Sydney Weekender, Day Two

I sometimes imagine families on the opposite end of the spectrum as mine, with all daughters instead of sons.  My mind wanders to bedtime, where surely the girls must clutch their favorite stuffed animals, snuggle up in their beds, and fall asleep dreaming of fairies and unicorns.  In my family--with boys--there are stuffed animals, and there is snuggling, but there is also...farting.  And then laughing.  And more farting.  Usually, the boys and their boyness are in a whole separate bedroom from me, so I don't have to be privy to the whole thing.  But there we were, in a family room at a hostel in Sydney...and I was trapped amongst the boyness.

In my perfect world, all hoteliers would make 'family rooms' 2-bedroom suites--or at least have some mercy and reserve those for families with all boys.  Even though my guys share a room at home, there is always something about sleeping in a different bed that ups the ante with the whole farting and laughing business.

It's all bit fuzzy because I was insanely tired, and I want to spare you the annoying details, but a few gentle reminders gave way to a few exasperated rounds of 'ok, that's enough', and then Sam got angry.  Any sensible kid would have surmised it was actually time to quiet their mouths (among other body parts), but the two older ones were committed enough to the routine that they just couldn't let it go.  Come morning, I opened my eyes and remembered that I had doled out a punishment the night before--in Alex's eyes, the worst possible punishment.  I had told them that while they would be given breakfast in the morning, they would not be having breakfast at the nice cafe where their father and I (and Kenyon, who had fallen asleep before the lights were even turned off) would be eating--they would get their breakfast from the convenience store next door.

Grumpy attitudes prevailed as the two boys sat on concrete steps of the hostel eating cereal with a plastic spoon and sipping orange juice.

Wheeeee for family outings!

Luckily, my family's storm cloud of sour attitude was no match for Sydney's blue skies and balmy temps, so we were all feeling a bit more brighter by the time we had walked to the adorable Clipper Cafe in Glebe.

That is, until Alex spotted his Holy Grail of breakfast menu items--pancakes--and the quiet weeping began.

Are we overly strict to withhold from our offspring a delectable menu item of their choosing, relegating them to concrete and cereal packets?  Maybe.  I don't know.  (according to their Nana, a definitive YES).  But we certainly couldn't cave then, or all semblance of us as parental figureheads would be dashed.  We'd be left frantically turning dials and pushing buttons to continue the billowing smoke and omniscient voice effects as we try to pull the curtain closed.

Instead, I explained to Alex that I don't enjoy punishing him, and said I'd bet that next time he was in a similar situation, he'd make a different choice.  And I allowed them to have toast--I'm not a heartless monster!--and from there everyone's mood improved.

Here, Alex had a hard time maintaining a firm grip on his Pathetic Mode while I tried to make him laugh.

Breakfast took forever to arrive at the table, but we had fun playing I Spy...

I feel compelled to note that Sam had intentionally made his hair look ridiculous here so our loved ones won't fly to Australia for an emergency hair intervention

...and making funny faces...

...and the food was well worth the wait.

Glebe is an awesome little neighborhood in Sydney, with used bookstores, cafes and other small, independent shops.  We happily holed ourselves up at one bookstore; I think we would have all been happy to spend the day there.

Alex spotted a really cool hardback book, The Wildlife of Star Wars: A Field Guide, and spent the rest of our visit completely immersed, mesmerized by the truly gorgeous illustrations and information about each creature in the beloved series.

I wanted to buy the book and surprise him with it as a Christmas present, so I paid for it but told the bookstore lady that we'd put it back on the shelf and leave, with Sam sneaking it into our bag without the boys knowing when he feigned having to go back to the store to use the restroom.

The weakness in my plan was exactly how I'd wrest the book from Alex's arms.  When I announced it was time to leave, and that the books needed to go back where they belonged, Alex instinctively clutched the book to his chest, wide-eyed and pleading that he needed the book, that he'd be getting money for his birthday or Christmas, that he just had to have it.  He was desperate for the book, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that any joy that he'd experience being reunited with it underneath red and green wrapping paper in three months' time would be negated by the pain and suffering I'd cause to force him to shelve the book on this day.  It was a book, for heaven's sake, so I did cave this time, and with a smile told him that we had already bought him the book.  He thanked us profusely throughout the day for this most prized possession.

