As well as the CD, the digital radio, it’s also got an iPod Dock and you can connect USB players/devices via the port on the front of the unit to play MP3 and WMA tracks, although it’s unlikely Colin will use the other components.
The CD and the radio, however, are excellent.
Were it not for the fact that I’m heading overseas soon and am trying NOT to spend money, I would have bought one myself.
So in an effort NOT to spend money, I spent the remainder of the day at home listening to music, reading, and for a while chatted with Damien over Skype.
He’s currently in South East Asia on an extended trip.
I also did a little of my own travel planning, securing a couple of train tickets between Stockholm and Malmo.
Although I tried several times to purchase the tickets online, I was unable to. Sometimes the apostrophe in my name causes confusion for websites. I think in this case, there must be an issue with trying to purchase the tickets with an Australian credit card, as it was processed easily via a telephone call to SJ, the Swedish train system.
It’s Tuesday afternoon, another glorious day in Sydney and there’s a bit to report from the last few days.
Although I didn’t do all that much on Boxing Day, Monday was reasonably busy. After watching news of the earthquake and tsunamis on television the night before, I went into work early yesterday, anticipating the need for fairly extensive coverage.
Early in the morning I spoke with an old school friend, Jacki, who’d lived in Phuket for a number of years, asking her for advice about people to speak to. She told me she had no idea about the scale of the tragedy, putting her in a similar position to a lot of people, but possibly moreso since she still knew people there. Indeed, she and her husband were meeting his business partner who still lives in Phuket for lunch that day.
A day or so on and I can’t conceptualise the death of at least 24,000 people. Angrily, I watched Fox News this morning during which the presenter commented, on being told there had been limited attempts to inform the countries involved of the tsunami risk, “Well, they’ll listen next time, won’t they?” There was a really nasty streak running throughout the line of questioning throughout their coverage, with one question implying the Indian Government hadn’t told the people in the affected areas because they weren’t involved in high-tech industries. Just plain nasty. I’ve also been pretty disappointed with local stories along the lines of “could it happen here”. Just plain selfish.
At lunchtime, I caught up with Sue briefly at Central Station. She has been visiting her family back home on the North Coast and, before heading off to the Blue Mountains, had some time to kill. Although brief, we caught up on a lot of family and North Coast news, which was great.
After lunch, I wandered down to Circular Quay, weaving my way back through the Botanic Gardens to the Art Gallery of NSW. There was also an amazing large piece by (I think) George Tjungurrayi which consisted of a series of patterns which really “sang”, which I just sat down and watched for quite some time. I also really enjoyed a series of works by Brett Whiteley from the 1950s painted around the theme of homeless people at a Soup Kitchen. More “traditional” in style than his later, better known work, I found them really interesting to see on a number of levels. On the one hand, it made me consider the long-term problem of homelessness in Sydney and on another, it made me think of the ongoing interest of artists in homelessness, questioning motives.
Actually, speaking of Whiteley, the Whiteley Gallery is just around the corner from where I live and I noticed, walking past the other day, a Development Application which would make the gallery a more regular open public space. The most ridiculous artwork I saw, however, in my view, was a piece called Graters Untitled which consisted of a number of old cheese and vegetable graters, arranged in no particular order. Tell me if I missed the point?
Speaking of the good things in life… I’m enjoying my Christmas present to myself, an Espresso Machine. My first attempt at a flat white was pretty disastrous: it was not strong enough. My second attempt was better, though I didn’t do a very good job with the milk. But by my third attempt, I was pretty happy with both.
Wow… what a post… 24,000 dead, art and coffee machines. There’s something a bit twisted in all this.
There were times today at Radio Days Jo’burg when I thought my head might explode. Not literally, of course, but metaphorically as I found myself trying to understand ideas, concepts, and life situations well beyond my normal frame of reference.
During a morning break, for example, I was chatting once again with a lovely woman who I’ve got to know over the last few days. I can’t remember how the conversation got around to the complexities of language, identity and national borders, but she did her best to explain some of the complexities of this part of the world to me. She explained that her clan name occurs in several different countries (not just in South Africa), that tradition means she can and cannot marry some people, and that rivers and mountains which often define national borders make little sense in this part of the world.
As complex as all that was, the two most powerful presentations I attended today were, coincidentally enough, given by the people I sat with over breakfast over the last few days. Over breakfast we’ve chatted in a combination of French and English, as Jacques is from the Democratic Republic of Congo and Monique is from Madagascar. When I say “combination of French and English” what I really mean is Jacques spoke no English, I spoke no French, and Monique did her best to keep the conversation flowing.
Monique Rakotoanosy is a lecturer in journalism at the University of Antananarivo., Madagascar.
