OnBlueUnderCanvas

A week before Kirk’s birthday I had bought and stashed away a new pair of boardshorts for him. Hiding with the shorts in the top cabinet of our wardrobe was a box of cake mix, a bag of sprinkles and twenty-six candles – a pair of them actually being the obnoxious candle numbers “2″ and “6″. Kirk knew I was going to make him a cake, but he didn’t know what kind or that there were candles. I was trying to keep whatever I could a surprise. I knew that he suspected the boardshorts so I went to great lengths to remain ambiguous about the cake. I bet the preparation of the whole endeavor amused me even more than it did him.

We had a jam-packed day scheduled. Not even allowed to sleep in, I had breakfast ready for Kirk at 7:30AM. Some mild misfortune had us planning the day around getting Kirk’s laptop into NextByte yet again (yes, the newly replaced logic board wasn’t exactly living up to expectations), however this wasn’t to spoil the day. If anything, it provided the impetuous for birthday carpe diem. After bacon & egg croissants, fruit and hash browns, we tugged on wetsuits and headed out for our early surf date we had planned with Stacey. I know Stacey because she works at the surfboard shop right next to Ash’s Table. Friends in high places? Mm, yes. We got to take out a couple of boards for a spin on the house. Stacey plucked a bright yellow 7-foot longboard from the racks for her and me to share. Basically a log raft, longboards are the easiest board to learn to ride. Kirk selected for himself a 6-foot fish-style board. Wide at the middle with a swallow-tail end, a ‘fish’ is great for catching waves easily but also cranking out the turns once you’re up. His daily practice over the past month has caused him to outgrow his current board and triggered the itch to move to a shorter board. This surf session would serve as a great test run for him on a more challenging board.

We grabbed the boards, crossed the street to the beach, and paddled out through the whitewater. Only a handful of surfers bobbed in the clear, green-blue sea. The waves were sizable, but mercifully spaced out for the more-or-less beginner in the midst, yours truly. Or so I thought. If you’re not paying attention, a wall of water can come from nowhere. “Here we go!” yelled Stacey. CRASH! then THUNDER came the wave, a five-foot high body slam. Then and there I decided to try the grab-n-roll method of evasion. First, grab the rails (sides) of your board. Second, roll upside down, so you’re “hanging” from your board, serving as a weight to keep it just below the crashing wave. If all goes well, the wave should pass right over you like a cumulous cloud floats by in the sky. I gave it a whirl, and it actually worked! I popped back up unscathed. A bit more wave dodging, and we were out past the breakwater.

Paddle, float, paddle, CATCH THE WAVE! fall, crash, paddle out again. Stacey and I passed the longboard leash back and forth, taking turns. I stood up on a couple of rollers, and even rode down the face of one! Kirk ripped it up on his fish. Despite the skills discrepancy between us, we managed to paddle for a few waves together.

Just like that, it was time to get out, clean up and get to Sydney. At the Manly wharf we bought day transit passes which allowed us unlimited rides on buses, trains and ferries. Once arriving at Circular Quay, we dropped off Kirk’s laptop to be fixed. With our single obligation fulfilled, it was time to relax. We hopped on a train that took us across the harbour bridge to Milson’s Point. Underneath the bridge supports stretched a couple acres of nice green lawn. We found a spot in the shade and spread out the beach towel. We talked, soaked up the sun and played a couple hands of cribbage.

Mid-afternoon we caught the Milson’s Point ferry back across the harbour to the CBD. When visiting Sydney with his family four years ago, Kirk had walked past a particular bar that caught his eye. Since then he wished he could have gone in, but didn’t think he’d ever get the chance. With only a faint idea of it’s relative location – “I think it’s that way,” Kirk said, pointing vaguely southeast – we went on a mission to find it. Surprisingly after only retracing one block, we found it. It was the Customs House Bar, nestled on a small diagonal street across from a stamp-sized park.

Kirk had a Boag’s Premium, and I a cappuccino. Because it was only late afternoon on a Thursday, the bar wasn’t quite as Kirk had remembered it – bustling, lively, musical. That was alright, we might try it again another day.

Finished with our drinks, we moved on to our final port of call for the evening. Kirk’s parents so kindly gave him $100 to have dinner in Darling Harbour for his birthday. It was still early to eat, so we grabbed a tiny table at the Tokio Hotel and took advantage of the drink specials. Here in Australia, bars are very often called “hotels” which can become confusing when you’re jetlagged off the plane just trying to find a place to sleep, or contrarily, you’ve got a buzz on and keep bypassing the bar, thinking it’s an accommodation establishment.

The sun baked us as it crept slowly lower in the sky. We drank a few $3.50 Toohey’s Extra Drys, and then decided to move on to mixed drinks. Kirk wanted a caipirinha (kah-PREEN-ya) if they had Cachaça (kah-SHA-sah). I ventured to the bar to find out. I ordered a rum & coke and asked about the Cachaça. The bartender went on a hunt at the other end of the bar dusting off bottles – kidding – and discovered the Cachaça. He held up his found treasure to me, and I gave him an “OK!” to make the drink. Then, he cracked open the recipe book. Uh oh.

