The Return of the Hip Hiker

So between the return trips back to the string of outdoor stores lining Little Bourke St and my (very) novice questions about hiking, the sales people (unsurprisingly) start to recognise me. The guy at Mac Pac tells me that he suggested in a recent staff meeting that they should look at stocking smaller backpacks. 

"When I said that, I specificlaly thought of you," he said.

Really? Awww.... So if you see smaller backpacks in store, you know that it's all because of the Not So Lonely Planet.

For some reason, the sale people keep wanting to talk relationships.

The sales guy at Bogong tells me that he's just broken up with his girlfriend of eight years. I have to keep on redirecting his attention back to hiking boots. (Hello, concentrate on the shoes, here.) Even funnier is when he asks me if my trekking trip is my honeymoon. 

"Er, no." I say. "Wrong finger," (in reference to my diamond ring). Seriously, anybody who takes a girl trekking for her honeymoon......doesn't deserve to get laid.

S. reckons they were all trying to pick me up. I reckon not. 

So I've become resigned to the fact that there's no such thing as fashionable hiking gear. But as the trip is a combination of subzero freezing temperatures and warm tropical climates, what does one who is backpacking wear on the island getaway part of the trip?

Then I found these:

Not too short, polyster (which means fast drying and no creasing when rolled up into my backpack). I just need to add beads and a colourful scarf and I'm all set :)

Stay tune for more.

Norway in a Nutshell Part I: The Not So Lonely Planet's View on Potato Snacks

Oh Lordy, the Crushinator is a potato snack in Norway.

The Crushinator comes in two flavours - original and tomato sauce

Yoo-Hoo.

Closetblonde versus Crazy Wings

So there's this cheap (?northern) Chinese restaurant nestled amongst a group Asian eateries on Russell St. It'd fall into that category of a (largely) unmemorable late night eating joint - the kind you somehow wind up in after a night of drinking, had it not been for their notoriously crazy hot, chicken wings. If you're a Melbournian, you'd know that I'm referring to the (aptly) named Crazy Wings. 

It's one of those things that people (and depending on who you speak to,) refer to as an experience/challenge/torture/part of an initiation process. As an avid lover of spice, I was intrigued, but had never gotten around to trying it until today. 

So while we had time prior to C.'s appointment at a bridal store in the city, I suggested that we gave Crazy Wings a go. 

In the centre of every table is a small wooden tray. They're used to essentially balance the chicken wings which are on wooden skewers, although I'm unsure how this differs from having the wings on plates.

The wings themselves look innocuous enough. C. took one small bite and immediately turned red. She initially had opted to just stick with water, but quickly changed her mind and asked for a bottle of cold soy milk. 

"Omg, these are really hot," C. said.

"Don't die," I replied, slightly panicked. "You've still got your wedding dress appointment at 2."

I fair a bit better and get through the first wing, and then start to feel the heat kick in when chewing through the second wing. I really start sweatng about two thirds of the way through and empty my entire can of herbal Chinese tea. Believe me, these wings are not for the faint hearted. As a comparison, Nando's extra-hot peri peri sauce - (not really hot in my opinion,) is in liking to eating mayonnaise. I asked C. for her opinion on crazy wings vs buffalo wings, and she said the latter cannot compete in the crazy level of hotness that are these well, crazy wings.

"Wow, you're pretty good," C said as I polished off the last of my wings. She attempted another bite out of her wing, and then had to leave the rest uneaten.

I'm pretty chuffed at my efforts, but then my mouth and the tip of my nose goes strangely numb. I'm officially on fire and drink about half a jug of water. I'm having an experience that is synonymous to Homer Simpsons' when he swallowed that crazy hot jalenpeno and started hallucinating. 

We order a few more things to try - beancurd skins wrapped in coriander, lamb skewers and honey chilli chicken wings. The wings are succulent and if you like your food seasoned with cumin, you'd certainly find the food acceptable for what it is. As per any Asian place, don't expect any world class table service.  I personally thought they were responsive enough - but then, maybe it's because we spoken to them in Mandarin.

My advice would be to avoid using their toilets - I had to use them after drinking about a litre of water in that one sitting, and they weren't particularly clean. 

I feel like my stomach is wringing itself from the heat of the wings and continue to experience pangs of intermittnet burning pain in my abdomen some six hours later after the event. I attempted to rectify this with a glass of cold milk and again, with more cereal some 12 hours later.

Crazy wings are for crazy people.

Dare to try? Crazy Wings are located on 177 Russell St, Melbourne CBD. Just don't sue me if burns a hole through your stomach.