In her presentation today she explained the shortcomings of the media in her country, where there’s only one national radio station and a multitude of smaller radio stations (mostly run by church organisations). Her country is overwhelmingly poor, there’s little in the way of “civil society” in a Western sense (though she argued there was a different type of civil society there), and there’s heavy censorship of the media both officially and unofficially. She explained today how 80 of Madagascar’s radio stations had been closed down since 2010, with intimidation, threats, and the gaoling of journalists all being fairly common. Her main goal at the moment is to revitalise the radio academy there as a means of improving journalism and independent thought in her country. When I asked her if there was the possibility of support from people from Madagascar who may have moved away, she told me there was a significant diaspora from Madagascar (especially in France), but that she felt the solutions should come from at home, especially from the students.
Jacques Kokonyange is the station manager at Radio Muugana, a radio station in the Democratic Republic of The Congo.
He explained the difficulties of being “independent” in a country where there were civil war exists. He talked about how you need to adapt to such a situation, and explained they no longer do live phone calls to air because of the “risk” to those involved.
There was also a very powerful presentation by Dika Khesa, a radio station manager at Karabo FM in the Orange Free State part of South Africa. He told a very descriptive story about how his radio station was overtaken by people during a period of civil unrest when forty people in his community died/were killed. He described that on one hand he had the broadcasting authority in South Africa wanting to shut his station down, but on the other hand, had to deal with a large group of drunken people invading his radio station.
Also today there was a really interesting discussion this morning about radio in Mozambique. In particular, I was really interested and moved by the story of Zenzele Ndebele, who described how he and others had been running a radio station “without a licence” for ten years. He explained how they make a daily radio program which they distribute in a variety of ways, ranging from Facebook, Twitter and Soundcloud, to having the program played in cafes, and distributing CDs by couriers around the larger cities of Mozambique.
As I listened to these stories I began to think how comparatively trivial was the presentation I’m preparing to make tomorrow at the conference about Australia’s experiences with digital radio. Yet I guess that’s what makes the conference so interesting in some ways – the contrasting experiences and many different stories to be told.
Interview with Mo-G at Kaya FM in Johannesburg
Later in the afternoon, I was invited to be today’s “International Guest” on Kaya FM, a local radio station here in Johannesburg. When the producer, Ernest, greeted me, he explained that the daily segment aimed to focus on South Africans working abroad and on people visiting South Africa. Their interest in me was as an international delegate attending Radio Days Jo’burg. Having listened to the station over the last few days, I knew this wasn’t going to be the most in-depth I’d ever done. The presenter, Mo-G told me Australia was the first country outside of South Africa that he had ever visited. “It was 1998”, he told me, “…and I was playing rugby”. I really enjoyed doing the interview very much, and the staff at the radio station were very warm and welcoming.
Would it be wrong if I wore thongs, not shoes to work tomorrow? What about shorts, instead of pants? Yes, yes I know the answer to both questions.
For a mid-ranking bureaucrat such as myself, it’s part of the deal, part of the shtick that I should wear always nice pants (and usually a jacket) and a nice shirt (and sometimes a tie) because there are occasions when I need to be a public face for the organisation.
And after years of wearing reasonably casual clothing to work, it’s kinda nice to be in a job where I regularly wear nice clothing to work. I feel kinda grown up. And best of all, I don’t have the daily fashion crisis about what to wear. I mean, there’s not a lot you can get wrong when you wear a suit most days. At worst, a mis-matched tie on the odd occasion I wear one.
But today was warm. Really, bloody warm. And so I left my jacket at home and wore to work just a nice pair of pants and an open-necked shirt.
James and Vanessa wearing almost matching thongs at The Huntsbury
Everyone else I work in close proximity to was a little more casual, reflecting the warmer weather. And for a while today I spent some time in one of the more modern, creative parts of the organisation where it seems short and thongs were de rigueur. Hairy legs too :)
For just a moment, I felt rather envious of my colleagues who could wear thongs and shorts to work. Admittedly I did that when I worked from Lismore a few weeks ago, and usually when I come in on the weekends I’ll be wearing thongs and shorts, but I just couldn’t get away with it on a weekday, I’m sure.
I felt even more envious of my colleagues as I left work and made my way to Circular Quay to the Open Air Cinema. The train was a sweat-box in the extreme, not helped by long pants and collared shirt.
And then at the Opera House – as I found myself a nice seat to enjoy a bite to eat and a glass of wine ahead of meeting my friend, John – it was hot there too. The first cool spot I found was under a tree outside the gates leading to the Open Air Cinema.
Inside, we found a great place to sit, too, with some lovely shade. The only downside to the shade was later, when the sun set, and the fruit bats found a home in the tree above. The poor woman sitting next to me seemed to cop the most. I only had a little excrement worry about, but they pissed and shat on her for most of the movie.
Bat Crap at the Open Air Cinema
Luckily the film was good, though I couldn’t get into it at first. I was too busy thinking about things from work for the first half hour of the film. I also found the opening moments of Conviction, a little confusing as the story began to unfold of the “working mother puts herself through law school in an effort to represent her brother, who has been wrongfully convicted of murder and has exhausted his chances to appeal his conviction through public defenders.” Thematically it’s a bit like the biopisc about Erin Brokovich and Karen Silkwood, being the story of an “ordinary” person who does extraordinary things.