Just down the road from the bookstore was Chocolateria San Churro.  Now, I don't have all that much opportunity to practice the Spanish I picked up from my childhood in Miami, but they had me at 'chocolateria'.

This orange-infused drinking chocolate was delicious.

The boys had their first taste of fondue.

neat and tidy, before the madness began

They started out like this...

...but this is a more accurate picture.

Continuing the spontaneous culinary tour of Glebe, Sam couldn't resist getting a few Chinese buns from the curiously named but authentic Chubby Girl's Bunz Shop.  

Jackson is never one to turn down food, even though he was a mere 10 minutes out from chocolate fondue.

Our little baby pygmy marmoset along for the ride...

We had a brief look at the Museum of Contemporary Art before heading home on the train.  I'd like to go back; it looked like a great museum and admission is free.

A rough start to the day, but all the rest more than made up for it.  We were completely wiped out on the train, and we'd all like to squeeze in a couple more trips to Sydney before we leave.

Time is passing quickly, and I'm already feeling pangs of sadness that our time here is coming to a close.

Sydney Weekender, Day One

I've had a Groupon deal for a Sydney tall ship ride burning a hole in my inbox for a while now, so we headed up to the city for a belated Father's Day weekend (they celebrate Father's Day at the beginning of September here).

I could wander the city for days, but stamina for that sort of thing with my other family members is fairly limited.  Alas, here is where Traveling With Children Tip #142 comes in: Taking the train, and hence having to walk from the train station to a destination, is the perfect way to squeeze in some wandering without it being discussed (and vehemently shot down) as an official trip itinerary item.

As in Denver, I appreciate the older architecture the most, and Sydney has a similar blend of the lovely old against the new, sleek and modern.

I had noticed Haigh's Chocolates before because of the green tones in the glass, but let's be honest--they had me at 'chocolates'.

We managed to keep it to the singular and selected a piece each.  Kenyon, whose favorite color is pink,  chose a rose cream decorated with a small pink rose on top.

The Strand Arcade is a breathtakingly beautiful historic shopping area that we happened upon for coffee, and the man working at Strand Hatters was kind enough to allow the boys to try on a few hats.  There's something about hats that transports you to a whole different persona the minute you put one on.

Alex's seasonal allergy-ridden eyes and this hat are not a good match, but I do love the way he felt the need to grip the suitcase handle as if he were bound for a distant land.

This hardworking, scrappy little newsboy would likely lead a double life as a pickpocket.

His pickpocketing earnings allowed him to take an early retirement, so he picked up and moved to Moscow.

Sam fell for this hat and I thought he looked quite dashing, but he wasn't sure he would use it enough to justify its cost.  I should have just bought it.

Since our first trip to Sydney, we'd promised the boys that we'd return to the Darling Harbour water playground, so as soon as we dropped our bag off at the Sydney Harbour YHA the boys were off like a herd of elephants stampeding to a water hole after a drought.

Despite the absolutely perfect weather, the park was mercifully less crowded than the sardine can experience we had on our first visit here.  I still broke out my stern, kill-all-the-fun mom voice that should any of them wander out of eyesight for even a moment, our water park experience would be OVER (yep, I even turned on the echo for the full effect).  My threat worked; Sam and I had no problem keeping an eye on them and enjoyed watching them frolic.

I loved this impromptu, joyful waterpark shimmy...

Although we weren't sitting near each other, Sam and I independently came up with names for this popular move: Sam dubbed it 'The Enema', while I opted for 'The Bidet'.

We saw The Karate Kid (Ralph Macchio version) for our last Friday Movie Night, so Jackson was keen on sparring with his spouting water opponent...

