Throwin' some parental Kleinballs

The parents have arrived in Sydney! Spent the weekend with them, and on Thursday we head off to Adelaide and the Flinders Ranges. It'll be my first time in the actual Outback, so should be good... although beastly hot.

Speaking of beastly hot, it was 42°C (108°F) in Sydney on Saturday. Then we got a thunderstorm. Then we got some hail.* An hour later, the temperature had dropped by 15°C (27°F).

*I've only seen hail twice in Australia. Each time, my parents were here. Strange.

My dad has somehow developed an unhealthy obsession with lamingtons. So when we went into the city on Saturday, he immediately initiated a frantic search, stopping in every bakery we passed until he got his paws on one.

Two years, four days and four months after I arrived in this country, I finally got myself a New South Wales driver's license last week. Until my California one expires, which unfortunately happens in just a few weeks, I find myself in an ideal situation. For everyday sort of use, the NSW license will make things easier. But on the off chance that I get pulled over by a cop, I can pull out the CA license and plead ignorant.

Bit of a sports deluge the last few weeks. We got the Australian Open in full swing, Australia's playing Pakistan and the West Indies in a series of cricket matches, and I'm doing my best to stay up to date on the football playoffs. Good time of the year to be a sports fan here.

Australia Day is tomorrow. While we won't be going up to Macmasters Beach like two years ago, we'll be doing much of what we did last year at the Ascot: plenty of food, drinks, cricket (playing), cricket (watching on TV), tennis (watching on TV) and music (annual Triple J Hottest 100 countdown).

Couple of big posts planned for the next few weeks. We got a lil' something to do with Portuguese chicken and a lil' something to do with Kentucky Fried Chicken. Although chicken's involved in both, the posts promise to be very different in content.

Avatar: Surely this is all a big joke

In high school, I went to the movies practically every weekend. I loved going to the movies.

In college, I went to the movies once a month, maybe once every two months. I guess I had a few more options to entertain myself. It happens as we exit our teenage years.

Since college, my movie-going has been in constant decline. And now it's gotten to the point where I might go two or three times a year. I find this sad, but only really upon reflection, because I certainly don't do anything to change it.

Avatar broke a loooonnnng movie theater-less streak for me. Before that, I'm really not sure what I'd last seen in a theater. Slumdog Millionaire? It's a distinct possibility. But with Avatar, well, all the makings were there for a mandatory visit to the movies. Based on all the reviews – from critics and friends alike – it promised to be a spectacle of grandiose proportions.

I was not disappointed. Everything I expected from Avatar, I got, and then some. It was truly a cinematic experience; no way you could get that from watching it on a TV, as I generally watch movies these days. Hell, I was so spellbound, that halfway through the movie, I realized my eyes were tearing up because I hadn't blinked in probably half an hour.

It was a great experience. And it even may have rekindled some of that love of the movie-going experience that I'd held so deeply back in high school.

But then, at least to me, a strange and perplexing and infuriating thing happened: serious accolades for Avatar began to come in. As in, 'Best Picture of the Year' accolades. This of course culminated (at least up until now) in the film winning the Golden Globe for best picture (drama) – not to mention best director – on Sunday.

Now. It's one thing for a film to be entertaining, to be visually stunning, to be revolutionary in its production. Avatar was all of these. I'd go as far as to say that that's an inarguable fact. Yet a great movie, these qualities don't necessarily make. Merely a good movie, these qualities don't necessarily make. And as much as I enjoyed Avatar, it's borderline good. That's simply what happens when you take a tired, formulaic story and combine it with some of the most hackneyed, clichéd dialogue imaginable.*

*Back in December, before the movie had been released, Joe Posnanski actually devoted an entire blog post to one line of dialogue from the trailer... a line of dialogue that we're all very familiar with. Needless to say, Posnanski wasn't impressed and wrote off the movie based on that one line.

(I'll also note that Posnanski starts that post in a very similar fashion to how I've started this one. But I'm gonna plead innocent; unless it was subconscious – and I guess I have to concede that that's a distinct possibility – it's completely coincidental.)

What's really sad to me is that we've been down this road before with James Cameron's last epic, Titanic. Visually stunning and supremely well-made? Yes. But a tired and formulaic story combined with some of the most hackneyed, clichéd dialogue imaginable? Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.

Titanic swept all the award shows. And now I fear that Avatar is going to do the same.

