Sydney loves it markets and what separates the Marrickville Market from all the others is its distinctively alternative vibe. It’s the kind of place where you can pick up organic food and run into a guy in a red beanie with Jesus hair that is passing out flyers for a charity concert. That obviously wasn’t my experience.

There are many reasons why these civic-minded people might like the Marrickville markets, but I’m guessing the primary reason is the food. The bread is delicious and a gluten-free option is always on the table. Green juice is available by the gallons and there’s more organic produce than you can shake a stick at.

If you can’t wait to go home to cook your delicious vegetables, there is always the Fritter House. Barret’s plate of fritters came with dill mayo, hand cut fries, sausage, and a side salad. It was absolutely delectable and I was more than a little bit sad that I had filled up on corn fritters from a competitor’s stand.

The last and definitely best reason to visit the markets is Reverse Garbage. It’s a local institution that began in 1974 when a group of teachers came together to divert landfill-bound material that could still be used for creative projects. Forty years later the material is just as eclectic and reasonably priced.

It wouldn’t hurt if the place had a spring cleaning, but that doesn’t detract from the fun of searching through the rabbit warren of curiosities. There is pretty much everything you could possibly wish to find, from plastic baubles to old video projection screens. I wish this place had been around when I was in art school!

How to get to the Marrickville Markets: Cnr 142 Addison & Illawarra Rd, Marrickville NSW 2204

How to get to Reverse Garbage: 8/142 Addison Road, Marrickville NSW 2204

‘Penelope Seidler’ – Medium: acrylic on canvas – Artist: Fiona Lowry

The Archibald Prize is one of the most prestigious arts awards in Australia. The annual prize is named after an Art Gallery of NSW trustee and since 1921 it has been given to the best portrait made in Australia/New Zealand.

To be eligible for the $75,000 prize, the entrant must reside in Australia or New Zealand for one year prior to submission deadlines. JF Archibald had stipulated in his will that the subject be ‘preferentially of some man or woman distinguished in art, letters, science or politics.’ While this guideline is more loosely interpreted, the following rules are hard and fast:

• Must be a painting.
• Must be a portrait painted from life, with the subject known to the artist, aware of the artist’s intention and having at least one live sitting with the artist.
• Must NOT exceed the size limit of 90,000 square cm (eg 3 × 3 m, 1.5 × 6 m). Dimensions apply to the actual work of art, not the mounting or framing. Exhibition wall height is 3.4 m, floor to ceiling.
• May be a multi-panel work as long as the overall dimensions do not exceed the size limit above.
• May be painted in any medium (eg oil, acrylic, watercolour, mixed media).

“I wanted to paint him as a mountain” – Medium: oil on canvas – Artist: Abdul Abdullah

The guidelines might be clear-cut, but they’ve still generated their fair share of debates. Throughout the 20s and 30s, artists were conservative in their subjects and style. Realism dominated and it wasn’t until the early 40s that a radically different kind of portraiture won the prize.

“Evan on a Sunday morning at the gallery having a ginger tea with some old fat snoring man and some lady pushing someone’s annoying crying baby around in a blue pram, and no, you can’t smoke here mate” – Medium: Ink on Chinese paper – Artist: Jason Phu

William Dobell had painted a fellow artist Joshua Smith. What ensued can only be described by the Art Gallery of NSW as a shit storm. Their words, not mine:

Opposition to the win was intense and two Royal Art Society members, Joseph Wolinski and Mary Edwards, took legal action against Dobell and the Gallery’s trustees, alleging that Joshua Smith was ‘a distorted and caricatured form’ and therefore not a portrait. In contrast, the supporters of Dobell described the portrait as both ‘a likeness or resemblance of the sitter and a work of art’, which allowed for distortion for the purpose of art.

Mr Joshua Smith – Medium: Oil on canvas – Artist: William Dobell

In response to critics, Dobell said that when he painted a portrait he was ‘… trying to create something, instead of copying something. To me, a sincere artist is not one who makes a faithful attempt to put on canvas what is in front of him, but one who tries to create something which is living in itself, regardless of its subject. So long as people expect paintings to be simply coloured photographs they get no individuality and in the case of portraits, no characterisation. The real artist is striving to depict his subject’s character and to stress the caricature, but at least it is art which is alive.’

The case stimulated massive press coverage and public comment – by those both familiar and totally unfamiliar with art. Ultimately, the Dobell case became a lively debate about modernism. The question of whether the painting was portraiture or caricature equally asked the questions of what constituted a portrait and what was the relationship of realism to art in general. Justice Roper upheld Dobell’s award on the grounds that the painting, ‘although characterised by some startling exaggeration and distortion… nevertheless bore a strong degree of likeness to the subject and undoubtedly was a pictorial representation of him.’

“Real thing” – Medium: acrylic and oil on canvas – Artist: Mia Oatley

Controversy struck again in 1975 when artist John Bloomfield’s photo-realist painting was disqualified. The image was based on a photograph of a British-Australian filmmaker he had never met. By way of the ruling, it was clear that capturing the essence of a known individual was more important than just realistic rendering alone.

Not too many boats were rocked at 2014 Archibald awards though. There was a lot of good work, the right amount of questionable stuff, and a few oddballs; however pretty much everyone agreed that the painting Rose Seidler was worthy of the substantial award.

The winner Fiona Lowry might have been walking on air, but I was also feeling pretty lucky to have been given a free ticket to an exclusive reception with the artists. There were delicious hors d’oeuvres and a buffet table of free champagne. My friend and I traipsed through the galleries back to front and when we scaled the marble steps back up to the foyer we were greeted with anther flute of champagne.

I already love art receptions, but this was like being upgraded to business class. Cheers to the JF Archibald for getting this ball rolling.

About: the Archibald Prize

How to get to the Art Gallery of New South Wales:  Art Gallery Road, The Domain, Sydney NSW 2000

Operation Teapot – Photo courtesy of National Nuclear Security Administration / Nevada Site Office

You should have seen the food back then. Only $2.50!

Steak and lobster $5.00!

Then- imagine- 10,000 people,

It was a block party!

Area 23

Every month, the DOE Nevada Field Office runs a free tour of the Nevada National Security Site (formerly known as the Nevada Test Site).

John, one of the retired employees chaperoning the tour, narrates with a touch of a Southern drawl. Over the PA system he covers both the history of the site and whether or not the camera battery is charged. “I just wait while this thing spools up,” John mumbles into the microphone. Dario, the other guide, stands up when he has something to add to the conversation.

The isolated outpost of Mercury once had a bustling hobby club, swimming pool, church, movie theater, eight-lane bowling alley, and tennis court. That was before the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty in 1992. Now, the only sign of life at the gateway to the Nevada Test Site are the two stationed guards and the woman behind the canteen cash register. She has long black hair and curled bangs.

Whenever a bomb was being detonated, all unessential personnel were sent to Mercury. Of course not everyone had been as excited as John and Dario about the nuclear test block parties. During the heyday in the 80s, the entrance to the Nevada Test Site was often filled with protesters. If they crossed onto government property they were put in a chain link pen with a port-a-potty until the police took them to Beatty for processing.

