As I’ve been living in Australia I have noticed ( and participated in) a few Australian traditions or institutions.

The first: Everyone is either an immigrant or their family was an immigrant. The first thing they want to know is where you are from and not just the country you were born in but what is your families nationality…right down to the village/town name if they can get. Responding, “German” on gets me quizzed on which part, where from, etc. I am beginning to feel resigned when ever Pete introduces me and tosses out “Her family is German!”.  Le sigh. On the upside, Melbourne is amazingly multicultural with downtown rush hour sounding like some exotic world market, people babbling along in all sorts of languages, sometimes even groups of people all talking away amongst each other in different languages, no one really knowing what the other is saying but all smiling a bit madly and having a great time. This is also common in the multitude of ethnic restaurants….which is every restaurant I think.

Second:  Speaking of restaurants. My first morning in Australia and I had purchased no food as yet. I decided to walk up to the main street for some brekky.  I order the basic eggs, toast and sausage.  It was really eggs *ON* toast with sausage. How am I supposed to eat this? Why is my toast under my eggs and where is my jam? I carefully moved the eggs so I could pickup and eat my toast like a civilized upper left coaster, with your hand. The next weekend again I ordered breakfast, this time in a posh little cafe downtown, and again eggs on my toast, wtf! I glanced around to see how other people were handling this outrage and they were all calmly eating egg on toast with a knife and fork. Eat with a knife…..hmmmmm. It does in fact work, quite well really. The next weekend was 4×4 training and my breakfast experience got even better. It was while staying at Marapana that Judy (the hostess) introduced me to the “Big Breakfast” (actual name, you can order it anywhere). It went something like this

“How would you like your eggs: scrambled, fried or poached?” “fried, thank you”

“And toast? Wholemeal, white or multigrain?” “Multigrain please” as I turned to walk away, thinking that was it.

“Sausage, bacon or both?” Having experienced some strange snags (sausages) already, “bacon is good”

“Tomatoes and mushrooms?” “ummmm, tomato sounds lovely, no mushrooms please”

Oh My God! How was I going to eat all of this? I didn’t make it through that first big brekky but since I have fallen in love with it, especially the mushrooms. I adore a big pile of sliced grilled mushies. Our last trip to Beechworth resulted in a lovely brekky cooked by Peter.

Australian Big Breakfast

Third: Australian Rules Football. Footy actually has very little in common with either American football or soccer aside from sharing the name football. It’s more a bit like rugby  mixed with a bit of soccer and a dash of hockey violence (or maybe that’s the rugby). Really you have to watch it. The pace is really fast, there aren’t a lot of timeouts or standing around. The ball moves incredibly quickly and the guys are amazingly fit and coordinated. Where as American sports athletes tend toward the portly these guys are all magnificent specimens of elites athletes….and just generally pretty hot with glistening muscles and tiny shorts. I went to my first game last night and I think I have finally found a sport (aside from hockey) that I can love and watch! Check back for a photo.

Random Stuff:

As promised here is the lovely bruise I got from my first crash wearing silly cycling shoes. Keep in mind this was taken more than a week after the accident:

Results of First Fall with Clipless Pedals

And two more pictures. Peter and I visited Beechworth alt weekend and drove through the fire path (it was out and safe of course). So many houses gone, it was really hard on both of us. I ddin’t take many pictures because I didn’t feel it was appropriate to be snapping photos as if I was a tourist (which I was) so I grabbed a couple as we were driving

Stanley Forest after Black Saturday

Pine plantation after Black Saturday