All posts by Rosemary Kneipp

The Wonderful World of Home Exchange

If you’ve been following my blog recently, you will have noticed that most of the places we stayed in Australia were home exchanges. Our first swap was last February in Madrid. Since then, all our exchanges have been with Australia – two simultaneous and four non-simultaneous. Two have included a vehicle, which is an enormous boon when you consider the price of renting a car.

View from the front window in Launceston

Apart from the question of cost, one of the great advantages of house swaps is that you get to be a local. When you’re lucky enough to meet the owners (not always possible in the case of simultaneous exchanges), they can explain the ropes and give you tips on things to do and places to visit. Otherwise they can leave useful information.

Relationnel was particularly appreciative of having a glimpse of Australia from the inside. In the past, we’ve either stayed with friends or motels or rented holiday accommodation which is not quite the same as living in someone’s home during their absence. The general spaciousness, the kitchen equipment, the video installations and the laundry facilities impressed him the most. I had problems with the heating (or rather the lack of heating!)

View from the living room in Coles Bay

We are no doubt not very representative of French people in general, but our television in Paris is concealed behind a large armchair as we very rarely watch it. It’s quite big but nothing like the size of the ones in most of the homes we stayed in. Our exchangers must have been a little disappointed to see our somewhat basic video installations. In Blois, we don’t even have a TV because we are too far from the centre of the town to have international channels. However, we expect optic fibre to be installed within the next two years.

Welcome fireplace in Hobart

We noticed that everyone in Australia has kitchen tongs so we bought a set for Blois for our Australian visitors. We have some in Paris but I never remember to use them!  Fridges are much bigger in Australia, for one thing, and no one seems to use lettuce driers which are standard equipment in most French households. All the barbecues were gas or electric.

Armidale house from the front

A laundry room is very rare in France and there are pratically no washing machines here that use cold water, which is why the cycles are so long (the machine heats the water). We had problems using some of the machines in Australia because theywere often programmed for cold water only and it took me a while to realise where the problem lay. Here, you can choose between 30°, 40°, 60° and 90°. Some of the machines are enormous in Australia – 9.5 kg – which is wonderful for washing sheets and towels. Also, you only have to put them out on the line for a few hours to dry. It’s far more complicated and time-consuming here!

Just one part of the garden in Armidale

In France, I have always had central heating. In Paris, our apartment is grossly overheated because we are on the 4th floor and even if we turn off all the radiators, the hot water coming through the pipes easily takes the temperature up to 23° or 24° instead of the regulatory 19°C. But the most important thing is that central heating means that all the rooms are evenly heated.

Armidale house from the back

In Tasmania, where it was still very cold, particularly at night, there were usually no radiators in the hallways, bathrooms and toilets although there were heated overhead lights in the bathroom. Since the rooms were often quite big with open-plan living spaces, it meant that the rooms were often chilly. In Hobart, though, we had a fireplace, which was wonderful. I do admit it’s far healthier to have less heating – I’m just not used to it!

View in Terranora from the back deck

In three of the houses, we had the most splendid views and I was only sorry that our simultaneous exchangers were deprived of the wonderful view of the Palais Royal gardens from our balcony because of renovations. One of the houses had an absolutely stunning garden and the rooms were furnished with antiques. My nephews, aged 5 to 10, who were staying with us, thought it was a castle!

Kitchen view at Terranora

I’d like to say thank you to all our exchangers who gave us the opportunity to stay in their lovely homes. This post is not a criticism in any way – I’m just pointing out interesting differences between French and Australian homes that we observed.

Monday’s Travel Photos – Brisbane, Australia

When I was growing up in Townsville, North Queensland, which has a current population of  200,000 (80,000 back in those days), Brisbane, the State capital and my mother’s birthplace, which now has over 2 million people (600,000 in my childhood), was the “big smoke”. I found it confusing more than anything as I followed my mother, always a keen shopper, through the busy streets. It was not until Black Cat spent a year at the University of Queensland in 2006 that I could say I really visited it.

