As I’d estimate the crowd was about thirty percent Swedish expats or backpackers, it wasn’t too much of a surprise when the audience replaced the usual “more” with “en gang till”.
Still, I got a little bit teary as the crowd shouted the Swedish equivalent to “one more song”. I also found myself listening in to the conversations in Swedish and feeling a little nostalgic.
If you’ve never heard of “Oh Laura”, I’d recommend having a listen. Their songs are folky-inspired pop. The lead singer is wonderful. She has that instantly recognisable, almost breathy quality, that you often associate Swedish female vocalists with. She’s also “so terribly a Swedish woman” in that she plays guitar, harmonica and sings. It’s all so terribly “gender equal”, which I love. Very listenable.
Earlier in the night I went to the NSW Finals for Australian Of The Year. Glenn McGrath was named NSW Australian Of The Year, and there was a tangible sense in the room of it being the right choice.
Also earlier in the day I also went to a function to commemorate 100 Years of The Bureau of Meterology.
I’ve just been reading tonight that former Sydney Blogger, Mark, is having a bit of a crisis – maybe that’s too strong a word – about his imminent return to Sydney. Mark studied in Sydney last year, but returned to Perth because he wasn’t really that happy here, missing family and friends. I understand this totally, as I felt the same living in Perth. Now, he faces the prospect of returning to Sydney to complete his studies.
His reflections on his blog about the dilemma he faces in addressing the difficulties of finding a balance in life struck a chord with me, so I sent him a message which I hoped might provide some insight, and which I thought I’d share here too, as they are also important issues to me.
(STARTS) Although sometimes I don’t like Sydney – like at the moment, but I’m heading bush this weekend to get some fresh air – deep down I know it’s where I want and need to live.
I think it’s because the small country town in which I grew up doesn’t offer me the freedom Sydney does. And it’s not the cliches you’d think, not the expected stuff, it’s the “choices” Sydney offers, the ability to be me.
When I go home to Lismore, I become “Jimmy” again, the eighteen year old who left there, and who, in the eyes of my family and friends will always be “Jimmy”.
But I don’t want to be Jimmy, I want to be James. Maybe in some ways it’s like Muriel who changed her named to Mariel when she moved to Sydney in “Muriel’s Wedding”.
Sydney offers me the chance to be James, the grownup, to have a life that I can enjoy, and to have the career choices that I can’t back home.
That said, when I was living in Perth, pursuing my career, I felt like I was a thousand miles from home – four thousand kilometres actually – and I often felt alone, although everyone was very friendly.
So I totally understand what you’re saying Mark…
The question you have to ask yourself is where you want to be in five years time, or ten, and what you need to do to get yourself there, fulfilling the desire to balance both work and life. (ENDS)
“You can sit wherever you like, so long as you don’t sit in the front row, and so long as there are two empty seats either side of you”, I was told in response to my question about where I could sit tonight. “Perfect”, I said, “That’s exactly how I like it when I’m attending live theatre”.
Yes, tonight I’ve been to see an actual play in an actual theatre, with an actual cast, and an actual audience.
Some of the cast of Neighbourhood Watch
“What play are you seeing, and what’s it about?”, a friend asked me on Messenger tonight. “I have no idea”, I told him, adding that I’d received an email for a live play, and bought the ticket on solely that basis.
The play at Sydney’s New Theatre in Newtown was called “Neighbourhood Watch”.
Without giving away too much, the play tells the story of two women, neighbours who develop a good friendship.
One is a young woman on the rebound of a relationship, and sharing a house with another young man, with the possibility of a relationship developing betwen the two of them.
The other is an older woman, a Hungarian refugee who has lived in Australia for many years, and who moved into the neighbourhood after the death of her husband.
The play goes back and foward between the contemporary situation, and her younger life in Hungary, with parralels between the stories of the two women.
Though it wasn’t a “life-changing” story or play for me, I enjoyed it very much.
As I watched the play, I kept thinking “I can see this being made into a film”. On returning home, I checked the Wikipedia entry for the playwright, and this confirmed she is currently adapting it for the screen.
Neighbourhood Watch at Sydney’s New Theatre
And it was GREAT to see some live theatre for the first time in several months.
There were several reminders about social distancing from the theatre staff, and, as I watched the play, thoughts about social distance between the actors kept going through the back of my mind.
