Crazy Opera Lady

One of the interesting things about living in an un-airconditioned apartment is all of the "natural environment" you inevitably experience just by leaving the windows open. The crystal-clear conversations of your neighbors (although none of it is in English, so we're not burdened with the responsibility of actually listening in on it), excessive amounts of dust particles, the rumble of a passing by train... all elements of our environment that we would would be cut off from if we lived in a climate-controlled bubble.

Of course, there is one contributor to my environment who I have unfortunately come to know on a more frequent basis. I call her Crazy Opera Lady. Crazy Opera Lady is an ill-fated soul with a regrettable dream of performing in a show such as Pirates of Penzance or the Barber of Seville. I say regrettable because, though she could win many awards for the strength of her vocal cords, the warbling tenor of her voice lends itself more to a career as an animal trainer than an opera singer.

Judging by the times of day that Crazy Opera Lady's voice comes rampaging through my window, she is apparently another stay-at-home woman who thinks that no one else is around to hear her practice sessions. Little does she know that a fellow dreamer occupies a nearby apartment, simultaneously typing away at her manuscript while trying to keep her fingers clamped tightly in her ears (it's very difficult to manage... you should try it).

At least my dream is quieter.

Back to School

I’ve gone back and forth for awhile about this, but I finally decided to take the plunge. I signed up for a novel writing course. And tonight is my first class.

I’m excited about this for several reasons. First, it will be my first real extended interaction with other Australians (besides people who I am essentially paying to talk to me—waiters, sales people, hotel managers, eyebrow waxers), and I am very much looking forward to that!

Side Note: Yesterday I found myself wandering the streets as what was intended to be a short stroll to a café for a cappuccino turned into a three-hour-long walk, just me and my iPod. I just kept walking and walking and walking (yes, a Forest Gump reference would be appropriate here). Point being, I could totally envision myself turning into that crazy old woman who roams the streets and goes home to a house full of cats… and Will. So yes, this class is a very good thing.

Second, I’ve realized over the past few weeks that I really have no clue how to write a novel, despite my desperate attempts. Yeah, I’ve taken a good stab at it. And I’ve written some decent stuff. But it just doesn’t seem to flow, and the ideas, while one minute seem nice and cohesive, really don’t work together in the broader picture.

For the longest time I thought that any sort of writing should just come easily and naturally to anyone who really deserves to be a professional in the craft. Taking courses to perfect it seems kind of like a cop-out. Like you’re admitting that you don’t have enough raw natural talent, that you’re not good enough on your own.

Well, if that’s the case, then I am officially admitting that I am not good enough. Because guess what I found out? Writing is hard. And I'm not ready to give up… yet. Maybe if the professor throws me out after reading the first thing I write, telling me that I would be better off scrubbing toilets then trying to make it as a writer. Maybe then I’ll take the hint and lay aside the dream.

But who knows? Maybe I’ll learn a few things. Maybe it will be the productive environment necessary to help me along the last few steps that I can’t seem to make on my own. Maybe it will unlock that little door in my head where I keep all of my ideas and make them start spilling out.

Like I said, who knows? That’s the beauty of it.

Labour Day Weekend in the Yarra Valley

Will driving on the left side of the road

Kim petting a kangaroo

Us being artistic

Vineyard at the bed and breakfast we stayed at

This past weekend was Labour (with a "u") Day weekend here in Australia. Will and I took advantage of the holiday to take a trip to the Yarra Valley. The Yarra Valley is known for their various wineries as well as an indigenous wildlife sanctuary. Among the other firsts this weekend-- first vacation, first winery trip, first time to see a dingo-- it was also our first time to drive a car on the left side of the road (ahem, I should not say "our," I should say "Will's," because there was no way on earth I was trying that-- especially since it was a manual). Maybe Will will bless us with an entire post concerning this experience.

The Yarra Valley was hit pretty hard by the bushfires. In fact, from the window of the bed and breakfast we stayed at you could see where the fires scorched the hillside, stopping merely a couple of kilometers short of the vineyard. A lot of the wineries lost their crops to smoke damage, however very few of them were actually burned.

The sanctuary was pretty interesting. We saw tasmanian devils, dingos, kangaroos, koalas, wombats, snakes, lizards, emus, duck billed platypus, and wallabies, among other things.

