Pride Festival at Perth, Western Australia 2004 It’s Saturday night and I’m just hanging out at home. It’s been a reasonably busy day, flying back from Esperance this morning, meeting Damien this afternoon at the airport, wandering into Northbridge to watch the Pride Parade before heading back home to watch The Bill. So without further ado, here’s the last week of my life… (summarised!).
Last Sunday afternoon I went to watch the cricket and couldn’t help but notice how young some of the players are… or maybe I’m getting old? It was WA vs TASMANIA in a four day domestic match. The game itself, wasn’t too exciting, but I was impressed with the calibre of the Tasmanian team… a good team for such a small state.
Then, on Sunday night I went to see a movie called Goldfish Memory. It would be far too simplistic to label Goldfish Memory as Love Actually meets Queer As Folk (US Version) but there are elements of both productions in this movie. In many ways, this was the movie that “Love Actually” could have been. A few of the plotlines went down the predictable path and that’s what I thought was a weakness in this movie. And because of the predictability, although there are moments of genuine emotion I wasn’t especially “touched” by the movie. Despite some misgivings, I think it’s a good film. And I can really relate to the film’s central premise that, as far as love is concerned, human beings are just like goldfish which are said to have three-second memories… we don’t forget how hard love can be when we fall in love again.
Not much happened on Monday, although I did chat with Sue on the phone about her trip to Africa in which she mentioned personal security as an issue there she hadn’t though too much until arriving. Just mostly watched television, and I especially enjoyed the Andrew Denton interview with Olivia Newton John. Although I didn’t actually see Australian Story about Shirley Strickland, I thought Tuesday’s edition of The West Australian was a little cruel in its headline which declared Shirley, a sad, lonely old drunk… or words to that effect.
Aside from that I haven’t really done all that much socially as Much of the week, though, has been spent dealing with a rather sensitive work matter.
Nonetheless, I was able to travel to Esperance on Friday (returning this morning) which was good. The place was gorgeous and the people were incredibly friendly. When we arrived early morning we were a little worried about the weather, but by mid-morning it had cleared. Although I didn’t get too much of a chance to wander, I thought the coast was incredibly beautiful, though I noticed – from the air – that a lot of the land is salt-affected.
The region also has a very interesting history, mostly settled, in European times, by those with a “sense of adventure”. Perhaps the most famous of all was the American broadcaster, Art Linkletter whose radio program, “Kids Say The Darndest Things”, I grew up listening to. Linkletter was also an extremely wealthy businessman and a good friend of Prime Minister, Harold Holt. Under Reagan, Linkletter was named Ambassador To Australia. Linkletter is now well into his 90s, so I’m not sure if he still visits Esperance, but he certainly has maintained an economic interest in the area as a breeder of Charolais Cattle.
In some ways the sense of non-conformity I gathered from the place still lives on in the Esperance Show. For example, in First Place of the Collections Competition was a rather unassuming collection of six beer cans!
I wandered into Northbridge earlier tonight to watch the Pride Parade.
In many respects, it was similar to Sydney’s Mardi Gras, but it was also different in one major respect: no alcohol. Thus, unlike Sydney, the crowd was pretty well behaved and aside from one bloke yelling out a couple of homophobic comments, it actually seemed like a genuine celebration of diversity, and not just another “New Years Eve-style” celebration. Having been to Mardi Gras on more than one occasion – I haven’t been for three years – I thought Perth’s Pride Parade had some elements that could make Sydney’s interesting once again. But that’s pie in the sky… Sydney has gone down a path and it would be hard to change it now.
There was further catching up today as Damo and I went to the Aroma Festival, briefly pausing for one of those great photographic moments you can experience in The Rocks. I mean, there’s nothing quite like having the Sydney Harbour Bridge or the Opera House in the background for a photograph is there? And there were plenty of opportunities for that, as we wandered around drinking coffee and enjoying delicious foods.
It was an odd start to the morning, though, as I’d spent about 15 minutes waiting for the bus to arrive at Surry Hills. Meanwhile, there were two older men (who looked like they could have been related) who had clearly spent the night drinking heavily. They were still drinking at the bus stop this morning as they carried on a very loud, angry, argument with each other about something or other. I’m not exactly sure about what they were discussing, as I’d donned my earphones and was leaning on the railing of the nearby ANZ Bank. Please don’t notice me, I thought to myself, I don’t want to get involved in your argument just by inadvertently looking over.
