Brisbane Day One
At a little after 6 a.m. my Qantas flight landed at the Brisbane after approaching over Moreton Island (a national park) and North Stradbroke Island (inhabited) that protect the harbor. The glistening skyscrapers of the city on the horizon disappeared behind a green wall of gum trees as the 747 pulled up to the terminal.
The Brisbane newspapers on the plane were filled with stories about the continuing drought. One of the top politicians was exhorting the people to turn to prayer for an end to the dryness. The other big headline was the disappearance “without a trace” of the three-man crew of a yacht with the family lamenting that the authorities had given up the official search far too early. And Anzac Day (Australia’s version of Memorial Day coming up on Wednesday, April 25th) celebration plans were splashed across the center section.
After going through customs I met my driver who took me into the city. Outdoors the temperature was around 70 degrees with mild humidity. It was like Miami on a good morning. The houses, built on stilts, reminded me of trips to Foley Beach in South Carolina or Grand Isle in Louisiana.
“Those houses are called “Queenslanders,” the driver stated. “They are up on stilts to let the air circulate under the house to cool them.”
OK. I always thought that they were on stilts to let rising surf roll under the living quarters. I’m sure we could debate that one at another time.
Eventually, the expanse of low single-family houses gave way to apartment buildings and in the distance the high-rises of Brisbane stood out across the broad Brisbane River. Motorboats and sailboats were moored along the riverbanks initially giving the city a feeling of a marina. With another turn past the Breakfast Creek Hotel (”one of the original pubs in town,” according to my driver), we entered the “Valley” home to good nightlife and Chinatown, and then skirted the steep hills of Hamilton with its upscale residences and finally, the buildings of the central business district loomed.
We wound through the city center eventually crossing the Brisbane River to South Bank where the Queensland Performing Arts Complex (QPAC), the Queensland Art Gallery and Museum and the Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Center buildings rise surrounding the South Bank Parklands.
I checked into my hotel, the Saville South Bank, adjacent to the convention center and only 50 yards from the South Bank Parkland and again the same distance from the river. The staff took my bags and informed me that the room would be ready by about 9:30 a.m. I decided to head out and find a restaurant for breakfast, buy the Sunday paper and begin my exploration of Brisbane.
You have to love a place where the menu, at Stone Restaurant in the Saville, listed the following for breakfast - Buttermilk pancakes, lemon curd, vanilla bean ice cream and Tasmanian leatherwood honeyed strawberries. I had just finished watching “Little Miss Sunshine” where one of the scenes was focused on her ordering ice cream for breakfast. Olive would have loved it here.
Across the street and through a walkway between six-story buildings, Little Stanley Street was lined with sidewalk cafes and restaurants, many already open at 7:30 a.m. for breakfast with everything from basic bacon, tomatoes and eggs to Eggs Benedict and pancakes. The preponderance of restaurants was Italian with different Italian coffee brands — Lavazza, Di Bella, Del Zotti, Vittoria, Abrisca, Monte — splashed across sidewalk dividers, umbrellas, ashtrays and menus.
Across Little Stanley Street a modern curling metal arbor was draped with a manicured vines festooned with bright purple flowering bougainvillea. This walkway undulated through South Bank Parkland past wandering Ibis, trickling streams, man-made beaches, wading pools with giggling children, spouting fountains, more cafes, kabob stands, pizza stands, all surrounded by scores of different trees — Triangle Palms, Tulipwood, Weeping Lilly-Pilly, gum trees and more.
Though it was still early, the Brisbane natives were arriving to enjoy their riverside park, built on the former site of the 1988 World Expo. Restaurants and cafes were filled. Joggers ran along trails and through the arbor way. Bicyclists rolled down their special paths through the park. Children played catch and tossed an Australian Rules football around. I seemed to be the only one wearing a long-sleeve shirt and slacks. And the temperature was climbing. It was supposed to rise to around 90 by mid-afternoon.
Finally, I stopped for breakfast at a sidewalk café and had basic bacon and eggs with a grilled tomato. Ordering coffee was an experience.
I’m from Boston where we have basic coffee with cream and sugar or some variation thereof. I know that in Seattle and other parts of the West Coast, coffee is ordered with extra shots of this or that and there is some mysterious difference between a cappuccino and a café latte.
Here is Australia simple coffee and cream or milk just doesn’t exist. Aussies have names for their coffee like “flat white” or “long black” or “café latte” and “cappuccino.” The waitress and I finally deciphered that I wanted to order a “long black” with cream or milk. When they say cream here, they mean heavy whipping cream that slowly drips into your coffee something like maple syrup on a cold morning. Milk is milk. A “flat white” is a cappuccino without any foam. And the waiters couldn’t describe the difference between café latte and cappuccino.
Got it? If you normally drink coffee with cream, order long black with milk (or cream, if you want the really heavy stuff).
I enjoyed breakfast and read the local Sunday paper. The news was still the drought, with an offer from the Queensland Water Commission of free 4-minute shower timers, the unsolved case of the drifting, abandoned yacht and Anzac Day.
The proper way to celebrate Anzac Day was the main topic of the day. Some letters to the editor were asking that clubs and discos be closed from midnight so that the war dead could be honored with solemnity. Others couldn’t understand the hoopla. And a gay club was being excoriated for offensive advertising trumpeting that they were “cocked and loaded” for an Anzac evening of fun.
I eventually got back to my hotel around 10 a.m. and found that my luggage, briefcase and coat had been placed in my room. I had a 7th-floor room with a wonderful view of downtown Brisbane. The best hotel service is the service that one does not even have to request. It seemed that the Saville staff could almost read my mind.
After a three-hour nap, I headed out again walking through the South Bank Parklands, past the Naval museum, over a walking bridge to the Botanical Gardens, through the Queensland University of Technology (QUT), down George Street and along Queen Street that is a pedestrian shopping street with a collection of malls and stores on either side.
In the downtown between the towering 20th-century office buildings, there is a clutch of turn-of-the-century buildings such as the Parliament House, still used for its original purpose; the 1890 three-story brick Mansions townhouses with Italianesque arches; the Commissariat Stores, one of the original convict-era buildings; the Queensland Club, a men-only club; and City Hall with a classic colonnade façade (somewhat like a Washington DC government building) and a tower that seems to be transported from St. Mark’s Square in Venice.
I made it home at about 7 pm and headed out to Breakfast Creek Hotel, one of the original hotels and pubs in Brisbane. Built in 1890 by Bill Galloway a Scottish immigrant, the bedrooms were upstairs and the restaurant and public house were on the ground floor. Bill Galloway was wildly successful until he managed to fall to his death from a second-floor window. It seems that friends had locked him in a hotel room to let him sleep it off and Bill wanted to keep on partying. He tried to climb out the window to join his friends below but slipped and fell.
The shell of the original building still stands with the original pub area, but the additions, outside bars and modern restaurants, give it the feel of something that might be found in Epcot Center (however, with plenty to drink). It is not unpleasant, only far more modern and without an old-time feel than I expected.
The steaks were excellent. Meals can be ordered from a “take out” kitchen and eaten at tables surrounding the different bars or steaks can be ordered in the Spanish Garden with full service. Both places cost the same. If you are with a lover, go to the Spanish Garden. If you want to whoop it up with the locals during an Australian Rules football game, eat out at one of the bars.
Next. More Brisbane.