“I’m sorry, there are too many people in the foyer”, we were told at intermission. “Some of you will need to go outside or back into the theatre”.
In the grand scheme of things these tasks seem simple, but I was especially proud today of myself for simply making a cup of tea and going to the bathroom.
The occupational therapist came to visit this moning to help with further training as part of the rehabilitation process.
Currently, I can get myself from the hospital bed to the kermode, but I still need assistance getting to the toilet. To reduce the risk of injury, I also require supervision.
Today’s exercise was all about building capacity for me to get myself to and from the bathroom. It’s all about slowing down and thinking ahead through the different steps, I realised.
My mind started thinking about those times in the middle of the night when I’ve gone to the bathroom in the dark, half conscious, and with my eyes almost closed. “I won’t be able to do that anymore”, I thought to myself.
With that exercise complete, the occupational therapist asked if I would like a cup of tea. After saying “yes please”, she said to me, “you’ll have to make it yourself”, and so we headed then to nearby hospital kitchen.
As with going to the toilet, I needed to break down the exercise into smaller steps. When you’re standing up and supporting yourself with one harm, you need to carefully think about things, such as reaching up for some things (tea bags) and down for others (cups, milk, kettle). There were, maybe, three or four different movements involved in making the cup of tea.
On top of that, the risks associated with a potentially slippery kitchen floor, for example.
Hospital lunch today wasa tuna and rice salad, which was very tasty.
Though it’s still several weeks away, I’m starting to think about the assistance I might need when I return home. To avoid those slippery floors, I’ll need someone to assist with cleaning. Due to the risk of injuring myself, and the complexity of things, I’ll likely need someone to help with meal preparation.
I can use a microwave, so that won’t be a problem, but I’ll probably organise one of those home meal delivery plans for the short-term at least. If you have any recommendations in that space, it would be appreciated, especially for plans which understand the needs of diabetics.
To be starting to think about returning home is a remarkable thing. Five weeks ago I was found semi-conscious by friends and neighbours, and whisked off to hospital with the support of emergency services. Words cannot describe the gratitude I feel for everything that’s happened to get me to this stage.
I went to the Opening Night of the Sydney Film Festival where the film, “Ten Canoes” was shown.
The film’s significance is three-fold: it relies on a non-linerar story telling model; it’s the first feature film almost entirely spoken (with subtitles) in an indigenous language; and there are no white people in this movie. As a result, the film escapes one of the usual conventions (and weaknesses) of films about Indigenous Australians. In having no need to examine issues associated with black and white Australians coming together (or being in conflict), the film makes a bold statement about the occupancy of Australia over thousands of years. Unlike films like “Rabbit Proof Fence”, this is not a film for white Australians to feel guilty about, as they just don’t figure within the film’s framework.
At it’s basic plotline level, this is a love story dealing with the story of a young man in love with the youngest of his brother’s three wives. As he struggles with his place as a younger man in his community, he is told a parable of sorts of another young man in the same situation to give him an insight into why he must wait, and why he must gain patience.
Both the “modern” and the ancient stories are told with the same actors. But because the story is sometimes told in a non-linear way, and because the film is shot in both black and white, it took me a little while to understand how the story was being told. It wasn’t until maybe one-third of the way through the film that I was able to understand it on the different layers upon which it was being told. I wonder if, with repeated viewings, the story might take on new layers, as is the case with Aboriginal stories, or am I, perhaps, reading too much into it?
One of the most beautiful aspects of this film is the narration provided by David Gulpilil. Combining humour, warmth, and intelligence, Gulpilil makes this story both compelling and accessible.
The landscape of Arnhem Land is also beautifully filmed. From the crocodile infested swamps, to the stone country, to the vast scrub flatness, I was literally taken there by the film. Although I have never been to Arnhem Land, I’ve come close, having been to the top end of the Northern Territory a couple of times. It was nice to be taken back there by the film, and to recognise the meaning of phrases like “stone country” and to understand the significance of crocodiles and wetlands.
It would have been easy, though, just to let the landscape overtake the film, and that’s perhaps why much of it is in black and white, re-emphasising the importance of the story.
After the movie, we went to the Opening Night Party which was terrific. Lots of champagne, more prawns than I thought existed, and a chance to catch up with some people I haven’t seen for a while including one who is seeing thirty-eight films at the SFF.