If you want to check out the pictures of the wildlife and the rest of the weekend, here's a link:

http://picasaweb.google.com/kim.hearon/YarraValley?feat=directlink

Happy Birthday, Darcy!

You only turn one once... We miss you, Darcy, and can't wait for you to get here!

Australian Sports Vol. 1: Aussie Rules Rules!

By Guest Blogger William Stone:

For those who think the title of this blog is a misprint, let me clarify – Australian Rules Football, or Aussie Rules, or simply “The Footy,” is far and away the favored (side note, my spell check is telling me I’ve misspelled “favored”… apparently it favors “favoured”) sport in Melbourne. And since Kim knows nothing of sports, I thought I’d take over this part of the blogging.

The Australian Football League (AFL) is the sport’s governing body and consists of sixteen teams around Australia. This may not seem like very many until you consider that only twenty million people even live on this vast continent. That’s like if a natural disaster wiped out the entire population of the continental U.S. except for the state of Florida, and then those people dispersed over all forty-eight states. And for you New Yorkers and Chicagoans out there who think having two professional teams competing in the same sport makes you special, Melbourne, a city of 3.2 million people has NINE professional Aussie Rules teams. With a team from Geelong, a mere hour’s drive, bringing the total to a nice even ten. Each team claims a different Melbourne suburb, and these suburbs aren’t exactly like Alpharetta to Atlanta, or Murfreesboro to Nashville. If you spent thirty minutes on a tram here in Melbourne, you could see Richmond, home of the Tigers, Carlton, home of the Blues, St. Kilda, home of the Saints, and Hawthorn, home of the Hawks. In Atlanta, this would equate to having the Buckhead Popped Collars play against the Midtown Alternative Lifestyle. Or the Downtown Atlanta Glock 9s play against the Little 5 Points Grunge. Anyway, I think you get the idea. Teams from Adelaide, Sydney, Brisbane, and Perth make up the rest of the sixteen.

From what I can tell, “The Footy” seems to be a combination of American Football and “The Rugby.” (In fact both participating punters in the NFC championship game were former Aussie Rules players, thus Ben Graham of the Cardinals became the first Aussie to play in the Super Bowl.)

Here’s a typical exchange between two Melburnians... notice the terminology:

“So, are you into the Rugby, then?”

“It’s great, but I really love the Footy!”

“What about the Gridiron (American Football)?”

“Well, I love to watch the Super Bowl, but I don’t know what the hell is going on! And why do they wear all those pads?”

Honestly, I’m surprised the connection between Aussie Rules players and “the Gridiron” wasn’t made sooner. The way these guys punt the ball through the goal posts is uncanny, and being a punter in the NFL comes with the added benefit of having people block for you so that you’re not constantly getting creamed. Don’t get me wrong, American Football is the greatest sport in the world, and most every other player is constantly in danger of getting creamed, but the punter has more or less a free pass.

Just a catastrophe waiting to happen...

So, what are the rules of this most unique sport? Well, despite the name of the game itself implying that there actually are rules, I can’t seem to figure out what they are. It seems you can advance the ball however you want, the opposing team can tackle you however they want, and you can try and kick the ball to a team mate or trough the goal posts whenever you want. Maybe in a subsequent post I can provide slightly more detail. Or, if I never understand it, I’ll just copy and paste the Wikipedia page.

These goal posts remind me a little bit of what I expect a quidditch field to look like

Stay tuned for the next episode: Cricket… another sport I don’t understand, barely seems like a sport, but still has an unnaturally large following!

Confession

I have a confession to make.

I am a pedo-book-aphile. That’s right, I like young books.

It’s a sickening thought to a lot of people. I know it’s even slightly monstrous. But I can’t help it—there’s just something about a book geared for young people that I can’t resist. The pure joy, the unadulterated story, the certainty that everything will work out alright in the end—there’s nothing like it. Adult books are fine, too, but they’re always complicated. There’s always the possibility the hero may actually die or, even worse, the heroine will have to live without the hero in the end because, honestly, it’s the way the real world works.