Today, I think it is a lovely and very dynamic city, with its own special atmosphere. I particularly like the south bank area along the Brisbane River right in the centre of the city.

Kurilpa solar-powered bridge in Brisbane
A bird’s eye view of Brisbane buses from the overpass to South Bank
A bougainvillea walkway on South Bank
Streets Beach, a unique, man-made swimming beach overlooking the Brisbane River
Goodwill Bridge for pedestrians, cyclists and inline skaters

 

Back Home in France

By the time we leave Australia, I am starting to feel less of a foreigner. I can understand most of what people are saying and know what to do in a restaurant or a bar. OK, so I still can’t recognise the coins but Relationnel is looking after that most of the time anyway. We arrive back in Paris on Sunday, after a 13-hour flight from Hong Kong, one suitcase less, six kilos heavier between us (4:2 in my favour of course), tired and frazzled.

Dreary Paris street

Outside, it’s cold and rainy. As we come back from the airport in a taxi, I try to imagine an Australian arriving in Paris for the first time. What would they think of all that mournful suburbia on either side of the motorway? We arrive from the north, of course, and even though the buildings become more Parisian and less ethnic as we near the centre, the empty Sunday streets are hardly enticing.

Scaffolding on the balcony

We climb the four flights of stairs to the apartment and open the door to the living room. The balcony renovation is not finished. We didn’t expect it to be, but the gloomy day is made even worse by the scaffolding in front of the windows. Not to mention the layer of stone dust. We put down our single suitcase and wade through the mound of mail including 30 copies of Le Monde, buoyed up by a couple of colourful postcards but depressed by the bills.

The fridge is empty so I add a bottle of sancerre and we set out for the Saint Eustache market in the rain. We cheer ourselves up by buying our favourite spéciales oysters and fill the shopping trolley with vegetables and chasselas grapes which are the only fruit we eat from September to November. I then go and buy yoghurt, fromage blanc and butter from the little supermarket while Relationnel takes the heavy trolley back home and up the stairs.

Spéciales oysters & sancerre to cheer us up

After delecting the oysters, we crawl into bed for the rest of the afternoon, emerging about 6 pm in a jetlag daze. It’s 3 am in Australia, the worst time for waking up. I still feel lightheaded – you know that sort of spaced out feeling when you first arrive after so many hours of travelling. Relationnel busies himself putting things away and doing things at the computer, annoyingly chirpy, while I recline hopelessly on the sofa incapable of doing anything except look at my iPhone from time to time.

We have a light dinner of fresh plaice and spinach and I try desperately to stay awake until 8.30. Amazingly, I sleep until 6.30 next morning, admittedly with a few wakings but I manage to go back to sleep each time. It’s depressingly dark and still rainy but the jetlag haze seems to have cleared.

Early morning view from my office in Blois

After reading my emails and checking out my Facebook and Twitter accounts :), I start the urgent translation due that day (my clients very nicely waited until I came back from holidays instead of getting someone else – there’s nothing worse than getting back from 5 weeks’ holiday and having no work). At 8 am, I hear the first workers arrive on the scaffolding.

“It’s not so bad. I can put up with this”, I think, until they turn on the radio. Loudly. A woman’s voice appears and there is loud discussion. I can hear every word they’re saying. A drill starts, followed by hammering. My concentration disappears completely. How can I possibly come up with advertising material for anti-aging cosmetics with this in background? It’s depressing enough to know that I never remember to use any of these miraculous products.

Temporary office in Blois at night

When Relationnel comes home at lunchtime, I tell him that I am definitely going to Blois next day. But I hum and ha all evening because I really don’t want to go there by myself for a week. Next morning, I get up at 6.30  again (hoping this won’t become a habit – it’s dark outside) thinking I might stay in Paris after all. At 8 am, the workers arrive and I buy an on-line ticket for the 12.38 train. The only thing that consoles me is that my friend Françoise is picking me up at the station.