Five minutes later, he came back with the caipirinha. “Nineteen dollars, fifty.” WHAT? So much for taking advantage of the specials. “ASK how much it’s going to cost before you order it!” a mildly exasperated Kirk scolded me. It was a good drink though, in my opinion.

On to dinner. Circling Darling Harbour in its entirety, we inspected each menu at every restaurant. We settled on a smaller place called I’m Angus. The hostess seated us at a table with a lovely view of the harbor. Reflections danced on the water, lighting up its inky color. When the waitress arrived, owing to our extensive prior analysis of the menu, we ordered immediately. I chose the Atlantic salmon with prawns, and Kirk picked the kangaroo fillet (pronounced here with the T, as in “fill-IT”). My entree was exceptional. A drizzling of beurre blanc made the seafood savory and – as our British flatmates would say – just brilliant. Kirk’s kangaroo was also very good, tasting sort of like lamb (in Kirk’s opinion), and sort of like duck (in my opinion.) The jury’s hung on that one. You’ll have to try for yourself.

Ah, but no birthday without a cake right? And no birthday cake without candles. Upon arriving home, I kicked Kirk out of the kitchen so I could bake. With forty minutes to wait while it sat in the oven, I had a problem to solve. Not one of my flatmates was a smoker – which I’m not complaining about – but when all you need is a lighter, my goodness it was like trying to find a cupcake at Passover. No matches to be found either, and I wasn’t about to start rubbing sticks together. I quickly called the restaurant. “Are you guys still there?” I asked urgently. “Yeah! Come on down, no worries,” said my co-worker Toyah.

I slipped on my flip-flops and grabbed the key as Kirk click-clicked on his computer.

“Jetstar has some cheap flights to Melbourne,” he said from his spot sitting on the bed.

“Oh really? Cool. Cake will be done in about twenty minutes.”

“OK.”

And out I went. Down the elevator, sprinting down the sidewalk. After a short explanation about non-smoking roommates and birthday business to the manager, I procured the lighter we use to light the table candles. “Good luck!” Toyah yelled after me while she stacked chairs. Back the four blocks, up the elevator and into the flat. I slipped off my shoes.

Clickity-click click. “I think I want to invest in real estate in Michigan.”

“Oh ya? Sweet. Cake will be done in a couple minutes.”

“OK.”

After getting it out of the oven and letting it cool for a few, I frosted it. White cake with sprinkles inside, white frosting with more sprinkles on top. I stuck in all twenty-six candles and lit them just outside the bedroom door. Reaching with my free hand into the room, I switched off the light. Slowly, so as not to accidentally let a draft blow out any of the precious candles, I stepped into the room.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…!” I sang, pretty terribly. But Kirk loved it anyways.

Kirk had his cake. And ate it, we did too. ☼

This Friday is Kirk’s birthday. It will mark seven weeks for us in Manly. If our plans pan out, we’ll probably be leaving in a few weeks to move north to Byron Bay. So what have we been up to here? In a nutshell, I’ve been working a decent amount – five day a week. As for Kirk, he came to Australia to surf. In my opinion, he’s achieved that goal ten times over. He probably hasn’t missed a day in the last couple weeks. Along with surfing, a typical day for us goes something like this:

Day Break

I’m usually out of bed on the heels of sunrise, just after 7AM. If I have to work a morning shift, I am already at work setting up the patio with tables and chairs. If, on the other hand I have the morning off, I like to get in 30 minutes of yoga while Kirk’s still asleep. Once he makes it into the kitchen, I’ll join him to cook some eggs and toast for breakfast. Maybe a half grapefruit. I love grapefruit.

Morning

The rest of the day’s plans vary depending on if I work the dinner shift at 3PM. If so, we stay close to home. Oftentimes we’ll go down to the beach with a book or two and a free Manly Daily from the lobby. Or, if we need to stock the food cupboard, it’s a five minute walk to the Harris Farm Market for a bit of produce shopping. Whenever I’m at work, be it morning or evening, Kirk will go for a surf. He’ll be out in the water for up to three hours some days.

Afternoon

For the sake of argument, let’s say I have the day off.  These days of total freedom only come a couple of times a week, so we take as much advantage of them as we can.  That means traveling.  Usually, around noon we’d be stepping onto the Manly ferry.  The ferry chugs merrily along for about a half hour through the Sydney Harbor to end at Circular Quay, the transportation hub of the Sydney CBD (central business district).  From there endless destinations await.  If we’re feeling adventurous, we jump right onto a bus or train heading southeast out of the city. We’d find a beach to relax on or a coastal walk to trek. Bondi Beach is a popular destination. Its half-moon arc of sand and blue-green waves, colored bright right out of a crayon box, has enticed us back many times. We’ve also bussed it to Coogee, a sleepy cluster of residences boasting a visitor center inside the takeaway coffee stand on the beach. I asked the girl who handed me my cappucino where I can speak to someone in the visitor center. “Actually, I’m it. What do you want to know?” she asked.

