G'day! I'm Chris. I left my home in rural Australia back in 2007 to pursue a life less ordinary.
I specialize in ambitious travel - bucket list worthy journeys such as the Great US Road Trip, the ultimate African safari, and following the length of the Silk Road.
As those of you who know me personally know, yesterday was my lovely girlfriend Fallon’s birthday (check out her blog here by the way) and my gift to her was a fancy dinner out at a restaurant of her choosing. Over the course of our relationship I’ve come to understand and appreciate her love for the Latin culture. She’s turned me from an occasional eater of tacos or nachos into somebody who appreciates a good pico de gallo, loves the humble black bean, and struggles to look past an ice cold Dos Equis with a wedge of lime in the neck. Hell, she even had me taking Spanish lessons with her earlier this year so I could broaden by vocabulary beyond Tengo un gato en mes pantalones and Los ochos banditos tienen mi hombre. Estoy rabioso!
Points to whoever knows what I said there.
So, we donned our Sunday best. In Fallon’s case this was a brand new outfit she’d spent the better part of two weeks putting together and in my case it was borrowing a shirt and jacket from our housemate, Grant. I have just one suit with me in Sydney and it’s this fetching number.
Even I can't pull off this look
I think we cut a far finer looking couple for her big night. After posing for the photo to the right, we boarded the train downtown and made our way to our destination – Vivaz! The restaurant had caught Fallon’s eye after being included as one of the potential venues for her work Christmas party – and while she’d immediately been intrigued by the idea of a salsa restaurant with a churrasco buffet and sangria by the jug.
Yes, I feel awkward dressed up
Right off the bat I could tell that Vivaz was a place that catered to a different crowd than a couple out for a romantic dinner for two. The group directly in front of us sported the faux horns and matching t-shirts of a group of girls out on a hen’s night, and we quickly spotted another two tables of girls out with their friends for one last hurrah. If the matching outfits hadn’t given it away, the penis shaped drink bottles and various kinds of S&M accouterments made it pretty obvious.
The staff were polite as they showed us to our table, and if the crowd hadn’t confirmed my suspicions, the tiny table and plastic chairs wedged against a supporting pillar certainly did. Not that it was a major issue to squeeze in between the two groups of loud bachelorettes. We were both in a good mood and the party atmosphere of the place was actually pretty infectious. Sure, it was a tad annoying to contend with people shuffling behind you constantly, but I somehow doubt you’d find that personal space would be a common thing while dining in a genuine restaurant in Brazil or Mexico.
The cocktail list looked impressive, but Sydney prices of $14 turned me off the idle thought of ordering a daiquiri or mohito for myself. Instead, we contented ourselves with sticking to tradition and ordering a big jug of sangria. At $21 for the jug, it definitely presented better value than a cocktail – and we actually found ourselves struggling to finish it before we left an hour later.
As far as sangria goes it was pretty good, and the addition of chopped apple was a nice touch. Fallon was a bit disappointed that it lacked the more traditional fruits – but it certainly hit the spot.
Oh, a note for potential diners – have your credit card or cash at the table. Although you pay for your meal before you leave – you’ll need to pay for your drinks as you order them.
After our drinks had arrived, we snatched up plates and made for the buffet. The scent of the fantastic tequila BBQ sauce had been tempting me since we’d walked in, but I had to make my way past the salads before I’d be able to sample its deliciousness.
The buffet is a tad pricey at $45, but the spread is impressive and there’s plenty of selection. I was particularly impressed with the rich, spicy chili; the selection of salads and dressings; and the fantastic selection of meats. In addition to some wonderful beef and pork cuts, there were also spicy chicken wings, and a particularly tasty fish dish. By the time we’d finished our first plates and made our way back for a second tilt, they’d also mixed things up a little with the addition of a few new salad options and some churizo sausages.
Did I eat $45 worth of food? Almost definitely not. But it was a satisfying and delicious meal.
Unfortunately by the time we’d finished eating the live band had ceased playing salsa music and it had been replaced with chart dance and pop music, which put a dampener on our plans to do a little dancing. With a belly full of food and sangria though, I was actually a little relieved.
We decided to pass on dessert, which was probably the only unimpressive part of the evening. Fruit salad and an unappetizing looking chocolate mousse didn’t exactly stir anything in my stomach.
But the food was good, the atmosphere was fantastic (particularly while the band was playing), and the sangria was good value. And while our table didn’t afford a great view of it – I’m sure the lucky ones near the window would have appreciated the stunning view of the Opera House.