Pokies and Casinos in France and Australia

One of the things I noticed in Australia were the “Pokies” or poker machines. We ate on several occasions in surf lifesaving clubs and pubs that had whole rooms of one-arm bandits. In France the only place you’ll find a bandit manchot is in a casino which is strictly reserved for adults. And casinos are always in coastal towns or spas. There is a place called the Casino de Paris but it’s actually a music hall! There’s a chain of supermarkets called Casino as well.

Pokies at Coogee Beach Palace Hotel in Sydney

The closest casinos to Paris are in Enghien-les-bains and Forges-des-eaux, both of which are spa towns. Then there are the ones on the Norman coast such as Deauville and Cabourg. I’m not a gambler so I haven’t been to many casinos. I did go with a friend to the one in Cabours many years ago though. It was very chic and select and we stood around and watched people playing roulette and blackjack, like in the movies. I was taken to the casino in Townsville in North Queensland but it wasn’t quite the same.

During our family reunion, one of the women present was talking about her father who came to stay with her while looking for work. One day, she discovered that he was spending his share of the rent money at the bookies! Another woman said that her father had clocked up an enormous debt on his credit card before he died which is a bit like gambling on your life, isn’t it?

It made me think about why the Australians are such gamblers. I don’t know any other country where casket tickets (lottery tickets if you don’t come from Queensland) are so popular, for example. Even though they have a large selection in France, usually bought in a tobacconist, the following is much smaller. I might add that all French lottery and lotto tickets are sold by the government-owned Française des Jeux (FDJ).

Bar & tobacconist in Blois selling lottery tickets

And look at Melbourne Cup Day which must be one of the most celebrated horse races of all times. It seems odd to me now that in a Catholic school, betting was actually organised on that day and the nuns were just as excited about it as the pupils! When Black Cat was doing her student exchange in Brisbane, she joined the crowds at the Ekka races in Eagle Farm in Brisbane, dressed to the nines in one of her own creations.

So, what is my conclusion about gambling in Australia? It seems to me that the early settlers and subsequent immigrants were gambling their future by packing up and leaving to go Australia. They all hoped to strike it rich, and many did, but maybe the others had to find some way of achieving the riches they hadn’t found and gambling seemed the only way.

Black Cat dressed up for the Ekka races in Brisbane

We won a car when I was a child and you know what my father said ? “Oh dear, that’s a nuisance. It’s ruined my chances of winning the lottery”. And my father was not a mercenary man by any means. Casinos, pokies, casket tickets, the Melbourne Cup – what do you think about Aussies relation to gambling?

French Tours: Beware Madame la Guillotine – It Pays to be a Friend – The Old Woman without a Clue

While I was on holiday in Australia, I didn’t have time to read my favourite blogs so I have a lot of catching up to do! This Wednesday, Abby Gorden from Paris Weekender, posting on My French Life, reviews a wonderful iPhone app on the French revolution which begins at my very doorstep, Mary Kay from Out and About in Paris explains the advantages of being a “friend” of Parisian museums and Bread is Pain laments about her inability to assimilate all those French verbs while her knowledge of France increases in leaps and bounds.

French Tours: Beware Madame la Guillotine

by Abby Gorden from Paris Weekender, posting on MyFrenchLife, a global community of French and francophiles connecting like-minded people in English & French

When My French Life™ asked me to review Time Traveler Tours new ‘Beware Madame la Guillotine’ iPhone app, I eagerly agreed. I was not going to pass up a chance to learn some history while having fun, outdoors, on the go.