I don't know. Maybe it's just my interpretation of what should constitute a 'Best Picture'. All three Lord of the Rings movies were at least nominated for the Oscar for best picture (with the third installment winning), and while I only saw the first one, I thought that it too fell into the well-made/crap story bucket. (I'm assuming – although potentially very wrongly – that the last two of the trilogy were similar in style and content.) But I look at other Oscar winners from the past, and just about every one is backed by a great and compelling story. Let me repeat that, with some emphasis: a GREAT and compelling story.

In my opinion, Titanic is the rare exception to this rule. I'm guessing that LOTR III is as well. And if Avatar wins the Best Picture Oscar – currently a prohibitive favorite to do so – that'll be one more exception.

Three exceptions to a rule aren't exactly an exception anymore; they become part of the rule. But if a movie only has to be well-made to be considered great, well, then I'm not sure what we're doing anymore.

I'm not saying there isn't a place for movies like Avatar. Of course there's a place for them. There will always be a place for them, and I consider this to be a very good thing. But is one of those places the Golden Globes, or the Oscars? No. Never.

I wish the voters would come to their senses in time for this year's Oscars and deny Avatar the biggest of accolades, but I don't expect that to happen. Maybe it's all just a big joke on me.

I'm with Coco

Plenty has been said this week about the Conan-Leno saga over The Tonight Show. So apart from saying that I'm firmly on Conan's side, I'm not going to add any more.

But. This video. It's simply brilliant.

Partying like it's 2008

The final days of 2008 were amazing. Those final days were so amazing, in fact, that I essentially did them all over again this year, in the final days of 2009.

Some may view such repetition as a bad thing. I do not. Not when you've identified a surefire recipe for success.

Last year's Christmas was spent with a friend's family – Yogi and the Davis family – overlooking the ocean at Macmasters Beach. This year's Christmas was spent with another friend's family – Shorty and the, uhhhh, Short family – in the slightly less exotic Wagga Wagga.

After driving from Sydney to Wagga on Christmas Eve, I was awoken early the next morning by Shorty's sisters,* both of whom were eager to rip open some gifts before Christmas services.** After a brief, one-hour service – actually pretty painless, especially if you want to put it up against High Holiday services – we were back to the house for a day-long feast.

*Shorty's sisters are in their 20s. Yet to this day they still force the family up at 7 on Christmas morning to open gifts.

**Shorty's birthday quite unfortunately falls on Christmas. So not only did he grow up with the dreaded Christmas/birthday combo gifts, but he's been to Church on his birthday every single year of his life. Even the "but Andy's Jewish!" excuse this year wouldn't fly.

It's absolutely no secret that the Short family can eat. Big time. And we did so on Christmas day, by stuffing ourselves on four varieties of meat – turkey, ham, chicken, pork – and a few of your staple veggies, like potatoes and sweet potatoes and pumpkin. My. Lord.

This was of course topped off by desert, which included fruit salad, ice cream, pavlova, trifle, and the pièce de résistance (well, for me at least), plum pudding with brandy sauce. Oh. My God.

That was lunch. We did it all again for dinner. And then again for breakfast the next day.

We could have kept on feasting on the leftovers all throughout Boxing Day, but instead, it was time to cook up a whole new feast! This time it was to the barbecue, as the Shorts ticked off more types of meat that hadn't been consumed yesterday: rissoles,* sausages and steak. And what Short family barbecue could be complete without a potato bake? Oh, I think there was some salad, too. And most importantly, the plum pudding made another appearance.**

*Basically a hamburger patty, although a little thicker than what you see in the US and usually prepared with herbs and other seasoning mixed in.

**My current list of favorite Australian food that's not commonly available in the US: meat pies, sweet chili sauce, plum pudding with brandy sauce. I'm sure I'm forgetting a few more.

Throughout the day, the rest of our caravan for the trip to Melbourne and Falls converged on Wagga. And so continued the near-identical trip from last year. Again, this isn't a bad thing.

The 27th was a day of transit, from Wagga to Melbourne. We made our way down there by early evening, set up camp at Shorty's brother's apartment, and headed out for a barbecue at a friend's place and drinks. We had a big day ahead of us, so we kind of took it easy. Kind of.

The 28th was Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test match between Australia and Pakistan. First ball at 10:30. Stumps at 6. Seven and a half hours of cricket and no result (not that one was to be expected). I loved it.*

*And bucking the trend that I cited in my post from before this trip, in which I said that I was sports kryptonite for successful home teams, Australia ended up winning this Test match!

And then, it was on to Falls! Up quite early on the 29th, we caravanned it down to Lorne, got to the festival area, slowly made our way to the campsite, set up camp, and got to it.