As a romantic night out, Vivaz probably isn’t going to be everybody’s cup of tea. It’s loud and not particularly romantic, but it has plenty of good food and a good selection of booze. For a fun night out with a special someone or a good night out with a group of friends, it’s definitely a place I’d go again.
Teenagers of the 80s didn’t know how good they had it. Sure, they had to contend with shoulder pads; the music of Rick Astley; and George Bush as president – but they also had the ridiculously talented John Hughes looking out for them. Twenty years after their release movies such as The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off still delight and entertain audiences of all ages. And while a great many other movies have been made about the teenage experience in the intervening decades, it’s fair to say that very few (if any) have come close to Hughes’s classic contributions to the silver screen.
What constitutes a teen comedy these days seems to be all too much of the latter and not nearly enough of the former. I’m a huge fan of 1999’s American Pie and 2007’s Superbad – but while they’re high on laughs and gross out humour – they’re sadly low on genuine substance. Sure, losing your virginity is a big deal and a small part of being a teenager, but it’s not the be all and end all that the modern teen film makes it out to be. I know I’m in the minority here, but sex didn’t play a huge part in my high school experience. I was busy with being bullied, trying to get good marks, and dealing with the drama of friendship on hormones.
At first glance Will Gluck’s Easy A looks like it’s more of the same. The premise of a girl who earns notoriety as a result of rumours she instigates about her sexual promiscuity may well lead theatre-goers to believe that they’re in for ninety minutes of implied nudity, dick jokes, and somebody consuming something that they shouldn’t. Although God knows if there’s any bodily fluid that we haven’t been grossed out and entertained by already. I think ear wax might be all that’s left. It doesn’t get much play.
There is some foul language in Easy A. There’s obviously some sex jokes. But this isn’t a movie purely about a quest to lose virginity or to become popular. There’s a lot of intelligence and, dare I use the cliche, heart beneath the funny moments and witty dialogue. This is a movie more about the double standards associated with sex than it is about the pursuit of it. Drawing close parrallels to The Scarlet Letter, Easy A shows how a simple lie about sex turns Emma Stone’s Olive Prendergast from a non entity to a target for religious zeal and public scorn. And while the many male characters of the movie who claim to have slept with her are greeted with back slaps and high fives – there’s never any such treatment for the protagonist. Whether she’s being vilified by religious students (lead by Amanda Bynes in a fantastically hateful performance) or having Jake Sandvig’s tongue forced down her throat because he assumes she’s easy, Olive fast learns that while she gains temporary fame for her lies – she’s ultimately an outcast for failing to conform to the preferred social model of a chaste woman.
Beyond Olive’s predicament there are a other poignant side stories – most notably that of Dan Byrd’s homosexual character. Whether by brilliance or simple chance, the movie follows on the coat-tails of the recent slew of teenage suicides amongst homosexual males in the United States. John Hughes’ audiences may have lived in a time where homosexuality was still very much on the outer, but it’s a sad fact that we haven’t come so far from the days when homosexuality was a dirty word and Aids was ‘the gay virus’.
Without going into detail, Olive is convinced by Brandon (Byrd) to say she has had sex with him so that he’ll stop being bullied for his sexual preference. And while the ensuing ‘sex scene’ that follows is one of the more amusing depictions of the awkward act of losing one’s virginity, it’s also evidence of a sad truth – that despite all of our progressive talk and open minded politics, ‘gay’ is still a dirty word.
All of this deep subtext doesn’t at all detract from the film’s place as a comedy. Emma Stone has remarkable comedic timing, and there’s also witty contributes from Bynes, Thomas Haden Church (who isn’t aging gracefully at all), and Stanley Tucci & Patricia Clarkson as the kind of parents I think we all wished that we’d had when we were dealing with the awkwardness of growing up and surviving high school.
One character in the film asks “When will high school be over?’, and I think we can all remember a time when we asked ourselves or our parents that. When you’re fifteen it seems like the be all and end all, and too often you’re left on your own to deal with that. The kids of the 1980s had Ferris Bueller and John Bender and Samantha Baker to draw comparisons to. They looked at Anthony Michael Hall’s Ted or Emilio Estevez’s Andrew and they could see reflections of themselves. They weren’t alone in dealing with the pressures of high school life.
Easy A gives teenagers dealing with the high school experience a mirror to compare themselves against. None of these characters are perfect, not even the adults. They’re dealing with negative body image, issues of sexuality, bullying, parental and personal expectations, and the conflicted relationship almost everybody has with their home town.
