Payday Thursday
Nothing much to report from today, except that it was payday. Isn’t that a good thing?
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On The Road Again
After the excitement of Saturday’s sight-seeing adventure, I took things a little more slowly on Sunday. Though I thought about getting up early and going for a walk, I stayed in bed until about 9.00am. As daylight saving has commenced, I didn’t feel too guilty about sleeping in. Oh, and hey, I’m on holiday!
After a late morning breakfast at “Diggers” in Bourke, I returned to the apartment where I’ve been staying and had a brief lunchtime nap. It was a warm day with a soft breeze, which gently flowed through the big room where I’ve been staying. Later in the afternoon, I caught up with a mate and some of his family for quite a few beers at the pub.
I had a wonderful time in Bourke, and I’ve promised myself, and the people in Bourke I caught up with, that it won’t be another twenty years before I make a return visit.
And so today was a day spent mostly on the road.
The bus trip from Bourke back to Dubbo wasn’t as exciting as the trip there. In addition to the anticipation of visiting Bourke for the first time in twenty years, I was seated near an old colleague, and we talked most of the way.
The trip takes four and a half-hours, and it’s almost 400km of straight road across the plain. Although the vegetation doesn’t vary much, it’s still a pleasant trip. You look out the window, you read, you nod off for a few minutes.
And the bus is fairly cheap. My full price fair was $120 return. “I can do it for $2.50” my now retired colleague told me with a laugh.
Sue picked me up at the railway station in Dubbo, and within minutes we were on our way to the next stop on our journey, Parkes.
Parkes is famous a number of different things, including the CSIRO telescope which played an important role in the 1969 moon landing, being named after Sir Henry Parkes, “the father of federation” and for “Elvis Festival”, held annually in January.
There’s a fair bit of Elvis-related public art in the town.
It’s a fairly quiet day / night in Parkes, with most shops, cafes and restaurants closed due to the public holiday.
Promises, Promises
I would have eaten something more healthy, except they’ve changed the ordering system (again), and when confronted by an order-board that was as wide as the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and involved “ordering by numbers”, I took the easy option. In the good old days you could order a simple sandwich, but now it’s like one of those noodle places where you have to order things in steps. Step one, select the noodle. Step two, select the sauce. Step three, select the meat…
But that’s my only regret from the day which, otherwise, was quite pleasant. Everyone seemed pleased to have me back, which was nice. And I didn’t have to resort to my former usual “hearding cats” strategy in getting people to attend our daily meeting.
And I was really pleased to see the people I work with, as they’re generally, geniunely a nice bunch of people. They also seemed to genuinely take an interest in my travel photographs which I’ve culled down to a 5-7 minute slideshow.
I adopted a ruthless strategy in relation to the 3,000 emails which were in my account. If it was older than three weeks, it was probably dealt with by now. And if it was urgent, people would have responded to my “out of office” message which provided personal and professional details. For just a moment, however, I wondered if it would be naughty to leave that “out of office” message on permanently.
What I realised, however, in going through some of the emails was that I receive an awful lot of crap in my inbox every day. “Why are you sending this to me?”, I said to the computer, hoping the sender of yet another piece of pointless “pr” got the message. “Why have you put me on your distribution list?” I said to another. It occured to me at one point there’s a lot of people, these days, for whom sending and receiving an email IS their job.
Early in the day, one of my colleagues commented on how relaxed I appeared after three months. Apparently, I look quite a bit younger and still have the remains of a light tan, though it’s something I can’t see myself. As I left work late this afternoon, I asked him if I still looked okay. He said yes, though I wasn’t entirely convinced he meant it this time.
This was perhaps confirmed by the bloke in the newsagent who I haven’t seen for several years when he commented tonight, “You have more grey hair”. And then he joked, “but who am I to talk?”. As I handed over my money, I said to him “If I win Lotto, I’ll buy us both some hair dye to hide the greys”. Here’s hoping…
Although I worked a long day, I’ve arrived home and it’s still daylight which is a blessing. After I finish writing this post I’m gonna go for a walk.
And later tonight, so long as I have the energy I’m gonna go visit the Hopetoun Hotel. A mate of Mark from Perth (and formerly Sydney) is playing there tonight. He does kinda weird performance poetry stuff. I recently listed to some of his stuff on his website and he’s actually quite good. I was especially impressed by his piece about a night on the town in Rockingham, a suburb south of Perth. Quite good.
Depending on how I feel, and whether or not there’s a cover-charge, that might just be the thing for a Tuesday night. Or maybe that might be the second promise I’ve made to myself I will break today?
Hola! Madrid
I don’t think I’ve ever made it through passport control that quickly. It helped I was in one of the first few rows of economy class. It helped that ours was the only flight arriving at that time of night. And it helped, that I had only carry-on luggage. Even so, it was literally less than three minutes from when I joined the security queue to the moment when I emerged on “the other side”. I couldn’t believe my luck. And from there it was maybe a 10 minute walk to the Metro, where I purchased a five day pass. Half an hour later, and I was at the Bilbao Metro station, roughly 100 metres from my hotel, the Ibis Madrid Centro.
Though I toyed with the idea of going out for a walk around the streets to enjoy some of that legendary Spanish nightlife, the lure of a new hotel room with a good bed was too much. Instead, I opened the window, and simply enjoyed the sounds from the street below. On the fourth floor, I was high enough for the sounds to be pleasant, not annoying.
