A Christmas Special

The last few weeks have been spent working in the week and going out at the weekends. Most weeknights are spent sitting in the outside area at the back of the house playing poker for small pots (normally a $2 buy in). The housemates go through a lot of Captain Morgans, as shown by the bottle collection below.

 I have settled into my job now, with some aspects becoming slightly monotonous, however the people I work with are a great crowd. We had our Christmas social at a bar called the deck in the city centre, all expenses paid for with a bar and buffet, though it was annoyingly but cleverly (think of the savings to the company) put in midweek and everyone was scheduled to work the next day. Most of the work lot are quite old for backpackers, with many in their late 20’s. There are quite a lot of disillusioned teachers among them- those people going into it take note!

Views of the city from where I work

 

Robert has had a lot of work in the last few weeks for Unger, the Jewish Events Company, though he worries about the work drying up after Christmas. He says it’s horrendously unorganized, with many occasions where he has turned up at events and had to wait around for an hour before someone arrives to direct him. The business is family run, and often operating at small private events- dinners or drinks at family homes. It does also cater for larger events such as bar mitzvahs and weddings- though the events are all always jewish. When he turns up at an event there is little structure with the boss making brief appearances throughout the event to moan before disappearing and leaving the waiting staff to run the show on their own. However Rob does benefit from the lack of organization as last week he was paid extra, and it seems he is rarely monitored. Also he is always fed there, occasionally bringing some stuff back to Murray Street.

Australia has many similarities to home, many of them are quite discreet but noticeable as a sum. They love a good pie as we do at home(including at sporting events), they queue(unlike the europeans), they all stand on one side on escalators so people in a hurry can walk up the other, the queens head sits on the back of every coin. Even the shape of the 50c coin has similarities to the 50p. Walking down an Aussie high street and looking at the people, the you could easily think you were in Britain- they just look British, not European or just Caucasian, just British(which is no surprise considering they are 80% British/Irish descendents), with the same dodgey sun tans as a Marbella beach resort. Aussie culture though generally a mish mash of everybody elses(including Christmas stuff which I wish they had developed into their own to fit in with the climate- why have snow on adverts?) with the odd lazy attempt to make something their own.

No chance of a white christmas here

The perfect example of this is taking a margarita pizza and dumping a fried egg on top, then calling it ‘The Aussie’. Another favourite(which is Melbournes local dish) is taking a beautiful Chicken Schnitzel smothering it in tomato paste and cheese and calling it an Aussie Parma.

Christmas tree near Federation Square

St Pauls Cathedral from the christmas tree

Christmas day was spent as a house in the house. Four hours after hitting the hay following a Christmas eve session with Robert, a bottle of bourbon, beers and a few other housemates(most went to bed early), I drearily awoke to get turkey no 2 into the oven(having cooked the first the night before). A few weeks ago I put myself up for taking charge of cooking the meal, a job which for most people was the one they wanted to avoid. I took the reigns as I wanted to make sure I had a proper Christmas dinner. I worried if it were left to someone else it would have been a flop or it simply wouldn’t have happened. The nightmare would have been Christmas without it. Everybody chipped into the day, peeling veg, washing plates, clearing and laying tables, sweeping floors, making stuffing and countless other contributions. The meal was a beast, to borrow a phrase from Chris Sheldrick, the meat (ham and turkey) literally fell of the bone.

House Christmas Meal

We also had a house secret santa (or kris kringle to aussies) in the morning. Rob received an oven glove(which had been desperate for for weeks), a T-shirt and a travel journal.  I got beer which was whilst practical, seems like a bit of a cop out. I bought my ss a porno, boxing gloves and a toblerone whilst rob bought his some hair removal cream(he is bare downstairs), a santa outfit and chocolate.

Secret Santa @ Murray Street

Paul presenting rob with secret santa

We ate around two o’clock outside at the back of the house, everybody sitting in shorts, sandals and t-shirts as the temperature hit a warm but not irksome 25˚C. 

During the afternoon some people went to the nearby park to play some cricket and footie, but others including Robert and I, ended up slobbed in front of the Tele watching the horrendous Christmas day TV here. For many the evening was spent drinking outside-my exertions throughout the day meant I ended up watching back to back South Park Christmas specials on the tele.

Christmas was strange not being at home, though good fun nonetheless. The only time I felt homesick in the period was Christmas eve on the train back from work but otherwise the good weather, proper roast and good spirit of the house meant it was more than an adequate replacement.

I will post on the recent trip to the MCG to watch the ashes when I write my next blog.


 

                                Found this gem of an alley in the centre