And it does all of this without being preachy or overly serious. First and foremost, Easy A is a funny and enjoyable film. The ninety minutes fly by and you’re left completely satisfied by the film. You didn’t once glance at your watch or phone, nor are you caught wanting and needing more when the credits start to roll. This is a completely enjoyable movie that doesn’t get bogged down in trying to be too funny or too deep.
Easy A is not The Breakfast Club or even close to it. But it’s as close as a teenage comedy has gone in a long time to recapturing what it was that made John Hughes’s films so special to so many people. A fantastic cast and a witty script are utilized wonderfully by Will Gluck – and cameo appearances from the likes of Lisa Kudrow, Malcolm MacDowell, and Fred Armisen are nice touches as well.
Funny, touching, intelligent, and relatable – Easy A is a low budget comedy with a lot to love about it.
The sun sets over beautiful Lake Macquarie near Valentine in New South Wales.
Early in 2010, Fallon and I had the pleasure of living in Valentine for a short while. She was fresh into the country and I had just relocated from spending time with my parents – so we leaped at the chance when a mate of mine offered to rent his lower floor apartment to us.
It didn’t last long due to employment being so hard to find in the area, but it was really nice living in the area.
This photo was snapped one lazy summer afternoon as we lounged around on the grass overlooking the lake.
“I’m not racist, but…” seems to preface a great many clearly racist statements. Working in a call centre, I get to hear it a good two or three times each and every day. Whether they’re complaining about our company’s out-sourced call centres in the Philippines or bitching about the Indian guy who sits two desks up from me and accusing him of being from Mumbai – it’s always prefaced by that simple claim that they’re not racist.
The words that follow the ‘but’ range from the relatively harmless “but I can’t understand a word they’re saying’ to the slightly more offensive ‘but I don’t want to talk to no fucking Indian. I mean, they’re good for a curry – but they shouldn’t be answering phones’.
I even had a customer today who wasn’t even 100% sure who he was being racist again. In the one breath he complained about “Indians in the Philippines” who were only good for making sweet and sour pork. I wasn’t even sure where to begin unraveling that.
The saddest part about all of this is that these people genuinely believe what they’re saying. They view this kind of casual racism as being different from crucifix burning, white robe wearing, Southern Cross tattoo sporting in your face racism. And that’s a worrying thought.
It’s not restricted to Australians, of course. My two years in South Korea exposed me to all manner of racism – ranging from the innocuous cries of “Waygookin” (foreigner) as an ajumma pointed at me in the street to the less obvious snickering of children as they pointed at a person with darker skin in one of their textbooks.
I remember telling my students that I was dating a South African girl and having them mime throwing a spear in answer.
What relevance does this have in a blog about travel? The obvious link is that when we travel, we’re interacting with other cultures and races. I like to think those of us who have traveled are cut from a different cloth than the people I describe above. I’m not going to make the bold statement that I’m never racist – but I do think travel and exposure to people from a variety of backgrounds has given me a far better perspective to work from.
I’ll admit that from time to time I do get a tad irritated with one of my colleagues from an offshore call centre. Sometimes I’m having a hectic day and the last straw is having to slow things right down to make it easier for them to understand what it is I’m saying.
But rather than get angry, I stop a think for a moment. I think back to attempting to order bibimbap in my halting Korean or nodding with a stupid grin on my face as I walked away from a Chinese cab driver frantically gesturing that I pay him. Turns out arms crossed in front of you to make an ‘X’ means $10 in China and ‘zero’ in Korea. Go figure.
In my reading of Frommer’s Fiji in preparation for my visit there later this year, I’ve read about the tensions between native Fijians and the Fijian Indian population that emigrated there in the 1800s. It’s definitely something I’m going to encounter everywhere.
I guess the point I’m making is that we’re all human and we’re all going to think those uncharitable thoughts from time to time. But rather than indulge them and go into a tirade about whichever minority it is that we perceive to have slighted our delicate sensibilities – maybe it’s time to take a deep breath, think back to a time where you’ve been the fish out of water, and remember that it’s not easy to speak in another language and adapt to a new culture.
The one where I realize gambling isn’t for me, eat some of the fattiest foods known to man, cry during The Lion King, drink icy beverages, and am unimpressed by the M&M store while exploring sin city.
