Lili Wilkinson's Blog, page 6

TX-NM: Get your kitsch on Route 66

The Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo is pretty famous. There's even a Simpson's article about it. So even though the food reviews were so-so, we went along. It's an awesome place, busting at the seams with weird taxidermy and Ye Olde Western kitsch.

It's famed for its 72 oz (2kg) steak challenge, where if you can eat a full steak dinner – meat, fat, gristle and two sides – in under an hour, then it's free. If you take on the challenge, you have to sit up at a special table with timers and sick buckets. Luckily no one took the challenge while we were there. Apparently the fastest human ever to do it was in about 8 minutes (ugh), and the fastest ever was a Siberian Tiger who did it in 90 seconds.

Just outside of Amarillo is Cadillac Ranch, which is reasonable self-explanatory.

As we drove into New Mexico, the landscape started to change from dryish fields to something hot, barren and deserty. Which meant the last thing we were expecting to see was… Scuba divers?

This is Blue Hole, an 80 ft deep sinkhole in the middle of the desert. It's about the size of our living room, but I guess if you're a scuba enthusiast in New Mexico, you can't be too fussy.

We spent the night at the El Rancho Hotel in Gallup. The hotel was built in the 30s by DW Griffiths's brother, to house filmstars shooting Westerns in the desert. The hotel has seen better days, but was also full of kitschy taxidermy, a self-playing old pianola and about a zillion framed photos of the stars who stayed there.

As we turned off the interstate and headed North, everything became suddenly more dramatic, with giant red cliffs stretching along the horizon. This is the Intercontinental Divide, the point that separates the water that runs off east to the Atlantic, from the water that runs west, to the Pacific. We were getting pretty tired, so we let the muppets drive for a bit. This, it turns out, was a mistake.

LA-TX: The South

My phone died in New Orleans, but resurrected itself three days later in Texas. So I don't have many photos of the Big Easy. But basically, it was a weird, steamy combination of beautiful and quaint, and loud and raucous. We ate amazing food, and someone tossed me a string of beads from a balcony even though I didn't flash at them.

After New Orleans, we headed over to Breaux Bridge where we took a tour around Lake Martin Swamp on a teeny flat bottomed boat. We saw many frogs and turtles and lizards and alligators and a prehistoric bird that has solid bones and can kill a 3 ft alligator by spearing it through the head with its beak.

(note alligator in the bottom right hand corner)

We stayed in a cute little cabin that backed out onto the bayou, and sampled some homemade boudin sausage (nom), pork crackling (meh) and root beer (gahhh vile vile vile). Then we ate a "swamp platter" at a Cajun restaurant that was mostly crab and crawfish, but there was one deep fried frog leg, that tasted exactly as you would expect. Slimy. I'm sorry, Kermit.

We saw a touring production of Hair in Dallas, which was fun (but not as good as the Melbourne production I saw many times as a kid). I particularly liked the way the Very Serious Dallas Performing Arts Centre was transformed to look a little hippyish.

Today's drive saw the landscape get drier and redder, until we could have been in Australia. Now we're in Amarillo. Some big driving days ahead!

TN-MI-LA Rollin' Down the River

We…

Went to Elvis's house, where I didn't particularly gain an appreciation for the King, but gained an insight into the American psyche. And swam in our motel's guitar-shaped pool.

Went to a scary dilapidated strip mall in Memphis that housed the dodgy-looking Uncle Lou's Southern Kitchen with its amazing fried chicken in Sweet and Spicy Hot Love Sauce.

Cruised down the Blues Highway, listening to Keith Richards' autobiography (read by Johnny Depp), pausing at Morgan Freeman's bar (Ground Zero) and the Blues museum in Clarksdale.

Visited Jim Henson's home town and shed a small tear in the little museum. Then Mj played Rainbow Connection on his ukulele by the creek which was the Best Ever.

Ate awesome hot tamales from a roadside stall in Greenville.

Drove through fields of burning cotton.

Drove off the beaten track so we could put our feet in the Mississippi.

