Tiepolo’s Cleopatra’s Feast
Today is (still) Monday January 30th, 2023. Kia ora!
It seems that Prince Harry’s memoir Spare is not being sold in large numbers; in fact, I haven’t seen a copy sold at all, and I’ve been to several Whitcoulls stores. It’s not even prominent in some of them. I saw one woman in Queensgate Mall stopping to look at a copy, while her teenage daughters urged her away.
In Australia, everything is bigger and better. Our relatives have big covered outdoor areas with large tables and plenty of comfortable furniture, as well as many comfortable table chairs. They seem to have a lot of things that would be regarded as quite expensive luxuries here.
Our niece has a large pool, which is fenced, and has a hammock and poolside covered area with comfortable furniture. There are overhead fans. As it got hotter, we moved inside, where there are lots more couches and comfortable chairs. They are so well set up for big family parties.
It’s strange here. I’m not drinking nearly as much tea and coffee as I usually do. Everything tastes a little different. Everything is different. Ordering coffee is tricky: JD rushes to order a “long black” for me; something comes which is certainly “long” and “black”, but in no way resembles a strong espresso coffee in a small coffee cup, without milk or sugar, In Australia, if you want sugar, you usually have to request some, which is awkward if you’ve said No and the coffee turns out to be really bitter. Back in New Zealand, I sometimes add part of a sachet of raw sugar and don’t stir it. Naughty, I know, but it tends to make the coffee more drinkable.
The food here is – different (from what I’m expecting); the plates are too small; the knives aren’t nearly sharp enough, and everything is overcooked, sometimes with quite unpleasant cooking oil. It’s hard to get a salad, let alone a piece of fruit. I did get rather sick of platters, which sounded good but weren’t what I was expecting. There were lots of carrot and celery sticks, and dukkha (or bird seed, for Philistines like myself). The bread, however, is great.
On Wednesday we were to fly to Melbourne. There was some confusion as to how early we had to report to Adelaide Airport and check in. I had a bath, dressed and packed, and got a message from Qantas to check in to our flight. I checked both of us in. At least we were sitting together, albeit at the back of the plane.
Eventually we got to the airport, but there my mobile phone had no internet connection! JD asked a Qantas staff member to print out boarding passes; then we could scan them to print baggage tags. The baggage tags did not work as well as the Air New Zealand ones. We loaded our suitcases on the baggage rack; there was a nervous moment when the machine thought my suitcase was over weight, but we knew it wasn’t, and it disappeared.
Then we went through security, and the fun really started. Unlike in Auckland, I could use one tray for my two bags. They disappeared though while there were delays. However security at Adelaide Airport for our domestic flight was, frankly, over the top.
My precious carry-on bags disappeared while I went through the body scanner. You had to step up and onto it, which was tricky for me. It had markers where you were supposed to put your feet, which were uncomfortably far apart for me. I was told I didn’t have to have my feet that far apart. I had to spread my arms.
When I got through, the lady doing the scan had found some areas of concern, although it was very hot and I was only wearing pants, a cotton skirt, and a bra, and sandals. She offered to take me to a private room. Was she going to do a full body search? A strip search? No, she was going to pat me down. As already I couldn’t see my precious handbag, I opted for the pat-down there and then.
Having got through that, I walked further on, to where an officious border guard insisted on emptying my handbag. My passport, my precious 50th wedding anniversary ring, and other contents were roughly spilled out. He found a pair of nail scissors, which had escaped detection to date, and which of course are very useful to have handy. I had to ditch them, which is really not a problem. He shuffled things back into my bag, and shoved me forward. I wanted to check the contents, but there was nowhere to sit. I did manage to check, however, and everything seemed to be intact.
Next we tried to have an early lunch. There was a cafe with cabinet food, but very few seats. Next to it was a pub, very well patronised, and we found a table there. All the things I felt like eating were off the menu, since it was after 11am. There was no coffee menu like there usually is in New Zealand.
We found another place to eat which claimed to use “locally sourced” ingredients. The staff were very friendly and it looked new and modern. JD ordered a burger and I ordered a chicken panini, and a double espresso, thinking that would be a safe choice. JD also ordered a glass of chardonnay and some orange juice, which he shared with me. Australian orange juice is delicious.