They had enough fun to put up a decent protest when it was time to leave, but we had to get them changed and to the harbour for our tall ship cruise.

Tickets for this hour and a half experience are usually $50 each, but it's always listed on some daily coupon site and I scored them for $19.  Live music, some nibbles to munch on, and a glass of champagne paired wonderfully with the blue skies and beautiful Sydney views.

Sam and Jackson signed up for the mast climb, something the younger two boys wanted to do but weren't big enough for the safety harness.  Me?  I have no interest in climbing to the top of a tall, teetering pole thankyouverymuch, I'll just stay here and guzzle sip my champagne.

I blinked, and suddenly Jackson was very high.

And at that moment, I heard Sam's voice saying, "I don't think I'm going to go any higher than where I am right now."

He persevered, and made it to the mast lookout with Jackson.  Later, he'd say that he wished he'd looked around a little bit more because he just had tunnel vision.  Jackson was a champ, but did say he was more nervous on the platform than he had been on the climb.

What kids wouldn't want their hand at steering a massive pirate ship?

We also took advantage of another opportunity to take some photos by the Harbour Bridge and Opera House.  The kids don't seem to particularly care about that sort of thing now, but I figure they'll think it's neat  to have them someday.

When I look at this picture, it seems like I am looking into a crystal ball ten years in the future.  Why does Jackson look like he's 19 here instead of 9?

For some reason, this one of Alex evokes an early Beastie Boys, No Sleep Till Brooklyn kinda vibe.

This image is very postcardy, but man, this is a pretty city...I'm smitten.

It was a long, good day, and I was completely wiped out and in bed at our sparse family room at the hostel before 8pm.  We still had Sunday in Sydney to soak up before heading back to the Gong...

Culinary Adventure Series: Squid Steak Sandwiches

When I was 9 years old, my dad got a fellowship to study at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, so we left Miami and spent the summer up in Cape Cod.  The quaint, sleepy town of Woods Hole was the perfect place for my brother and I to have what at the time felt like pure, unbridled freedom.  We roamed as a pack by bicycles with other kids, scouring the rubbish bins for cans that with the 5-cent deposit we could trade directly with shopkeepers for pieces of Bazooka Joe bubblegum.  We lived in a small wooden beach cabin with an open sleeping loft, and it seemed as though every time I walked in the door from the beach, my mom was in the kitchen cooking and Oliver North was testifying before Congress about the Iran-Contra affair on TV.

There are a few words, that for some reason, I remember when and where I first heard them.  I was nine, in Woods Hole, when I first heard the word 'recollect', as Oliver North seemingly answered every question on the stand with 'I don't recollect'.

My parents signed me and my brother up for some science and ocean-related day camps.  I caught a flounder using a piece of hot dog as bait, and we also caught, dissected and ate fresh squid.  I thought it was pretty much the coolest thing ever to use the squid's spine to puncture the ink sac and write something, and then cook up the squid right there in our classroom and eat it for a snack.  Right there in that day camp classroom sealed in me not only for a love and respect of the ocean, but a love of calamari as well.

Fast forward twenty-four years and I walked through the market last weekend, my eyes resting on a box of frozen squid steaks.  I'm not sure if these are sold at Whole Foods back home or not, but I can't imagine they'd be only $11 for a box of 8 thick, hearty pieces of squid that were perfect for squid steak sandwiches.  And because I would in theory like to prevent a child of mine (not going to mention any names but it may or may not rhyme with 'Schmalex') one day sitting on a therapist's couch discussing how his mother giving him strange food has contributed to his inability to lead a productive life, I did give everyone a choice between a normal hamburger and the squid steaks.

To my surprise, everyone was game for the squid steak.

I prepped a simple coating for the squid with some flour, grated parmesan cheese and black pepper.  In a second bowl, I mixed an egg with a couple of tablespoons of water.  After cutting the steaks into sizes that would fit the bread I planned on using, I dipped each piece into both bowls and pan-fried them for a couple of minutes on each side in olive oil.