Ate po'boys and crawfish étouffée in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

Rode a steamboat down the Mississippi and pretended Mark Twain was writing it.

Listened to blues in an awesome little bar called the Three Muses.

Another two days in the South, then we start north again into Texas!

DC-VA: In Which We Are Totally In The Goonies

The first day of our road trip was a little hairy, getting used to driving on the wrong side of the road, and taking a few "short" cuts that added hours onto our trip. Also the mountain "resort" we stayed in was rustic in the extreme, and the allegedly acclaimed restaurant served what is absolutely the worst breakfast I've ever had. But there was tap dancing teenagers in the evening, so that was both entertaining, embarrassing and hilarious.

Day Two was much better, because a) we ended up in this totally amazing B&B (White Birches in Abingdon); b) we didn't get lost once; and c) we visited Luray Caverns, which is totally like the Goonies. Here's the evidence:

1. You enter the caverns through this fireplace.

Okay, that's not entirely true. You enter through a doorway and a staircase, but it's RIGHT NEXT to the fireplace.

2. It looks a bit like a movie set, (but in actual fact it's 7 million years old).

3. There is an underground wishing well.

4. And an underground organ.

It's not made out of bones like in The Goonies. But it is way cooler. In the 1950s, a guy called Leland W Sprinkle (I know, right?) spent three years tapping different stalagmites and stalactites in the caverns, until he identified 47 different notes, over an area of 3.5 acres. He then devised an ingenious system of rubber mallets and microphones, all wired up to a playable organ. We experienced a performance, and it was amazing.

5. At one point, our tour guide turned off all the lights, and Mj and I held hands and whispered. "I like the dark. I love the dark. But I hate nature. I HATE nature."

6. Black ORV. Bullet holes. BULLET HOLES!

How to make a muppet

1. Have the Best Friends Ever bankroll your muppet experience for your 30th birthday

2. Visit FAO Schwarz in New York City. Head to the Whatnot Workshop. A Whatnot costs $99, and you can order one online, but it's much more fun to do it instore.

3. Using a kit of vinyl stickers, design your Whatnot. You choose your body, eyes, nose, hair (or fur) and outfit. Only one of the three Whatnot staff members got the muppet reference on Mj's Tshirt (a one of a kind original by Snazzy).

4. Here is my designed muppet.

5. Hand the design over to the Whatnot staff, and go hang out with Harrison Ford for half an hour.

6. Pick up your Muppet! Here is Mj's, his name is Vince.

And here's mine! I'm not sure what his name is yet. Any suggestions are welcome!

NY

Stopping in London on the way to New York is an excellent way to catch up with many friends and meet snuggly babbies. It is also an excellent way to get Really Bad Jetlag.

My first real awareness of New York City came from Michael Foreman's CAT AND CANARY, a picture book about a housecat and pet canary who escaped their NYC apartment each day when their owner went to work, and sailed high above the city on a kite. The city was so atmospheric, the buildings grand, austere, beautiful and more than a little scary.

The apartment we're staying in reminds me a lot of that book, as it's in Midtown, up on the 21st floor, with fabulous views of the Empire State and the Chrysler. I feel a bit like Cat, floating high above streets and rooftops and water towers.

We've been having a great time, I met my US editor which was lovely, and we've done plenty of shopping, including MUPPETS (of which more in another post).

Today is the tenth anniversary of 9/11. The city is sombre, and crawling with extra security. I feel a bit guilty shopping and heading off to see some theatre this afternoon, like I'm upstairs in someone's house watching cartoons while they hold a wake downstairs. But it'd feel equally inappropriate to join in the memorial services being held today, so theatre it is.

Remember that one time when I had a blog?

Argh, sorry readers (if there are any of you left). I dropped the blogging ball – it's been a bit adjustment this year, getting into the PhD and still writing books and doing school visits and writing articles and managing to keep myself fed and clothed.