After about ten minutes or so, the 355 to Bondi Junction arrived, much to the relief of about half a dozen people similar to myself who were hoping to catch a bus, but not wanting to actually be anywhere near the bus stop. When the two men got up to catch the bus, I noticed a collective sigh of relief, although no one actually moved closer to the bus stop until we were sure they had the money for the bus, had bought their tickets, and the bus had moved away.
As I was close to arriving at Circular Quay, I gave Damo a call. “I’m in the queue, meet you here in five”, he told me. “I’m in the queue for Genovese Coffee, what would you like?”, he asked. Just a simple flat white, I replied.
Aroma Festival
And what a flat white it was… probably the best flat white I’ve had in quite some time. Far better than the coffees available at work, far better than those at the cafe around the corner, and far better than the one made for me most days by the surly-looking blonde guy.
We also tasted some chai (which I’d never had before), and feasted on some of those wonderful strawberries dipped in chocolate.
As the crowd thickened, we wandered back to Damo’s place for a very yummy-tasting lunch which consisted of homemade bread, homemade dolmades (made with spinach), homemade sweet potato gnocchi, and homemade lamb ragu. It was a terrific meal topped off with a bottle of Helm 2000 cabernet-merlot, as I recall, which was very tasty about half an hour after the bottle was opened. If I were to give Damo a restaurant review, I’d give him 7 thumbs and at least 1 hat.
After lunch, we thought of heading back to the festival for some chocolate and more coffee, but it was all a bit too crowded.
Feeling quite full and very rested, I came home, watched “Jesus Christ Superstar” and then had a brief afternoon nap.
And so now it’s Sunday night and the only immediate excitement ahead of me is tonight’s double eviction on “Big Brother” and some clothes washing for work this week.
As I sit down to write this “year in review”, I’m conscious that I’m more interested in what’s ahead in 2008 than what occured in 2007. Not that it was a bad year in my life, it’s just that I’m approaching 2008 with a great deal more excitement than I approached 2007. Last year I found the Year In Review post a difficult one to write, so I simply resorted to a “Top 10” list. This year, however I’m happier inside, more confident about what I can and can’t control about my life, and with a greater emphasis on the needs of friends and family.
Speaking of which, I went home to Lismore a few times this year. I even toyed briefly with the idea of moving back at one point, though please don’t tell my family or else I’ll never hear the end of it. I don’t know why they did, but they did. Even as I walked past my local real estate agent over a few months ago, the words “Lismore” and “Seachange” jumped out and caught my eye. As I looked closer, I noticed they were advertising a couple of flats for sale in my very own home-town. And not just a couple of ordinary flats: but one’s I’ve actually been inside. A mate of mine who I haven’t seen in years used to live in the one at the very front. “Why would they advertise them in Surry Hills?”, I thought to myself, “…and how could they possibly claim a couple of flats in Jubilee Street amounted to a seachange?” I mean, they’re flood-prone, if that’s why they mean.
It’s amazing to go back to see both how little and yet how much the place has changed, and how my experience of the place remains fixed in time. As I wander around Lismore every person, every building, every location seems to remind me of something from my past. Maybe it’s something about human nature, or maybe it’s just me, or maybe it’s just that because I’ve been away for such a long time, it’s only the very intense memories that remain. Like music and smells, it’s amazing how buildings, in particular, can evoke strong memories.
The feeling was similar when I returned to Brisbane earlier this year. Although I lived in Brisbane for a total of four years back in the 1980s, I felt like a stranger in many ways when I arrived there. Aside from the initial disorientation, there was a certain familiarity about the place, and as I wandered around the city, I wondered from time to time about my life and what it would have been like had I stayed in Brisbane. The more I thought about it, the more undecided I became. Although, I though I would have had a really good life living in Brisbane and certainly would have been much closer to family, I also thought about how moving around the country has also meant new experiences, new friendships and more fulfilling career ambitions.
Brisbane has changed in many ways since the 1980s, most obviously in the large number of tall buildings which dominate the landscape, and in the opening up of Southbank. But as I wandered around the city there were many things I don’t remember from my time there such as an obvious street drug problem, and a rushed appearance on the faces of many people walking by. In some ways, as I wandered around the city with a wide-eyed look in my eyes, I’m sure some people were looking at me with the “he’s a hokie-country boy in the big smoke” thought in their minds.
Sadly, the reason for my visit to Brisbane was not a happy one: a family funeral. My nephew was killed in one of those awful car crashes you often see on the evening news, but don’t give too much thought to. Until of course it’s someone you know. He was just a month short of his fortieth birthday.