Thankfully young books don’t really care about the way the real world works. Well, they do up to a point: they focus on teaching life lessons, and include hardships in their stories to illustrate these life lessons. But the reader can also be very certain that if the protagonist follows these life lessons, everything will work out okay.

Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, Twilight… I have quite the track record for falling in love with young books. Vampire Academy, a series about—what else?—a school for vampires, is a series I discoverd this weekend (not on the same level at all, but still emotionally engaging, though the writing is pretty bad). Unfortunately only three of the five books in the series have been released, and the third book ended on a very dire note. In fact, the depressing end to the story pretty much ruined my day yesterday. But then I remembered the obvious. Sure, things may look bleak now; it may seem that the two protagonists are never going to be able to be together because she has to kill the man she loves. But guess what? This is a young book, so somehow, someway everything will turn out alright in the end. And just thinking about that lightened my mood considerably.

And that’s what I love about them. They’re simple. It’s all about the story and the emotional reaction the story generates. And they hook me like nothing else, a fact which I am reminded of time and time again. I am able to lose my self in their stories, cry with their pain, revel in their love, yet never fear that the author is just stringing me along without a happy ending in mind.

So you can judge me; it’s only to be expected. Sometimes I even judge myself—me, with an English degree from Vanderbilt; me, with a background in publishing; me, who fancies myself something of a writer—stooping so low as to declare myself a pedo-book-aphile?

But if this is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Day in the City

Yarra River



Kim and Will on the Yarra River

More Yarra River

This Saturday Will and I decided that it was time to do some touristy things in Melbourne. We started the day off at Borders reading a variety of books-- I unfortunately have the maturity of a thirteen year old and picked up a book called Vampire Academy, and got so into that I sat in Borders for five hours until I finished it. At least I had enough pride not to pay for the thing. Will also ran back and forth between the book store and our house to wait for a new refrigerator to be delivered. Alas, Gimpy is no more. He has been replaced by a taller, more strapping edition-- Roger the Refrigerator.

Anyway, after our date with the bookstore, we set out on our Melbourne exploration. We immediately decided we were hungry, but nothing really sounded that good--until we ran into McDonalds. What's a better way to start out a day as a tourist than eating lunch at the symbol of American culture. This was only our second encounter with this particular fast food establishment, so we're not doing too bad.

From McDonald's we, caught a tram to the National Gallery of Victoria to see a Bugatti exhibit, along with a variety of other famous art. It was a very cool museum-- and free! What could be better? I'm trying to think of other commentary about this particular place, but unfortunately Will and I aren't that knowledgeable about art history. Considering this is one of the only free places in Melbourne, maybe we'll learn a little more.

Exterior of National Gallery of Victoria



Bugatti car in the exhibit

The museum closed at 5:00, and from there we walked to the Yarra River, which is very similar to the River Walk in San Antonio. Restaurants, river cruises, and even a gondola (whoa, flashbacks of Venice... this guy was a trooper for gondoliering all this way from Europe) lined the walk. It was exceptional. We walked straight to the Crown Casino, what was once the largest casino in the world and is still the largest in the southern hemisphere. It was crazy--just as nice as Vegas. Of course, Will and I were rather lame and couldn't even figure out how to play the slots. Since when was it hard to lose your money in a casino?? Once we figured it out, though, there was no holding us back. We beat the house, and doubled our money--what was once one dollar, grew to a whole family of two dollars. That's right, baby--watch out for the lucky Stones. We also enjoyed all of the signs in the casinos cautioning gamblers to always stay in control of their impulses. They were everywhere (literally attached to each of the machines and tables) and just presented such a striking contrast of irony. I tried to take a picture but then was told that no cameras are allowed. I still managed to sneak one in (it was too good to pass up), although it's kind of at a distance. Pay close attention to the sign above the man playing the slot maching that says, "In the end, the machines will win."

In the End, the Machines Will Win

The hotel was gorgeous--they had spitting fountains and Disney music playing everywhere. I felt like a princess.

After the casino, we grabbed dinner at a local restaurant and watched the sun set over the Yarra River. Then we booked it back to Borders (no pun intended) so I could finish the second book in the Vampire Academy series! (note to readers: I am not actually recommending this series; it is more of a testament to my easily addicted personality and love of young adult books... and vampires)

What a great day...