Coming to Vegas
From the moment we touched down in Las Vegas, the city grabbed me. Stepping from the arrival lounge and into the baggage collection area, I was immediately assaulted from all sides by the sights and sounds of the original city of decadence and excess. Penn & Teller watched on from overhead as I collected my bag, and I couldn’t exit the terminal without moving beneath the steely gazes of the men of the Thunder from Downunder. Businessmen in expensive suits share the same space as overweight middle aged women with ugly perms and intimidating acrylics.
Rather than the usual sounds of people hurrying about that I’d come to expect from airports, I was instead greeted by the tinkling the merry chiming of slot machines interrupted by the occasional rattle of pennies dropping into the collection tray. Even as they left Vegas, people were intent on pursuing that elusive jackpot.
Nobody leaves Vegas with full pockets.
The contrast between the air conditioned interior of the terminal and the searing heat of the Nevada desert was sobering, and it was hard to believe a place of such superficial beauty could exist in such a harsh environment. It wasn’t hard to imagine a similar city existing in the baking hot red centre of Australia, but of course Alice Springs doesn’t have a Hoover Dam to draw on.
The roller coaster at New York New York
The ride into the city proper takes us through the suburbs with their wilting gardens and peeling paint, but you soon forget about the sadder side of Vegas as the suburbs gave way to the glittering towers of the strip. The Stratosphere stretches up into the clear blue sky defiantly, while the black glass of the Luxor’s faux pyramid seems to soak up the oppressive heat.
Our cab speeds by the famous fountain of the Bellagio and the cityscape facade of New York New York, but our destination lies beyond the glamorous Strip. We’re headed for ‘old Vegas’ and the Fremont Street experience. Our hotel, the Golden Nugget, made me feel like a high roller before I’d even cast a die in anger. Its red carpet and gold trimmed fixtures make you feel like you could be that lucky schmuck who wins it big on one of the many craps tables and roulette wheels that dot the lower floor.
Finding our way to our room proved a challenge, the windowless halls create a labyrinth that you could get lost in if you were sufficently inebriated. And while we’re not in a suite to rival the one in The Hangover, our thirteenth floor room still affords us a fantastic view of the city and has a king size bed. Fallon and I had been sleeping in separate rooms out of respect for her father’s ‘not under my roof policy’, and Vegas offered up our first chance to share a bed since she’d left Korea a few weeks earlier.
We didn’t waste much time dropping off our bags and splashing water on our faces, and while Fallon had been to Vegas before, it was her first time over the age of 21 and we were both eager to make the most of our time in the city. Everything in the city is about excess, and our first meal serves up fries in a bucket. No utensils or plates here – just a small silver pail crammed to the brim with delicious fries served with a side of ketchup. As if that weren’t enough, Fallon and I also split some nachos and wash it all down with some ice cold Bud Lite. Our venue of choice is Mermaids Casino, although we save our gambling for the next venue.
The world’s largest flat screen TV
That venue just happens to be the Fitzgerald, which rates a mention in next week’s Top 10 Favorite Drinking Spots. Fallon’s friends Jeff and Pat were calling the slightly cheaper Fitz home, and had already staked out a balcony table overlooking the famed Fremont Street Experience. A massive flat screen television – the largest in the world – stretches across the roof of the entire street and periodically the entire street would darken and speakers would blare out a tribute to one of many American rock icons. While this happened, the street would come to a standstill as video and laser lights mesmerized the people in the street.
We didn’t do a whole lot of gambling in Vegas. In fact, we did all of it on the first night and decided enough was enough. A little video poker at the bar to earn that complimentary beer, and then some penny slots downstairs that took what little change I had and left me with no hope for a big win.
Bright lights and music dazzle the crowd on Fremont StreetSome guy from America’s Got Talent
With Halloween just around the corner, Fremont Street had periodic shows in the streets. Frank & The Steins put on hourly rock tributes to classic Halloween songs such as the Monster Mash, Time Warp, and the always popular Thriller. On other stages there were magicians, stunt performers, and some crazy guy juggling chain saws while his token attractive assistant posed in various suggestive poses.
We six meandered through the streets and let the night take us where it willed. We sipped on $2 coronas on the street and were horrified that a bottle of cold water sold for twice as much. We stopped by the Bayou and picked up a pair of its famous Hurricane iced cocktails to share. These need to be seen to be believed, and they taste as good as they look. Just beware of brain freeze.
Fallon double fists a pair of Hurricanes from La Bayou
We attempted karaoke hosted by a fat Elvis impersonator, posed with pretty girls in the street, and finally ended our night with the old staple of boozy evenings – Big Macs and fries.