The panini came with chips, on a barely big enough plate. The bun was not what we would regard as a panini bun; it was a large thick oblong bun, a bit over-toasted. When I tried to remove half of the top, I managed to spill some of the contents on the table. Actually the food was delicious; the chicken was in small pieces and it had been marinated; there was lots of red cabbage. The coffee turned up first – it was tiny! Instead the waitress offered to get me a “long black”. Which she did, and when it came it was almost like what I would call a “long black” coffee.
Although I did not intend to eat the chips, they were delicious and I did eat quite a few, leaving most of the bun, which was really difficult to cut with the knife they’d given me.
Afterwards we went to the W.H.Smith bookshop nearby, to get something to read on the plane. I saw no books by New Zealand authors and no New Zealand magazines. There were some specials, but I found a Vera novel by Ann Cleeves and chose that. It wasn’t on special, of course.
While JD was still looking, I realized I needed to use a restroom. I headed off past Starbucks, probably in the wrong direction, since I had to walk a very long way to find one. Again I longed for the Hartford -Jackson Airport in Atlanta, with its bathroom signs – pink and blue. I guess you decide which applies, rather than figuring out the disturbing pictures of ladies – always wearing skirts. And men – always wearing trousers
The Qantas/Air New Zealand flight from Adelaide was what they call “very full”, one of those mystifying terms. To me, a thing is either full or it’s not. Air NZ now has a codeshare arrangement with Qantas (5 1/2 years ago it was with Virgin Australia). JD accepted Qantas’ offer to put his carry-on back pack in the hold, but was refused.
The plane was a Boeing 737, I suspect an older and less fuel-efficient vehicle, but despite six recent Qantas flights that had experienced technical difficulties, since we had left New Zealand on 18 January, it got us safely to Melbourne. I was glad to have bought my new novel. It was very readable.
There was a snack served on the plane: a cold drink (no tea or coffee, which I would have preferred), and a small sealed container with corn chips, spring onion dip, and sliced carrot and celery sticks. It’s amazing how you eat whatever is being offered, since it serves to pass the time, and you don’t know when you’ll get to eat again.
We landed without incident, and rather than descending via the air bridge (as we’d boarded the plane), we descended by the steps at the back door, since we were sitting near the rear of the plane. The steps were all right, and we walked on the tarmac – I guess you’re allowed to now – and then up two flights of stairs to the terminal building. Now that I wasn’t prepared for.
We made our way to Baggage Claim, where there were lots of people. We waited hopefully by one carousel for our bags to appear, but it was the wrong one. JD tried to get a baggage trolley, but in Melbourne you have to pay for them! So we didn’t. Our suitcases are both walkers. Meanwhile JD was texting his sister, who had come to meet us. He realized we were waiting at the wrong carousel, so we moved, and thankfully our bags turned up.
We met our sister who had stopped nearby, by some magic of her charm and a photo of my disability parking permit – evidently you can use it in Victoria, Australia. We then drove to her home in Geelong. Thankfully the traffic wasn’t too bad.
The next day was a quiet one, binging on her television set. We watched A Very British Scandal, about Margaret Argyll, who was married to the Earl of Argyll and was briefly mother-in-law of Lady Colin Campbell. I had always wanted to watch this series.
We also watched an episode of Annika, the new detective series on Neon staring Nicola Walker, and a long episode of Taggart, set in the gritty city of Glasgow.
By then it was truly bedtime, and we’d watched far too much television for one day. We comforted ourselves with the thought that this made up for days of not watching any television at all. Does mobile phone screen time count? I hope not!
The next day we were to go to Melbourne, firstly to the Lume at the Melbourne Convention Centre, called Monet and Friends. It was quite wonderful, with photographic displays over the ceiling and walls of the large hall. At one corner was a café, where we had lunch, after waiting to be seated. You had to scan a QR code into your phone, which enabled you to see the menu, order and pay – all quite a challenge. My other sister-in-law and I had a ham and cheese croissant; JD had French toast (Pain Perdu) which came with ice cream! I had some coffee – somewhat unsuccessfully; the water was good. After this wonderful display we exited – through the Gift Shop, of course! That had many beautiful things. A son’s partner has a birthday coming up: I got her a present, and then presents for all my grandchildren. They wouldn’t take cash there but did take my debit card. I bought some postcards to send to my daughter, and we bought a CD of the music played (never mind that Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake isn’t French music). What a beautiful set up, and how very good at relieving one of one’s money.