From where those protesters sat, they would have seen a nondescript desert landscape in every direction. They knew better though. Just beyond the rolling hills, where Area 23 transitions into Area 5, is a closed basin- an innocuous name for land with a water system that does not drain into another body of water and has high levels of evaporation. It is an ideal location for ensuring the quality of nuclear weapons.

Damaged Vehicles – Photo courtesy of National Nuclear Security Administration / Nevada Site Office

Area 5 Radioactive Waste Management Complex

Overlooking Area 5 is a series of benches where press and dignitaries once observed the atmospheric tests on Frenchman Flat. The warped and twisted wood planks are surrounded by green brush and little yellow signs. Caution Radioactive Material.

Our first stop is at the Radioactive Waste Management Complex. It is comprised of a few cream-colored metal buildings surrounding a covered picnic table. A few employees are having a fish fry in the shade with a retiring colleague. Our tour bus pulls up to allow the manager of the complex to board.

During his portion of the tour, Jon speaks about the complexity of plutonium. He tells us that transuranic waste has a higher atomic number than uranium. Bioturbation, remember this word, is the study of the disturbance of soil. That’s why we put a four foot cap of earth on the waste; insects won’t go deeper than that.

The land is divided into ‘cells’ and within those earthen graves the waste is carefully recorded by columns, rows and tiers. Contaminated dirt goes into large white ‘super sacks’ and cranes deposit the 72,000lb casks containing hot material. Cell 19 received some waste from Dayton, Ohio. “I feel close to home,” Jon jokes.

Aside from hazardous waste, the facility accepts classified military waste. It’s more affordable to bury the classified material than it is to shred it.

Building 6-902 Wet N’ Wild

“I’ll let Dario tell you about that because I gotta call Brenda.”

Dario wears aviator glasses and a baseball cap with a roadrunner on it. He began his career at the test site in 1988 as a water engineer.

During the construction of Building 6-902, Dario had ordered a hydrostatic test on an important 12” pipeline. Some obvious part was overlooked, which makes the guys sitting next to me groan in disbelief, and 300,000 gallons of water flooded the facility.

“I wasn’t the one who forgot it,” Dario claims, but he has never lived it down. The nickname is printed on the tour itinerary. As the bus rolls past Wet N’ Wild, I see an antelope’s white bottom running through a field of lush scrub. It had rained a lot more than normal in the area.

Preparations underway for an underground nuclear test – Photo courtesy of National Nuclear Security Administration / Nevada Site Office

Area 7 Icecap Ground Zero

The white corrugated emplacement tower is 152ft high and has a sign affixed to the front door that says no classified discussions in this building. Thick diagnostic cables snake out the back of the tower, through the desert, and into recording trailers encased within shock-absorbing aluminum honey comb. These cables would have been lowered down the ‘event hole’ to capture information about the bomb’s performance.

Operation Icecap was in the works when the nuclear testing moratorium went into effect. Had the project been given the go ahead, the 500,000lb test package would have been chilled with dry ice to -42 degrees to simulate the temperature a missile system would encounter in outer space. Because the test was discontinued the site has remained as it would have been prior to a test, emplacement tower and all.

Yucca Flat runs along the western edge of Area 7. The dry lake bed has the dubious distinction of being one of the most popular locations for nuclear tests. Out of 928 total tests, 828 of those were underground and a significant portion of those took place on Yucca Flat. Ten miles away from the peach-colored lake bed was News Nob. People like Walter Cronkite stood there amongst the Joshua trees in anticipation of an atmospheric detonation.

Sedan Crater – Courtesy of Emmet Gowin

Area 10 Operation Plowshare

On July 6, 1962 a hole was dug 635ft deep. A 104 kiloton thermonuclear device was inserted and, when detonated, displaced 12 million tons of dirt. The result was one of the largest man-made craters on Earth.

In an age of unlimited nuclear possibilities, Operation Plowshare was part of a larger concept introduced to the public by President Eisenhower. The concept, Atoms for Peace, was interested in the application of cheap nuclear energy for peaceful applications: excavating land, open pit mining, and dam construction. Surprisingly though, the most promising use for underground nuclear explosions was the stimulation of natural gas production. To this end, Operation Plowshare only ceased at the end of Fiscal Year 1975.

Today, Sedan Crater is fronted by a metal viewing platform and rimmed with small puffy bushes. This is the only site on the tour where the guides are allowed to take a group photograph, but they are not allowed to show the horizon.

Loomis Dean—Time & Life Pictures/Getty Images. Caption from LIFE. “Fallen mannequin in house 5,500 feet from bomb is presumed dead.”

Area 1 Operation Cue

Just off in the distance, on Rainier Mesa, was a good café. At least it used to be really good.

“And,” John added, “it used to have a rec center.”

John pops a DVD of archival footage from Operation Cue into the stereo equipment. An attractive young woman named Joan Collin enters the footage with a purse on her arm and a patterned scarf loosely tied over her hair. “As a mother and housewife,” Joan assures us in that soothing Hollywood accent that went extinct in the 1950s, “I was particularly interested in the food test program.”

During the early hours of May 5^th, 1955, Joan drank hot coffee on Media Hill while a small group of Civil Defense Volunteers jumped into a trench close to ground zero. They had thick, bulky jackets and hardhats. “As I watched the people eating,” Joan notes after the detonation, “I realized that mass feeding would be an important job for civil defense.” The camera pans over a troop of dusty men preparing a feast made with ‘salvaged cans.’

“Don’t let me forget, Dario,” John says as he switches the PA back on, “to call Patricia to get the photos set up for us.”

Film still from Operation Cue Footage – Courtesy of National Nuclear Security Administration / Nevada Site Office

We drive into Area 1 along Yucca Flat and when we turn off the paved road the scent of dust drifts through the AC. Soon the bus is approaching a brown two story timber house. It is one of two structures still standing after the famously televised detonation of the Apple II bomb in 1955.

The structure is in relatively good condition, considering it was only 6,600 feet from ground zero. It has a red brick chimney, asphalt shingles on an undulating roof, and a reinforced concrete basement. Through the front door I see a white wood staircase and through an upstairs window I see Garfield spray painted on a wall. The tour bus slowly circles around the house. The gentle rocking has put Barret to sleep.

Although there are no more full-scale nuclear tests, the residual radiation from decades of testing makes Yucca Flat ideal for first responder training. The nearby Transportation Incident Exercise Site simulates nuclear terrorist attacks. Overturned cars, trains and shipping containers are strewn in front of a replicated Main Street. A jack rabbit hops past an airplane crash.

The Nevada National Security Site has a lot of scary associations, but those are carefully tucked away. What is visible looks as harmless as a neglected backyard with rusting cars on blocks.

I don’t know how John and Dario feel about the ethics of nuclear testing; they do a very good job of treading neutral ground. It must have been so thrillingly banal to work a 9-5 shift at a nuclear test site. I can see how easy it would have been to focus on just the science and forget the big picture.

