Travel | GlobalSalsa: travel writer Belinda Jackson

Oct

Madly Hatted, Richard does Melbourne

Where did you get that hat? Why, it’s a Richard Nylon, of course. Undeniably, marvelously kooky, the milliner Mr Nylon is hot property right now.

Of course, it’s Cup season. That’s the Melbourne Cup to those not in the know.

When I was a schoolkid in Queensland, our teachers would nick off to the staffroom to have a glass of cheap sparkling wine and a fag and throw a few bets on the horses, or we’d even have a sweep in the classroom. The state of Victoria was on holiday.

Now, it’s just the city of Melbourne that gets a holiday so it can drink champagne and bet on the horses.

Mostly, we watch the race on TV, but one year I went down to Flemington racecourse to mingle with the rest of the great unwashed. I remember the statistic: 80,000 people drank 100,000 litres of champagne and sparkling wine. Not a bad effort, people.

The reason for this post is that some of Richard’s wildest hats are on display in Melbourne’s Langham Hotel during the racing season, so I popped in to check them out and to meet the man himself. The hotel was, incidentally, also celebrating the opening of its Seafood Altar. All worship the humble lobster? My kinda bash.

If you were craving hat tips for the season, I can share a few of Richard’s gems:

Asymmetrical hats work best because asymmetry is dynamic and, let’s face it, our faces are asymmetrical. And if you’re going to tilt the hat, tilt over the right eye.
Never wear a hat that’s wider than your shoulders, ESPECIALLY if you’re short! You’re going to end up buffeted by other people all day. If you’re an Amazon standing over six feet six, do whatever you like, with your head up in those clouds.
Hats need stronger make-up, so don’t be afraid to lash on the slap, or be washed out by a hat with more personality than your face.

And hats aren’t just for the ladies. “Women talk to a man wearing a hat,” says Richard, encouragingly. “Hats should be whimsical, a talking point, and fabulous from all angles. Hats are meant to be seen in 3D.”

So ditch that skanky fascinator made from chook feathers, slap on a hat and let’s smash the piggy bank and make for the TAB!

(Translation: get real, get a decent hat, throw away your feathered headpiece, and let’s bet all our savings on a horse that has a snowflake’s chance in hell of winning.)

Oct

Bromance in the park

Photo: Eddie Jim, Sun Herald

So I’ve taken time out from making rhubarb and apple crumble with neon-red rhubarb from someone else’s garden to do some work. Yes, really. Finally, a review of the fabulous Middle Park Hotel has appeared in the Sun Herald – if you’re looking for Melbourne digs without effete pretention.

Bon Scott is on the walls and sausage sarnies on the menu at this paean to blokedom in inner Melbourne. Does that give you an idea of what it’s like?

Click here to read the full review… you know you want to.

http://www.smh.com.au/travel/accommodation-reviews/bromance-in-the-park-20101007-169cq.html

Oct

The great outdoors

An escarpment in the Kimberley.
Photo: Belle Jackson

Is it, like, circuitous meeja navel-gazing when media commentators start blogging on other media, only for other bloggers then to blog them? Praps, but if you’re not in the loop re: all things glossy magazinesque, we’re talking about the fact the buffest little gardener, our own Jamie Durie, has finally launched his own magazine.

Yes, the man muscle who made the Chippendales (not to be confused with the Chipmunks) a household name, who is Friend of Oprah and Australia’s authority on paving and water-free gardens, now comes to you via The Outdoor Room with Jamie Durie, the magazine, which hit newsstands last week.

Publish Post

Ok, so I’m going to ‘fess up to having a vested interest, having written for the which is why I’m going to post you a review of the mag that appeared on the funkiest little blog around, Girl with a Satchel. The only bit you need to know is the super-slim reference to Kimberley escarpment photographs (Here’s one). Thank you, GWAS 🙂

Sep

Game On! A guide to Delhi

Just in case you are going to Delhi this week for the Commonwealth Games and oh, don’t have accommodation, or even a singular clue about the city, here’s a quick guide for the completely clueless. If you’ve been too busy to think about it because you’ve been practising your lawn bowls technique, we salute you, and good luck!

Where to stay, shop, eat and play.

click here!

Pic credit: Reuters & Sun-Herald

Sep

Lattes all round at Naked for Satan

Can you choose a cafe just because you like the name?

If so, a newcomer to Fitzroy’s Brunswick St should pack ’em in, with the catchy name, ‘Naked for Satan’. Let’s try it.

‘Hey groover, let’s get to Naked for Satan for skinny lattes!’

Yeah, it works. The coffee’s not bad, either. And the $2 pintxos (that’s mini-tapas, for you down the back who haven’t been paying attention) looked super scrummy as well, featuring healthy-sized chunks of bread layered with jamon or cheeses, and rows of glistening green olives, each dish spiked with a toothpick.

Proving it’s not trying to lure the mum’s clubs (ooh, nasty!), it doesn’t open till midday and there’s a refreshing absence of large, tasteless muffins, with just one sweet on offer, a groovy little three-bite chocolate-cream cannoli that won’t have your skinny girlfriends angsting too much.

