Wandering Tash

Running, maybe

I have a secret. It’s been creeping up on me the last few weeks but I’ve only just started to take notice. The random sore spots my feet wake up to, the restlessness I experience on a sunny weekend morning, the frequency with which my spandex has been visiting the washing machine. I think I’m becoming a runner again.

Last month, we ran City2Surf, the world’s largest run and Sydney’s favourite sporting event (that’s what they tell us). Niraj signed us up in secret. I think he told me on the flight to Paris, which is why our holiday was punctuated by early morning runs along French rivers. I got back from our travels on August 3rd with a week to spare. Between jet lag and short notice, I really didn’t have much time to “train” for those infamous hills. Still, we did just fine. Funnily enough, the race fell on the weekend we were moving into our new apartment. We conveniently fell out of bed in the corporate apt and walked 5 mins to the start line in the CBD and then ran to our new place in Bondi.

The inverted runner

Running (walking) with all their gear

The start

The crowds were unbelievable. 85,000 people had shown up to run City2Surf that morning and another 20,000 or so were out and about as supporters and volunteers! It felt amazing to be part of something so big. A colleague at work had warned me that the first five minutes would see jumpers and hoodies being discarded en masse — these Sydneysiders don their old woolies to stay warm at the start of the race and then cast them aside for the Red Cross to collect. Sure enough, we left behind piles of old clothes and a ton of collection volunteers.

The first couple of kms of these races can be really frustrating if you’re not prepared for some aggressive zigging and zagging. Because we registered late, we were grouped together with the walkers, which made it even slower. It was a good opportunity to see all the costumes though: there were superheros, muppets, ballet dancers and a lot of sponsored teams.

Niraj and I had committed to sticking together the entire way. As we hit the first of several sets of small hills, my eyes threw exaggeratedly exasperated looks at my husband. He laughed and said we’d hit the big hill — heartbreak hill apparently. He lied.

The uphill climbs kept coming and each time we thought (hoped), it was the last one, it wasn’t. Heartbreak Hill finally came. Wow. The half marathon I ran a few months ago in the New York winter suddenly seemed like a piece of cake. We made it through, panting and pushing. The camaraderie was amazing! Not just amongst the runners but with the supporters. People had actually baked cookies and come out onto the streets to feed us. Little kids stood on the pavements, shrieking “free high fives!”. A group of men, stripped down to their underpants and covered head to toe in blue paint (smurfs) were handing out gatorade; residents had come out onto their front lawns to reward interested runners with blasts of water from their hose pipes. The city’s spirit was incredible. As we came down the last hill, the beach came into view and we knew we were almost done. We picked up the pace for that last kilometer, rushing out along Campbell Parade, buoyed by the anticipation of the finish. We finished in 94 minutes.

Bondi Beach at the finish - 100k people — Bondi Beach at the finish – 100k people

City2Surf really was a symbolic (and convenient) run for us. Unlike most of the other 65,000 people who finished, we were lucky enough to skip the brutal bus journey home and walk back instead.

City2Surf wasn’t painless for me. My lack of training definitely made itself known later that day and even the next as my sore limbs and creaky joints began complaining. The longest I’d run in the weeks (months really) before was a pitiable half hour. And no, I hadn’t pushed myself up five massive hills. Since moving to Bondi, however, I’ve fallen back in love with running.

I’d become a fair weather outdoor runner in NYC (can you blame me?!) but the Bondi to Coogee trail and the perfect Sydney weather are impossible to turn down. Oh and it’s a 3 minute jog from our apartment. I’ve run it every weekend. The path snakes along the water and climbs up as suddenly as it drops down. The views are some of the most breathtaking I’ve ever seen. The beautiful Eastern beaches, the sparkling Pacific ocean, the dramatic cliffs and the glorious waves that crash against them. The trail is packed every weekend — Sydney power walkers, activity seeking tourists and of course Bondi locals walking their designer dogs. Last Sunday I ran the 12 km loop and rather than complaining, my muscles rejoiced at the challenge. I think I’m officially a runner again 🙂

A week en France: the Paris edition

We arrived at Charles de Gaulle early yesterday morning. We’re spending a week in Paris and Burgundy to celebrate our one year anniversary and attend the wedding of some friends. The journey from Sydney to Paris was no mean feat. After some 22 hours in the air, plus a plane change in Kuala Lumpur, we were ready to move our rusty limbs. We dropped our bags at our hotel and hit the pavement. It was 830am and the streets were empty. And when I say empty, I mean deserted. We’d never seen Paris like this.