***

Operation Ivy – Mike Shot – Photo courtesy of National Nuclear Security Administration / Nevada Site Office

In fact checking this article, I came across a name that was familiar but didn’t mean much to me: Operation Ivy. In 1952 President Eisenhower gave the green light to Operation Ivy. Two bombs were detonated under this program in the Marshall Islands. The first one, named Mike, was the world’s first hydrogen bomb. The yield for the device was 10.4 megatons.

When the dust settled and the ravaged landscape surveyed, Gordon Dean, Chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission, sent Eisenhower a short message.

“The island of Elugeleb is missing!”

Humankind had just harnessed nuclear fusion, the same process that takes place in the sun. I can’t think of anything more sobering than that.

About: the Nevada National Security Site tour

About: NNSS Photo Library

About: NNSS Factsheets

I was with my color photo class the very first time I visited the Neon Boneyard. Even before it became a proper institution, a museum with a visitor’s center and a security guard, the Boneyard was something special.

As soon as my film was developed, I locked myself up in the photo lab. The color darkrooms were small individual rooms along a short dark corridor and they had a vinegary smell. It might not have been practical to study film in a digital age, but it felt more meaningful. My film was a tangible object that captured the jagged glass, the rusted metal, the heart and soul of Sin City history.

“Neon lighting took on a particular resonance in Las Vegas and in other parts of the open landscape of the Southwest. Without many trees or buildings, the illuminated neon sign could be seen from miles away in the evening. Western motels used the neon medium perhaps more than any other business. This was also perhaps afforded by the low profile of casino and motel buildings when casinos within Las Vegas’ city limits were once limited to two stories. The low, horizontal profile has allowed building-mounted signs to be seen at longer distances. Traveling north on the Strip, the neon glow of Las Vegas acted as a beacon signaling toward the city.”(Spectacular: A History of Las Vegas Neon).

Within the last two years, the neon collection has been split into two different yards- the North Gallery is for commercial shoots and weddings while the Neon Museum Boneyard is available for public tours. One of the most exciting new additions to the facility, which was still in the process of relocation the last time I was in town, is the visitor center. The clam-shaped lobby, designed by Paul Revere Williams, was salvaged from the demolition of the La Concha Hotel in 2005.

The Neon Museum Boneyard is a testimony to the ebb and flow of Vegas culture. From the atomic font of the 50s to the kid-friendly themed signage of the 90s, the history of this desert valley is written in neon. Hotels might come and go, the wedding chapel vows too, but the Boneyard will still be around fifty years from now to document the changing city. At least, that’s what I would bet on.

How to get to the Neon Museum Boneyard: 770 Las Vegas Blvd North

My parents store two kayaks along the southern side of their house. One is red, the other is orange and the both of them are covered with a few days’ worth of cobwebs. It was hard to navigate them around the corner of the house and when I finally had the right angle, I bashed into a beautyberry bush. The impact caused small purple berries and a variety of spiders to scatter across the cement.

“The spiders come be back an hour after you put them away,” my Dad warned me as he stated brushing them off with his hand. “You can’t keep them away.”

He was right but I grabbed a broom anyway. I didn’t like the idea of being trapped in the middle of the river with a spider crawling up my leg. Once the kayak was swept down I plugged in the leaf blower. The nozzle blasted all the plastic crevasses and then I positioned it so that the air created a spinning vortex of debris inside the kayak. Nimble little spider bodies swept along the walls like those dizzying theme park rides that just spin and spin and spin.

When the kayaks were as spider-free as they were going to get, Barret and I carried them down to the Occoquan. The river was one of the reasons my parents bought that house. You can’t see it from the windows, but it’s only a short stroll through the patch of trees on the other side of the road.

Because it was summer, a million miniscule bugs bounced along the surface of the water, their bodies so light that their movement doesn’t even cause a ripple. As we paddled down river we saw jumping fish and turtles resting on water-logged branches. One statuesque white heron watched us approach before it suddenly burst skyward.

Most of the homes along the river use the water for recreation. However, it wasn’t too long ago that these bodies of fresh water were important for food and transport. The Colvin Run Mill, which is 45 minutes north of my parent’s house, is a beautiful example of an early 19^th century mill. The mill is still used for grinding and the nearby gift shop sells bags of cornmeal, grits, wheat and buckwheat flour.

While my parent’s bend of the Occoquan is too tranquil for a watermill, it is the perfect speed for a gentle kayak ride. There is nothing better a hot summer’s day than a shady river and the rhythmic splash of a paddle breaking the water’s surface.

How to get to the Colvin Run Mill: 10017 Colvin Run Road, Great Falls VA 22066

“Is it ok for Barret to see you?” Amy looked worried when she saw me come out of the dressing room in a strapless wedding gown. “He isn’t supposed to, right?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” I replied as I glanced at my freckled scoop-neck tan line in the mirror. “It’s not like it’s my real wedding dress.”

Amy, Eun Soon, Barret and I were right next door to Ehwa Women’s University in Seoul. Most good university neighborhoods cater to their student population, and in this regard Ehwa does not disappoint. Within walking distance from the hallowed school grounds are nail salons, jewelry carts, cafes, and tiny clothing shops crammed with pastel blouses and hair ribbons.

While those are all great reasons to visit the bustling neighborhood, the four of us were there specifically to visit a dress cafe.

Prior to arriving in Seoul, I had lamented the fact that the four of us didn’t have any photos together. “Eun Soon,” I declared as our flight drew nearer. “We need to go to a dress café.”

“You mean the wedding one?” She asked.

“No, just one with lots of dresses.”

“There are only two types,” Eun Soon quickly clarified, “hanbok and wedding.” The loose-fitting traditional Korean costumes, called hanbok, are beautiful and come in a rainbow assortment of colors. However, the idea of renting wedding dresses for a photo shoot with friends was just too oddly intriguing.

“Let’s take a bunch of wedding photos!” I decided. “Can you make a reservation?”

We were the only customers when we arrived at the café. The term ‘photo studio’ is a more apt description, but we did each order a sweet beverage. There was a large pink flowery tree behind us and over to our right was a vanity mirror piled high with makeup and glittery tiaras. The closet next to the vanity held three racks of dresses divided into four separate price categories. The most expensive dresses cost 40,000 won a session.

When I finished my drink I picked out a dress and slid the curtain across the closet. The barista helped me into my dress and afterwards asked what size shoe I wore. “Namu kun,” I replied and she laughed at the thought of my feet being too big for the 40 odd pairs of heels on the ground.

“Well,” Amy translated, “she said you should just wear your sandals.”

While I waited for the others I sidled up to the vanity to touch up my makeup and select a tiara. Almost immediately, the photographer came over, removed it, and put a different one on my head.

“OK?” She asked.

“Sure, why not.” I smiled. She then selected a necklace and clasped it around my neck.

“OK?”

“Yeah!”

A veil appeared next to my head in the mirror. Ii was long and had gauzy fabric and a lace detail along the edge.