The app is not quite a self-guided walking tour and not quite a book on tape. It’s something in between and at the same time something more. It’s jam-packed with history and interesting tidbits. It’s interactive. It’s easy to use. I had never owned an iPhone until about 15 hours before I embarked on the app-guided tour, but I still found it easy to navigate. Read more

It Pays to be a Friend

by Mary Kay from Out and About in Paris, an American by birth, Swiss by marriage, resident of Paris with a Navigo Pass for the metro that she feels compelled to use

(Friday afternoon) 

It’s less than an hour until my father-in-law’s train pulls into Gare de Lyon and I’m in a panic. It’s not that the apartment is a mess or that we don’t have any food, it’s that the elevator is broken.

The good news is that we could bypass the long lines of people huddling under their umbrellas in front of the Musée d’Orsay on Saturday afternoon because I’m a friend, “une amie”, of the museum. Read more

The Old Woman without a Clue

by Bread is Pain, a 30-something American living in the Rhone-Alps, and slowly eating and drinking herself through the country

I’ve been taking yet another French Intensif Course, this time at the University, and until today it has been an exercise in humiliation.  Everyone in the class is about 12 years old 20 years old and have been studying French for anywhere from 2 to 8 semesters.  They can reel off subjunctives and infinitives like it’s nothing.  When we had a session in which we described Fairy Tales, they were flawlessly reciting the plots to the Lion King*, Cinderella, and Pinnochio…and then there was me, the old lady without a clue (har har).  I could get the words out but not the correct grammar. Read more

 

Cheung Chau – another outlying island in Hong Kong

You may remember that during our stopover in Hong Kong 5 weeks ago, I shunned shopping to follow a sign saying “To the outlying islands” and we had a most enjoyable afternoon and evening visiting Lamma Island. So on the way back, we didn’t hesitate to repeat the experience. Relationnel studied the possibilities and suggested Cheung Chau.

View from our hotel at breakfast

Cheung Chau which means “Long Island” is a little island about 10 K southwest of Hong Kong Island. The ferry (fast or normal) leaves every half hour from Pier 5 at Central and takes 30 to 45 minutes. As we were staying at Kowloon this time, we took the Star Ferry to Central. The payment system is easy once you get the hang of it. You need 3.40 HK dollars (34 Eurocents) in coins that you put directly into the turnstile or you get a token from the machine. At Cental, you can buy the tickets to Cheung Chau directly from the ticket window (12.50 for the normal ferry and 25 for the fast ferry).

Star Ferry turnstiles showing token and exact adult fare lines

Our boat was full of teenagers all sporting the same T-shirt in various colours and obviously on some sort of excursion. There were also people dressed in white makeshift tunics. I got a bit closer to take a photo but it looked like a private affair so I exercised discretion and returned to my seat. One of the men later came up to us and explained in broken English that someone’s mother had died and they were throwing paper money into the sea to appease the ghosts.

Funeral party on the boat to Cheung Chau

The approach to Cheung Cheu is very different from that of Lamma. It is more populated and there is a much bigger Chinese tourist trade. We saw very few Europeans. Like Lamma there are no cars but many bikes including the type they called Rosalie in French with a second seat behind, a bit like a rickshaw. It also has many fishing boats.

Fishing port at Cheung Chau

The first attraction is Seafood Street where you can eat for less than 80 HK dollars a head. There‘s always a pitcher of luke warm green tea on the table. The food was surprisingly good in the two restaurants where we ate. There seemed to be no set eating hours, athough the tables were fuller around seven.

Pak Tai Temple

After lunch, we visited  the Pak Tai Temple, one of the oldest in Hong Kong, with its intricate porcelain figures. Our itinerary took us through quiet little back streets with little shops and eating places that reminded me of when I first went to Hong Kong more than 30 years ago.

Cheung Chau Beach

We crossed the island and suddenly come out onto a long white sandy beach. It seems that during the weekend it’s chock-a-block. There were life savers in little lookouts and changing rooms with showers, which we’d also seen on Lamma Island. As we went back towards the centre, we came across lots of street vendors selling various types of sweets on sticks.