As for me, well I turned 42 this year. I’ve always been fairly conscious of the multiples of seven birthdays though. Long before new-age thinking, I remember, as a child, my dad telling me life life goes through seven year cycles. I still remember the conversation vividly, as it just seemed to come out of nowhere, though it was obviously something my dad believed.
According to one new-age site…
The forty-second year brings a major change because it is the polarity of the twenty-eighth year. Here, the integration of the whole self occurs. The view is not, “World, what can you give me?” as in the twenty-eighth year, but, “World what have I got to give you?” It is the realization of all the growth that has occurred and the ability to use it in its most productive way.
At forty-two, you may begin to have doubts about your life. These doubts are not negative. They are based on the growth gained in the interim years between thirty-five and forty-two. This creates an ability to question whether you wish to maintain your life as it is or whether new changes are imminent. Doubt can be positive if it is leading you to be suspect of something in your life that is not good for you.
If past experience is anything to go by, I suspect changes in my life may also be imminent. Aged twenty-two, I quit my job at Coles and left Brisbane for Bourke in Western NSW (a big change) to follow my career dream. Aged twenty-nine, I fulfilled another long-term career goal, and also moved to Sydney. Aged thirty-six, I became single again, ending a reasonably long-relationship, and soon-after started on a new direction in my career. So strictly speaking, the changes in my life occur about twelve months after one of those multiple of seven birthdays.
And now, aged forty-two, like the hippies say, I find myself questioning my life again and wondering what’s next. I’ve also been trying to live a better life by reducing my carbon footprint, adopting an “in with anger out with love” approach to life. I’ve also increased the amount of money I give to charity, through Childfund and Medicins sans Frontieres.
Unfortunately I sense amongst some people in Australia a degree of cynicism about child sponsorship. At the heart of this cynicism are concerns some of the money is wasted along the way and that the idea of child sponsorship is inherently paternalistic. In his song September 10, Eddie Perfect (who I really like), also offers the idea child sponsorship somehow “picks winners” while condemning others. And yes, there are probably other organisations which may do a better job in assisting communities. But even if all those issues are true, I still think it’s great there are schemes like the one offered by Childfund Australia, where people like myself can do something to help families and communities in need. Yes, I know I could hop on a plane and go to Africa and be “hands on”, but I don’t know if I’d be very good at that, and I’m not sure how much help I could actually be.
In the meantime, I have a well paid job and I live in a wealthy country which, by and large, looks after its people well. As I don’t have children of my own (and no, this is not some kind of child replacement therapy for myself), I can afford the $70 per month it costs to provide support to the families of these two young children. I also give money, by the way, to Medicins Sans Frontieres, which I think does a terrific job in providing volunteer medical assistance to people in many needy countries. In the grand scheme of things, $25-30 per week, is a small percentage of my income, which I’d probably otherwise waste on useless crap I don’t need. It’s a no-brainer, really.
For me, 2008 will be a year of career consolidation, planning for the future. It will also be a year of significant overseas travel. I know where I want to go: Sweden, France, United States. I’ve done a fair bit of travel planning and I have a reasonable idea of my itinerary. I know when I want to go: August-October 2008 (and maybe longer). I have more than enough leave: I could actually take 34 weeks of combined annual and long-service leave at full-pay if I wanted to. Maybe I should?
The first thing you notice as you enter the gallery is a large mound of coal on the building’s first floor. And then you smell the coal, and that’s what prepares you for the exhibition upstairs.
As you walk around the exhibition, the next thing you notice are buckets and tools covered in sticky, black, coal products. They were used in the manufacture of the exhibition, including works which use coal as the primary medium, There are photographs, too, of the coal being transformed. Other works in the exhibition include a full body skeleton, which I guess, is to symbolise the origin of coal.
According to the exhibition’s association blurb…
Developed in 2008, Cola Project is an audacious and ambitious work that investigates material transformation, the products of global capitalism and the impact that its images have upon human culture. In 2008, the artist worked with factory workers to boil up thousands of litres of cola drink over a period of a year. This ubiquitous material was slowly transformed into a syrupy black sludge and finally into lumps of gleaming coal-like crystals. These crystals were later ground down and turned into ink, which the artist then used to create Song dynasty style ink paintings, in the age-old manner of artists reproducing the landscape and sentiment of master paintings. He Xiangyu is a young artist whose work is representative of a kind of minimalism embued with a strong conceptual foundation based upon Chinese cultural thinking. The exhibition at 4A will include a large quantity of the black crystals, together with examples of the artists paintings, and a human-scale jade skeleton, which has had the corrosive properties of the black crystal material applied to its precious surface.
