Afterward we went to Ceres, a community garden gone hippie commune. We walked through the nursery and browsed the healthy-looking herbs, veggies, and ornamental flowers. It wasn't as impressive as Bulleen the day before, but still a worthwhile selection. Then we ventured out into the trading tents, which were a mixture of commercial and garage sale-style sellers. Hand-made clothes, piles of books, and an Indian soul-cleansing massage parlor dominated the scene. A little scared of the noises coming from the soul-cleansings, we veered into the group of veggie traders. On a table along with some sad looking grapes was a huge green vegetable, about 18-20 inches, marked 'free'. It looked somewhat like a squash but bigger than any I'd ever seen before. Caroline guessed it was a marrow, what a squash becomes after it gets to a certain size. Regardless of what it actually was, we could not leave behind such a huge freebie, so I snatched it. :)
I grabbed some pictures of some (upon closer inspection) rather sick looking chickens, but meanwhile Caroline and Paddy got 'bounced' from the veggie tables--like somehow Paddy was carrying this dangerous zoonotic disease but the diarrhetic tailless chickens wandering the place were perfectly fine??
The overall vibe in the place was a little strange... everyone else seemed to know where they were going and what they were doing and pretty much kept to themselves. We felt like intruders, and lost ones at that. Even though there were lots of families with kids running about, nobody seemed to notice us. From a hilltop gazebo we sat for a while and looked down at the spread of land that had been divided up into lots of small, haphazard personal gardens. Although the place was clean and the plants grew large, it didn't seem to be thought-out or tended to enough. The idea behind Ceres was great--a large piece of land that could be shared by people less fortunate, providing food and a sense of belonging. But for some reason, Ceres just didn't quite accomplish that.
We decided to head home (after Paddy got called an alien) and hung around just long enough to watch the sky writer finish (or not, as it were) his ad for Lipton Ice. lol.
Back home, we had rice paper rolls for lunch, using the mysterious ingredients we bought from the Asian grocers the night before. Two packets of vegetables, labeled completely in Asian except for the ingredients list, which had been translated to: green vegetables, spices. Vegetables can't be that bad, right? And the picture on the front of the packet showed the minced pile of brownness on a plate with a sprig of parsley, like it was meant to be eaten straight.
Upon opening, one whiff of the 'green vegetables' had us thinking some serious second thoughts. Mostly unidentifiable, they mostly smelled of salt and pungent spices. Into the bowl they went anyway, and added to our spread of fillings.
It only took one small bit to call this experiment a failure. Further inspection of the packets revealed that one of the 'vegetables' contained 97% of our daily sodium allowance. So, although it was unanimously agreed that this trial yielded not only inedible but dangerous new cuisine, it only increased our desires to try again.
The time was two thirty and with only half an hour left before the Preston Market closed, we hurried down the street. The stalls were packed with last minute bargain hunters, and we found out why. In the final minutes of trade hours, the dealers become frantic to unload whatever they have left, as the next market day isn't for three days. Prices are dramatically slashed but you have to be somewhat pushy and 'noticeable' to get through the crowds. Caroline grabbed a huge bag of carrots for one dollar, then at the next stall down, a huge bag of bean sprouts for another dollar. Seriously, even in America, that much bean sprouts would have sold normally for at least $20. The closing bell rang, at which point trading must stop, but if you're sneaky about it you can still grab anything that's left. In a darker alley, Caroline scored a huge bag (all the man had left) of cucumbers for fifty cents.
We headed home feeling like we'd robbed the place. It was so amazing to carry all that food when we'd paid so little! I wish we had markets like that back home.
After trading the groceries for the dogs, we headed out to Heidelberg dog park to play some serious fetch with Paddy, while Chester ambled along and marked his territory. The sun was going down and we sat at a picnic table to talk and watch the other dogs. A weimeraner showed up, sporting a full-length tail, as is the custom in Australia, and there were a few whippets and Jack Russells. Shortly after, a German Shorthair appeared and when Paddy's ball went astray, I stopped to say hello. He was 8 months old and already very big-boned and handsome, full of that familiar scattered energy. The owners also had with them an older Wirehair, but its pedigree could be debated. Caroline and I chatted with the owners for a while, and when another sheltie owner came by, the Shorthair owners left. Paddy seemed to recognize his fellow shelties (as I believe same-breed members do) and they greeted each other smoothly.
When it was mostly dark, we said goodbyes and loaded up the dogs to go back home. More rice paper rolls for dinner, and I attempted to make hot chocolate mix from scratch. Although it came out nothing like hot chocolate, it was mostly drinkable so we sat outside to stargaze. Conversation had turned introspective when mid-sentence, something dropped onto Caroline's hand from the overhang above. After flicking it away, she saw what it was: a spider as large as an American half-dollar. After much screaming and flailing and poking things with a stick, I got the spider on the end of her cane and carried it to the front of her house, banging it loose in the grass. Although odds were we wouldn't see it again, we just couldn't quite get comfortable again after that.
Bed time!
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