One massively key point of difference between Falls this year and last year: the weather. Last year, it was freezing at Falls. FREEZING. And rainy. This didn't stop me from having a great time, but it really didn't help. This year? Hot and sunny! And I loved every minute of it.

I'm not sure if the music lived up to last year's, but it was still fantastic, with The Temper Trap, Art Vs Science and Major Lazer being highlights.

And on New Year's Eve, with the Hilltop Hoods on the stage at midnight – a somewhat dubious choice to bring in the New Year, in my opinion – we said goodbye to the Naughts or Naughties or Oughts or whatever the hell we're calling the decade... and then kept on going for several more hours. It was fantastic.

What wasn't fantastic, however, was New Year's Day. First, it had rained that night, and we woke up to a wet and gray morning. Everything was damp. Second, after packing up, it took us all of three and a half hours to drive out of the site. And third, later that night (and perhaps due to an ill-informed lunch of KFC; ironically, my first KFC in exactly a year), my stomach revolted.

Not a great way to start a new year, by any stretch, but the days prior were a great way to close out the preceding one. Just as they were last year.

Farewell, 2009. Helllloooooooooo 2010!

I got your New Year's Resolutions right here

Recap of my Xmas/NYE trip on this here blog. Soon.*

*I will not define "soon".

Post more frequently on this here blog.

Upload photos from my last several months to this here Internet.

HAPPY 2010!

And I think it's gonna be a (good good) time

To nearly quote Elton John.

Last year, in the days leading up to New Year's, I spent Boxing Day in Wagga Wagga, the next few days in Melbourne (partly to catch Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test match*), and the remaining days of 2008 at Falls Festival.

*Looking at the Wikipedia page for the Boxing Day Test match, I didn't realize that Australia had absolutely DOMINATED that match before last year: 9 wins in a row, and 14 wins (and two draws) in the last 18 years. So of course they lost last year. As soon as I enter the arena, you can always count on a dominant sports team to lose it. Just ask the French National Soccer team. Coming off a World Cup victory in 1998 and holding onto an ungodly winning streak, I went to see them play Russia in June 1999 for a qualifying match for Euro 2000. They lost. Of course.

This year, in the days leading up to New Year's, it's exactly the same: Boxing Day in Wagga, a couple of days in Melbourne for the cricket, the last few days of 2009 at Falls Festival. Only difference from last year is that my stay in Wagga will start a few days earlier, with Christmas with the Short family.

If this year is to live up to last year's trip, it has an uphill battle to fight. Last year was epic. Everything about that trip. But I'm pretty confident that this year can match it. Perhaps even exceed it? I wouldn't be surprised.

But let's not get our hopes up, at least not too much. A big week lies ahead of me. It should be good. And I just may report on it here sometime in the next few months.

Have a great Christmas (for those of that ilk) and New Year's, everyone.

The 2009 Melbourne Cup: The official, definitive and final recap

So. Let's see. The Melbourne Cup was on November 3. Today is December 23.

Yes, I let some time go before writing about the trip (or, well, anything on here). That being said,* there is an upside to my indolence: by waiting so long – or I guess more aptly, by putting it off for so long – I can pretty much guarantee you that this is the absolute final recap on the 2009 running of the Melbourne Cup.

*I just slammed my way through Season 7 of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Brilliant, brilliant stuff. And we basically got an entire new episode of Seinfeld out of it! They certainly made up for the finale. Oh yes.

You see, as I first noted two years ago, this nation goes absolutely mad for the Melbourne Cup. Hugely mad. It's called "The race that stops a nation" for a reason. Literally, everything stops. Everyone gets in front of a TV. I wouldn't be surprised if the streets were completely deserted.* In Melbourne, the day is a public holiday!

*Problem is we'll never know, as there's no one there to check. It'll forever be up there with the whole "tree falling in the woods" conundrum.

Anyway. As I was saying. Everyone goes mad for the race. But the thing is, it comes out of nowhere. Seriously. A week prior to the race, most people in Australia couldn't name a single horse that might be running in it. Then, like a flash in the pan, everyone gets into it. The local and national news are covering it. It's on the front page of every sports section, if not the main section. It's the topic of discussion at every water cooler. People can recite the entire 24-horse field in alphabetical order, reverse alphabetical order, by age, by sex, by jockey, by trainer, by owner, by country of origin, you name it.

The race is run on a Tuesday.

And then it's over. The media dissects it on Tuesday night and Wednesday. Maybe you get a few remnants on Thursday. And that's it. Just as fast and unexpectedly as it came, it's gone. No more mentions. It's almost like it never happened.

