Springvale – June 29th, 2008

Our trip to Springvale got off to an unusual start, considering we were on the 2.03pm Sandringham train when we left Melbourne Central. I vaguely heard an announcement at Flinders Street that the next train to depart Platform 8 would be a Cranbourne train, but I didn’t think much of it until we got to Carnegie. That’s the thing with an adventure to a place you’ve never been before – you don’t know that you’re going in the wrong direction until you see something vaguely familiar. I have mistakenly caught a Cranbourne line train before, when I thought I was going to Frankston. Carnegie was what tipped me off that time too. Anyway, we couldn’t understand how the train swapped lines while we were on it, but we hoped that the other passengers were as tolerant as we were (and as ready for adventure), otherwise Connex would be in a lot of trouble.

We decided to go to Springvale, a place that I have been before but not for many years. Sunday lunches in Springvale were very much a thing of my childhood, going to yum cha with a carload of cousins, and being spoilt with peanut candy by my grandfather. When we got off the train we headed into the Kan Yang supermarket to find something for Doug’s strange foods’ shelf. He settled on ‘Kickapoo joy juice’, because I can’t think of anything that could bring more joy than kicking a poo. We decided against the hair soup, in case it had odd side effects – I think I’d look strange with a beard.

Doug was back in his usual form, and we had spent the waiting time on the platform playing ‘guess the station’. Things like, “Bird of prey on fire,” (Hawksburn) and, “The place that the chipmunk who’s not Chip never wants to go,” (Huntingdale) and, “What that chipmunk can wear if he ever does go there,” (Armadale). Oh, the hilarity . . . We had plenty of gags at the expense of the strange foodstuffs we found, including ‘vegetarian meat floss’ and a meat tenderiser that (somewhat aptly) shared the name of a well-known Nazi leader.

Given that we didn’t leave the city until quite late, we missed all of the lunchtime sittings for yum cha. We did find a restaurant that wasn’t closed for the usual lunch to dinner break (3-5.30pm) situated across the road from the cryptically named Papaya Pog Pog. We decided to order a few dishes and share them, and ended up with a three-course meal for about $15 each. The salt and pepper tofu was a highlight, but by far the most amusing part of the meal was the rather phallic banana fritters that we ordered for dessert. I don’t know it the cook decided to play up to our innuendo (and bad jokes), or if it was just a happy coincidence, but when the fritters arrived we couldn’t even eat them to start off with because we were laughing too much. Especially because Cara’s was an example of when length isn’t important, but girth is.

By the time that we finished ‘lunch’ it was nearly 5pm and time to head home. We stopped off at Springvale Central to stock up on fruit and vegies for the week, to find that everything was half the price it had been earlier because it was the end of the day. Doug bought a couple of kilos of custard apples, but we wisely steered clear of the durian. We narrowly missed a train back to the city, and had to wait 20 minutes for the next one. We filled the time eating some of the treats that we got from the supermarket, like Doug’s Super Lemon candy. They were like warheads, sour enough to make you gag, but sweet enough in the middle to make you want to keep going.

Considering our only aim for the day was to go to the beach, we ended up with a completely different experience. It was easy to forget where we were when we were in the shopping centre, it was like we had gone travelling and were discovering new places. When we saw a couple of blonde girls they seemed almost out of place, like they were fellow travellers. Heading back into the city as darkness fell, we started thinking of where to go next – maybe Sandringham, we’ll get there one day . . .

One more thing that we found at the station on the way home – a poster for escalator safety. It’s like ‘spot the difference’, one is good and one is bad, but I have no idea what the difference is between them.

Upper Ferntree Gully – June 22nd, 2008

After a brief visit to the Vic Market this morning (for a breakfast bratwurst, some five foot tall plastic Elvises, and a kids’ soccer uniform), Cara and I headed to Melbourne Central to meet Heeney. As we waited for her train to get in, I decided to kill some time at the shops which, along with our trip to the market, resulted in me carrying a whole lot of unnecessary shopping all the way to Upper Ferntree Gully.

We chose our destination through a combination of random pointing at the train lines and ‘proximity to green stuff’ on the Google map. We thought that it might be nice to get out of the city for a while, and head head for the greenery, and made sure to take umbrellas and cardigans. I was also tempted to take a thermos of tea with us, but I don’t think I could have fitted it in with all of my shopping.