As always, I woke early. About 5.30am. Looking out the window it was still dark, and the moon was close to full. Checking online, I discovered sunrise isn’t until about 8.00am at the moment. So armed with that bit of information, and the freshness that comes from a good night’s sleep, I went for a walk around the nearby streets. There were still people out and about from the night before. Though a few people looked a little worse for wear, I felt no sense of aggression or anxiety.
When the sun finally arrived, I headed back downstairs for breakfast, and then into town to take part in one of the New Europe Free Walking Tours. “How many have done one of these before?”, our tour guide asked. Almost everyone, it seems. The first one I did was in Berlin in 2008, and since then I’ve done quite a few others. Though they’re called “free walking tours”, there’s an expectation you’ll tip the guide, and you’ll listen to some of their propaganda about other tours where you pay up front.
I was more than happy to leave a healthy tip for our tour guide, Ramón. 26 years old, and born in Argentina, he came to Madrid “about twelve years ago”, he explained. Articulate, well rehearsed, and with a wicked sense of humour, he was our guide for almost three hours, taking in some of the main tourist sites. He also provided us with terrific background on many things, including the emergence of tapas (one of the kings insisted bars provide food with alcohol to ensure worker productivity). I also asked him about the many flags around Madrid at the moment. He explained there are many reasons why people fly flags, ranging from pure and simple patriotism to neo-facism. “We have the same thing in Australia”, I told him.
After the tour I headed to the Vodafone shop to pick up a local SIM card. Though the wait was excruciating, the experience was made easier by having a charming, handsome sales assistant. It was so cute when he called out my name as “harmez”, and then corrected himself. I swear, I’ve fallen in love a thousand times since arriving in Madrid. The men here are very handsome. They’re also much shorter than I expected, and there’s also more cultural diversity than I expected, with many of the people on the tour, and many of the people I’ve since encountered, coming from South America.
I felt similarly when I wandered out last night for a drink and a bit of people watching. Unlike many other large cities in the world, Madrid still appears to have a significant “gay area”, centred around the street, Calle Pelayo. I had a beer at Pepito Grillo Cafe (an intimate bar attracting an older male crowd) before heading to LL Bar (attracting a range of ages for their drag shows).
As I wandered home, around 1.00am, there were large numbers of people still on the streets. The bars were still open, but many people were outside, enjoying the fresh air. “Would you like to buy some beers”, one of a number of young men said, as I walked by. This surprised me, as I’m sure I passed a number of shops still selling alcohol. In the midst of all these people, there was, again, no sense of anger or anxiety, and I didn’t see any alcohol-related violence. There you go Sydney, it’s possible.
Biloxing Day Blues
It’s Boxing Day and I’m in Lismore, Northern NSW. I’m not sure of the current temperature, except to say that it’s not as hot as yesterday or the day before when the temperature reached the late 30s.
What a whirlwind couple of days it’s been since I last wrote. Before coming up to Lismore I spent a few days just hanging out in Sydney. One of the highlights was going out to dinner with Colin at RQ Restaurant in Surry Hills on Tuesday night. We’d intended to go to the newly renovated Dolphin, but that was incredibly busy, and then we tried Billy Kwongs, but that was half an hour wait. So it was RQ once again and of course it didn’t disappoint.
I flew up to Lismore (my hometown) on Wednesday. Lismore is located about two hours drive south of Brisbane and is similar in many ways to Muriel’s hometown in “Muriel’s Wedding”. Or at least it was when I grew up here. In the last few years, however, the town has undergone a transformation due to the massive influx of people from Brisbane and Sydney. Nearby, towns such as Byron Bay and Nimbin have gained an international reputation. It’s one of the most sought after places to live in Australia these days.
Hey, we even have a gay pub. And on New Years Eve, there’s a gay dance party called Tropical Fruits that attracts thousands from all over NSW and Queensland. It’s being held in the Lismore Showgrounds that I remember best for fairy floss and ferris wheels. The day after the Lismore Baths will be taken over for a Gay Pool Party. Not bad for a town of 47,000.
But some things have changed for the worse. The showground, for example, is in dire financial straits, with the local newspaper laying the blame of years of poor financial mismanagement. One of big local employers of my youth, Norco, manufacturers of cheese, milk and ice-cream, now has just a skeleton staff at the South Lismore factory, with most of the manufacturing done in Queensland. I also noticed the other day there’s now covers on the railway crossing lights, indicating the railway line no longer comes through town.
Whatever has happened to Lismore, to me, it’s just still home. It’s still the small town that I left all those years ago. And on Boxing Day just after lunch, it’s warm and humid.
My new Swedish pop favourite – Anna Järvinen
For the last few weeks I’ve had the song “Lilla Anna” by the Finnish-Swedish singer, Anna Järvinen stuck in my head.
She’s a Finnish-born singer-songwriter who moved to Stockholm at a young age, according to her Swedish-language Wikipedia Entry.
The rest of the entry goes on to say she was in a pop group, “Granada” for a while, but has been a solo performer for about the last decade, and that her solo work has received a number of Swedish Grammy nominations.
The entry also mentions that she’s an art teacher on the island of Lidingö in Stockholm.
I guess what I like most about the song is the whole 60’s vibe to it, and that she looks seriously like a cross between Björk and Glenda Jackson.