Over the course of our 5 mile run from George V, across the Seine (Pont de l’Alma) and around the gardens of L’es Invalides, we encountered no more than a handful of casual joggers, a few people walking their dogs and maybe a couple of out-of-towners, who stopped us for directions. At a cool 18C, the weather was perfect. Mottled sunlight, a light breeze and very little humidity. It felt like we had the city of light all to ourselves and it was incredible. Our run slowed to a walk as we neared the end of our loop. And, as we wandered through the cobbled streets and along the wide, leafy boulevards, we lost our way.

Tour Eiffel from the Pont de l’Alma

The beautiful Petit Palais

Those famed cobbled streets

L’Hôtel national des Invalides at 9am

After a much needed shower back at our hotel, we headed over to the 7th arrondissement for lunch. I have a very authoritative list of “must-eat” Parisien restaurants, thanks to a business school classmate, and his recommendation to eat at La Fontaine de Mars did not disappoint. It was still fairly early by French standards so we managed to snag a table outside on Rue Saint-Dominique. The menu at La Fontaine is somewhat traditional with a focus on cuisine from Southwestern France (the region we are heading to later this week).

Our waiter was lovely and happy to entertain my rusty French. We ordered the oeufs en meurette and roulé d’aubergine confite au chèvre frais for our entrées and the confit de canard and a lobster salad for our plats. Everything was mouthwateringly delicious and beautifully presented. Dollops of fresh goat cheese ensconced in wafer-thin, delicately-rolled carpaccio of aubergine, sitting on top of a red pepper and tomato coulis — what’s not to like? The duck confit was perfect: tender (meat falling off the bone), flavorful, juicy and crisp, all at once; the lobster was succulent and perfectly dressed but the pièce de résistance, in my opinion were the eggs. Poached and swimming in a hearty red wine stew, studded with the occasional lardon and pearl onion, we just couldn’t get enough and found ourselves soaking up every last drop with crusty white bread.

Despite the hype surrounding the Obamas’ lunch here and the row of restaurants on Saint-Dominique, we found La Fontaine to be fairly low key, authentic and reasonable. Highly recommend!

Lobster salad from the specials board — A salade de homard from the specials

Being Manly

This past Saturday, we took the ferry out from Circular Quay to Manly. Manly is technically “a suburb of Northern Sydney”, but that description just doesn’t do it justice. Manly is a beautiful beach town sitting atop a piece of land that juts out into the sparkling Pacific Ocean. 18 pristine beaches surround the town and the Sydney Harbour National Park as well as several historic aboriginal sites are easy neighbours. Best of all, Manly is a mere 9 miles northeast of Sydney’s CBD or 7 nautical miles by ferry.

Manly Beach (from someone else's lens) — Manly Beach (from someone else’s lens)

The journey is an enjoyable one – full of idyllic ocean views and the occasional sailboat. One view in particular, as a ship staring out at the open seas, just glimpsing two peninsulas reaching out to one another, stands out as spectacular. (More pics to come.)

Our hosts in Manly for the afternoon have a breathtaking view of the ocean. As a nod to New York, they’d made an impressive looking watermelon ring – a favorite of theirs from trips to Norma’s on 57th and 6th.

Watermelon ring a la Norma's — Watermelon ring a la Norma’s

We had dinner at Hugo’s on our way back, a modern Italian restaurant on the wharf that had managed to transform itself from beachy casual to uber trendy between the afternoon and the evening. The place was packed and the food delicious. Sydney rock oysters are a staple (and favorite) on seafood menus here and Hugo’s did an amazing job with them. We can’t wait to go back!

Sydneysiding

G’Day from Sydney! It’s been nearly a week since we hopped aboard a one-way flight to Australia and after 5 fantastic days exploring our new city, it feels about time to start documenting our adventures. Niraj and I are currently staying downtown, in what the locals call the ” CBD” or Central Business District, but we’ve managed to get out and about and have seen a fair bit of Paddington and Woollahra (the “Eastern Suburbs”) as well as Bondi Beach and Bondi Junction. To kick off the Australia section of this blog, here’s what I’ve found interesting so far:

1. The people of Sydney refer to themselves as “Sydneysiders”. I’ve never heard of any other “-sider” but I suppose Sydney-er, Sydney-an or Sydney-ite just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

2. Sydneysiders love their coffee. Independent coffee shops and pop-up stands litter the bustling sidewalks of the CBD, boutique cafés adorn the cobbled streets of Paddington and artisanal roasters peek out from among the sunscreen- and flipflop-touting bodegas at the beach. Australian coffee is delicious and warrants a language of its own. Asking for a “coffee” won’t get you very far in Sydney. Drip coffee is something of a rarity here with locals preferring instead to sip espresso machine concoctions with mysterious names like flat white, short black and piccolo. You’ll also be hard pressed to spot a Starbucks in Sydney — no complaints here but I did come across this interesting case study by the University of NSW on the topic.

