Mara and I made green curry with chicken, spinach, potatoes, and mushrooms this evening. And while I had intended to select the least spicy of the three choices at the store, it turns out that the old green means "go" red means "stop" method doesn't translate to Asian foods. I am widely accustomed to runny nose dishes through years of hot sauce misuse and a mother whose roots are Cajun, so I was kind of glad about the heat. I was, however, concerned that the hot factor might make Mara's experience less than great. We both had to get a tissue from time to time, but other than that, she hung in as tough as a leathery old Taiwanese cook. I'm not sure that was a good analogy. Point is, I was proud.



My previous blogs have been all about things I have enjoyed so far. This one will be about the things I do not enjoy. I mean, you have to critique both sides, right?

The authentic Asian foods in Adelaide are top shelf. Which makes perfect sense. Proximity to Southeast Asia and what-have-you. On the down side, their idea of Mexican food and pizza leave a lot to be desired. Their "Mexican" food consists of too much sour cream, poor salsa, and dishes that seem like some Australian quack took a shot at beans and rice but ended up with with an over priced mess. Over priced Mexican food, who would have thought. Taco Bill in Melbourne was beyond terrific. They should expand. Another Australian boob dreamt up the pizza here apparently. Maybe I'm just a jaded American pizza lover, but isn't sauce a pretty essential ingredient? Otherwise its just putting things on dough and baking it. And so that's what Aussie pizza is. A bunch of stuff on dough.

Food aside, I want to share a little bit about some common city dwelling Australians. Firstly, a hair revolution going on. It looks like every guy under the age of 22 wants to be Robert Smith from The Cure, only without the makeup. It's lamer than a Mexican pizza. I cannot begin to imagine the time it takes to tease out hair like that, let alone the products used. Raw eggs maybe? Well that's how some mohawks are done. And after that, you have the rat tails. No kidding. They are back, or maybe they never left. Mullets of all kinds are fashionable. And some mullets, or Secret Mullets as I want to call them, are rampant among athletes. The hair isn't long enough to hang down in the back, its just bushier than on the sides and top. Pretty swell if the back of your head is always cold I guess. It looks like the males of Australia are desperately trying to look dumber than the next guy. They are winning.

Secondly, the music. Oh my, the music. Now, I will be the absolute first to admit that the U.S. is responsible for some of the worst music ever. Nickel Back, Fall Out Boy, Good Charlotte, and you know the rest. Regardless of whether or not we are responsible, Australian music is like taking the very worst of our popular bands and injecting them with stink and steroids. It's awful. I'd rather listen to some old coot play the saw for twelve hours. The only explanation for AC/DC is that an alien spaceship crash landed here and the crew were forced to inhabit humans for survival. Those aliens came from a planet where rock and roll is king. Somewhere far, far away from earth.

Lord have mercy on the Australian journalist, because I will not. Reading the Aussie CNN site everyday is like sorting through tenth grade English papers for something worth reading. Not even honors English. Everything in the media here is over-dramatized to a degree that will either make you laugh, or make you turn off the computer/t.v. Instead of facts, in paragraphs, however subtly biased the article may be while still giving information, the journalism here reads like a crime novel, written by a thirteen year old. No one really cares though, they are to busy thinking up cutsie abbreviations. Capa for cappuccino. Documentaries are doco's. I'm sure the there is an abbreviation for the word abbreviation. Abrev. The participants of this culture wear a clown nose, whether they know it or not. They'd call it a clowny.

There are very few police, so everyone drives way too fast. They speed up when they see you, so you have to watch your step. Every five seconds you can hear someone spinning tires. I think even the grandmas do it.

I've been wearing a New Zealand All Blacks hat in hopes that rugby fans here might take offense. That way we can scowl at each other. Little do they know I'm not a kiwi with team spirit, but an American that hates abbreviations and Tom Foolery. Both of which are standards of living over here.

Such petty complaints I know, but these are the things you notice in between the beautiful scenery and reading books.