Pairs

#1: Dreamy electro

Ignoring the slightly creepy video clip, this is a rather charming song.




although they can't compete with RÜFÜS (although I'm partial to umlauts).



#2: Absurdly catchy synth Choruses

This song by Twinsy (self-described Aussie 'D list supergroup') has been all over triple j like a rash recently, but if you prefer the convenience (& lack of mundane chatter) of online streaming, or just happen to not spend as much time as I do in the car travelling to debating venues on Friday evenings with nothing but jjj for sustenance, please avail yourself of this song.

Particularly enjoying the contrast between the zesty choral arrangement and the synth chorus. The synth part of which reminds me of...




 this utterly danceable track from Architecture in Helsinki.




#3: Errr... female voices?

My attempts to create some tenuous links between the songs breaks down shamefully here...

Firstly Gossling (she of 'Boys like You' fame with 360). I suppose you either love or hate her nasal, prepubescent voice, but this single has grown on me (and it's also available for free from the triple j website, which helps).



And... The original song was pretty incredible unto itself, but this cover is a perfectly acceptable trance-y  update (wouldn't recommend staring at the video pic for a long time though).



c.l.

Balmain to Birchgrove II

The route:
N.B: Please excuse my terrible attempt at a map, scanned from the bushwalking book; clearly a bit of a fail as the two parts don't connect, but you get the idea... For a better copy, ask me for the book.

After overshooting the start, we found ourselves wandering down Young St, with spectacular view of Cockatoo Island/Parramatta River, and rather amusingly, bumped into another family clutching a copy of the same bushwalking guide, just finishing the walk (having done it starting from the other end); we didn’t ask them how the walk was, choosing to adopting the maxim ‘ignorance is bliss’.

At this rather advanced stage in the walk (read: outset), a toilet stop was needed but although the local toilets were adorned with the most whimsical graffiti, they were less than whimsical within, so it was decided we could wait, which as it turned out was for the best, as the architect-designed toilet block at Ballast Point park was a Wonder of the Modern World by comparison.

A tale of two toilets

We took the opportunity to admire the views of Cockatoo Island from the park at the end of the point, mentally bookmarking it as an excellent picnicking spot for future food-laden trips, before threading our way along a rocky path, past the unconventional Dawn Fraser swimming pool (I think she actually lives in Balmain, which is fitting), brushing aside overhanging branches.

Willows obscuring the Dawn Fraser Swimming Pool (photo credit: 52 suburbs)

We then followed the trail past yacht moorings, latticed Federation homes with minimalist Christmas decorations (e.g. few sparse twigs bent into a wreath shape painted silver) and mini Coopers galore. At the end of Louisa Rd is Birchgrove Wharf and Yurulbin Park but being lazy sods we cut this part out of the walk, instead making a Beeline across Birchgrove Park (possibly the most scenic place in Sydney for a cricket or football game; it surely helps local mums and dads summon up enthusiasm to go watch their kids play Saturday sports).

The next point of interest was Ballast Point Park; formerly a Caltex oil depot and now beautifully designed Public Park (cleverly referencing its industrial heritage). Here I will direct you to a few stunning pictures taken by the lady from 52 suburbs, and then my own curious photo, which if anyone has an explanation for it, I would be very interested to hear it.

Lock dumping ground (or this could have been the designers being a bit too clever – I don’t get it!)

The walk then loops around Mort Bay. For a maritime/history tragic like myself, this was a complete boon, Mort Bay being the place where ferries and tugs are moored and serviced (and go to die, I presume?), and is fringed by old factory buildings that have been converted to covetable apartments blocks (e.g. the Palmolive building).

Palmolive Buildings & Ferry/Tug Graveyards

After some increasing desperate strides on the part of my family, we emerged back on Darling St, at the eastern end, where the street dives steeply down towards East Balmain wharf. The view is quite the salve to any pain that might have built up from walking so far, and the sun-drenched park at the end (yes the sun came out, although only for a while), perfect for loitering in whilst waiting for a normal breathing pattern to resume.

Here a sane person might catch a bus back to the shops and cafes, rather than brave the hill and several kilometres between themselves and their car, or even catch a ferry if they were so clever as to have planned that far ahead. Rest assured, we did not take the sane option and I won’t bore you with details of my complaining (somewhat stifled by an ice-cream pit-stop). When we eventually reached the car 30 mins later, we were all thoroughly exhausted but satisfied at having experienced a more intrepid and invigorating day-after-the-day-after-Christmas day than normal.

C.L

The day after the day after Christmas day: Birchgrove to Balmain walk I

What does one do on an overcast day after the madness of Christmas and Boxing day? Compile Hottest 100 lists whilst watching the ‘excitement’ of the cricket test unfold on TV and endlessly clicking refresh on the Sydney to Hobart yacht tracker (just me? Oh…)? Or hit the shops to glare at/elbow fellow bargain hunters in the $5 bin at Hipster?
The answer: a bit of all of the above, unless one is feeling particularly masochistic and chooses to spend the afternoon braving the steep inclines and relentless trendiness of Balmain whilst looking utterly washed up as a result of over-indulgence in Christmas cheer.

