A two storey carousel at Tokyo DisneySea (December 2007).

Takeshita Street, Harajuku (Dec 2007)

It may be a busy little street bordering on tacky and frequented by tourists. But I really enjoyed it and I’d love to return, try and squeeze into some xl clothes to no avail, then turn to cheeseburgers to console myself.

Leading up to Christmas 2007 we stayed with Henry and his family in Fall River. The evening after Henry had taken us out to Cape Cod his wife Michelle kindly showed us around some of the local houses decorated for Christmas. There were plenty of smaller displays on the way, but despite Henry strongly pushing the enormity of Chuck and Flo’s display on us, we were still rather overwhelmed when we saw it in person. Quite literally the most lighting I’ve seen per square meter of land ever.

E is for Edward who authored many books.

Anyone who has heard of Edward Gorey seems to hold a significant deal of affection for his books. He’s an author and an illustrator, but his categorization seems to end there. His picture books aren’t graphic novels, they’re quite different from those. Gorey made a career out of small picture books in a way that few have outside of children’s literature. I adore his books, Gorey managed to perfect the art of creating a convincing, seamless and believable world – an artistic talent I value above any other. Set in Edwardian times, in some fictional place that manages to transcend ties to reality, many of Gorey’s books are dark and whimsical while often remaining humorous and cute.

When visiting the United States in 2007 our friend Henry took us on a day trip to Cape Cod in order to visit the Edward Gorey House – his Massachusetts home turned museum after his death. We don’t have many snowy towns in New Zealand, and arriving at Strawberry Lane with the Gorey House covered in snow, the doubtful guest in the yard was about as magical as it gets.

Though I did wonder just how much Edward Gorey stuff could be made into a Museum, I didn’t have doubts and the experience was well worth the visit. The collection on display ranged from his personal items, to original artwork from unpublished books and props created in honor of his works – the Gashlycrumb Tinies in particular are great. There stands a mannequin draped in his eclectic clothing purchases and a collection of the many rings he wore on his hand. Even the resident cat is rather absurd, much in the fashion of Gorey’s cartoon cats. The rather curious character of Edward Gorey is enough to drive the interest in the museum. When we visited, the museum was helmed by his personal friends who added an extra touch to paying homage to an admired author.

I’ve been awake for 12 hours already, having only slept for a few the night before. But I feel fresh, it’s like morning for me in Melbourne and after a wake up shower I’m ready to hit the streets by 1pm. My lodgings were nice enough – but no time for that. Come rain or shine I can enjoy the indoors back home.

Staying near Chinatown is a good thing in my books. Being able to quickly retrieve dumplings, duck or other such items quickly makes for good eats in a pinch when traveling. Assuming you don’t live in or near Chinatown it’s easy to feel excited and get a sense of adventure straight off the bat. After finding my way around the city I hit a few of the areas I’ve heard of; Federation Square, an architectural aberration home to galleries, theatres and restaurants; The beautiful Degraves street, a small pedestrian lane filled with coffee shops and eateries. There are plenty of other lanes like Degraves in Melbourne and I’m beginning to think these could be the best places to eat.

In an effort to take in local culture I drop by the Australian Center for Moving Image (ACMI). Currently under renovation, the only remaining gallery space here was taken up with a great Len Lye exhibition. As much as I like Len Lye this wasn’t great news for me. I didn’t want to head into another country to see works that I witness back in New Zealand on a perennial basis. The Govett-Brewster Gallery in my hometown of New Plymouth is home to Len Lyes works. A quick look around and I can tell it’s a very comprehensive exhibition, but it’s time to move on. The Potter Center : NGV of Australia is dedicated to Australian art. Better. I skip the charged Brack exhibition due to limited time and opt to check out a couple of the design exhibitions for free.

Alright. I’ll be back in this end of town later on. Time to check out Brunswick Street. I’m told it’s great. Instead of the business of the train station and learning how to take a tram somewhere I opt to walk the distance to Brunswick. It’s not too far, and maybe I get to see some things on the way. I pass a museum that, given more time, I’d have ventured into. Once I hit Brunswick it’s good vibes. Small cafes, pizza joints and nary a chain store in sight. There’s vintage clothing, boutiques and alternative hang outs. The street is abuzz with creativity. It feels as if a parade has wandered off the street and taken up residence in the nearby buildings, transforming them into something as enjoyable as they are kitschy.

Apart from some mediocre sushi in the CBD, my first meal in Melbourne is a few pastries and a chai latte at Juanita’s. To my knowledge there is no where serving latin pastries in Wellington and it’s well worth stopping by here in Brunswick Street. Delicious pastries, friendly staff and character. It’ll make you feel good to be here.

One of the few clothing stores I head into is Extinct, serving up both tailored and imported clothes. There’s a lot of great things in this store, but often at great expense. This is definitely the most dapper clothing store I’ve ever seen. The shop girl helps me find the shirt I’m after, and several things that aren’t going to fit into my budget. We get to talking about my visit and she strongly recommends a Spanish Tapas restaurant called MoVida. It seems to have a solid reputation and enough gall to publish it’s own cook book. It’s next door to a landmark place I’ve already seen so I switch my dinner plans from Italian to Spanish. I decide to walk back to town and hopefully grab that slice of pizza on the way.