Quite often after riding the ferry into Circular Quay, we’ll stay in the downtown area exploring what we can on foot. We’ll meander along, often ending up in Darling Harbour or The Rocks.

Last Friday night we walked across the Sydney Harbour Bridge to Luna Park, a tiny amusement park with an iconic but decidedly creepy giant clown face welcoming its visitors at the entrance.

Evening

When night time rolls around, we like to find a place with happy hour specials and grab a cheap beer. On Friday evenings we’ll have a few five dollar rum & cokes at Henry Afrikas, a bar/restaurant near The Corso. If we’re at home, we’ll crack open a Toohey’s Extra Dry and watch the sun melt behind the hills in the west. We’ll cook dinner, watch a bit of TV and hang out with our flatmates. I’m usually asleep by midnight. The next day’s adventure awaits. ☼

Finally, as I am about to make my Australian blogging debut (or as the Aussies pronounce it, “day-boo”), how very conveniently, the laptop dies.

Because I left my my Powerbook G4 at home in the western hemisphere, Kirk and I have been sharing his laptop, as civilly as two monkeys can share a banana. Last night I went to use the computer for the usual activities: checking email, having a peek at the credit card balances, some perusing on Facebook, adding to my newest blog draft. Upon opening the case, normally the hard drive yawns awake with a few robust disc spins and the screen blinks on, cheerfully requesting a password to assure it’s granting access only to its proper owner. This time, however, it didn’t wake up. Just, nothing. Thinking that Kirk maybe had shut it down completely, I tried the power button. Still nadda.

I asked Kirk. “Hey, did you shut down the laptop?”

“Nope, why?”

“It won’t wake up.”

After testing the battery, resetting the RAM and PRAM and performing a host of other technical checks that Kirk would have to explain to you with PowerPoint slides and a lecture, the diagnosis was grim. (For you tech gurus, what appeared to be at fault was the NVIDIA graphics card. The laptop, sensing the problem upon start-up, wouldn’t even try to finish booting the OS.) The laptop was in a self-induced coma.

Now this was a problem. Computer repairs are never cheap. Not to mention the fact that we’re in Australia – the island where everything’s more expensive! Great slogan, eh? But so true, especially of their foodstuffs and electronics. Luckily we weren’t somewhere in the middle of the outback, but rather just a couple km’s from the largest metropolis in the country. A repair shop shouldn’t be too hard to find. But most importantly, how long would this take? How will we survive without our lovable electronic best friend? Our window to the world beyond? Our stock imaging cohort? Photography and videography endeavors would come to a screeching halt. Every time we’re out shooting with the 7D, we manage to fill nearly all of our memory cards, about 20GBs total. Before we can shoot again, all those photos and videos need to be dumped off the cards and onto the computer. Without the computer, we have nowhere to put any of our new material. No more photography, no more video.

Oh the humanity! What do we do without the camera? Experience each day for the sake of experience itself? Such nonsense.

The laptop had to be fixed. This morning we rushed it to the emergency room. It was about 11AM, just about lunchtime. The line was long. We were told we’d have to wait. Probably a while.

We sat. We watched people of all ages, nationalities and Mac competence levels bring forth their problematic devices to be treated by the professionals. “Hi! What seems to be the problem today?” asked the amicable Genius.

The Apple Store Genius Bar. Your learn-it, fix-it, replace-it, make-it-all-better shop for your beloved Apple product. Emergency room, it is not. More of a Soviet Union era bread line or Central American health clinic. Two hours later and a handful of empty “you’ll be next!” promises from the appointment scheduling employee, we were fed up. Even if we did manage to sneak in some face-to-face Genius time in between everyone else who already had scheduled appointments, we had been told that the in-house repair department was backlogged with over 600 repairs. It would be at least two weeks before seeing our laptop again. Two weeks?! That’s an eternity. It was time for Plan B.

Hunting down an Apple Authorized Reseller.

Would this work? Resorting to an Apple Store impersonator? Actually yes. So conveniently did it that we kicked ourselves for not shedding our pride and trying them first. Nary a three block walk and two steps from the front door to the “Ring for Service” bell and – voilà! - service. A pleasant and patient technician ran a quick diagnostic – normally $70 – for free. “Yep, looks like the NVIDIA card. Since this is covered under warranty with Apple, there’s no charge.” Good news! ”The part should be in within two to three days, so you should be able to pick it up this Friday.” Even better news!

Hallelujah! What a relief! The laptop would be in good hands. Fast, free, and fun – yes, fun – service from Next Byte, an Apple Premium Reseller. Who knew? We walked out onto the sidewalk smiling with glee, our worries consoled. “Now what?” asked Kirk.

Enjoy life. Something along those lines, right?

“Let’s get lunch.” ☼