And so our family set off for what our trusty “Sydney’s Best Harbour and Coastal Walks” book (2nd edition), informed us would be a 8km loop of about 3 hours duration, taking in the surrounds of Balmain and Birchgrove.

We subtracted 1 hour from this estimate on account of the Sheriff, little tortoise and myself’s speed-walking, then added hour back on account of the Heart Patient’s glacial pace and our collective propensity to stop every few metres to take photos of what normal people would consider banal scenes (see below for Exhibit A), consume food and drink (mainly food) and of course, search endlessly for public toilets.

Exhibit A: I managed to make the beautiful Mort Bay (not a promising name; literally ‘Death’ in Latin) look completely boring. Probably to the delight of the locals, sick of keen-bean bushwalkers like us spoiling their afternoon by taking pictures of them socialising their dogs (see exhibit B) or taking their children on spontaneous fishing expeditions (exhibit C).

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

Getting there
The book suggests the romantic option of a ferry ride to East Balmain, or the less romantic option of a bus ride from the city. We opted for the least romantic option (in addition to being anathema to the bicycling/vespa riding population of Balmain), by driving. If you do drive, the hot tip is: don’t be council-coffer enrichers like us, and park in the sections of Darling street close to the shops because these are likely to be metered. Instead go further up, close to the cross streets where the walk starts, as even though you will still be limited to 2 hours (all the best with finishing the walk in that time!), you don’t have to pay. Or, as a kind, hipster couple informed us (after we had bought a parking ticket, but the thought was there), there are some shops with unlimited parking behind them.

Terrain
The book had this walk down as ‘Easy’ which I presume means a-just-learnt-to-walk-6-month-old-could-breeze-through-this-so-stop-complaining. However, the prevalence of steep stairs (see below photo for just a taste) throughout seems to contradict this and the Heart Patient nearly threw in the towel after enduring a few of these (I should note that I probably added to the stair-quotient by misreading the map a few times). HP did eventually continue, after aiming a few murderous stares (no pun intended) in my direction.

It is also worth noting that this is a very exposed walk; barring a few shaded sections, it was completely open to the elements. Therefore, unless you do the walk in winter, it is best to choose an overcast day and attempt it in the afternoon or early morning – and despite doing so, I managed to get a slight tan from when the sun showed its face for a mere half an hour.

Notable features


Views! Vistas! Panoramas! Scenic sights! There was so much to take in ; on land and on the harbour that even the lady behind 52 suburbs (who I’ve borrowed some photos from; let’s face it, she had warm gooey light on the day she visited, plus a slightly superior camera) couldn’t help reverting to postcard clichés. History alongside modern marvels; industrial grit alongside trendy gentrification. Beautiful Parks with jaw dropping bridge(s) (Anzac and Harbour) views, clever installations (+not so artistic photo-taking of said installations on my behalf), oddly named yachts, Islands (Cockatoo and Goat). Intricately latticed Federation homes. Oh and a shipwright’s cottage (near cnr of Cooper and Darling St). Swoon.

My only gripe is that the walk skirts around the foreshore of Balmain and Birchgrove, meaning that we missed out on exploring the interior, which is just as interesting, with some of the oldest and most majestic churches in Sydney (if you look across from the train when crossing the Harbour bridge, you’ll see the elegant spire of the Anglican church pointing to the Heavens and you’ll know what I mean), the boutiques and quaint pubs and good ol’ Unity Hall where the Labor Party originated, back when Balmain was a working class ‘burb. Oh well, excuse for a repeat visit I suppose!

Sustenance

This can be found in the form of delightful cafes and restaurants galore lining Darling St, or in our case, several chunky choc-cononut cookies (1 for 50c), sold to us a barefooted 10 year local entrepreneur, who had set up a rickety table on the footpath. They were good, and by good I mean there wasn’t even a crumb left.

There is also a grungy, madalt Woolworths, featuring exposed ceiling beams in a 19th century building.


...see part 2 for the Route
C.L.

My Life is Complete: Mud in a Mug

My dearest eighth street-ers,

I do feel that there is a despairing lack of posting happening in the past... 4 months. So in true procrastination-during-stuvac fashion, I shall be posting your saviour - the ultimate mud in a mug, lovingly adapted from a recipe send to me by She Wears Skirts.

Unfortunately, I ate it too quickly to satisfy my sweet/chocolate/cake/fudgy/gooey/hot craving and therefore do not have any pictures. But do not despair! I promise to give thorough descriptions of what it should look like and trust me, it's so freaking amazing you will forever be grateful.