“Heck yeah!” I wasn’t planning on saying no to anything.

While Barret was putting his tux on and selecting his bow tie, Amy and Eun Soon were curling the tips of their hair and touching up their makeup.

About an hour after we first arrived we were finally ready to go. I just don’t know if the photographer was ready for Barret.

How to get to Ehwa University neighborhood in Seoul: Line 2 – Ehwa Women’s University Station – Exit #3

Barret grabbed the railing above his head as the train picked up speed. The Circle Line to Bayfront was an air-conditioned bubble packed full of locals and tourists. Aside from the announcements, there was also a route map on the wall which Barret used to track our progress.

“Only six more stops to go,” he whispered as he leaned in my direction.

“Huh?”

“Six more stops,” Barret repeated, but I still wasn’t paying attention. A pungent odor had drifted my way and I needed to find the source. “Hey…” I cautiously began. “Did you put any deodorant on?”

“Nope. I didn’t have time.” This declaration made Barret feel proud. It was the same kind of conflicted pride that people get when they videotape their kids redecorating the kitchen with a bag of flour. It’s a disaster, but it’s also a very well executed disaster that could go viral.

“Funny how that always happens right before we go somewhere humid.”

“Yeah.”

“You think maybe that would be the first thing on your list…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeaaaah.” It was too late to turn back to Changi Airport, where we had left our luggage for the day. “Just keep your arms down.”

Singapore is hot and muggy all year, but that doesn’t deter tourists. Respite from the temperature can be found at Gardens by the Bay. Two separate UK firms designed the massive gardens which only recently opened to the public in late 2011.

The main attractions are the two conservatories and the Supertree Grove. Barret and I visited the gardens on the only Monday in September that the Cloud Forest conservatory was closed for maintenance, so it was an easy decision to visit the Flower Dome instead.

The garden was a beautiful mixture of plants from all over the world. There was everything from succulents and orchids to kangaroo paws.

One part of the South American display had a small crystal garden, another part had an anatomically correct cactus covered in white hairs. It was called Old Man of the Mountain.

The conservatory dome arched way above the multilevel grounds and through the glass we could see the harbor and Singapore skyline.

After spending a few hours in the Flower dome, we walked through the outdoor gardens to the Supertree Grove. This main grove has eleven fuchsia tree structures which perform a variety of functions. Some of the trees harvest solar energy and others serve as ‘air exhaust receptacles’ for the conservatories. From 9am-9pm a canopy walkway is open and at night the structures are illuminated for a synchronized light display.

An hour or two before sunset, Barret and I walked back to the bay to get a look at the Marina Bay Sands. It was a stunning hotel from the outside, but it was even more airy and delicate inside. From the lobby, the structure reminded me of a delicately balanced house of cards.

From there we walked along the bay, past the flower-shaped ArtScience Musuem, and across Helix Bridge. There were several promontories along the route with great views looking back at the Marina Bay Sands.

We continued walking past joggers and stroller-pushers, the people who come out for the beautiful night breeze. An amateur photography group set up on the sidewalk to capture the highrise buildings and the bay.

Our visit was just a taster of what Singapore has to offer. We wanted more time to explore the colonial neighborhoods and the vibrant Little India, but we had a plane to catch and Changi Airport had an excellent shower hire facility. There was no way we were going to miss that before our international flight. No way at all.

How to get to the Marina Bay Sands: MRT Bayfront Station

How to get to the Gardens by the Bay: Via Circle Line or Downtown Line- Take Exit B at the Bayfront MRT Station. Follow underground linkway and cross the Dragonfly Bridge or Meadow Bridge into the Gardens by the Bay

Jason, the realtor, rocked up forty minutes late on his bike. He was in his early twenties and super keen about his job. “Because of the time of year,” he began as he led us into the house, “most of your flatmates are moving out. This creates exciting potential for you to pick your new flatmates. You could even recommend your friends and share the place with people you know!”

Ever since moving to Sydney, I have lovingly gazed upon the terrace homes that populate the inner west. It wasn’t too long ago that many of these urban homes were neglected and undesirable, but that definitely isn’t the case anymore. The same property that sold for $25,000 in the 1970s could now potentially fetch a million dollars. The neighborhood we were in, Redfern, had a funky vibe and the terrace we were looking at had space to store our bikes on the patio.

I have a good feeling about this! If this is the one we can move in this weekend!

Just after this thought popped into my mind, we reached the living room. It was dark and sparse like a bachelor’s pad. Jason pointed out the ‘new’ couch and then led us into the kitchen that looked significantly better online.

“We have inspections twice a year and if everything is not up to standard, then the tenants get a warning.” Jason explained. “If the house continues to be dirty, then we hire a cleaner. Don’t worry, this house had never failed inspection.” I’m sure Jason thought that was a great threat, but to me it sounded more like a great idea.

From the kitchen Barret and I were led outside and along the side of the house to the small brick courtyard. A bunch of our potential flat mates were huddled around the BBQ grilling meat and drinking beers. “We didn’t plan this!” Jason exclaimed. “I swear!” He chuckled before pointing out a small brick building in the furthest corner of the yard. “And the best part is that you don’t have to go inside to use the nice toilet- you can use the one out here.”

After greeting the group of guys, we walked back inside and up to what I really wanted to see- the bedroom with the terrace. The terrace was just as nice as I had imagined it would be. A cool breeze blew in through the double doors and the neighbor’s red bottlebrush tree blossomed at eye level. I could see myself on the weekend propping my legs up with a cup of tea and people watching the morning away. I loved it.

The only problem was the rest of the house. The online ad had mentioned two bathrooms, but that number included the brick outhouse in the backyard.

“Uh, Jason, how many people live here again?”

“It would be six including you.”

“And there’s only one shower?”

“Yes.”

No wonder there were only guys living there. “Hmm… I thought there were two showers.”

“Well, I can’t make another one appear.”

No kidding I thought, but it probably wouldn’t have hurt to advertise the property more accurately. Jason impatiently shrugged his shoulders and began reading every minute detail on the lease. You can have 5-9 people over before you need to ask permission. There’s a $50 charge if you call us out for something unnecessary like for a broken vacuum when really the bag is just full. The oven is gas which is great because it heats your food up faster. Are you familiar with them?

While Jason read the four page document out loud, one of the flatmates walked downstairs clutching his own roll of toilet paper. Jason must have noticed this too because he mentioned again how nice it would be if we got our friends on board. “It’s just better when you share things, you know?”

Jason was eager for us to sign, but I politely deferred. “I’d like to look at the bathroom again before I make up my mind.” Barret and I headed back upstairs. The shower floor was covered in hair and a million bottles. The room was small and humid and I realized that I already hated the idea of touching anything in there.

In fact I hated everything except for the balcony, and you know what? The price had somehow increased by $20 a week.

It was our first time house-hunting for an old two-story terrace and it would have been great if it were the right place, but that’s just not how the Sydney real estate market works. And so the search continued…

The Bondi to Coogee walk is one of the most iconic routes in Sydney. At 6km in length it packs an impressive amount of scenery in such an easily accessible trail. When my mom’s friend came to Sydney for the first time, I immediately knew this was the best way to start the day.

