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Saturday, March 21, 2009

"The one with the Arabian delights..."

For a place world renowned for their hopping kangaroos - there sure aren't many around lately. This had come as a mystery to me; almost aghast at the notion of only seeing one in proximity for nearly a passing month. Wait, I'm already here for A month? *Gasp!*

I've heard from friends who'd visited Melbourne in the past that the city's an oyster and haven for deserts of all kinds. Mainly the decadent, delicious french pastries that send all sugar-fanatics into a frenzy back home. But last Friday night, we decided to go for some Middle-Eastern sweet treat nearby Brunswick St. in the city. The notion had of course been the birthchild of Fendi since last week, so figuring that he had a car to spare for the next 2-weeks - a night out in town came as a gregarious option to relax into the weekend.

The name of the place had, of course, escaped my memory. Yes, having so much to think about with all the papers and journals I had to indulge in for weeks...memorizing the already confusing name of a restaurant which its syllable are beyond the comprehension of a Malay tongue is not of top priority in my cerebrum's memory space - and also my oblongata. But I do remember one thing though - we were there to savour the notoriously famous (or famously notorious) baklava, a traditional Arab dessert. Just don't ask me what on earth it is.

For that reason, I have pictures for your own discussion and imagination.

Typical Middle Eastern desserts are sweet; forget sprinkles of sugar - they dip them in sugar. Sugar is top of the ingredients list. Alas, such a sweet delicacy does registers very well with my tastebuds, and I found no reason not to be utterly happy having a bite into each and every one of them lascivious foods. Who would be able to exhibit such countenance, when the experience was further paired with a cuppa of mocha latte? It's a feast of the senses, and there's only one way to spell this - H.E.A.V.E.N.

Not satisfied, Jimin topped it up by ordering three scoops of ice-cream in mango, lime and raspberry flavor. Now this would put Baskins to shame. Auspiciously Fendi seems to not favor the raspberry though, of reasons I did not understood. But then again, hey his loss is definitely my gain. That explains why I'd only be able to take a snap after more than halfway through.

The place is decorated to match the exquisite taste of Arabs, over-the-top exuberant, shiny ambience with the aurora of an exclusive and urbane landscape. Definitely not a place I'd go to regularly back home. I like the choices they have here - imagine those Famous Amos cookie counters, only here its at least thrice its size and have more choices of desserts. There was a section for more familiar stuff - chocolate cakes, esclairs and pies. All the lot, presented within the confines of a glass fridge that invites many staring eyes with salivating mouths. Of course, we were there for the Middle Eastern treats this time so I had to take a raincheck on the eclairs as an excuse to come again next time.

That night the three of us had sugar-rushes that lasted till our journey back to Mews. This place looks like a great place to bring Mom and Dad to. I think Andi and Afzal would love it as well, but I beg to differ if the girls would like it as much. Their weight-losing apparture seems to get in way to their true nature towards food. But I'm sure they'll love to bask in the architecture and surroundings.

Yesterday was another trip to Preston for some stocking up on meat and other stuff. It's been almost three weeks since my last visit, and considering that our fridge was almost empty we had to drop by. The market was flooded with people, just like last time. Armed with our groceries list, we ditched all aesthtic paronyms aside and fought our way through crowds and angry buyers for our share of meat, sauces, poultry, seafood and even tempe. Yes, we found tempe this time around. In what seemed like two hours (which, was) we packed the car trunk full to head home.

It wasn't until about 2pm that our tummies decided to harague us into venturing on another journey - into the outskirts of the city for what was termed, charchoal chickens. Fast forward a good half-and-hour drive, I found to realise that it was a clever, disingenuous way of saying ayam golek in Aussie. Nevertheless, in all attuned sentience, the chicken was nice. Very nice indeed.

Just nearby around Sydney Road, there was this place called Savers that Jimin wanted to check out. So, after a fullfilling lunch we set throttle to Westside Brunswick for a visit. Now this very, very long stretch of road really reminds me of San Francisco - not that I remember it too well to make a resemblance either. But it does look very much like it. Long stretches of tarmack with tram-rails, going uphill and down. Embodying the very synecdoches of quintessential San Fran; that urban city feeling. Flanking were rows and rows of shops, amassing many many blocks far selling everything from garments to sejadahs. Yup, there was an Indonesian Muslim shop nearby that sold everything you can find in Wisma Muis, KK.

Anyways, we were mainly there for Savers - a thrift shop that sold pre-owned stuff at dirt-cheap prices. If you're truly sousy, you'd be able to find something very worthwhile here. Like the saying, a man's thrash is another's stash. So they say. Reminds me of Reject Shop.

The place was catered for savvy people looking for a bargain, without sound utterly cheap. It's a solace for those who hunt for items no longer sold retail, as you'd be able to find everything of anything if you look good enough. Most of the party were looking for winter-ware, Mahathir and Milla ended up grabbing 6-7 cold apparels for a mere AUD60. Upon close inspection, my eyes grab hold of a Nike windbreaker that only sells for AUD6. What a steal, almost a rogue disgrace to the brand. In blithe, I came home with that jacket (much to the envy of Fendi) along with two mugs that sold for 99 cents a piece.

Of course, being the pengkritik tetap that he is - Fendi was very much obliging in being Mahathir's fashion pundit for the day. Helping him pick attires that suits him well was something his wife Milla appreciated. She said that Mahathir had a knack of getting stuff that caters to old people, and prevails in making him look as such.

In the joy of things we usually scheme leading into weekends, I do find myself to miss Malaysia very much. Amidst all the profanity and ordure vulgarity of it, there's nothing more comforting than home. A place where, in spite of all the differences and rage - you find relative and identical. As you travel all over and see more, your heart still very much yearns for the place it was born in. It's very exciting and exhilirating to be in a foreign place, but like a quincunx you centre would always be home sweet home.

My journey's all but started; I'm looking forward to more interesting endeavours awaiting my way. For sure, I'll be making the most of my time here - so that in the end I end up with what I came here for; sekeping ijazah untuk yang bergelar doktor falsafah.

Salam dari anak Malaysia di tanah Australia, yang hatinya sentiasa berdetik mengingati keluarga di sana.



azfar said...

hoi joli sakan.... hahahah... kete apa korg naik tu?

Anonymous said...

kete Volkswagen...Jep baru beli...hehehe..:-) takde la..kete pinjam.