After a late morning breakfast, and an afternoon train trip from Copenhagen, I’m back in Stockholm again, and this time I’m staying on the southside, directly opposite Globen.
As I didn’t have access to a washing machine in either Reykjavik or Copenhagen, the first thing I did when I arrived was go straight to the bathroom where there was a washing machine and dryer ready to be used. Hand-washing your socks and jocks gets a little boring after a while. Without a moment’s hesitation I emptied everything from my luggage into the washing machine. I even stripped down to my birthday suit, so I could take full advantage of the washing machine to take care of everything.
Once again, I’ve booked the apartment through airbnb. Although at first a little apprehensive about using the service, I’ve become quite the evangelist for it. After all those years of travelling and staying in expensive and isolating hotels, or sharing a room with a bunch of backpackers in a sometimes grungy hostel, I’ve become a complete convert to the “cause” of people renting out their homes, often while they’re away.
So far I’ve stayed in accommodation I found through airbnb in Stockholm, Copenhagen, Reykjavik and Berlin. The price per night has never been more than $100, sometimes as little as $66, and when you consider I was sharing many of those apartments with Sue, you soon realise it’s probably as cheap as, or only slightly more than the cost of staying in a hostel.
On all but one occasion, I’ve stayed in places where I’ve had the entire apartment to myself. This has meant I’ve been able to do those simple things, like washing clothing, preparing meals and so on, which can often add to the inconvenience and expense of travel. Also, how boring it is to spend time in a laundromat when you could be out and about enjoying yourself, seeing new sights? On the one occasion where we did stay in someone’s apartment while they were there, it was a good experience, as the woman we stayed with was a lovely person who really made us feel at home.
It’s also interesting to reflect on the reasons why people have chosen to rent out their apartments like this. In the case of some I couldn’t be sure, but in the case of the bloke I’m renting from now, he’s currently in Canada, and said in his profile he likes the idea of renting out his apartment so visitors to Stockholm can enjoy low cost accommodation while here. Nice stuff.
So yeah, I would HIGHLY recommend airbnb for your next holiday.
I have no real plans for the week. Just hanging out, I guess.
P.S. I’m already thinking about my next big adventure, which will probably involve a visit to Africa. Fingers crossed it will all come off.
For about four years now I’ve been corresponding with fellow blogger, Sandra Carpenter. She’s an American, married to Robert (an Australian) who has been living in Stockholm for almost a decade. We first met through our respective blogs, and then in 2010, we met in real life.
Spending a few months in Stockholm last year, we had a really great time doing lots of things together. As I returned to Sydney at the end of May, we both (independently) experienced a moment of sadness when we realised we no longer “lived” in the same city, as we share lots of similar interests and experiences.
Sandra and Robert are both in Sydney at the moment. Robert’s work has brought him here and Sandra could continue to do hers locally, as she works for an international company.
Even with limited time, we’ve found time to catch up. We had dinner on Sunday night. And then yesterday, we both started and left work a little early, so we could do some sight-seeing, visit some galleries, and enjoy a drink and a meal (Robert joined us later).
We managed to squeeze so much in such a brief period of time that we were both feeling a little tired this morning, as we exchanged emails. Even this evening, I took a rain-check on catching up with another friend because I was still quite exhausted from all that we managed to over the course of eight or nine hours. It was a lovely day, with many cherished memories to live on, I’m sure.
Parkham Street, Surry Hills is a topical little street if ever there was one. I received a tip-off yesterday the City of Sydney were being asked/told by the State Government to remove all of the trees in the street to allow it to be used as a thoroughfare for World Youth Day.
When I turned up for the “photo opportunity” at 2.30 today (along with a photographer from the Sydney Morning Herald and a journalist and a photographer from Central) it quickly became clear it was not as bad as that. According to Marcelle Hoff, the City of Sydney Councillor who attended, most of the trees will remain.
Nonetheless, those residents who attended say they remain concerned about the lack of information so far available. They also say they’re concerned about losing their small park near the Buddhist Centre on the corner of South Dowling Street. The park needs to be cleared (except for one tree), so the pilgrims attending World Youth Day can walk over the nearby footbridge across the Eastern Distributor.
Anyway, enough of the politics. I think it’s a nice little street. It’s got a nice little school, a little Buddhist Centre, and (at the moment), a nice little park at the top of the street.