So to all you fellow stuck-in-an-unending-hole-of-study friends and those damn-you-free-as-a-bird-but-so-cold-right-now friends, here goes. Note the measurements are in no way exact and you should just go by feel.


Mud in a Mug
Get a mug. One you can microwave, not too big, not too small. This recipe doesn't make too much (the cake turns out to be maybe 3/4 cup size) but it's rich enough.

Put 1 1/2 tbs milk and 3/4 tbs unsalted butter in in. Microwave for about 20 sec on high so it melts a bit. Stir this with 1 1/4 tbs sugar to dissolve the sugar and completely melt the butter.

Add 1 3/4 tbs plain flour, 1 tbs cocoa and 1 pinch bicarb soda. Stir it to incorporate everything, don't worry, it doesn't have to be perfectly smooth. The consistency should be like normal cake batter, not too thick, but a thick kind of runny. Sort of like the picture of pouring batter in this blog: click me! (scroll down a bit ps. how good does this look?)

Stir in 2 tbs chocolate chips. Yes! Do it!

Microwave on high for 30-40 seconds. The cake should be hot and super moist & muddy because it's only partially cooked. The top has a shiny sort of skin/layer. It sort of looks like this but not as high. click me! This is because we only partially cook it so it's super muddy. Oh yeah.

So eat! Enjoy! And much thanks to She Wears Skirts. I do enjoy, perhaps too much.

Good luck with exams, eighth street-ers!

cc

For those of you also studying babies like me or excitedly looking forward to Louis Tiffon's (or is it ala Louie now?) new sibling: here's a token picture to satisfy your cluckiness.

Back to the future

Back to the Future is quite amazing!!!!

~ Hurley Who?

Yang:

The riot of colours in this month's Vogue Australia editorial shot in Mexico never fails as a pick-me-up:

The rest of the editorial (in slightly better quality) can be found here.

Speaking of Mexico, I'm quite enamoured of the two newest additions to my matchbox collection:

a soldier with hearts issuing from his gun & an assortment of masks; both images from Mexico printed onto plain matchboxes (2 for $5 at Glebe markets).


Lastly, these photos of Iceland by hound.design via Lovelorn Unicorn are just spectacular - especially the volcano crater; it seriously looks extra-terrestrial!

c.l.

Yin : bleak times ahead.

A few weeks ago when I was at a friend's house, I heard the song 'Alors on danse' (So we just dance) by Stromae, courtesy of someone having downloaded it onto their phone whilst in Europe (elsewise it would've remained an 'unknown unknown' for me)

It was a pretty massive hit in that part of the world last year, reaching number one in 18 European countries plus Turkey (I bet Turkey were wishing that common music tastes were high on the criteria for joining the European Union). And that standard-bearer for our modern age, Kanye West, has done a remix for the English-speaking world, who apparently can't handle the song in its original form.

The song itself is orright (the vuvuzela sounding trumpet is a bit irritating after a while) and the split screen video clip below, similarly so. The main redeeming feature for me at least, were (was?) the lyrics.




Although I have been informed by my francophone insider, The Free(wo)man, that the lyrics are held in general contempt by young people in France, I actually quite like the flow of the verses - they have a morose, almost poetic quality, and the ideas while a bit trite are still nicely expressed (or maybe I have low expectations; yea I'm looking at you, Katy 'Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?' Perry):

(English translation: I just copied this off lyrics translation and can't vouch for their accuracy):


-
So we just dance
So we just dance
So we just dance

When we say study, it means work,
When we say work, it means money,
When we say money, it means spending
When we say credit, it means debt,
When we say debt, it means bailiff,
We agree to being in deep shit
When we say love, it means kids,
When we say forever, it means divorce.

When we say family, we say grief, because misfortune never comes alone.
When we say crisis, we talk about the wold, famine and then third world.
When we say tiredness, we talk about waking up still deaf from sleepless night
So we just go out to forget all our problems.

So we just dance… (X9)

So you say that it’s over because the only thing worse would be death.
When you finally think you’ll make it, there’s more and more!
Ecstasy means a problem, problems or just music.
It grabs you by the guts, it takes hold of your head and then you pray for it to end.
But your body is no heaven so you block your ears even more.
And then you yell even louder and it goes on…

So we just sing
Lalalalalala, Lalalalalala,
So we just sing
Lalalalalala, Lalalalalala,

So we just sing
So we just sing
And then only when it’s over, then we dance.

So we just dance (x7)

And well, there’s still more (x5)

-

opinions?
And to compound the dismal, existential despair that the lyrics invoke, have a lark at Allen Ginsberg's reading of 'Howl' - his seminal beat generation poem which begins with the famous line 'I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked'


Apologies for possibly subduing the pleasant mood of a languid, sunny Friday afternoon (the following post shall hopefully restore it)

c.l.