Flat Whites — Flat whites at Sean’s Panaroma in Sydney

3. Another trend I can get on board with is Sydney’s love affair with muesli. The supermarkets are laden with muesli of all kinds and in a variety of preparations – boxes of organic muesli fill the cereal aisles, stacks of chocolate muesli bars form pyramid displays and rows of muesli yoghurt pots and smoothies occupy the refrigerated shelves. Another ubiquitous preparation is Bircher muesli, which, as anyone who knows me well can attest, has been a long-time favorite breakfast and snack food. Who’d have thought that soaking muesli overnight in apple juice and yoghurt would taste so good? Seeing it at every coffee shop and on every restaurant menu warms my Bircher muesli loving heart but it doesn’t come cheap – prices seem to range from $6 for a grab and go snack to $15 for a brunch-sized portion.

Bircher Muesli at Icebergs; Bondi Beach — Bircher Muesli we had at Icebergs; Bondi Beach

4. Sydneysiders love their acronyms. The first time I heard the term “GFC” was when the Commonwealth Bank of Australia employee opening our new accounts began explaining how it had made Australian workers reluctant to invest their supers in American equities. The GF what? Seeing my blank expression, he stopped what he was doing, looked up and said, rather matter-of-factly, “the global financial crisis, you know, in 2008?” Ohh. Besides “NSW” (New South Wales) and of course “CBD”, I’ve since encountered “EFTPOS” (Electronic Funds Transfer Point Of Service) meaning something that will let you pay by credit card. Oh and did you know that QANTAS stands for Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services? Quite a mouthful. The Aussies also seem to enjoy abbreviating words and phrases they consider unnecessarily long to make cuter, undoubtedly more efficient words — “Paddo” is Paddington, “Goodo” is good on you and “How ya goin’?” is the Aussie way of asking “How are you doing” AND “How is it going?” Clever, eh?

5. Sydneysiders’ reaction to their city’s weather is also something to be marveled at. The Sydney winter is mild by most standards, probably most comparable to the New York fall. So far (in early July), we’ve seen temperatures vary quite a bit, peaking at around 20C (68F) during the day and dropping to 5C (41F) in the nights and mornings. For a city that is used to much warmer climes (summer average daily high of 25C or 77F), I was expecting Sydneysiders to approach their winter wardrobes with the gusto that Miami and California folk do – seizing any opportunity to don their boots, jackets and scarves. Instead, we’ve seen people surfing in the 14C degree water sans wet suits, walking the boardwalks in shorts and heading to corporate offices in shirts and dresses (no jackets, no tights and definitely no coats). We’ve even seen women brave the evening chill in mere cocktail dresses. I suppose when it comes to facing the elements, the Aussies are more akin to the Brits than the Californians and Miamians and, for anyone who’s had a night out in Northern England or really at any British college, you’ll remember the superhuman strength that’s on display when venturing into the freezing cold in skimpy outfits.

Bondi Surfing — Winter surfing at Bondi; photo by Acquabumps

6. Spice. Whether it’s Malaysian sambal, Singaporean laksa or simply a spicy sushi roll, Sydneysiders don’t hold back when it comes to their spice! We haven’t yet ventured into Chinatown, we’re eating at mainstream, if anything nicer, restaurants, frequented by mainstream guests, and everyone seems to be savoring the spice. The Indian in me is rejoicing. Respect.

7. Sydneysiders are an international bunch. In our short time here we’ve encountered Brits, Kiwis, Americans, Indians, South Africans and Sri Lankans as well as people from Hong Kong, China and France. Of the local Aussies we’ve met, many have lived abroad, whether they’re a customer service guy at Vodaphone or a lawyer at an elite firm. Manhattanites like to think of themselves as a “diverse” group…whether they’ve lived outside the New York area (let alone the US!) or not. Sydney’s international diversity is refreshing by comparison.

I could write more about Sydney and Sydneysiders but I’m not sure I know either well enough yet. What I do know is that the people here seem a helpful and welcoming bunch. Many of the people we’ve interacted with over the last week have offered up tips on navigating the city, shared favorite restaurant and bar lists and invited us over for dinner. We’ve received a boatload of useful opinions on Sydney neighbourhoods along with ample thoughts on where to live. I’ve lived in four countries and 12 cities now, but the level of warmth we’re encountering in Sydney is truly unique.

Signs of Sydney

After our afternoon in Bondi this Sunday, we took the 333 bus over to Bondi Junction, the suburb with Sydney’s major train station and, what’s been described to us as, the biggest shopping mall in the Southern Hemisphere. We had to check it out. Here are some of the funny stores we came across.

Bed Bath n Table....why stop at Beyond! — Bed Bath n Table….why stop at Beyond!

Wheel & Barrow...because Crate & Barrel just sounds weird — Sound familiar?