Open Writing

Workmen in fluorescent yellow coats with red stripes have been erecting steel poles along the nature strips in our quiet little crescent. Very soon, they'll be crowned with signs bearing the legend 1P 8am–6pm. That means motorists will be allowed to park for only one hour between those times. Householders must obtain Residents Parking Permits for themselves plus two for use by visitors.

The people who work at the private hospital and its ancillary clinics, on the corner, will be furious. Daily visitors won't be too pleased, either. We quiet residents, many of us elderly pensioners, have been pestering the City Council for a long time for some improvement. Driving down our own car-jammed crescent has become a bit of a nightmare. This isn't the solution but it might help.

Instead of posting my application for permits, with accompanying proof of residency and car ownership, I decided to go the the Civic Centre and hand it personally to a human being on the other side of a counter. It's a very grand Civic Centre. And so it should be. Our cluster of suburbs is collectively the City of Monash, with a population of about 170,000. That's a mere 4% of the total population of the Melbourne metropolitan area but it's big enough to be important, in its own little way.

There was an ulterior motive for driving to the Civic Centre. It's adjacent to an area I haven't visited for a while. An exciting street packed on both sides with Asian shops and restaurants. I just felt like having a stroll, or waddle, as befits my ability, to look at it all, nay, to relish it all — over 140 different languages are spoken at home by Monash residents and I reckon quite a lot of them are spoken in this street.

You expect to see the Italian and Greek eateries. They're part and parcel of Melbourne. Chinese, too. This morning I also noticed, for instance, Singaporean, Indonesian, Japanese, Taiwanese, Thai, Indian vegetarian, Malaysian, Vietnamese, and Regional Chinese (i.e., not just Cantonese), eateries and food suppliers. I also noticed JG Dumpling. That reminded me of one of my Chinese students, whom I used to tutor at his home. When he felt like a break, he'd take me to the kitchen and we would have one or two of his mother's freshly cooked dumplings. I was never quite sure what was inside them, and he didn't know, but they were certainly tasty. And I notice on a website that JG Dumpling also produce the best Shanghai noodles in town.

The display slab of a Vietnamese fishmonger had the largest range of legged and shelled sea creatures I've seen in one place. Not my cup of tea at all. The only sea creatures my gastric system will tolerate must have had fins and scales before they reached the slab. But I was intrigued to see a heap of Giant Vietnamese Sea Snails. They were dead, of course.

I understand that the meat from the snails, which can be as heavy as 2.5 kilos, is mixed with spices, and other meat, probably pork, to make meatballs which are then steamed inside the huge snail shells. It's all rather different from the French approach to escargots. Indeed, I found the website of a company in China from which you can buy quite a few types of canned snail meat, frozen snail, frozen boiled snail, and even dried giant top shell meat, but that last one is imported from Peru, not Vietnam.

You can't walk along at more than a snail's pace because the footpaths are packed with tables and chairs which are packed with enthusiastic, chattering and mainly young Asian folk. Every now and then, I paused to read a menu in a window. Reading was enhanced, and appetite stimulated, by lovely full-colour photos of each proud dish. That isn't unusual, of course, but these dishes were, in the vernacular, like, wow, man! I suppose I was drooling by the time I reached the Chinese bakery.

Well, although I've sampled Chinese baking before, I've never seen a variety such as this. The choice had to be narrowed down to one item, so I selected a coconut bread loaf for $4.80. A good price for a small luxury loaf.

A petite and charmingly radiant Chinese girl was apparently waiting to help me, so I asked her if the bread contained shredded coconut. I'm afraid I couldn't understand her reply. In fact, she probably didn't understand me either. So I asked the same question of yet another radiant young girl behind the counter, and she asked me if I'd like a drink. She meant coffee, I assume. It was getting a bit confusing so I paid my money with a gladsome avuncular smile and came home with my prize.
I confess that couldn't wait. I've been nibbling bits of it while typing these words. Delicious! The only way I can describe it is to say that it's a cross between a high quality white loaf and my mother's coconut macaroons from the 1950s. And it goes very well with the Sri Lankan tea I've been sipping (Dilmah brand, of course).

Y'know, I'm rather glad I went to apply for my Residents Parking Permit in person instead of posting the form. I caught just a glimpse of the wider world.

© Copyright Brian Barratt 2010