I went to a wedding last night: the wedding of Damien and Rhea. I’ve known Damien for about ten years (I guess), and Rhea for about the three years they’ve been together. I guess they’ve been living together for about two, and now, aged in their late 20s have decided it was time to formalise their relationship. Held at a pub in Drummoyne, it was a relaxed, friendly affair, lacking some of the formality and traditionalism of some weddings I’ve been to. A very nice, memorable occasion, and one which I think they’ll be able to look back on many years into the future without embarrassment, because it was clearly “their work”, not something imposed on them.
The wedding was also good fun as I had the opportunity to catch up with a few people I hadn’t seen for a while, and to meet someone in person I’d only ever spoken to on the phone to before. “Didn’t I meet you in Perth?”, I said to an older woman who, like me, was taking photographs. “I’ve met you before”, I said to another, a woman who has known Damien since he was a teenager. And amusingly, I briefly sat next to a woman who I’d had several telephone conversations with, and with whom I share a number of common acquaintances, but had never actually met before.
It was also nice that it was held on Holy Thursday, meaning I was able to sleep in this morning. And that’s a good thing, because I’m hoping this Easter will be as relaxed as possible. I’ve been working fairly hard for the last few months and I need a break. I’ll be catching up with a few people over the next few days and trying to think as little as possible about work. For the time being at least…
I spent a bit of time online today looking at what well-dressed Swedes are wearing these days. It’s not because I’m fashion-conscious. I mean, you’ve seen how I dress. No, it’s because I’m wanting to get a sense of what I should pack for my forthcoming trip to Sweden.
The last time I travelled it was the middle of summer, and so really, I didn’t need to take all that much with me. But this time around it will often be very cold. And I have the added complication of needing something “nice” to wear at the conference I’m attending. I’ve decided I can pack a suit, scrunch it up, and then have it dry-cleaned closer to the conference, so that’s sorted.
And Damien has loaned me a warm jacket that he took with him to China a couple of years ago and protected him in sub-zero temperatures, so that’s sorted.
But what about day-to-day? What combination do I need of easy-to-wear vs easy to wash and dry clothing vs clothing; clothing that will keep me warm; and clothing which will look good?
Walk-in-closet för dagen omgjord till gästgarderob – komplett med garderobiär. Courtesy QX.se
Although I know I could look at clothing stores like H&M, but really… what I need is an understanding of how people clothe themselves in real life with layers, scarves, shoes and other accessories.
So I went online to check out some of the out-and-about photo galleries from Swedish newspapers.
The first stop was The Local, the English language newspaper in Sweeden which features weekly photo galleries. The nightlife galleries on The Local, were all a bit lah-dee-dah for me. Everyone’s far too young and far too beautiful. And far too thin for me to be able to use for clothing inspiration.
So I checked out QX, the Swedish gay newspaper which also has online galleries. As I’m no longer a “clubbing” kinda guy, I found the best inspiration in photographs from a book launch. Thankfully, the gallery also included a photograph of the walk-in closet, where people disposed of their outdoor winter clothing. That was good, helping me to check out how thick/warm my jacket might be.
Drygt hundra gäster på festen och visste man inte annat skulle man kunna tro att det var lägenhetsvisning i våningen på Östermalm. Courtesy QX.se
I noticed that, even indoors, people wear thin pullovers and scarves over shirts. I couldn’t see what kind of underwear they have on, unfortunately, but I’m guessing that it’s warmish. So yeah, I definitely need to take a scarf, though I noticed the ones they had on were significantly thicker than the two I have.
I saw quite a few people wearing leather jackets in the photographs, so I’m guessing that’s a good way to get protection from the cold, the wind and rain. So yeah, I’m definitely taking that.
I also noticed most people were wearing several thin layers of clothing, which I assume is so you can adjust how much you need according to where you are, either indoors with central heating, or outdoors in the cold.
Swedes also, apparently, have a habit of taking their shoes off – covered in snow and mud – when they go into someone’s home. So I’m guessing I’ll need some thick, nice-looking socks, if I’m to walk around barefoot sometimes.
I’m slightly anxious about the clothing and remain undecided if I should purchase some warmer clothing here now, or wait until I get to Sweden and do a quick shop on my first day. More research is needed.