I never really warmed to the brother, though. It was difficult to understand why she would spend so much of her life defending her brother, especially when I wasn’t really convinced he hadn’t committed the murder until the very end of the film. But she’s very likeable, and very realistic. I would have preferred not to have seen the real-life shot of the brother and sister at the end, as I guess it highlighted how Hollywood may have “sexed up” the story a little with more bankable, attractive actors.
But like I said, it was a good film.
Open Air Cinema
And I loved going to the Open Air Cinema. It’s a truly fantastic experience to watch a movie on a big screen – the projection was excellent – with Sydney’s CBD, the Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge as a back-drop.
As we walked back through the park and up to Oxford Street, there was a real buzz in the air. Everyone had enjoyed the film. By the time I got to Oxford Street, the oppressiveness of the humidity became evident.
There were people in thongs everywhere. Maybe it’s an omen?
Gee, that was a relief. I managed to “survive” the telecast on ABC1 of the Andrew Olle Media Lecture without one single shot of me with a glass of wine in my hand. Conscious of a previous telecast where they crossed twice to an image of me with a glass at my mouth, I’ve resolved never to drink during the actual lecture itself.
That was, without doubt, the highlight of my Sunday which was, otherwise, spent relaxing. I’m heading off to Darwin this week, and, conscious of how exhausting “work trips” can be, I resolved to do as little as possible today. The only other “energetic” things I’ve done today, have been go to the supermarket tonight and go to lunch today at the nearby Indian vegetarian.
While I sat and ate my meal, a couple came in – a couple from an Indian background, I assumed by their facial features – and asked about the cuisine. When they were told it was vegetarian, they apologised and walked out. I found this quite remarkable. I mean, I can understand a vegetarian walking out of a restaurant that only sold meat, but I can’t understand the reverse. We spend most of our lives NOT eating meat, don’t we? So why would the absence of meat exclude you from eating at a restaurant? Sometimes I like nothing more than a big plate of pork or a steak, but I always have vegetables with those dishes (well, maybe not the pork).
And the only other energetic thing I’ve done has been go for a walk along Bourke Street. Even though Bourke Street remains a bit of a mess, and even though no one seems to be using it, I think I understand the method in the madness of the cycle-way. That was a conclusion I came to this afternoon as I walked down one of my nearest neighbouring main streets.
Only ten years ago, Bourke Street was a noisy one-way thoroughfare, balanced by the noisy one-way thoroughfare of Crown Street. Now, Bourke Street is a quiet suburban two-way with a cycle-way under construction. Oddly enough, those driving through Surry Hills have yet to learn that you don’t have to use Crown Street, you can also use Reilly and Bourke Streets.
Not what you’d call the most interesting day of my life, though the week ahead sounds more interesting: I’m heading off to the World AIDS Day Sondheim Tribute tomorrow night, and for the rest of the week I’m in Darwin. I arrive back Saturday night, and then on Sunday I have a meeting of my art group, and then a movie catch-up with a friend.
A lazy Sunday seems reasonable, in that context, don’t you think?
Bourke Street, Surry Hills
Andrew Olle Media Lecture – Cassie, Martin, James, Peter, Roger
Even on a Friday night, it can be hard to find somewhere to eat in Sydney after nine o’clock.
This is not a new thing, but it seems to have worsened since COVID, with many restaurants closed.
I remember arriving in Rome a few years ago, and the incredulity of the waiter to my assumption that at 9.30pm I was already “too late” for a meal. He just didn’t understand why I would even think that.
And then in New York, being able to see a show on Broadway, and then going to a fairly nice restaurant meal at around 11pm. Salman Rushdie was dining at a nearby table
Although Sydney often likes to think of itself as a “world class city” our opening hours for restaurant meals seem to harken back to the 1960s.
Getting a meal at 9.00pm on a Friday night seems to be the equivalent of the six-o’clock-swill in 1950s hotels here. You need to get in early or go with whatever is available.
And on Sydney’s Oxford Street now, that seems limited to burgers.
If you don’t want to go to the Sydney Casino, you need to go to Chinatown, and that’s what I did last night.
Though a little expensive, East Ocean is the best place!!. You can go in there at midnight, and the food is still good. This meal actually lasted me three meals, with a late night snack and lunch the next day also covered!
In other Oxford Street news, a major hotel renovation which has been proceeding at a glacial pace has taken a step forward as a legendary sign is replaced, which suggests a more “upmarket” venue is emerging.
The Brighton Hotel. The infamous “Lick Her” sign that used to accompany the liquor store.The building has been under renovation for maybe a year or so, but finally they’ve gotten around to changing the sign. The Brighton has become The Riley.
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isn’t it sad that when you say MALMO a place in sweden does not first spring to mind- rather a series of furniture…
isn’t it sad that when you say MALMO a place in sweden does not first spring to mind- rather a series of furniture…