Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Newtown + the Stephens

So, we told our friends, Dale and Aki Stephens, about our search for really good Indian food, that ended in really good Thai food and Dale’s eyes lit up like a little kid’s on Christmas.  Said he, “There’s this place. In Newtown. BEST Tandoori Chicken.”  Said we, “Let’s do it.”

That weekend he and Aki picked us up for the adventure. We drove over the river Harbor Bridge and through the woods the city to Newtown, which is a happening little part of town right by the university. Everyone’s all edgy and alternative and hip there.

Dale told us the restaurant was kind of a hole in the wall. We told him we weren’t scared, as holes in the wall often have the best fare. When we arrived, a quick glance around informed us that every Indian cabby in the city had beat us there, so we knew it was gonna be good. 

And it was. Tandoori chicken like no other.  Seriously.  

And to finish off the night, we sang loudly with the windows down on the drive home.  Proclaimers. Crash Test Dummies.  Good times.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Stuff We See Sometimes

The Hornby Lighthouse at South Head.  
(I always get that "Candle on the Water" song in my head when I look at it. 
You know.  The one from Pete's Dragon...?  Anyone?)

Fountain in Hyde Park with St. Mary's Cathedral behind. 
One of our favorite spots in the city.

View from one of my newfound stair runs. Not bad....

5-0 in the house Harbor.  
Saw this boat get "pulled over" the other day. Not sure what they did wrong, 
but they did not get away with it.

Birdy friends.  Rainbow Lorikeets and Cockatoos are regular visitors to our balcony ledge.  
Especially when I'm providing the grapes.

An unexpected glimpse of the bridge from inside the city.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Thai is to Indian

We’ve been hankering for some good Indian food.  The Hubs has been telling me about this place in Potts Point that he went to way back when having me as his wife was only a hope and dream in his little heart.  Potts Point equals not easy to get to. But it also equals a chic little part of the city I haven’t seen before. Aaaand…if it also equals really good Indian food, count me in. And so. To Potts Point!

Ferry across the harbor, pleasant walk through the Royal Botanic Gardens, lovely meander past Elizabeth Bay, and a quick detour through just a corner of Kings Cross. And we found ourselves at the Opium Den in Potts Point...which, you should know, does not serve Indian food, but rather Thai food. Which was very good for Thai food. But not very good for Indian food. In case you were wondering.

The Hubs couldn’t quite figure how all this time he’d thought it was Indian he’d eaten in Potts Point when it was clearly Thai.  He was on a date with some girl, who he had very little interest in, of course, because he had already met me, of course, and meeting me was the end of his interest in any other girl on the planet. Of course. So, perhaps he was so distracted by the fact that the girl was not me and preoccupied by having to make conversation with someone he wished was me….  And that could make anyone forget whether the food was of the Thai or Indian persuasion, I suppose.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Rear Window

This is what we see outside our windows on the back side of our apartment.  How "Rear Window" is that? Some days I half expect to see Raymond Burr tying up a trunk in one of the apartments across the way or burying something in the flower bed.

We're like Jimmy and Grace--getting glimpses of our neighbors' worlds just by looking outside of our own. Like the lady who does her cleaning in a t-shirt and her underwear (which, incidentally, we choose not to look at very long...). Or the woman who cuts her tiny patch of grass with one of those old-timey lawn mowers that gives a high-pitched squeak with every push.  Or the guys across the way who appear to have nothing in their apartment except for a couple of chairs and some surf boards.  

Strange to think that we live right next to people we never interact with. People we never know. And yet, we are connected. The human experience connects us. Or is it the fact that there is more to the human experience than...the human experience?