Sunset at Cheung Chau

We visited a second temple, also decorated with porcelain figures, before walking in the opposite direction from the pier to a third temple. This was more like our hike in Lamma, but the distance was not so great. By then, lots of young people were out riding their bikes and quite a few older people were doing calisthenics. It was very peaceful and village-like.

Fishing boats at sunset

The walk to the temple as the sun was setting was most enjoyable, past fishing boats and lush vegetation. At the temple, there wasn’t a soul in site. We then went to the cave which, according to legend, was once a pirate’s hideaway. I didn’t like the look of the last part of the track so we turned back.

Indoor market on Cheung Chau with thawing chicken and pork

We came across a huge indoor market which was still going strong. I was a bit dubious about the cases of chicken and pork which had obviously been left to thaw. No sign of ice or refrigeration of any kind. We chose fresh seafood for dinner – it seemed a bit safer!

Hong Kong at night from the ferry

We took the fast ferry back and once again, were enchanted by the lights on Hong Kong’s skyscrapers.  I think that we’re probably seen all Hong Kong has to offer a non-shopper so will try a different route to Australia next time – maybe via Korea!

Aussie in France celebrates its first birthday

Thursday 11th October 2012 was my first blog anniversary. It was also the last day of my holidays in Australia and there was no time to write a post. I can’t believe the year has gone so fast. The idea of having a blog came from my son Leonardo just before he left France a year ago to live and work in Australia. We were talking about his motivations for going there and I told him that I, too, needed something new to challenge me. So he asked me what I wanted to do.

“Well, you know I’ve always wanted to write a book about my life in Australia and my interest in wine, mushrooms and cycling”. “Then write a blog!” “Ah yes, but you can’t make money blogging.” “Yes, you can, I’ll give you some of the files from an on-line marketing course I’ve been doing”. And he proceeded to set up the blog for me. We chose WordPress as a template because it seemed to correspond to what I was looking for.

Then I had to decide on a name. We brainstormed a bit and came up with Aussie in Paris, but I thought it might be too restrictive, particularly after Relationnel retires, so we checked the availability of www.aussieinfrance.com and then registered the domain name. Leonardo showed me a few of the basics (he’s an IT man) and then I was on my own ! But I knew I could call on him if I needed help.

I started reading the training documents and defined my readership – Australians interested in an insider’s view of France and advice on visiting France and other European countries. I decided to use pseudonyms for the family to protect their privacy and mine, particularly as I was still lecturing part-time at the university. “Fraussie”, of course, is a contraction of French and Aussie and Grouet is the neighbourhood in Blois where we had just bought a house. Had I known then that it was called Closerie Falaiseau, I would have chosen Fraussie Falaiseau!

 

Blogging opened up a whole new world that I wasn’t expecting. Not only was I able to use my creative energy at last (writing original pieces rather than translating other people’s documents) , but it introduced me to other bloggers and their blogs. One of the first bloggers, whom I met at a tweet-up, was another Aussie in France whom I discovered when googling my own blog. Andrea, from Western Australia, had written an earlier blog with the same name, followed by the extension blogspot but had moved onto Destination Europe and now Rearview Mirror, so didn’t mind my having the same name. “Great minds think alike” was her generous response!

I met Carina from Carams at the same tweet-up and we discovered that she and my father come from the same tiny corner of northern New South Wales. Kathy from Femmes Francophiles who lives in Adelaide started corresponding with me and My French Life asked if I’d do a monthly post. That led to meeting Mary Kay from Out and About in Paris and Abby from Paris Weekender. To get to know them all better, I organised my first bloggers’ breakfast. The first, but not the last.

Friends ask me how much time I spend on the blog. A post usually takes about an hour to an hour and a half, depending on how many photos there are or how much research is required. Promotion on twitter and facebook doesn’t take more than a couple of minutes. I do of course spend time reading and what other bloggers have to say and writing comments. That inspired me to take excerpts from three other blogs once a week to give readers other insights into life in France and information on other places they want to visit. I have about twenty regulars on my list and I really appreciate the fact that they let me quote their blogs.