As we waited for the 2.18pm Belgrave train, I hoped that we would have some daylight left when we arrived. At almost an hour, it was the longest train trip we’ve had on our Sunday Savings so far. Without Doug (we were Douglas again), we had to try and keep up the witty banter by ourselves – Cara won the prize for best/worst pun, when we reached Laburnum station she said, “Laburnum Shirley.” We watched the leafy eastern suburbs fly past the window, getting further and further away from places that we knew. Looking at the train map told us that Upper Ferntree Gully was a ‘premium’ station – no standard stations for us, it’s safety zones and toilets all the way . . .

The first thing we saw when we left the station was a Tourist Information Centre – just the thing for city kids who have decided to go on an adventure without really having any idea where they’re going to end up. A little further down, in the station car park, was the Upper Gully Market where you could buy, among other things, ferns. We stopped at the Life for all Creatures caravan for some homemade lemon slice and coconut ice (80c a piece, that’s gotta be the best value snack around). We also bought some giant field mushrooms (some were almost as big as my head) from the fruit and vegie stall, which I think will be great stuffed with ricotta and thyme. We had a little explore of the shops (Heeney bought a pie at the A1 Bakery, I had a bite, it was indeed A1), and resisted the urge to go into the Royal Hotel for a drink, although we did admire its art deco facade.

At the Information Centre, we picked up a map of the walking trails in the Dandenong Ranges National Park. The very helpful man who worked there asked if there was anywhere in particular we wanted to go. I think I confused him somewhat by asking, “Are there any walking tracks that we can walk to?” until I explained that we arrived on the train. Given the topography of the park, I don’t think many people take public transport there – unless the weather is better, and they’re super-fit, and they intend to climb to the top of the mountain.

We decided not to wander too far off the beaten track in case it got dark – and we weren’t really dressed for bushwalking, especially carrying large quantities of shopping with us. We crossed the railway line and headed up the School Track and around to the car park on the Mt Dandenong Tourist Road. The Kokoda Memorial Track is closed for repairs for a few months, which was unfortunate (but also a relief because its other name is the 1000 steps trail, and there are only so many steps that inappropriate footwear and 1/2 a kilo of field mushrooms can ascend).

We didn’t venture too far into the bush, just across the bridge and into the upper part of the picnic area. I hugged a tree, studied the teeny tiny toadstools on the ground, and found several sticks that could have been substituted for the telescopic walking poles that the real bushwalkers were brandishing (and there were several of them about). We sat in the picnic area for a while to escape the drizzle, and decided to break out the plastic Elvises for a look.

It may seem like a strange thing to buy, but we’ve been having trouble with the possums eating the vegetables we’re trying to grow, and I thought that a plastic scare-Elvis might do the trick, even in the dark. It seemed a bit out of place, Elvis in the middle of the Australian bush, but at least we had something to shelter under if it rained again.

We headed back to the station before it got too late, and by the time we changed trains at Ringwood at 5.33pm, it was well and truly dark. The pun juice was running dry compared to other weeks, but it was replaced by songs (there’s nothing like singing ‘Country Roads’ to find your way back to the train station) instead. Upper Ferntree Gully certainly lived up to its name – much more so than Box Forest College, which was certainly a College but had no boxes, or forest, in sight.

Bridge Road, Richmond – June 15th, 2008

Sunday seems so long ago now, but just because I didn’t get the chance to write up our adventures at the time, it’s no excuse for shirking my Sunday saving responsibilities.

Given that there were a few Sunday afternoon activities planned close to home, we decided not to stray too far away from the city. We were without Doug (Douglas, he would like that one), so Cara and I decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to do something particularly girly: shopping in Bridge Road. Now, I know that this technically isn’t part of the Sunday saving philosophy – we have both been to Bridge Road before – but we figured that it had been so long since either of us had been there, it counted as a new adventure.

We left home and headed into the city to catch the number 75 tram to East Burwood. Unfortunately, because we didn’t leave until fairly late in the day (that’s the problem when Saturday night involves drinking for a good cause) and so we were caught in a mass of Carlton and Collingwood supporters on their way to the footy. After they all disembarked en route to the MCG, we had the pleasure of a relatively empty tram for a couple of stops before arriving in discount shopping heaven.