The walk traditionally starts in Bondi and ends in Coogee, but it can be done either way or in sections. Before starting the trail we stopped for breakfast at an outdoor café in Bondi. After our meal we sipped tea and watched the sunblock and beach towel-toting crowds pour in. Over the weekend the trail is inundated with thousands of sunbathers, joggers, families and tourists. It’s a little bit quieter during the week, but in summer the crowds are ever-present.

The walk starts on the southern end of beach overlooking the Bondi Baths. This iconic saltwater pool first opened over a hundred years ago. Its dramatic location along the cliff is hard to beat and only costs $6 for entry into the pool.

From Bondi the trail heads up and around the Hunter Park peninsula and mustard colored sandstone cliffs. Blue waves splash against the coast and the plants that cling to their precarious real estate are verdant and flowering.

The trail winds around the hot beach sand and volleyball courts of Tamarama Beach and continues on to Bronte Beach. Bronte is at the base of a grass-covered hill that families and picnickers flock to. In summer the southern side of the beach has a small kid’s train and Zorb ball rentals. The three of us stopped for a drink at the beachside café and take in the view from under the shade of the trees.

After our break we continue through the Waverly Cemetery, which must have one of the most stunning views in the world. The peaceful hillside is dotted with weather-worn marble and bright yellow flowers.

Around this point in the trail Barret spotted a splash and the tip of a whale’s tail dipping below the sapphire water. We scanned the ocean for a few more minutes but did not see the whale resurface.

Clovelly Bay, our next destination, is one of my favorites. The beach itself is very small, but the narrow bay has a concrete ledge built along both sides for sunbathing and easier access into the bay. We bought ice cream and watched people jumping in and out of the water. My favorite sunbather was there with his newspaper, tanning his skin into a tough leathery hide.

When the waves are more aggressive, the ocean water rocks above and below the concrete platforms and the whole thing reminds me of a kid sliding in a giant bathtub. Clovelly Bay is also a fun place to snorkel.

Of all the sights along the walk, Gordons Bay is one of the quietest destinations. It attracts snorkelers, divers, paddle boarders and fishers. Its tiny patch of beach is mostly covered with overturned fishing boats and out in the bay is a 600 meter underwater trail marked with concrete drums and steel plaques.

Coogee Beach is the last stop on the walk and is the second largest beach after Bondi. From here the three of us headed for the unconventional yet thoroughly Australian pastime of lawn bowling. Like all bowling clubs in Sydney, you have to be a member to use the facility if you live within a certain distance from the club. If you live further out you just have to sign the membership register.

There was a busy bar, pokies in the back, and a table covered in meat trays for the weekly meat raffle. From the small, dark ‘Bowls Secretary’ office we picked up a bag of lawn bowls and headed outside. The grass was warm from the sunny day and most of the lawn bowling groups were off the side of the field drinking.

The weighted balls flew down the lawn as the tired sun set and after the girls were declared the incomparable winners, we headed over to a local pub for dinner. I don’t think we could have gotten more Australian if we tried. The Bondi to Bowling walk is not exactly well known, but I think I’m on to something here.

About: The Bondi to Coogee Walk

About: Bondi Baths

About: Scuba diving in Gordans Bay

How to get to the Marrickville Bowling Club: 91 Sydenham Road, Marrickville NSW 2204

It’s nighttime at the Pheasant Valley Motor Lodge. A middle aged man with a suit and tie is using the phone when a wide-set man enters the room wearing a fedora and trench coat. The sparse room has a TV, two beds, two pictures, two lamps and two armchairs.

The middle aged man puts down the phone. His short blond hair is cow-licked and slicked back. “How’d ya do Charlie?” He asks.

This setup could play out in a million different ways, but what ensues is a discussion about Bibles. These men travel door to door selling Bibles.

In 1968 the Maysles brothers filmed a documentary called Salesman. Not only did they pioneer the art of the documentary, but they also captured a slice of Americana that now only exists in the Criterion Collection.

The documentary begins by following a group of four men as they knock on doors during the middle of winter. The snow is banked high, a car fishtails ahead on the road, and the days are short. A searchlight scans the quiet suburban landscape for an address that might be interested in a gold embossed version of “the best seller in the world.”

From New England to the wide open streets of Miami, these men struggle with new cities and new quotas. The Gipper, The Rabbit, The Badger, and The Bull. In the morning they share breakfast and a cigarette; in the evening they share two motel rooms.

In Chicago their fleshy, blond haired boss delivers an encouraging message. The audience sits attentively with poised cigarettes; the women are seated in the back.

“Money is being made in the Bible business. It’s a fabulous business. It’s a good business. All I can say to people who aren’t making the money- it’s their fault.

Just keep that in mind. The money’s out there- go out and get it.

I for one am sick and tired of haggling with you people and pleading with you to get you to do what’s good for you. And what’s good for us.

If you see some missing faces here, we eliminated a few men. Not because we were mad at them. Not because we didn’t like them. Not because we didn’t need the few sales that they made. But it’s a question of the sour apple spoiling the barrel.

Certain guys have a habit of getting a couple of beers and flying off the howl and badging people around and throwing their weight around.

I want to go on record and I want to tell you all that the next man that gets off base with me- I’m gonna tag him out. The ball game’s over. You got a job to do.”

Of all the documentaries playing at the Antenna Documetary Festival in Sydney, I chose to see Salesman because the Maysles Brothers have such an eye for quirky details.

When I think of being on the road, I think of freedom, blue skies and adventure. However, before the digital age, there were men with pot bellies and mortgages and wives that worried about how fast their husbands drove. Careers were made from the thrill and the dread of knocking on a stranger’s door.

“Well you can see how this will be an inspiration in the home.”

The customer is quiet, her child tinkers with the piano keys. “I just couldn’t afford it now… being swamped with medical bills.” At $49.95, the Bible is an inspirational burden.

“You won’t run into people like me all the time. You’re gonna have to work haaader.” The Rabbit and The Gipper are seated around a young woman with dark glasses and a nasal accent.

“But you men are doing fine. I like to see men out , you know, doing things on their own. Get away from companies, get away from people over you.”

The salesmen nod their heads. Yes. It’s good to be independent. It’s good to do what you please.

About: The Antenna Documentary Film Festival

About: Salesman

Every now and then I have a very uninspiring week- the kind of week where I just want to lounge around the house in pajamas. I’m not saying that’s bad, but it just makes it hard to do my ‘new thing’ for the week. After browsing the weekend newsletters in my inbox, I realized that the only thing I had any chance of attending was ‘Ride the Night’. It was one of the last events of the Sydney Rides Festival, a two-week long bicycle celebration.

The only problem was that just before Ride the Night was slated to begin, storm clouds came rolling in over the city and Barret and I didn’t even have our bikes. They were still stored at our friend’s house.

“You sure you want to do this?” Barret asked before we caught the bus headed through Newtown.

“I think so.” I replied.