I’m now writing 5 posts a week (when I’m not in Australia!), including Wednesday’s bloggers’ round-up and Monday’s Photos. Readership is steadily increasing with over 17,000 visits during the year for a total of 11,500 people. The most popular posts are Five Places to have Lunch near the Louvre and 3 Iphone Apps for Paris and Wifi.

I already talked about another spinoff in a recent post and that is you, my readers. I love reading your comments and interacting with you. Thank you for taking an interest in my blog! And I still have the hope that one day, I’ll be able to turn it into a book.

Photos: All the above photos, used as headers during the year, were taken from my balcony in the Palais Royal

Devonshire Tea en français in Queensland and Seafood at the Regatta in NSW

One of the unexpected spinoffs of writing a blog is making new friends. I started blogging last October and I’ll never forget the thrill when I received an email just before Christmas from Barb in Sydney, whom I didn’t know, telling me how much she enjoyed my blog. We tried to meet up last summer in Paris but the dates just never worked out. However, despite all the odds, we managed to have a quick glass of champagne at Barb’s place while we were in Sydney three weeks ago. Our only regret was that the visit was so short. I hope we’ll do better next time.

Jill and her Devonshire Tea

When Jill from the Gold Coast mentioned in a comment on Aussie in France that she was coming to Paris with her two bridesmaids in May, I suggested we meet up. We had a very pleasant morning tea at A Priori Thé near the Palais Royal. And today, Jill served us Devonshire Tea in her lovely new home in Reedy Creek with its wide-sweeping view of the Gold Coast. For those who don’t know what Devonshire Tea is, it’s fresh scones, butter, jam and cream. Delicious.

Jill’s view on a rather muggy day

She was very nervous about speaking French before a “pro” but once she got going, she did very well and Relationnel was able to have a real conversation for the first time since we left Sydney with someone apart from me and my children! When we got in the car afterwards, he said how fortunate he was to reap the benefits of my blog. I was delighted of course. Jill’s immense joie de vivre and love of everything French were a wonderful antidote for my sadness at having said goodbye to Leonardo and my brother and family.

Seafood basket at the Aqua Broadwater Restaurant at Labrador

On the way home, we went past Regatta in Tweed Heads South, a seafood restaurant on the Tweed River and found a table with a lovely view of the water. The last time we were on the Gold Coast – three years ago – we had an unforgettable seafood basket further up the coast at what used to be the Aqua Broadwater Restaurant at Labrador. The Regatta’s wasn’t quite as good but we still enjoyed it.

Regatta restaurant in Tweed Heads South

Tomorrow we move onto the last leg of our journey: Brisbane.

A Unique War Memorial, a Bush Picnic and a Winery near Armidale

On the day of our family picnic to Dangars Falls near Armidale, we stopped on the way at a unique war memorial which was presented to us by Graeme, the historian in our party. The Dangarsleigh War Memorial is unique in that it was a private memorial erected by the Perrott family in memory of their oldest son, Harold, killed at Passchendale Ridge in the First World War. The local community joined in, making various contributions, including ceramic tiles from the Catholic Cathedral, and the other veterans were added to the list. Building commenced on October 6th 1920 and the monument was unveiled on Empire Day May 24th the next year.

Dangarsleigh War Memorial

Harry Court, an Armidale blacksmith, made and donated the turnstile and worked symbols of the Navy and the Army into the handles. Each of the elements of the monument has a symbolic meaning, determined by Mr Perrott: • the large circle surrounding the monument “represents the world, with the inlaid stones showing the rough path of life”; • the three-sided base “represents ‘Mother’ England with Ireland and Scotland; • the five smaller pillars, each with five sides represent the ‘Children’ of the British Empire – Australia, Canada, India, New Zealand and South Africa”; and • the eight-sided obelisk “unifies England with Ireland and Scotland, and the five Dominions to form the British Empire, above which is the globe to represent the world.”

