The Happiest Place On Earth

Yeah, been a while.  There's stuff I should post about -- my trip to Europe, etc. -- but a maxim I'm slowly coming to realize is that I really need to just post about whatever I feel like posting about even if it means leaving out "important" stuff, just because otherwise it hangs over me and the only result is inactivity.

So yeah, our new place is a block away from the Moonee Ponds race course, and the first race of the season is tomorrow so we'll see how that goes.  I'm a little worried about drunkards, parking, etc. but I'm still up for catching a race.  In general I have no problems with gambling as long as you don't let it get out of hand.  Which brings me to the subject I feel like writing about: Tabarets.  I will explain.

Pubs in Australia are a big part of the culture.  In Melbourne these days there are two basic varieties.  The first is your standard pub, which are homey neighborhood meeting-houses, typically with a few beers on tap and a kitchen which serves up basic traditional meals, with chicken parmesan ("parma") being ubiquitous.  Some have converted to "gastro-pubs", with more upscale restaurants.  But all are generally nice, happy places, with regulars of all ages.

A growing percentage, though, are of the other variety - the Tabaret.  These typically feature a game room with poker machines ("pokies") and the ability to bet on sporting events.  There's typically a room with a high row of TVs, showing various horse races, that looks something like this:

This picture looks bright and cheery enough, but that's only because I can't seem to find a picture that captures their true nature.  From early morning until late at night, you'll find gamblers ("punters") here, usually alone, slowly wasting their lives away.  There is always a sad, blank expression on their ashen faces as they expectantly watch events on the high row of TVs.  There's always an bettable event on somewhere, it seems, and it gets piped in so the slow drain can continue on them non-stop.  But if the punters need a break, they'll come out on the deck for a smoke and a beer (even at 8 a.m.).

Not surprisingly, as close as we are now to the race track, our only local pub is just such a place.  Lately every time we walk by it and look in I turn to Marjorie and say, "The happiest place on Earth!"  I don't know how I would feel about outlawing them altogether, but they seem to me to be one of the few blights on the otherwise generally functional society that is Australia in general and Melbourne in particular.

Our new neighborhood does have a nice wine bar though...