It’s Wednesday morning. I’ve just had breakfast. Am half-watching Sunrise on Channel 7 and curiously enough, since I’m on holiday, I’ve been having a great night’s sleep and getting out of bed early. What’s going on?
The last few days have been relatively quiet and quite relaxing. I spent most of Monday just hanging out at home, cooking, eating, playing on the internet and watching television.
On Monday night, however, I had tickets to an advance screening of the new movie, “Love Actually” which I saw with Colin. We both thought the movie was pretty average. Despite a strong cast, the movie was let down by the plot which was virtually non-existant. In some ways it reminded me of the Blue Room: lots of short vignettes, offering only a brief insight into the lives of the characters. Although there were some good performances and some funny moments, I never actually got much of a chance to care about any of them.
I spent yesterday hanging around home, doing nothing in particular. Last night was just a television night – watching “The Bill” – before going to bed.
Today, I’ll spend some time preparing for the Palliative Care Conference I’m hosting.
The purchase of a new car is an an experience I only remember from childhood. As an adult, I’ve never purchased a new car. But as a child, I remember there was a strong family ritual about such purchases. The ritual involved taking my grandmother for a drive in the potential purchase to the nearby settlement, Tuncester. And the final purchase could only ever go ahead if she was happy with the drive.
Tuncester is about five kilometres from where I grew up on the edge of Lismore. Even now, it’s only a handful of houses, a factory, and a wrecking yard. Back then, the factory space was occupied by Tooth’s Northern Brewery. I don’t know what happened to the brewery, but I recall there was a lot of excitement when it opened about possible employment. The factory there now seems much larger.
In between Lismore and Tuncester there are vast paddocks.
The only thing I’m aware of now, though I wasn’t back then, was that Tuncester was home to Cubawee, a self-managed Aboriginal settlement in the days of state and church run “missions”.
This biography of Frank Roberts records the significance of what happened back then.
Roberts and his family moved in 1937 to the Aboriginal settlement at Tuncester, near Lismore, where there was no board-appointed manager. About 1933 he had committed himself to evangelism under the auspices of the United Aborigines Mission. Frank, his father and brothers held prayer meetings and ran the Tuncester settlement. In an effort to put pressure on families to move to supervised reserves, the Aborigines Protection Board had closed the school and threatened to remove children from their parents. Roberts campaigned against the board’s policies.
Tuncester became a refuge for Aborigines who objected to the authority of White managers on stations and reserves. Roberts called the settlement by its Aboriginal name, Cubawee, which meant ‘plentiful food’.
As we drove to Tuncester this afternoon, I kept an eye out to see if there was any evidence of the former settlement though, to be honest, I had no idea what to look out for. I noticed there was a Cubawee Creek, so I can only assume it was closeby.
Living not far from the railway tracks, as a child, I would regularly get as close as I could and wave to the passengers. As you’ll see from the photograph, it’s been a number of years since the train passed through Tuncester.I’m reasonably sure this house was also once a shop.
Tuncester is only a few kilometres from the edge of the Lismore city settlement, and it’s not long before you find yourself on a dirt road, surrounded by cattle. Though you hear the sounds of the cattle and occasional car going past, you find yourself there with only your thoughts, some beautiful countryside and an amazing sunset.
As you return to Lismore the road rises slightly, as you go over the levee bank, designed to protect South Lismore from flooding. In my childhood mind, it was always much larger, and a sign for this young boy that I shouldn’t travel any further out beyond the city limits.
Unexpectedly, it’s become a relaxation day for me. The last week has caught up with me, and I had to come home mid-afternoon for a nap. I’ve been here a week and I’ve done so much, I guess my body has caught up with me a little.
Aside from that, I’m staying for a few days in a hostel which, in itself is a little tiring. The crowd in the hostel is much younger than the last time I stayed here. And last night, I was woken twice while trying to get a good night’s sleep.
The first time was by the two girls I have dubbed, “The Whispering Russian Lezzos” (aka Tatu). They’re two young girls who spend hours and hours in the room whispering to each other. Personally, I think they’ve got an unresolved unspoken lezzo thing going on, but that’s for them to discover in their own time, I guess. I know they think they’re being polite while whispering, but it’s damn annoying.
The second time was by the two I’ve dubbed, “The Scottish Groupies”, a guy and a girl who are following their favourite group around Europe at the moment. When they first began talking about last night’s concert with a Swedish girl in the room (at about three this morning), I was mildly interested. I thought they were chatting about one of my favourite Swedish groups, Kent. But they weren’t. And that’s when I lost interest, and asked them politely to keep the noise down. They apologized this morning for waking me, while members of Tatu haven’t so far.
Breaking up the iceA fine spot to relax near the Stockholm city hallKatarinahissen view this week – the snow is disappearingEwww… not so winter wonderlandEvert Taube, a famous Swedish musician and composerSodermalm ChurchyardStockholm city hall
Staying in a hostel for a few days is a compromise I knew I was making to save a few dollars along the way. It’s $25 per night which is worth the compromise, I think, since I’m staying in nice accommodation elsewhere.
And I’m glad I did it, I just forgot one of my principles for staying in hostels from my last trip, being that you should actually go for the really large dorms, as you usually end up with a more peaceful experience there. People tend to be a little more courteous given the size of the room.
Anyway, aside from that observation, it was a fairly relaxed day for me.
I had some breakfast at a great little Italian cafe just around the corner, wandered around the city looking, caught a train, and then came back home for an afternoon nap.
