluded to in the invitation, disguised as an suggestion for all to bring a sweet or savory creation in their Tupperware (also a clever euphemism for potluck!). This was also, in part, verified upon entering the kitchen, where brightly frosted cupcakes were lined up, just waiting for a rebellious finger to steal a smidgen of their sugary tops. And not a single guest ignored the suggestion - they all arrived with Tupperware in tow, fat with savory mini quiches and corn pancakes and crudites, and sweet chocolate cake and reallllly good brownies. The wine appeared and the giggling began.

In all earnestness, the Tupperware Lady began her sales pitch, but my impression was that these were products that would sell themselves. Although helpful in explaining the purpose and usage of the various contraptions, the TL could have just sat and taken orders from the swarm of container-starved women armed with cash and credit (and some chardonnay). I was truly surprised at the necessity to purchase large volumes of high-quality yet expensive plastics - enough to earn the hostesses some pretty sweet freebies, and prompt some others to host their own party-plan sales undertaking. You, too, can earn extra money and provide a valuable service or product while simultaneously bonding with your girlfriends! Yay!

And yes, I caved, I yielded to this retail influenza and will be returning to the hostess to retrieve my paid-for vegetable crispers. Sssshhh.

The Epitome of ... Pizza

Pizza. Those crispy cheesy tomato-y oven-baked inventions that if done to perfection, are like your own little mouthful of pure foodie bliss. Thin crunchy crust, fresh mozzarella, a slightly sweet sauce, and a bit of basil (and garlic?), or whatever your preference, there are a multitude to choose from in this multicultural metropolis, in all different shapes, sizes, and flavors. I have been included in a mission to uncover some of the best authentic pizzerias in Sydney. Twist my arm!!

Pizza Mario Republic in Darlinghurst is so authentic, it is certified by the Associazione Vera Pizza Napoletana, an organization founded in Italy, whose approval is indicative of genuine Naples style pizza, integrity and traditional ingredients intact. And, this open-air yet cramped and miniscule eatery is the only Australian pizzeria (as of this writing) to have reached this culinary apex. But, you ask, is it worthy of such high praise and commendation? If the wait for a table is indicative at all, then I would volunteer an enthusiastic "yes!".

I arrived with my companions on a Thursday evening and we were informed that the wait would be an hour. The tiny accomodations were packed and it didn't look like anyone was leaving any time soon. With stomachs growling, we witnessed animated conversations, half-full bottles of wine, serious servers dressed all in black, running back and forth.

Instead of restlessly loitering and staring at the seated patrons, drooling at their food and speculating on when they would leave (hurry up would YA??), we instead chose to scour the nearby streets for some wine to accompany our Associazione approved meal. One person in my party expressed an unwavering determination to find ... the Holy Grail of wine. Or something. It was not to be found on the streets of Darlinghurst, or at least not in the 3 or so wine vendors to which we ventured, so we instead selected random bottles of red and white.

Upon returning, and finding ourselves still waiting and wanting, I think the servers were uncomfortable with the holes we were burning into their backs with our incessant and expectant glaring, and thus one of them appeared with a portable table and efficiently went about setting it up for us in the adjacent courtyard. It was my impression that our server was none too happy, but whether it was due to having to attend to additional guests/pains in the butt or something else, I couldn't tell ... however, I imagine with a secret and silent glee she announced that they were not BYO, and we would have to select from their slim pickins if we wanted wine. Bummer.

The good news is, the pizza was pretty good to an amateur pizza consumer like myself. The previously mentioned wine seeker labels himself somewhat of a connoisseur, and he was also pleased, albeit not ecstatic. At Pizza Mario, as might be expected at other "authentic" such establishments, the safest and best bet was the classic margherita with a thin crispy crust and few but fresh and quite tasty toppings. I think I ate the whole thing. Oink. (Disclaimer: Thin crust Italian pizzas are not that filling!)

Although we had to wait an eternity to truly begin our pizza-rating quest, and although our server took her time in bringing us the bill, Pizza Mario is a pleasant and cozy little place, worthy of one evening spent with friends and a little bit of Italy. Mangia!

Reservations

Waiter: "Do you have a reservation?"
Frazier: "I have an appointment."
Waiter: "May I take your hat?"
Frazier: "No you may not. Go get your own."

Thus goes one of the brief yet memorable exchanges in Spike Lee's film "Inside Man", his fourth collaboration with Denzel Washington who is, as usual, quite good as Detective Frazier. And it is quite an attractive hat, so I don't blame the waiter for asking him.

I viewed this film in the confines of a cool, dark, stadium style theatre, oblivious and shielded from reality for a precious 2 hours. This is thankfully facilitated by the roomy, cushy movie seat, enveloping me like a giant red bean bag, sans the squeaky beans. The temperature would have you believe it was a cool summer evening, perfect for that favorite tshirt and a light pair of jeans. You will not encounter the stifling stench of artery clogging trans-fatty salt crusted popcorn, the incessant crinkling of a box of poly wrapped Red Vines, or some shlump slurping his liter of sugary watered down fountain drink. Instead, and almost certainly before the movie begins, you might hear a brief and very subtle unwrapping of a chocolate covered ice cream cone, appropriately named a Choc Top. Everyone who eats anything eats these. Everyone. (Curiosity and an unnatural adoration of all things chocolate dictates that I must try one next time ...) Almost certainly, too, will you be spared an array of annoying ringtones followed by undoubtedly inane mobile phone speak. If not, threatening great bodily injury to the offender may prove to be effective.