The weather wasn’t any better by the time we reached our friend’s house and the delicious kitchen smells also didn’t help. I was having a hard time convincing both myself and Barret that we should head into the nebulous fog that cloaked the CBD.

“I think my neighbors took their kids to that.” John mentioned as we hemmed and hawed on the comfortable couch.

In the end my project prevailed. I needed to do something new.

Ride the Night ended up being an illuminated circuit along Mrs Macquaries Road in the Royal Botanic Gardens. There were more people than I was expecting for such questionable weather, but luckily the rain stayed at bay. A few light installations were placed along the route, the most prominent being the multi-colored spheres.

Compared to the seasonal Gift of Lights drive-thru Vegas Christmas extravaganza that I grew up with, Ride the Night didn’t come close. Not by a long shot.

However, my fellow bike riders made up for the underwhelming light display. Their bikes came in an incredible assortment of styles and were covered with LEDs and bubble machines. Ride the Night wasn’t all it cracked up to be, but a night ride through Sydney is almost never a bad thing.

And, on the way back home, Barret and I found ourselves at the Night Noodle Market. It was the last evening so everything was discounted! In the end I was glad I scraped my lazy butt off the couch, but I think it goes without saying how my Sunday went- wonderfully uneventful.

About: Sydney Rides Festival

Sydney Open is an architectural ‘open house’ that happens once a year and allows unparalleled access to some of Sydney’s most innovative buildings. This year was the tenth anniversary of the Sydney Open and everything from exclusive apartments to the ‘most glamourous watering hole in Australia’ was on offer. In total there were over 50 buildings available for viewing.

Barret and I chose to tour the ‘Inner House’ – a private residence concealed within a neo-Classical church in Darlinghurst. Built in 1926, the building was originally the headquarters of the First Church of Christ, Scientist. When the church eventually relocated to Glebe in 2010, they left a massive heritage-listed building in a residential zone. Given the development restrictions, I think it’s safe to say it was an intimidating property.

The architecture firm Bates Smart was interested in using the property as a studio, but due to the building’s zoning they instead showed the property to a potential client and suggested something rather unique. They wanted to create, “a residential ‘pod’ within the space- a reversible, demountable structure which would not compromise the building’s heritage status. At first this was to be a temporary solution. Instead there is now a six-bedroom, five-bathroom house built inside the former church.”

The current house completely resides within the 12 meter tall church auditorium. Most of the original pews were moved to the basement (which once housed the Sunday School), however a few pews remain clustered around the console of the massive church organ.

A short description from the architectural brochure: “within the main space, the architects have built a lightweight structure which sits on top of the original, slightly raked, timber floor. This is the dining and living area and it is bookended by two translucent, two-story cubes which contain the bedrooms, bathrooms and the seriously serious kitchen (tempura plate, deep fryer, cooktop and seating for a dozen people) to accommodate the client’s passion for cooking and entertaining.”

“The lightweight structure was manufactured off-site and then assembled on-site (it took just 14 weeks to build) and can be completely unscrewed and taken away. It uses fairly raw, contemporary materials (for example, ply linings that brace the structure), which is a deliberate strategy to contrast with the original building. In this way the integrity of the building is maintained, with old and new complimenting one another.”

“There’s no penetration through the roof. The kitchen exhaust, for example, has an ultra-violet hood which enables you to duct it down through the floor – it treats things with ultra-violet light so it doesn’t condense. The fireplace runs on ethanol, so it doesn’t need a flue.”

While the house was intriguing and the Harbour Bridge view was stunning, the short recital on the church organ was one of the most memorable highlights. Barret and I were very lucky because as part of the tour, a volunteer from the Organ Music Society of Sydney played a few songs for us.

Before the music began, the organist warmed up the 2500 pipes hidden behind a pierced screen. As the air began coursing through both the lead tin alloy pipes and wood pipes, it sounded like a muffled jet before softening into the sighing sounds of an industrial air conditioner. The pipes were in need of maintenance, but the escaping air was only noticeable during the quieter parts of the score.

While the powerful orchestral organ filled the room with Voix Celeste, Harmonic Piccolos, and Tuba Tremulants, the bright afternoon sunlight steamed into the living room. On the wall to the right of the organ was a quote from the church founder Mary Baker Eddy: Divine love always has met and always will meet every human need.

A space designed for the public, the intimacy of a home, and a church organ to fuse them together- what a cool house.

About: Sydney Open

About: Bates Smart (all photos above courtesy of Bates Smart)

Round three began with quotes.

“They danced by the light of the moon.”

Hmmm…. Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell.

“I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

Yet another blank answer on our trivia sheet.

“A horse’s back is good enough and hence the vulgar bull.”

We were probably the only table using a smart phone and it still wasn’t helping. That quote does not exist on Google.

Our team didn’t care if we won. The main goal of the trivia night was to raise money for the Indigenous Literacy Foundation, an Australian organization that supports literacy within remote Indigenous communities.

On the other hand, we didn’t necessarily want to lose by such a large margin. We had come in thinking the questions would be typical pub quiz stuff and we were quite surprised to realize the focus was literature and the majority of the teams were in the publishing industry.

“Who was the 2014 prize winner for the Miles Franklin Literary Award?”

Judging by the reaction in the room, that must have been an easy question.

“Which author was the first to win four Miles Franklin Literary Awards?”

“What the hell, Emma.” One of our teammates finally exclaimed. “What have you signed us up for?”

“Who was the first indigenous author to win the Miles Franklin Literary Award?”

Come on! You can’t ask three questions about the same award!

Put the following books in order of publication:

George Clooney’s Haircut, The Mud House, Why Men and Necessary, and Desperate Husbands.

You could buy an answer to one question each round and we had our hands up every time. The host, ABC’s Richard Glover (also the author of the aforementioned books), saw us raise our hands and declared, “Not this table again. Very wealthy but a bit dumb.”

During the intermission the audience was encouraged to bid on the silent auction items and purchase more raffle tickets. My friends and I had been outbid on all our items, so we took the time to confer with the second half of our group that was seated at another table. They were having an existential crisis. While Emma assured them they were smart enough and did actually belong there, one of the staff members came by. “Did your table write I have no fucking idea on their sheet?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, I just need your team name at the top.”

We were assured that the next round would be easier.

Name a Nobel Prize winner in literature from each of the following countries: Australia, Canada, Ireland, and South Africa

“OH MAN!” I exclaimed. “Who’s that Irish guy? You know, what’s his face?!” Everyone else at the table looked at me blankly. “I know this! AHHHHHHHH. What’s his name?”

Emma drew a stick figure with an inquisitive look and above it she wrote ‘High-brow eyebrow’.

How many countries are larger than Australia?

Earlier that night my friends and I were reading ‘most popular’ pub quiz questions in the taxi. Our Canadian driver gave us this answer; that ride was money well-spent.

What house does Harry Potter belong to?

Yes! It felt good to finally get one question right without the assistance of Canadians or cell phones. Our team was probably in the bottom three, but like Richard Glover said, it was our deep pockets that counted most.