Open just four weeks, it also serves vodka (but we were talking business yesterday) and apparently the go with the pintxos is you grab as many as you like, and count your toothpicks at the end to tote up the bill.

Cheap, tasty, fresh Spanish food? That’ll give those money-hungry CBD big names a boot in the pantalones.

Naked for Satan, 285 Brunswick St, Fitzroy, 9416 2238

Sep

Cleopatra’s dress bound to be a hit

The Egyptians in the crowd will love this: it’s a dress by Scottish designer Holly Fulton, which Cool Hunter has picked up in its current edition. It’s all very Cleopatra isn’t it?

Speaking of Egyptians, a friend from Cairo popped into St Kilda last week and saw one of the buildings on the foreshore swathed in a massive red, white and black flag.

Oh, they really love Egyptians here, he said.

No, that’ll be the St Kilda football club’s colours, before the big game this weekend. Nice try, tho.

Sep

The magpie and the tiger

Working through a Seoul shopping story today, I came across some notes about a reproduction of a famous Korea story about a magpie and a tiger, from the Joseon period.

In mythology, the maggie is a bringer of news from the gods, and the tiger is said to bring blessings and exorcise disaster.

I love the stylised tiger, with his big round eyes, and the fact a humble, plain magpie can be elevated to messenger of the gods.

If you’re visit the Gyeongbokgung Palace, nip into the gift shop to see some great bags printed with these classic paintings.

No doubt, here in Melbourne, fans of the Magpies (Collingwood) will be hoping the gods are on their side this weekend against the Saints for the AFL grand final!

Sep

Greenland on hold

I should be winging my way to Toronto instead of sitting here blogging in rainy Melbourne, dammit.

The plan was to cruise the Artic circle on the Clipper Adventurer, but I’m not going anymore because my ship hit a rock. Happily, no-one was hurt, but the ship won’t be repaired in time for our polar cruise to go ahead.

Next report from the Mornington Peninsula’s Safety Beach, instead of Greenland…

http://www.smh.com.au/travel/travel-news/cruise-ship-stranded-in-the-arctic-20100830-13z9e.html

Sep

Hot on the phone in Seoul

I was having a fight with Optus yesterday about my overdue phone bill. I had queries about it and they said ‘why didn’t you ring earlier?’ Because I was in Seoul, I said.

South Korea, like Japan, doesn’t sing from the same hymn sheet as the rest of us. Their phones are predominantly non-GSM, running instead on CDMA technology (isn’t this the technology that Australia just turned off so we could all go digital? Any illumination welcomed.).

So instead of wrestling with my Australian phone and gladly offering my bank account up, lock stock to Optus, I hired a phone at the airport from one of the line of phone companies set up at the exit doors.Not just a SIM card to slip into my phone, but the whole shebang.

When I got the phone, it was so clunky and old, I wanted to put a bumper sticker on it saying something like, “My other phone is a Blackberry.” Incidentally, out of all the Koreans and expats I met, they were all trucking god-ugly phones: mostly clam shells. (Toooo early naughties!) And this in a country where something like 95% of the population has a mobile phone, and the home of Samsung and LG.

The international wires say that smartphones have been slow on the take-up due to lack of mobile apps and the high cost of the technology. The cynic in my head says keeping the government is keeping the non-Korean brands out of town. Can anyone else smell the non-competition rat here?

Sep

My enduring image of Seoul is not its elegant Joseon palaces, neon signs or pretty traditional houses, but legs.

Legs, legs, legs.

Seoul, like much of Asia, is currently in the grip of a fashion obsession where short shorts are teamed with the highest heels – wedges or stilettos, whatever you can totter on.

Little Korean girls have, collectively, shot up overnight at least three inches, and will wade through rainy puddles, in sweltering humidity and even brave the unseasonable chill wind, bearing legs to the elements in the name of fashion.

Damn it if I can’t find a photo to show you!

Hooker Hill in the foreign enclave of Itaewon is, however, the first time I’ve seen cleavage in Seoul – and then it’s a pumped-up girl working it for the money. Tall transvestites laze on chaise lounges till the late-night rush hour, while buzz-cut off-duty US soldiers chase each other among the traffic, banging on car bonnets as they dodge through the taxis, laughing at their freedom. The Military Police move through the crowds, negotiating peace. The foreign tourist do last-minute shopping amongst the leather and large-sized branded sportswear shops.

Itaewon is where the restaurant strip sees Persian kebab houses face French patisseries, Thai restaurants and euro wine bars. There’s KFC and Burger King, Korea’s own bibimbap holes in the wall and roast chicken carts. Midnight fruit sellers and Cuban cigar convenience stores, bands blaring and clubs beating.

Bars, bands, GIs and girls, it’s down the road from the gay strip, Homo Hill. It’s the Kings Cross of Seoul, it’s the city’s foreign heart.

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