And my body reminded me today, that in the midst of all of this wonderful sight-seeing, and mind-enhancing cultural experiences, I also need to rest up a little, because, after all, this is a holiday!
No plans for the night, though I may have to wander out for peace of mind.
“This is a REAL gallery”, I said to my friend Kate today, as we wandered around the recently opened White Rabbit Collection. While I like pretty pictures, I also really like challenging art work, and there was plenty of it to be found at the White Rabbit Gallery, just off Regent Street in Chippendale. The gallery specialises in Chinese art. And we started off our exploration of the gallery today by watching a film on Chinese performance art in the 80s and 90s. There was some genuinely weird stuff – by mainstream tastes – with lots of bleeding, body suspension, and that kind of stuff – possibly with far too many naked bodies – but it’s stuff I really like. I really like my art to challenge, to be off the beam, to show me and tell me about things outside my life and perspectives. And there was plenty of that in the film. My favourite work was a piece called “Mental Patients” by the artist Lu Zheng Yuan. The fibreglass sculptures appear to have been crafted from mud. They tell an amazing and yet tragic story. And as you walk around the room in which they’re located, you can’t help but look at them, and think about the people they represent. It’s definitely a gallery worth checking out.
Kate and I also went to the MCA today to see Primavera, which you would hope was equally challenging, as it generally features work from young up and coming artists. We walked around, we looked, but unfortunately there was nothing which either of us found to be challenging or interesting. There were videos without much purpose, and installations which, seemingly, were put together with bits and pieces found in a Newtown share-house. On the way out, we noticed a sign which said, “This collection contains images which may challenge or offend….” (or words to that effect). “I must have missed those”, Kate reflected with a wry grin…
It’s Tuesday night and I’ve just been to the launch of the new Richard Glover book, Desperate Husbands, at Shearers Bookstore in Leichhardt. Oddly enough, I’ve just discovered today there’s two h’s in Leichhardt, which has come as quite a revelation.
The last few days have been reasonably uneventful as I’ve slept in, watched television and haven’t done very much at all. I love holidays! An example of my general malaise is that it was only at 5pm today that I heard about the terrorist raids. I’m reassured though, by the cab driver who brought me home who asked if I knew anything about these raids he’d just heard about.
My other favourite cab driver today, who took me to the book launch, I discovered was listening to Vega 953. Curious, I asked him what he listened to for music before Vega and he replied WS-FM. He was in his late 20s/early 30s. And then, when I told him why I was interested, he told me he mostly listens to 702, but turned the radio over because he thought I looked like such a cool dude that I wouldn’t like 702. He told me he thought Vega was also boring and that Rebecca and Tony had no personalities. This made me smile.
Anyway, nothing else to report except that I turn 40 tomorrow. My plans for the day include a walk around the botanic gardens, lunch with Colin, a “Swiss Cellular Treatment For Men” (bought for me 12 months ago), followed by drinks at Henry Henry. I think it will be a good fun day.
For at least ten minutes today I watched a young woman attempt to take a selfie. She tried portrait. She tried landscape. She did a complete 360 twirl to find the right background. She fluffed her hair, applied lipstick and makeup, and tried all manner of facial expression. Eventually she got the shot she wanted, or at least I hope she did. But honestly, it took forever.
Chorizo at Chiquita Corner Bar in Madrid
For my part, I was sitting just metres away having a late lunch at the Chiquita Corner Bar. One of those late lunches were you eat, drink, and watch the world go by. It was the epitome of holiday relaxation.
Due to its proximity to Plaza Mayor, I thought Chiquita was going to be one of those overpriced tourist traps. You know, a great place to watch people, but with poor service, and average over-priced food. How wrong I was. The food was excellent (the best chorizo I’ve had in my life). The service was friendly, but also understated. There was no one staring over at me with that look of “can you please just eat up and move along”. No, it was nothing like that. It was excellent, and I’d highly recommend it.
The only disappointing thing about the experience was the group of four next to me, all of whom smoked. Or should I say, all of whom had cigarettes. That’s the thing I’ve never understood. People light up cigarettes, have an occasional puff, but for the most part let it burn, and then ash it on the floor, as they annoy people like me with their smoke. A small misery, I guess, for such an excellent location.
For me, it was a day of gentle exploration and relaxation, and looking for interesting sights to photograph. I managed to clock up well over 20,000 steps.
There were lots and lots of people around. Many of them were carrying, or were draped in Spanish flags, and there were lots and lots of flags draped from windows. Though I read there was to be a protest in the city AGAINST Catalonian independence, I didn’t see much evidence of anything “organised”. I guess it was probably just a case of wrong time, wrong place. It will be fascinating to head to Barcelona on Wednesday, the day AFTER the planned declaration of independence.
Late night in Madrid
Mid-evening, I came back to my AirBnB, where I’ve spent a few hours reading and relaxing. I’d probably best describe my new neighbourhood as “Madrid’s answer to Darlinghurst”. There are lots of small, older buildings, in an area which seems to have begun the process of gentrification, though it probably has a way to go. There are lots of small hole-in-the-wall bars which I’ll undoubtedly visit over the next few days, and there’s a good nearby corner-shop, where I picked up some food for the next few days. Until Tuesday at least, this is home.
PS: There are no “public toilets” in Madrid. Also, I haven’t seen many garbage bins.
Spotted these on the way home, so thought I’d share. It’s worth noting, Lowes is normally a reasonably conservative discount clothing store for men. A great place for jocks, sox, and other “men’s stuff”. At around $200, this range of suits is tempting (for a bit of fun), and great to see them doing something a little different.