I squeezed a little lemon over the top, nestled it in with some lettuce and sliced roma tomatoes inside a warmed bun, and paired it with a green salad.

The Verdict

Sam:  He said he loved every bit of it, thought it was fantastic and he'd eat it again.

Me:  I would definitely eat it again, although I'd tweak the recipe a bit to add more flavor.

Jackson: He ate his as well as the few extra pieces that remained, along with two massive helpings of salad and then wanted the leftover bun and also ate the cucumber, broccoli, and lettuce nubbins left on the cutting board.  Mental note: start a savings account and a garden plot now in preparation for this kid's adolescence, because the grocery bills will increase to ludicrous heights.

Kenyon: A quote: "I didn't like the squid, but liked the rest."  Even though this kid has thinned out some as he has moved into his fourth year, he still has a Homer Simpson-esque appreciation for food.  Last weekend, one of us mentioned something about pasting something, and Kenyon leaned back and closed his eyes, murmuring, "Mmmmmmmmm.  Pastries."

Alex: A quote: "Mom, you know the patty thing?  It wasn't too bad!"  

Massive win!  I was feeling pretty darn proud of myself, and was just patting myself on the back and mentally chalking one up for Mom in the Avoiding Therapy Department...and then I accidentally poked poor Alex in the eye when I went to kiss him goodnight.  Sigh. Fail.

The Benefits of Procrastination: A Life Lesson

I've been a tad preoccupied these past couple of weeks; one (my husband, at the very least) might even say obsessed.  A little backstory--once July hit and we had passed the halfway mark here, I knew it was time for us to start looking at plane tickets home.  This whole year, I've been holding out hope that we could swing by Thailand on the way home.  It sounds easy and just like one minute out of the way, right?  Like picking up some milk on the way home from work.  Certainly not a whole extra giant continent away.

Thailand has long held the top spot of places in the world I wanted to visit, but realistically it has always been a pipe dream.  I know, I know--everyone says Thailand is cheap once you're there, and a lot of people I know have been there.  But they were either single or traveling with a friend/spouse.  Five plane tickets, though?  Not cheap.  And while I am so, so incredibly thankful for my children that enrich my life in innumerable ways, let's face it--the teeny dip into the savings account pool for a jaunt to a foreign country can quickly become a massive drought for a family of five.

Four of which are boys that eat absurd quantities of food.

On the way to Australia for our yearlong teacher exchange, our stopover in Fiji only added $500 total to the cost of our plane tickets--a no-brainer, and the homestay we did there was something we'll all remember forever.  We wanted to have a similar experience in Thailand, but managing Australia's high cost of living this year while living on Sam's US teacher salary and my solo virtual law practice that has its ups and downs has proved to be more difficult than we'd hoped.  It was hard to justify increasing the cost of our flights to stop through anywhere on the way home; Thailand in particular, which upped the already steep cost by $1000.

I checked the plane fares for the hundredth time while the cartoon devil on my shoulder cackled 'this is a once in a lifetime opportunity--just do it!'. Just when I was sold on the idea of adventure over responsibility, the goody-two-shoes angel had the nerve to weasel its way onto my shoulder with a poof! and announce that it was far more important for us to just get home and get our finances back on track.

So, with a sigh, I did what any responsible adult would do.

I procrastinated.

And wouldn't you know, the next time I looked at those plane fares, the prices had dropped and it was actually cheaper to stop in Thailand than it would be to go straight to the States.

Clearly, it would have been irresponsible to book tickets straight home at this point--I mean, the universe had spoken, and I'm not one to tempt fate.

So...

WE'RE GOING TO THAILAND!!

And since my mom had such a great time traveling Tunheim-style in Australia (coupled with the fact that she had enough mileage lying around for first-class tickets both ways), Nana will be joining us!  The airlines are surely implementing new security measures for their down comforters as I type this...