The ensuing food, beverage, and phone silence will be music to your ears and all you will hear is Denzel denying the waiter his request.

The movie-going experience in Australia for me has thus far been quite a favorable one ... but the one thing that completely threw me for a loop was the reservations. That's right, at select Greater Union theatres you can reserve your seat if you purchase tickets online for a small extra fee. It's as if you were going to see Rent on a Saturday evening on Broadway, but you're just going to see Denzel! Now, thanks to the ingeniousness of the cinema in conjunction with the Internet, you can see his pearly whites as close or as far to the screen as you so desire ... and even if you don't reserve, when you buy tickets at the cinema they assign you a seat. Smile and bat your eyelashes and 10C may be yours.

But wait, that's not all folks!!

For just the price of your child's college education, you can gain entrance to the exclusive Gold Class VIP experience! What is Gold Class, you ask? Silly, it's the ultimate moviegoer's quasi-orgasmic and delectably indulgent happy pill, complete with wall to wall screens, reclining Moran armchairs (arranged in pairs with a wine cooler and small table between), and enough space for 30 to 40 of your closest friends. What is that table for? Didn't you know they also have a "deliciously different Movie Menu", from which delectable gourmet items can be delivered to you by a member of the waitstaff? If you slip him or her an extra dollar or two and ask really nicely, they might even give you a foot massage. Oh my GAW have you died and gone to cinema heaven? The children might have to work for their education funds.

Not to be outdone, Hoyts theatres has created a similar swanky utopia, romantically named LG La Premiere, equipped with loveseats in a digital surround sound Cinemaxx (apparently no longer a cheesy soft core porn cable channel) auditorium. Or, if you desire a cinephile roadtrip, you can travel to Victoria, where the Director's Lounge and the Director's Suite await you, both providing a secluded lounge/bar with an array of gastronomic delights, the latter with leather recliners (gasp!) for you and 60 of your friends. Will the fun never end?

For those who prefer a modest black coffee over a double shot half decaf skim one sugar latte, or perhaps a Madza over a Mercedes, your entrance fee is a mere $15.50 for one adult general admission ... and if you reaallly want to silently protest these increasingly hedonistic and gluttonous trends, you can go on a Tuesday and pay only 8 bucks!! Yay! Pass the ice cream cone. Make that two cones! Now you can afford it!

... Life is Good.

Scrum This

For the uninitiated, rugby is, by definition, “a form of football played with an oval ball”. For all intents and purposes, it is organized madness, a full-contact full-speed full-force testosterone infused extravaganza in which massive and muscular yet sinewy athletic blokes attempt to infiltrate the opposition’s territory and ultimately score, intentionally and skillfully diving head first into the in goal. Indeed, not a simple achievement without skinning, maiming or breaking any one of a number of parts vulnerable to such a feat, or so it seems.

I had never seen an entire game on TV or otherwise, and this was not because I was never interested, but simply because I was not familiar with the rules, teams, or players, having been weaned on (and forced to watch) American football. Nor had I ever taken the time to seriously scrutinize the events and circumstances of a rugby game ... having learned a thing or two since coming to Oz, I suspect merely whispering the word "rugby" within earshot of of any fair dinkum fan promptly whips them into a sport-induced frenzy. One's perspective on rugby can be drastically and instantaneously changed after an introduction to the ovoid ball and first witnessing a successful try. I, for one, now know the truth.

Aussie athletes are completely insane.

Watch a rugby game and you see minimal pads, wrapped body parts, or shiny helmets (just those fabric headguard thingies which don't look so sturdy), but you quite often do see collisions of bone-breaking capabilities and various limbs flying and flopping about .... and just when you think that the game will have to be cancelled because half the team was involved in a catastrophic smash up and will be raced off in a caravan of screaming ambulances, they get up, they jump up, and continue to run, in dogged pursuit of the ovoid and he in possession of it. It is a phenomenon unlike any other, the seeming invincibility, tenacity and fearlessness of these athletes, and something for an American to just sit and watch, about as awestruck as one can be witnessing a sporting event.

I had the good fortune of witnessing such an event, my very first, with companions that included a seriously knowledgeable and devoted rugby fan, with a whistle that most certainly could be heard in the Blue Mountains (and of course I was sitting in front of him). Despite the irreparable damage to the eardrums of everyone within a 5 meter radius, he was very helpful in explaining the rules and jargon and strategy, although perhaps this information might have been more useful in a less lopsided game. As it turned out, it was a slaughter - the Waratahs defeated the Cats 50-3 ... but I was still very enthusiastic, made moreso by the contagious fervor surrounding me. So it's probably no surprise that I would strongly recommend a live game to anyone who has even a inkling of interest, with or without the accompanying fanatic. For those who like to be prepared and wish to absorb a bit of history and background on some of the organizations, teams, and players:

www.waratahs.com.au
www.rugby.com.au
www.nrl.com
wikipedia.org/wiki/Rugby_football

Or, for a lively and perhaps more subjective discussion, ask a rugby fan the difference between Union and League ...

Aussie Aussie Aussie, OY OY OY!!!