About: Indigenous Literacy Foundation

This is what I know about homebrewing: not much.

It’s a hobby that interests Barret a lot, but I find myself drawn more to food preserving (although I’m no expert). Several months ago we bought some mystery fruit just because it was on sale. Before I could do some googling, Barret decided the best way to unravel the mystery would be to bite one of the hard, green fruits. Unfortunately for him, it was a raw olive.

After the bitter taste test, I looked up a way to cure the olives. I found a process that seemed simple enough, but after a while I noticed the olive oil brine kept overflowing and that glued moths to the sides of the jar.

Eventually I threw the jars out and decided I’d only try it again in the presence of someone more knowledgeable. That’s also kind of how I feel about homebrewing; it’s good to build off of other people’s experience. So when friends of ours invited us to their house to bottle apple cider and brew some hops, we headed over with willing hands and cheese and crackers.

Apple cider is much less fussy to make, especially when the first round of fermentation is already done and all you have to do is bottle it. Once the bottles were sterilized and filled, we dropped in a sugar tab for a secondary fermentation and hammered on the lids. Easy.

Although I did find out later that all the cider was dumped down the drain. Maybe the process isn’t as easy as I first thought.

When that was out of the way Barret and John washed out the plastic fermentation tank and began to brew the hops. I won’t pretend I really paid attention to this part. It involved boiling a ‘sock’ filled with hops and grains until the kitchen smelled like a grassy pasture.

Because I am allergic to beer (and probably because I’d rather lounge around eating cheese and crackers), I just can’t get too excited about spending a few hours in the kitchen boiling a sock of hops. I’ll leave this one to the boys.

A good store to help you start brewing in Sydney: The Hop and Grain

“2010” – Xia Xing

“I wish I could say WELCOME,” my tour guide enthusiastically cried, “but instead I can only say welcome.” Her arms dropped and shoulders slumped. “You’ve got on the wrong bus.”

The guide was right to offer only a restrained greeting since she wasn’t introducing the most flattering or palatable aspects of a modern China. However, I wasn’t on ‘the wrong bus.’ I was exactly where I wanted to be.

The White Rabbit Gallery is the world’s largest collection of contemporary Chinese art. What started as a personal collection for Judith Neilson eventually transformed into renowned gallery and teahouse.

“The Family Album – See You Later” – Huang Hua-Chen

Judith Neilson has over 1,100 works in her collection and while many of them celebrate the beauty and culture of China, the current exhibition dug beneath the veneer of the most populous country in the world. “In Commune, some of China’s best-known artists and brightest newcomers explore the tensions between individual and group, community and nation, collectivist past and chaotic present.”

On the ground floor was a series of images borrowed from the pages of the Beijing News- circulation 450,000. Xia Xing painstakingly painted each photo by mimicking the way the ink is layered on newsprint- cyan, magenta, and yellow.

The man who was amputated by the criminal he testified against, the fallen angel and her $2 billion dollar lawsuit, Xia transformed the disposable story into something more substantial.

“As Husband and Wife” – Li Xuan

“Indifferent herself to money and fame, she worried that money was corroding Chinese society, “tearing up conscience, morality and kindness”. As Husband and Wife (2010) was an experiment in a style that later became her hallmark: “painting” with torn-up banknotes and PhotoShop. The notes—from China and other nations—not only afforded her an extensive colour palette but literally represented a factor whose role in relationships is much larger than most people are willing to admit.

In this collage, the softly torn, petal-like shapes are a reminder that money is also one of the chief causes of marital conflict. The faceless bride and groom could be any couple, their disagreements stitched up for the happy day. (The artist obtained suture thread from her father, a surgeon.)”

In 2013, Li Xuan lost the battle against depression. She took her own life and that of her child as she could not bear to leave them in this world. In acquiring the piece from her distraught husband, the gallery donated to charity instead of directly purchasing the piece.

“The Static Eternity” – Gao Rong

The struggle within a rapidly changing society is not without its fond memories though. Artist Gao Rong spent years recreating her grandparent’s house with foam, fabric and embroidery. The small one-room interior is lush in detail – especially when you realize that worn edges on the kitchen table, the rust spots on the pipes and the cracks on the wall had actually been embroidered.

The installation is a massive feat, which is an accurate assessment of the Commune show in general. It is not the glamorous or flattering side of China, but it is beautiful in its execution and heart-breaking in its honesty.

White Rabbit Gallery teahouse

How to get to the White Rabbit Gallery: 30 Balfour Street, Chippendale NSW 2008

The dinner had been a suggested surprise- as in I suggested to Barret that he should plan a surprise for our anniversary. It was a weekend morning when I caught him completely off guard with my idea and he almost sunk his foot into a landmine before realizing that it would be a fabulous idea to celebrate six wonderful years together. And of course he knew just the thing to do!

When we showed up at Vine for our 6pm reservation, we were the first people in the restaurant. It was the kind of place you walk into and suddenly wish you knew more culinary terms because things like fregola were on the menu and I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t know what that was. I also didn’t know if I was allergic to it (turns out I am, but it was a delicious mistake).

A few of my colleagues knew Barret was planning something and come Monday morning they wanted a report. The French-Australian cuisine was delicious, the wine perfectly matched, and the service impeccable. So as we headed out the door there was only one more thing I needed to know before I could complete my glowing review.

“Barret, are we going to take a taxi?”

“No. The bus stop is just at the end of the road.”

“You know this is going in the ‘report’ right?”

“Yes, and I want it to be noted that I know it’s going in the report and I still want to take the bus.”

“Ok. So what you’re saying is that six years together and I still haven’t earned a taxi ride home?”

“Yep.”

“When will I have earned it?”

“When you’re old and can’t walk anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

I can’t wait to see what the next 50 years will bring.

How to get to Vine: 2 Short Street, Double Bay NSW 2028

If the architect Edward Blore completely had it his way, the servants would have had this view.

That’s what happens when you dispatch architectural plans from London without knowing much about the location’s geography. Unfortunately for the succeeding servants, this oversight was changed at the last minute. When Governor Sir George Gipps first took up residence inside the Elizabethan Gothic estate in 1845, his view was undoubtedly gorgeous.

Not every miscalculation was fixed though. Blore’s original design called for a vaulted double-story open porch as the main entrance. While great on paper, the direction of the layout wasn’t very compatible with Sydney’s wind patterns. It became a wind tunnel that must have bustled a lot of skirts and ruined quite a few fancy hairstyles until it was enclosed and the covered carriageway was added in 1873.

That would have been the end of the story except that the newly enclosed space (with the flags flying off the turrets) had the worst echo. It was a feature I noticed when my guide spent a lengthy period of time covering the history of the building. The echo was so bad the she had to ask one of the guests to stop translating her speech because the sound of multiple voices bouncing off the walls was too distracting.

Despite being the live-in residence of the Governor, the downstairs is open for free tours on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. The interesting part of the tour, at least the part that keeps the guides on their toes, is that furniture periodically changes according to the whims and tastes of the current occupant.