Gun, bugle, whistle and cannon on the turnstile at Dangarsleigh War Memorial

“The entrance is in the form of an eastern temple and invites people to ‘Nirvana’, the Place of Peace and is surmounted by a bell, which calls the souls to rest. The turnstile has handles fashioned into shapes of a military bugle, service rifle, Naval bosun’s whistle and a cannon.” The Perrot family graves are nearby.

Perrott family graves

I wish I had had Graeme to talk to me about Australian history when I was growing up. “Social studies” as we called it then seemed very dry and full of dates and I dropped it as soon as I could in high school. It was not until I went to England for the first time in 1975 that history became a reality. I’ve learnt to look at the whole picture and see how different things fit together, but I still have trouble with dates.

Family interaction on the viewing platform at Dangars Falls

We then went on to Dangars Falls and our family party took over the viewing platform altogether.  I learnt that one of Graeme’s friends was killed in the terrible massacre in the 1960s at Port Arthur in Tasmania, which we visited a week or so ago. He also had a student who jumped off the cliff above the falls. Such terrible tragedies.

Chilling out at Petersons Wineries

After the picnic, we went to visit Petersons Wineries, with their lovely old guest house built in 1911 featuring a distinctive archway that the younger generation found most enticing! After tasting a couple of wines at the cellar door, which is in the old stables, we bought a glass of wine each and sat under the shady trees outside. These are the moments with family that I miss most when I’m in France.

Breakfast in Australia

One thing I’ve discovered this time is the Australian breakfast cult. I can’t remember when I lived here before (I left in 1975) that people went out for breakfast. I only remember morning and afternoon tea.The day of the Big Family Reunion was also my sister-in-law’s birthday so my brother thought breakfast would be a good idea. I looked up the Internet and found the Goldfish Bowl in Armidale which seemed to have a lot of good comments. Despite its popularity, we managed to seat 10 people.

The Goldfish Bowl Cafe in Armidale

Eggs Benedict with Hollandaise sauce and pancakes seemed to be the most popular choices at our table. The coffee and cappuccino were good and they even gave us plates for the birthday cake my brother had brought along, something totally unheard of in France. Another time in a café, a woman came in and said she had “a gluten issue” and asked if they could make toasted sandwiches with the bread she had brought with her. Not only did they do so, but they charged less!

Eggs Benedict at the Goldfish Bowl

The decor was very unusual at the Goldfish Bowl, with upturned packing cases providing extra seating. It was a very relaxed atmosphere and the service and food were good. A great way to start the day and celebrate a birthday.  I also loved the sign they put outside when it’s closed.

Sign outside the Goldfish Bowl

But our best experience so far is GGs at Coolangatta on the Gold Coast. The day my brother and family left to go back to Sydney after spending three lovely days with us, Leonardo suggested we join  him there after his workout. They had an even better choice of dishes including a “veggie” breakfast with poached eggs, spinach, feta cheese, avocado, cherry tomatoes, asparagus, mushrooms and toast which we both took.

GGs cafe at Kirra on the Gold Coast

Relationnel chose the traditional Big Brekkie (Australians love to shorten words), with poached eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, vegetable fritter and mushrooms. He also had the best coffee he’s had yet in Australia. I had a good cappuccino too. Australians will go a long way to get a good coffee. It’s something of a cult here and many people will stop off on their way to work to get a take-away coffee. That’s also something that has happened in recent time.

Veggie breakfast and Big Brekkie at GGs cafe

The Goldfish Bowl, 3/160 Rusden Street  Armidale NSW 2350, Australia (02) 6771 5533

GGs Café, 48 Musgrave Street, Kirra, Queensland 4225, Australia

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