Needless to say, ever since the tickets were booked I have been completely consumed with guidebooks, blogs, talking to other travelers, and chatting with Mom to nail down an itinerary that is feasible (timewise and financially) but still awesome.  We'll be up in Chiang Mai with the elephants as well as down in Koh Yao Noi for a fishing village homestay.  I'm totally stoked; this will be a perfect last hurrah to an amazing year of family adventure.

Culinary Adventure Series: Sea Snails

Hanging out at the tidepools is easily one of our favorite things to do in Wollongong.  Just two blocks away, it's a quick outing that never disappoints.  I'm not sure how it's possible, but we manage to see new and interesting creatures every single time we're there--and we go a lot.

During yesterday's outing, Jackson spotted a large, beautiful shell that was still home to a creature.

When we found the second one, a different shell but still really large, my first thought was--dinner!

Wait, that wouldn't be your first thought??

Three events occurred immediately after I shared this brilliant idea with my family:

1. I began Googling sea snail recipes
2. Jackson, my little adventurous foodie, asked if he could help me prepare the meal.  (I love him.)
3. Alex, stonefaced, declared that he would not be ingesting any sea snails.  (I love him.)

We had two good-sized sea snails (that I not-so-scientifically identified as a turban snail and a whelk in hopes of avoiding the myriad poisonous creatures that inhabit Australia's seas).  Jackson and I stocked up on smaller snails to make sure we had enough meat to work with and then headed home, bucket heavy with our bounty.

After giving them a hearty rinsing in fresh water, I steamed the shells for 1.5 hours.

Then, using a skewer, we pried open each little protective foot, and carefully slid the creatures out.

Jackson holding an extracted sea snail

Up close, these snails are amazing--each one had a beautiful black and white spiral pattern on one of its curves; I did a poor job of capturing it below, but you can somewhat see it on the lower righthand portion of the body.

I decided to make a conch fritter-esque meal out of the snails, because I figured the addition of other ingredients would help make it more palatable for my reluctant Al Pal.  After a lot of labor prying, rinsing, trimming, and chopping, I had a bowl of freshly steamed sea snail meat.

I chopped onion, green bell pepper (or 'capsicum' as they call it here), celery, and garlic and added it to the meat.

I then made a batter out of a cup of flour, a 1/2 tsp baking powder, pinch of salt and pepper, some paprika and oregano, a half cup of milk, and half a beer--and added my chopped mixture to the batter.

Then I heated some oil in a pan, plunked down some of my concoction, and fried it for a couple of minutes on each side until they were golden brown.  Paired with a green salad (and the rest of the beer for me), and dinner was served!

As I set dinner down on the table, I thought about how surprising it was that Sam was so game to eat my little culinary experiment.  He and ocean animals have a checkered past--he loves sushi, but he may or may not have an allergy to shellfish.  One summer in Maine while we were dating, he partook in my family's usual lobster-and-steamer feast and ended up spending the night huddled on the floor in the hallway outside the bathroom in between lengthy spells of vomiting and diarrhea.  He was right as rain in the morning, and even spent the day with me canoeing on the Saco River--but during future trips to Maine he has always avoided the lobsterfest. Although snails are different than bivalves, I was a teensy bit nervous that my sea-foraged meal would make him (or all of us) sick.

The Verdict

Sam: He ate three fritters and even said he'd like to take the leftovers to work in the morning.

Jackson: He ate three fritters and scrounged some more off his brother's plates.

Me: I thought they tasted great!  The smaller snails aren't worth it for the labor-to-meat yield ratio, so I'd only harvest sea snails again if I could find four of the larger ones.

For the less enthusiastic family members, this may have been more of a character building experience than a culinary experience.  I asked their thoughts on the meal...

Alex: "On a scale of one to ten, I'd rate it a one." (but he ate half a fritter!)

Alex 'enjoying' his first taste of snail fritter

Kenyon: "Disgusting. I only liked the salad; nothing else." (he also ate half a fritter!)

Since he was actually trying the fritter, I figured that wasn't the best time to tell him to cut his food and use proper table manners...

Overall, I'm calling it a success (and as of the time of this writing, everyone's stomachs feel normal...crossing fingers...).