After this we walked to the wonderful NGV (National Gallery of Victoria). It was 2 km, a 20 minute walk, but I thought I was up for it. We walked along the Southbank, along with many other people, having several rests along the way in areas shaded by trees. Eventually we reached the Gallery. There was an Alexander McQueen exhibition on there, which followed closely the documentary we’d seen on Te Whakaata Māori. It was wonderful to see his magnificent designs again. Then we dashed upstairs to see the famous Tiepolo painting of Cleopatra’s Feast. It had been moved, though, and looked quite different this time. The gallery was to close for an hour, and we tried to figure out how to have coffee, and get back to the car. I was pretty well all done in i.e. totally exhausted by now. Our sister got a rickshaw to take us back instead of walking – a huge relief, although we all had to cram up to sit three abreast on the seat. After we were belted in, the driver/ bike rider took us back to the Convention Centre parking building. We then drove back to Geelong. Thankfully because we’d been to the Monet and Friends exhibition, we were able to leave the car there until 6 pm, and the parking was free!
The next day was our last one in Geelong. We went to the library, to look out over the city from the sixth floor; we then went to the gallery next door – very unprepossessing, but a great and gracious gallery, nonetheless. There was an exhibition of art works by Mandy Martin, a member of the PAM (Progressive Art Movement). There was a large and confronting photo about immigrants, and of course paintings about colonial life, with all its difficulties, and frequent deaths. After that we drove out to Portarlington, where we had coffee and delicious donuts, and sent my daughter a photo of us all.
Meantime, tanks are being sent to Ukraine, from Germany, Poland, and the US; in a truly shocking incident a black man was beaten to death by five black police officers. How can this still happen, after the George Floyd killing and consequent protests and hand-wringing? The video is really upsetting, to hear him calling for his “mom. What was he pulled over for? He was just going home! For some reason I find this incident so very upsetting.
In the UK former Chancellor of the Exchequer, Nadhim Zakawi, has finally been sacked. He was leader of the Tory Party. There was some huge tax issue, which has been hanging around for days; now he’s gone, perhaps.
Today is (still) Monday January 30th, 2023. Kia ora!
It seems that Prince Harry’s memoir Spare is not being sold in large numbers; in fact, I haven’t seen a copy sold at all, and I’ve been to several Whitcoulls stores. It’s not even prominent in some of them. I saw one woman in Queensgate Mall stopping to look at a copy, while her teenage daughters urged her away.
In Australia, everything is bigger and better. Our relatives have big covered outdoor areas with large tables and plenty of comfortable furniture, as well as many comfortable table chairs. They seem to have a lot of things that would be regarded as quite expensive here.
Our niece has a large pool, which is fenced, and has a hammock and poolside covered area with comfortable furniture. There are overhead fans. As it got hotter, we moved inside, where there are lots more couches and comfortable chairs. They are so well set up for big family parties.
It’s strange here. I’m not drinking nearly as much tea and coffee as I usually do. Everything tastes a little different. Everything is different. Ordering coffee is tricky: JD rushes to order a “long black” for me; something comes which is certainly “long” and “black”, but in no way resembles a strong espresso coffee in a small coffee cup, without milk of sugar, In Australia, if you want sugar, you usually have to request some, which is awkward if you’ve said No and the coffee turns out to be really bitter. Back in New Zealand, I sometimes add part of a sachet of war sugar and don’t stir it. Naughty, I know, but it tends to make the coffee more drinkable.
The food here is – different (from what I’m expecting); the plates are too small; the knives aren’t nearly sharp enough, and everything is overcooked, sometimes with quite unpleasant cooking oil. It’s hard to get a salad, let alone a piece of fruit. I did get rather sick of platters, which sounded good but weren’t what I was expecting. There were lots of carrot and celery sticks, and dukkha (or bird seed, for Philistines like myself). The bread, however, is great.
On Wednesday we were to fly to Melbourne. There was some confusion as to how early we had to report to Adelaide Airport and check in. I had a bath, dressed and packed, and got a message from Qantas to check in to our flight. I checked both of us in. At least we were sitting together;
Eventually we got to the airport, but there my mobile phone had no internet connection! JD asked a Qantas staff member to print out boarding passes; then we could scan them to print baggage tags. The baggage tags did not work as well as the Air New Zealand ones. We loaded our suitcases on the baggage rack; there was a nervous moment when the machine thought my suitcase was over weight, but we knew it wasn’t, and it disappeared.