I've also been rather obsessively preoccupied with organising our Big Trip in September and October: Mj and I are going to London, then driving across the US from New York to LA via Everything, then a few days in Tokyo on the way home. It's kind of research, because my PhD novel is about a bunch of kids who blow off a Junior UN Summit and go on a road trip across the US. But mostly it will be Awesome. I got a bit addicted to Priceline, which is kind of like eBay for hotels. You specify the area you want to stay in, and the star class of your hotel, and then plug in the price you're willing to pay. Maybe you'll "win" a hotel, maybe you won't. I've booked us 4 star hotels in New Orleans, Dallas, Amarillo, Vegas and Nashville for under $60 US, and one very special 5 star hotel in London for under $200 a night. It's like gambling, but more productive!

I'm going to try and blog as much of our road trip as possible.

Thanks for all the lovely words you've been saying about Pocketful of Eyes, too! It's lovely to hear. And to all of you (and there seems to be a LOT of you) who are asking if there will be a sequel – I didn't consider it at all when I was writing, but now that there's so many requests for one… well, I'm considering it. Watch this space.

The Late Great: Ruth Park

Join me, Anne Phelan and Marion Halligan at the Wheeler Centre tomorrow night as we talk about the life and works of Ruth Park.

6:15pm at the Wheeler Centre.

Bookings and more info.

Bookclutch: The Golden Day & Yellowcake

Here's a conversation I've had a couple of times.

Person: Something something Miles Franklin Prize something Peter Carey.

Lili: Meh.

Person: So who do you think is Australia's finest writer, then?

Lili: It's a tie between Margo Lanagan and Ursula Dubosarsky.

Person: No, I meant literary writer.

Lili: It's a tie between Margo Lanagan and Ursula Dubosarsky.

It's true. I think these two women are Australia's finest writers. Not finest YA writers. Finest of them all.

 

The Golden Day is about eleven schoolgirls who, in 1967, are taken on an unauthorised excursion by their teacher, Miss Renshaw. They meet up with a charismatic gardener/poet, who takes them to see some Aboriginal paintings in the hidden caves of Sydney Harbour. Or does he? The girls return to school without Miss Renshaw, prompting panic – scandal – talk of murder. This book is Picnic at Hanging Rock, The Getting of Wisdom and The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. It is Charles Blackman's 'Floating Schoolgirl'. Like The Red Shoe and Abyssinia, The Golden Day wraps you up in a kind of warm, yellow-tinted floaty dreaminess. Like a dream, you don't feel like you (or anyone) is entirely in control of what they say and do. Like a dream, you watch the world slip by with a kind of golden fuzzy calm. Like a dream, you could tumble into a nightmare at any moment.

 

 

If you've read White Time, Black Juice or Red Spikes, you don't need to read on. Yellowcake is more Margo Lanagan awesomeness. There is nobody who can write a short story the way Margo can – nobody who can wrap you up in a whole new world and make you feel like you've known these characters, their rhythms of speech, their secret dreams, their homes and families and daily routines – all in twenty pages. Whether it's the unique fairytale reimaginings of "The Golden Shroud," "Night of the Firstlings," or "Ferryman"; the fierce humanity of "Into the Clouds on High" or "The Point of Roses"; the postapocalyptic ganglands of "Heads"; or the almost postmodern "Eyelids of Dawn" - every one of the ten stories immerses you in unique worlds that are often grim, but always filled with a kind of savage, redemptive joy.

What happened to May?

What marvellous blogging intentions I had last month. I was going to talk about:

-Reading Matters, and how wonderful it was to finally attend without running around like a crazy person trying to make sure everything went smoothly.

-books I've read and loved this month (I'm still gonna do this – I promise!)

-that whole WSJ/ #yasaves thing

-the Woodend Winter Arts Festival, at which I had a lovely time

-the Voices on the Coast Festival, at which I also had a lovely time

-Pocketful of Eyes, and how it's out and getting great reviews and you should all go and buy read it.

-a million other things

But it turns out that three conferences/festivals plus PhD + new book out + meetings about NEXT book + one million other things + a nasty cold = not so much free time.

Sorry. I will make it up to you by warning you that a bear is stealing your bicycle – hurry!