Waking up in Vegas
Our first full day in Vegas dawned as warm as the one before, and with America gripped by the missing kid in the weather balloon, it made for interesting viewing over the decent buffet offering that the Golden Nugget offered up. Our day was to be spent exploring the Strip – so we snagged a ride on the confusingly named ‘Deuce’ and rode downtown past a slew of 24/7 chapels.
Oddly enough, my good friends Liz and CJ would tie the knot in one of those very chapels less than a year later.
Our first stop on the Strip was New York New York, although I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between Las Vegas and a theme park. Sure, the cheesy mascots weren’t around and the ride were replaced by games of chance – but the bright colours, the crazy characters, and even the occasional rollercoaster jutting out the side of a casino reminded me that this was more of an adult playground than a real city.
Dueling pianos at the Bar from Times Square in New York New York
New York New York blew my mind. It was such a show in decadence. The lobby, modelled to look like a miniature New York, even has streets to wander. Delis, bars, souvenier shops, and cute little cafes line the mock streets – but it was the famous piano bar that grabbed our attention. A pair of dueling pianos, played by a gregarious duo, banged out customer’s requests as they sipped on $7 beers from souvenier glasses. I gamely stepped forward to request Downunder by Men at Work and was treated to a five minute interview by the host for my troubles.
After that it was time to snatch an authentic New York style bagel before moving back out into the heat. Fighting our way through crowds of people handing out flyers for strip clubs and prostitutes, we eventually made it across to the Coca Cola and M&M stores. It’s hard to believe that so much Coca Cola merchandise exists, but this place had it all. From boutique bottles to magnets to books to gigantic statues that sold for over $1000. On the very top floor the Coca Cola Cafe offered up a sampler of eight foreign takes on soda ranging from delicious mango soda from India to the eerily toothpaste like mint flavored soda from Italy.
Sampling a galaxy of Coke flavoursThe M&M store – a lot of color, not much substance
The M&M store, for all of its bright colors, wasn’t much to explore – and so it was time for a little shopping and some dinner. We took our meal at a very good Mexican restaurant whose name escapes me, although if you’re ever in Vegas, it’ll have a guy in a plush Elvis suit standing out front handing out menus. Unless the heat finally got to him.
The Mexican restaurant I loved. Apparently it’s called La Salsa Cantina
After dinner it was time for our Vegas show, and we headed to the Mandalay Bay for The Lion King. Those of you who have seen the stage adaptation of Disney’s timeless movie know how good it is – and those who haven’t probably won’t understand just how amazing it is until they see it for themselves. I went in expecting it to be good, and came out with a renewed love for the theatre.
Preparing to see The Lion King
The opening scene, in which a lone Rafiki sings The Circle of Life and dozens of amazingly costumed performers make their way out is just a thing of beauty. I’m not ashamed to admit I was moved to the brink of tears by the entire spectacle, and it was a feeling of wonder that held on until the final note echoed out into infinity and all that was left was applause and a feeling that you’d witnessed something pretty damn special.
Fallon’s birthday celebrations weren’t yet over, and we returned to Fremont Street for more drinking and stumbling around. We took $2 deep fried twinkies and Greek style hot dogs at Mermaids; ate the famous 99 cent shrimp cocktails while table dancers gyrated and smiled cheerlessly in the Golden Gate, and returned for more Hurricanes from La Bayou.
Deep Fried Twinkie – Better than it looks
While the adults retired to their rooms, Fallon and I stayed out until the streets began to empty. The casinos wouldn’t be closing, but the night was over for us. Nursing our hurricanes and crawling back to our hotel room, we prepared for the fact our trip was over in a few short hours.
Leaving Las Vegas
A water slide through a shark tank. Win.
Our final morning in Vegas dawned hotter than any before it, and with our time short, we couldn’t think of a better way to spend our day than by the pool that we’d walked by each and every day. With a water-slide that shoots through a shark tank and a lagoon like pool surrounded by deck chairs, it was a perfect place for us to nurse hangovers. The sun still hung high overhead when we dried off and headed out for one last decadent buffet meal, and then it was time to board our flights and head back to cooler, less glitzy Idaho.
I fell in love with Vegas, although I’m sure its ceaseless noise and action would have worn me down eventually. I do wish I’d managed to see more of the Strip and witness the famed fountain show at the Bellagio, but I enjoyed every moment of my Vegas experience.
And that’s what Vegas is about. It’s about spending too much money, indulging in too much food and booze, and leaving not sure if you regret the whole thing or just had the best weekend of your life. Want to create your own Vegas memories?
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