As the tour was more about details like ballroom’s stenciled imitation damask, the role of the governor was only briefly touched upon. From what I grasped the Governor is the Queen’s representative in NSW and their role is largely ceremonial, as required by the state’s constitution.

The whole idea of the Queen of England still needing an official representative felt a bit antiquated. However I often forget Australia is part of the Commonwealth and while the Government House is no Buckingham Palace, the outdoor arcade probably has a better view. I definitely wouldn’t mind being invited to one of the many private functions held at the Government House. A cocktail and a view of the harbor would go down very well indeed.

How to get to Government House: Royal Botanic Gardens, Lower Macquarie Street, Sydney NSW 2000

It was late afternoon in Berlin and I was browsing through a city guidebook. The shutters were pulled down and the only conversation occurring was drifting up from the street below. My two friends were fast asleep on the couch.

Behind me was the door to the sunny kitchen. There was a tiny fridge under the sink which amused me because I wasn’t used to seeing them that small, especially ones that couldn’t crush ice.

My friends and I were staying on the couch of a hyper-active and hyper-lingual Couchsurfer named Stefan. He was the kind of person who would watch the Gilmore Girls with the subtitles on. If you haven’t tried that before, it is an intense crash course in speed reading.

He was so go-go-go that he completely shocked when he returned home from work to find us still resting in his living room. We hadn’t slept the night before when we caught our flight out of London, but apparently that was no excuse.

“You haven’t seen anything!” Stefan exclaimed in horror. “Have you been the wall yet?”

“No.”

“Have you been the Jewish Memorial?”

“No.”

“Come on- let’s go!”

We eventually pulled ourselves together and the four of us walked across the street to a car share parking spot. It was my first time trying it out and I wasn’t entirely convinced it was a beneficial service. If a car share was about saving money, why didn’t we just catch the train? I was very appreciative Stefan went out of his way to give us a tour, but I couldn’t see the point to spending money on a share car.

I hadn’t revisited that early opinion until several years later when I wanted to visit Jervis Bay. I was mulling over when to book a rental car when I remembered there was a GoGet parking spot right across from my house. Suddenly a light bulb went off- who would want to travel to a rental agency when they could just hire a car outside their front door?

When I was filling out the application I thought of Berlin and that made me think of my siblings. I wish I’d had this membership when they were visiting me in Sydney. There are so many beautiful coastal drives that I would have liked them to see. If only I’d cottoned on to the idea earlier.

About: GoGet

One of the first things I notice as we walk down the beach is the hermit crabs. They pop up from the white sand and retreat with the tide, head over heels, back into the ocean. All down Callala Beach, hundreds of crabs somersault back into the ocean.

Close to shore, in the waters of Jervis Bay, a chartered tourist boat motors around in circles. A young couple from the UK kayaks out in front of them to get a better view. The boat maneuvers around the kayak and the tourists on board continue photographing a pod of dancing dolphins.

The sun is high and my hair is a teased pouf of sea spray and sand. Barret suggests I wrap my towel around my waist to keep from getting sunburnt. It is a good idea, but perhaps too late already. Barret and I walk back to the small sandy parking lot where a mom is loading her kids in the car.

“Mom,” her son gleefully declares. “Remember that time you said the s-word?”

Mom looks exasperated. “Yes. And every time you remind me, you lose an ice cream.”

Heading back to Sydney, the drive winds north through eucalpyt forests and small towns with busy cafes. Barret and I stop in Kiama for dinner. One of the only restaurants open on a late Sunday afternoon has large, open windows to catch the sea breeze and the sounds of two pink cockatoos. There is a guy upstairs playing an acoustic guitar.

After dinner we walk along the coast to the lighthouse. There is a blowhole nearby, but the tide is out and there’s nothing to see but jagged lunar rocks. Before we continue driving Barret decides to jump into the ocean one last time. I sit in the shade of the surf club building; the sunburn on my legs is starting to show.

About: Jervis Bay

About: Kiama

The site in Helensburgh was declared divine because, “it is said the gods always play where groves are, near rivers, mountains, and springs and in towns with pleasure-gardens.” – Brihatsamhita

In the late morning light, the gleaming white surfaces of the Sri Venkateswara Temple glowed bright and stark against the surrounding forest. Barefoot worshipers and tourists scrambled across the hot marble terrace.  They posed for photos in front of the towering main entrance and retreated inside when their feet began to burn. Across the way, in the shade of eucalypts, visitors placed their shoes on tiered wooden racks. Sulphur-crested cockatoos shrieked in the highest branches overlooking the small northern gardens.

Barret, Shweta, Bryan and I followed the steady flow of people from the hot courtyard into the cool hallway where the dense aroma of incense hung in the air. Although Barret and I had never been in a Hindu temple before, there was something very familiar and comforting in that scent. It reminds me of cluttered Catholic churches in Dublin and the ash-covered shrines in Macau.

Inside the Sri Venkateswara Temple were shirtless priests with gold necklaces and bright cloths wrapped around their waists. They assisted worshipers with certain poojas (prayer rituals) and, when not called upon, performed their own duties or relaxed on benches scattered throughout the building.

Outside the main hall was a chart that listed the various costs of priest-assisted poojas. Depending on who one prayed to, the benefits ranged from ‘considerate improvement in education’ to ‘eventuate auspiciousness and/or to accomplish righteous things.’ Every church has their way of collecting funds from their worshipers, but there was something about this chart that reminded me of a home-improvement project and the priests flitting about the temple were helpful associates at a hardware store.

My friend Shweta wanted to perform an Archana pooja for Lord Vishnu. Archana is a shorter pooja in which the names of one’s family are recited for blessings. The four of us went up together and Shweta gave a metal bowl filled with fruit, holy basil, flowers and incense to a priest who had been seated against the wall. He asked for our names and began to chant.

At the end we cupped our hands to waft the smoke of burning incense over our face and then the priest poured a small amount of sweet water into our hands for us to drink. He pointed out two pots of sandalwood paste for us to use for the tilaka. However when Barret and I hesitated, he stepped towards us to put a tan dot on our forehead and followed it with a scarlet one.

It’d been awhile since the last time Shweta visited the Sri Venkateswara Temple, but she fondly remembered one of the most beautiful places to visit afterwards- Stanwell Tops. We were sitting on the grassy bank that overlooked the beautiful coastline when I noticed a family that I’d seen at the temple.

Varahamihira, the author of the Brihatsamhita, was also an astronomer and mathematician who discovered some of the trigonometric formulas I studied in school. Given his talent and numerous contributions to the court of the legendary ruler Yashodharman Vikramaditya, I think it’s safe to say that Varahamihira knew what he was talking about when he described the kind of land that gods love to play in. The Sri Venkateswara Temple could not have been built in a more heavenly environment.

How to get to the Sri Venkateswara Temple: Take the train from Central Station to Wollongong and get off at Helensburgh Railway Station. From there it is about 2 km to the temple. Buses leave from Helensburgh Railway Station every hour from 9.00 am till 4.00 pm.