Wow! It doesn’t rain like this in Wellington. It’s been a long time since I’ve been poured on like this. When I realise I can’t walk through it or wait it out I take shelter in a tram stop and count through these oddly sized coins. Before I have time to consider a Tram pulls up and the driver tells me to get on, he’s friendly enough and offers an explanation, I hit the on board ticket machine and press a bunch of buttons, purchasing some sort of ticket I can’t be bothered to figure out – as long as it gets me back to the shelter of town I’m fine. I stop by the hotel to drop some gear and head out for dinner.

By the time I head out again the shops, museums and galleries are closing. If you have to pick a single night for Melbourne keep in mind that there’s both a late night art museum and late night markets on a Wednesday. I’m here on a Tuesday, and without those things to entertain me the harshness of winter leaves me only a few options. I didn’t budget in for casino time and I decide to shy away from the adult entertainment so I’m mostly left with eating and drinking. I decide it’s time to attack this thing Anthony Bourdain style – to try and get to the heart of a locality by way of it’s cuisine. I make a rough plan in my head to eat several small meals and visit a bar or two.

First it’s a Japanese place in Chinatown because I want dumplings, but I can’t resist grabbing some tacoyaki and a Kirin as well. I’m not used to dining by myself in a restaurant, but the three other people doing the same here make it a comforting place. The food is good, unfortunately I’ve got other places to explore so no time for a full meal, I’m sure it would have been great.

I wander the streets hoping for that elusive slice of Pizza but it’s getting late so I look for MoVida. I was hoping I’d know what I’m getting in for but it’s down a dark alleyway and I can’t see inside it too well. I’m going in blind. The friendly Maitre’d subtly hints at how busy they are, but tells me he’ll find out if I can be seated soon. Three more people come in behind me, a woman by herself is told she can get in to their restaurant next door and the couple are offered a 45 minute wait. Within about 5 minutes I’m happily and quite fortunately seated at the bar. The barman finds me a nice wine to try then I order my first round of tapas; Anchoa: hand filleted anchovy on croûton with smoked tomato sorbet, I can’t imagine how this holds together, but I’m glad it does – I really wish I could take these home with me. I also get an oyster, served in i-forget-what, but it’s fresh and delicious. Another glass of wine, this time Spanish and absolutely beautiful. If I ever remember what it’s called I’m hunting it out in Wellington. The next round of tapas brings a prawn tortilla, crumbed quail and a scallop with potato foam. My description doesn’t do these items any justice, you need to see this menu in person to gather the full effect of it. Hot chocolate or ganache cake for deserts sound amazing, but I heart-wrenchingly tear myself away from MoVida in search of the pub where Kate had one whiled away nights when living in Melbourne. I find a British pub near Chinatown, and I stop in for a Guinness. After, I head home to drop off my camera, but once there I find the fatigue of a 22 hour day is setting in. My ambitions of pizza and desert will have to wait for another time, I’m pretty sure all the Italian places are somewhere across town, which is getting quieter by the minute. An early night will be necessary in order for me to hit the street for some photography tomorrow morning before I leave.

I manage six in the morning for some photography. It’s still dark – just what I wanted. I wander around the center, see the train station start to bustle and grab a hot chocolate & churro (Spanish donut) for some morning walk-around sustenance. This might be a new pinnacle of on-the-run food for me but for the fact that I’m covered in powdered sugar all of a sudden, the amount of the stuff seems far beyond rational or even logical. I didn’t even see any on the churro. The combination is great but there’s still time for breakfast before I leave.

Though I think I can’t do any better for food than I’ve already achieved, my walk leads me to perfection. In Degraves street I stumble upon a creperie. It’s a small place with some friendly staff. I’m treated very well when I order a blood orange juice and a lemon sugar crepe – something simple to relax me after last nights wave of gastrotechnicality. This is beautiful, cooked perfectly and not too sweet. I feel like I’m winning right now. If I ever live in Melbourne, I know what my treat is. It’s this place. I can tell by the regulars that I’m not the only one thinking that. What a great note to end on. I meander back to my hotel, pack my bags and at 8.40 I hop in a cab. Bye bye Melbourne, that’s all for now. I’m looking forward to next time and that elusive slice of pizza.

Banoffee Pie at Lyttelton Coffee Co. . .. . . and a damn good berry smoothie.

The Honey Pot is very good for breakfast. $8 Breakfast Muffin is a steal.SOL Square by day. . .And by night, Cartel. . .. . . The Fish and Chip Shop . . .. . . and Ishimoto Yakitori.This little arcade has a Japanese Bar, Restaurant and Bakery and a couple of Korean places too. It’s the only Japanese Bakery I know of in New Zealand and totally worth a visit if you’re into weird bread/flavour combinations. Across the road is The Samurai Bowl with cheap, cheerful and bountiful Japanese meals.
Souvlaki! Obtained from Dimitris during it’s final weekend at this location.