Then we went through security, and the fun really started. Unlike in Auckland, I could use one tray for my two bags. They disappeared though while there were delays. However security at Adelaide Airport for our domestic flight was, frankly, over the top.
My precious carry-on bags disappeared while I went through the body scanner. You had to step up and on it, which was tricky for me. It had markers where you were supposed to put your feet, which were uncomfortably far apart for me. I was told I didn’t have to have my feet that far apart. I had to spread my arms.
When I got through, the lady doing the scan had found some areas of concern, although it was very hot and I was only wearing pants, a cotton skirt, and a bra, and sandals. She offered to take me to a private room. Was she going to do a full body search? A strip search! No, she was going to pat me down. As already I couldn’t see my precious handbag, I opted for the pat-down there and then.
Having got through that, I walked further on, to where an officious border guard insisted on emptying my handbag. My passport, my precious 50th wedding anniversary ring, and other contents were roughly spilled out. He found a pair of nail scissors, which had escaped detection to date, and which of course are very useful to have handy. I had to ditch them, which is really not a problem. He shuffled things back into my bag, and shoved me forward. I wanted to check the contents, but there was nowhere to sit. I did manage to check, however, and everything seemed to be intact.
Next we tried to have an early lunch. There was a cafe with cabinet food, but very few seats. Next to it was a pub, very well patronised, and we found a table there. All the things I felt like eating were off the menu, since it was after 11am. There was no coffee menu like there usually is in New Zealand.
We found another place to eat which claimed to use “locally sourced” ingredients. The staff were very friendly and it looked new and modern. JD ordered a burger and I ordered a chicken panini, and a double espresso, thinking that would be a safe choice. JD also ordered a glass of chardonnay and some orange juice, which he shared with me. Australian orange juice is delicious.
The panini came with chips, on a barely big enough plate. The bun was not what we would regard as a panini bun; it was a large oblong bun, a bit over-toasted. When I tried to remove half of the top, I managed to spill some of the contents on the table. Actually the food was delicious; the chicken was in small pieces and it had been marinated; there was lots of red cabbage. The coffee turned up first – it was tiny! Instead the waitress offered to get me a “long black”. Which she did, and when it came it was almost like what I would call a “long black” coffee.
Although I did not intend to eat the chips, they were delicious and I did eat quite a few, leaving most of the bun, which was really difficult to cut with the knife they’d given me.
Afterwards we went to the W.H.Smith bookshop nearby, to get something to read on the plane. I saw no books by New Zealand authors and no New Zealand magazines. There were sone specials, but I found a Vera novel by Ann Cleeves and chose that. It wasn’t on special, of course.
While JD was still looking, I realized I needed to use a restroom. I headed off past Starbucks, probably in the wrong direction, since I had to walk a very long way to find one. Again I longed for the Hartford -Jackson Airport in Atlanta, with its bathroom signs – pink and blue. I guess you decide which applies, rather than figuring out the disturbing pictures of ladies – always wearing skirts. And men – always wearing trousers
The Qantas/Air New Zealand flight from Adelaide was what they call “very full”, one of those mystifying terms. To me, a thing is either full or it’s not. Air NZ now has a codeshare arrangement with Qantas (5 1/2 years ago it was with Virgin Australia). JD accepted Qantas’ offer to put his carry-on back pack in the hold, but was refused.
The plane was a Boeing 737, I suspect an older and less fuel-efficient vehicle, but despite six recent Qantas flights that had experienced technical difficulties, since we had left New Zealand on 18 January, it got us safely to Melbourne. I was glad to have bought my new novel. It was very readable.
There was a snack served on the plane: a cold drink (no tea or coffee, which I would have preferred), and a small sealed container with corn chips, spring onion dip, and sliced carrot and celery sticks.
We landed without incident, and rather than descending via the air bridge (as we’d boarded the plane), we descended by the steps at the back door, since we were sitting near the rear of the plane. The steps were all right, and we walked on the tarmac – I guess you’re allowed now – and then up two flights of stairs to the terminal building. Now that I wasn’t prepare for.