Which brings us back to me! Seven weeks and a day after the race was run, here's my little recap of the race and day. And as the above paragraphs were meant to illustrate, in my very longwinded way, this surely has to be the last thing ever in the history of civilization to be written about the 2009 Melbourne Cup. I feel honored. And perhaps a little daunted by the responsibility.

So let's break this bad boy down thematic style.

The gambling

Yeah, I may have made some proclamations that I was gonna get ridiculously knowledgeable on the race, and I swear I made a few token attempts to do that. But for the most part, life kinda got in the way. So going into the race, my level of knowledge was at about 20% of what I would've liked. And that included zero knowledge on any of the races other than the big one.

I placed and lost some bets on races one through six. And the big one, Race 7? I nailed it!! Granted, I put bets on several horses, but as the race neared, I settled more and more on Shocking as my singular pick. And Shocking did it. Unfortunately, that means that the other five or six horses I had money on didn't do it, so on the day, I broke just about even.*

*This "breaking even" thing doesn't exactly count the whole day, which included an evening jaunt to the casino during which I very much did not break even. Yeeeeaaaaaaahhhhh, not even remotely close to even. Let's move on.

The spectacle

Attendance on the day was 102,000 people, which I think is the largest crowd I've ever been a part of. But because we weren't in a circular stadium in which you could see everyone else, it didn't really feel like there were 102,000 people there. Not even close, really. If I had no knowledge of the day or the race, I very well may have guessed that the attendance was something around 40,000.

Regardless of how big I perceived the crowd to be, it still felt like a huge event. There was a buzz on the train heading out to the track. Everyone was dressed up. Each woman was seemingly trying to outdo all others with her hat. The lawn for general admission was absolutely packed. The vibe, even when we arrived at 10:45, was downright giddy. And that giddyness increased even more so as the day progressed, as more alcohol was consumed, as the anticipation increased. So when it came time for the big race to start, just after 3, we were ready. We were very ready.

The race

I'd (kinda) done my reading. I'd placed my bets. I'd secured my viewing spot. And at just after 3, the 2009 Melbourne Cup started.

One thing about the Melbourne Cup. It's long. LOOOOOOOOOONG. At just a shade under two miles, it's half a mile longer than the "long" Triple Crown race, the Belmont Stakes. So even after the race starts, you need to control your emotions. Settle in. Don't get too excited. At least not too early.

What pretty much makes this impossible, however, is that the horses run by you twice: once, right after the start, and then again, as they come down the stretch. So when they flew by us that first time, we all lost it. This is what we've been waiting all day for!! WOOOOOO!!! But then they were gone. And we waited. Sure, we could see the race on the big screen, but it was pretty hard to make out who was in what place, and it was absolutely impossible to hear the call of the race, not above the noise of the crowd.

Eventually, the horses rounded the last turn towards the finish and headed back to us. And as they passed us, about 100 meters before the finish line, there was Shocking leading the way! And there went Shocking to keep the lead right to the end!!!

Everyone went wild.* Some people may have had Shocking, most probably didn't, but it didn't really matter. We'd all just watched the Melbourne Cup. And it was good.

*The "everyone" excludes Maz, who was feverishly trying to figure out if he'd hit his trifecta. It wasn't until he actually went to the betting window, presented his ticket and received several hundred dollar notes that he was convinced that he'd won.

The post race

There are 10 races on Melbourne Cup Day. And for the most part, people not only got into the big race but the preceding six races as well. The last three races, however? My lord... after the big race, it was like the Plague had descended on the track. Blink, and everyone was gone. And the seagulls swooped. Oh yes... the seagulls swooped.

After watching a race or two more and drinking some of Maz's winnings, we made haste as well, back to our hotel and then onto the casino and the city.

The next day

Noise. Yeah... noise.

LOUD NOISES!!!

This is what I awoke to the next morning. As they ripped apart the parking lot outside our hotel room. I mean that as literally as possible. The concrete that was in the parking lot the day before? It was no more. At 8 in the freaking morning. On the day after the Melbourne Freaking Cup.

So, yeah. The day didn't start out so well. And it really didn't get any better. Maz, Joanne and I wandered around the city, first on a failed attempt to go to the Coffee Bean that I'd found on a prior trip, then on a failed attempt to go to the hotel that Maz was staying in that night. But we finally got to the hotel, collapsed for an hour, and then I was off to the airport.

I was miserable. I felt disgusting. But I'd been to the Melbourne Cup. And it was good.