Sushi Bar at the End of the Earth

"The fact is, sometimes it's really hard to walk in a single woman's shoes. That's why we need really special ones now and then to make the walk a little more fun. " - Carrie Bradshaw

Example #138 that we are and always will be suckers for the things we cannot get: Holidaying in the southern tip of Australia, where an ocean separates us from Antarctica, what do I crave for the most?

Ahem, Japanese food. After days and days of the best Mod Oz beef, duck and sticky date pudding I've tasted, and orgasmically thick coffee, what I would have killed for is some sushi.

And guess what? Driving to an obscure beach called Emu Point in Albany, we found it. There stood, in all its wooden-screened glory, a half-decent Japanese restaurant.

It was next to a milk bar, amid rows of holiday chalets. We were hyperventilating. A sushi place at the far end of the world. Never mind that the sushi and sashimi were probably the ugliest-looking in the southern hemisphere, or that the service was so slow that any slower would mean that the waitresses moved backwards, or that the tiny meal cost us AUD88. There it was - proof to my theory that Japanese is one of the three great "world cuisines" that travel everywhere, the others being Italian and Thai.

Tis a good do-nothing carefree holiday. Now back to living in 1984.

The smog is getting truly bad. I am yearning for Christmas already. Dammit, know what I really really want now? Sticky date pudding.