We went to several clothing stores in the same strip where we found same old, same old clothes. It’s very easy to see what’s ‘in’ when it’s in every shop just in slightly different shades and fabrics. Amongst the oversized retro 80s sunglasses (which looked bad enough the first time round, let alone stuck on the face of a bleach-bond acne prone teenager with no sense of control when it comes to partying) and rainbows of neatly folded tops, I made my first purchase – a dress at Dotti.

I have decided that I collect dresses, given that I have many of them and never like to throw them out. Other clothes I find easier to part with, but lately I haven’t been able to bring myself to get rid of any of my old dresses. I also bought a slip, useful considering the dress I bought was made from sheer fabric – something that is ‘in’ every second shop. It was actually something that was on my list as well – not that I had a proper list – but it was something I had at some stage planned to buy before I actually saw it. I bought a couple of things in Landes to wear to work, always a good excuse, and a seemingly justified way of spending hard-earned money.

Without Doug, the witty banter wasn’t nearly as abundant as it would have been otherwise. There were hardly any bad puns, at least none that were so bad I can still remember them today. Without Doug, we could do a lot of girly shopping though – my biggest bargain find was going in to Brands United and finding bras that cost $2 each. I also found a $50 bra that was reduced to $15 and was pretty happy with that, until I realised that everything I was looking at was on the ‘50% off the marked price’ rack. Three undergarments for $9.50 – bargain! Who cares if the fabric is some lairy kind of zebra print, it’s a $2 bra! Besides, they were better than the hideous g-strings we found in Cotton On.

We went to the Gorman Surprise store to longingly stroke the soft, soft cardigans that, although on sale, are still out of my price range. I did get some lovely organic cotton pyjamas though (also on my list), and as the tail end of my hangover kicked in, I was spurred on by the thought of going home and testing out said pyjamas.

By then, we were getting hungry – shopping can be hard work, and Bridge Road (at least the part that we were in) is not exactly known for its fine eateries. I wanted to go to The Tofu Shop because I’ve always been intrigued by just how interesting they can make tofu. I realised why I’ve never been there though when we arrived: it’s never open when I go there, because it’s usually a Sunday. We went across the road for Thai instead, to Krua Thai 2, and had some lunch specials – there’s nothing like a lunch special at 3.30pm on a Sunday. I had a very nice green chicken curry, but did look enviously at Cara’s Pad Thai with some big prawns poking out of the top.

After that, it was back to Dotti for Cara to buy a jacket, the only thing she decided to buy, compared to my many bags of shopping – she has such restraint. Then we headed back in to the city for a quick stop at home before going to Trades for the Anarchist Guild Social Committee, which was thoroughly entertaining. Just as well really, because all I could think about beforehand was how much I wanted to try out my new pyjamas.

Sunday, lazy Sunday . . .

So there were no Sunday adventures today – owing partly to hangovers and laziness, and the fact that the first day of winter was so cold I was hesitant to get out of my pyjamas and leave the house.

I did eventually leave, but not to go anywhere new, I just retraced my steps remembering picnics and pub crawls of the past, stopping at the Edinburgh Gardens and the Union Club Hotel. It’s birthday city at the moment (the KRudd cake went down well last night – a slice of Kevin if ever there was one), and the celebratory gatherings have left little time for Sunday adventuring.

First was Sam’s birthday picnic, where I ate way too much and then played with the footy – badly. Sam actually asked if it was the first time I had kicked a football before, it wasn’t, but I just do it so rarely that I’m really quite terrible at it. I’m a bit better with soccer, but Aussie Rules is just a little bit difficult for me . . .

Then I went to Paul’s birthday drinks at the Union. I settled in with a pint of Guinness for a while, until I had to leave because I was getting tired. I came home and had a nap on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep as ‘Big Brother’ rambled on in the background. I think I’ll sleep well tonight – there’s a big week ahead, and any Sunday adventures at the end of it will have to take place interstate as I’ll be in Hobart. There will be more Melbourne adventuring though, maybe we’ll go to the end of the line somewhere – Stony Point, perhaps?