Monday, May 23, 2011
Home is where the heart (and art) is
Sometimes when flicking through magazines like Australian Country Style or English Country Living, I wish I lived somewhere like on those pages. Sydney's often maligned as being too busy, too crowded, too noisy, too expensive, too pushy, too avaricious. Often, it is all of those things. Other times, like the weekend just gone, it's magical and I can't imagine being anywhere else.
Highlights included the Finders Keepers market at Carriageworks and then waiting in a (short) queue to be served pork dumplings by Kylie Kwong at the adjacent Farmers' Market. I love it that a celebrated Sydney chef is humble enough to man her own stall. Every week. I also love it that the Child falls in love with a handmade scarf and a print of an original local artwork.
In the evening, we join two other families for homemade fish pie and golden syrup dumplings.
On Sunday we decide to leave the car at home and walk in the luminous Autumn sunshine through back streets to Marrickville Markets. We wander down unknown streets where unexpected towering gums pierce the urban sky and we return the same way carrying crunchy apples picked just days before.
In the afternoon, we leave the house and 15 minutes later we're at the Sydney Writers' Festival where we hear author Markus Zusack read a short story he'd written when he was 16. It was, by his own admission, probably the worst piece of writing that had ever been read at the festival and the room laughed along with him. It was a generous gesture and made to help launch the Sydney Story Factory, a not-for-profit children's writing program that may be just what our 12-year-old budding novelist is looking for.
A very good weekend.
And entrance to all these events was absolutely free.