We made our way to Baggage Claim, where there were lots of people. We waited hopefully by one carousel for our bags to appear, but it was the wrong one. JD tried to get a baggage trolley, but in Melbourne you have to pay for them! So we didn’t. Our suitcases are both walkers. Meanwhile JD was texting his sister, who had come to meet us. He realized we were waiting at the wrong carousel, so we moved, and thankfully our bags turned up.
We met our sister who had stopped nearby, by some magic of her charm and my disability parking pass – evidently you can use it in Victoria, Australia. We then drove to her home in Geelong. Thankfully the traffic wasn’t too bad.
The next day was a quiet one, binging on her television. We watched A Very British Scandal, about Margaret Argyll, who was married to the Earl of Argyll and was briefly mother-in-law of Lady Colin Campbell. I had always wanted to watch this series.
We also watched an episode of Annika, the new detective series on Neon staring Nicola Walker, and a long episode of Taggart, set in the gritty city of Glasgow.
By then it was truly bedtime, and we’d watched far too much television for one day. We comforted ourselves with the thought that this made up for days of not watching any television at all. Does mobile phone screen time count? I hope not!
The next day we were to go to Melbourne, firstly to the Lume at the Melbourne Convention Centre, called Monet and Friends. It was quite wonderful, with photographic displays over the ceiling and walls of the large hall. At one corner was a café, where we had lunch, after waiting to be seated. You had to scan a QR code into your phone, which enabled you to see the menu, order and pay – all quite a challenge. My other sister-in-law and I had a ham and cheese croissant; JD had French toast (Pain Perdu) which came with ice cream! I had some coffee – somewhat unsuccessfully; the water was good. After this wonderful display we exited – through the Gift Shop, of course! That had many beautiful things. A son’s partner has a birthday coming up: I got her a present, and then presents for all my grandchildren. They wouldn’t take cash there but did take my debit card. I bought some postcards to send to my daughter, and we bought a CD of the music played (never mind that Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake isn’t French music). What a beautiful set up, and how very good at relieving one of one’s money.
After this we walked to the wonderful NGV (National Gallery of Victoria). It was 2 km, a 20 minute walk, but I thought I was up for it. We walked along the Southbank, along with many other people, having several rests along the way in areas shaded by trees. Eventually we reached the Gallery. There was an Alexander McQueen exhibition on there, which followed closely the documentary we’d seen on Te Whakaata Māori. It was wonderful to see his magnificent designs again. Then we dashed upstairs to see the famous Tiepolo painting of Cleopatra’s Feast. It had been moved, though, and looked quite different this time. The gallery was to close for an hour, and we tried to figure out how to have coffee, and get back to the car. I was pretty well all done in my now. Our sister got a rickshaw to take us back instead of walking – a huge relief, although we all had to cram up to sit three abreast on the seat. After we were belted in, the driver/ bike rider took us back to the Convention Centre parking building. We then drove back to Geelong.
The next day was our last one in Geelong. We went to the library, to look out over the city from the sixth floor; we then went to the gallery next door – very unprepossessing, but a great and gracious gallery, nonetheless. There was an exhibition of art works by Mandy Martin, a member of the PAM (Progressive Art Movement). There was a large and confronting photo about immigrants, and of course paintings about colonial life, with all its difficulties, and frequent deaths. After that we drove out to Portarlington, where we had coffee and delicious donuts, and sent my daughter a photo of us all.
Meantime, tanks are being sent to Ukraine, from Germany, Poland, and the US; in a truly shocking incident a black man was beaten to death by five black police officers. How can this still happen, after the George Floyd killing and consequent protests and hand-wringing? The video is really upsetting, to hear hum calling for his “mom. What was he pulled over for? He was just going home! For some reason I find this incident so very upsetting.
In the UK former Chancellor of the Exchequer, Nadhim Zakawi, has finally been sacked. He was leader of the Tory Party. There was some huge tax issue, which has been hanging around for days; now he’s gone, perhaps.
That’s it for now. See the next instalment for our (not so) exciting flight home. Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.
In New Zealand, Chris Hipkins has made a very smooth transition to becoming Prime Minister. And there’s been dreadful rainfall and consequent flooding in Auckland, resulting in the Domestic and International Airports being closed. Thank goodness we aren’t scheduled to fly through Auckland this time.
That’s it for now. See the next instalment for our (not so) exciting flight home. Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.
Classic Barbarian 