As I walked through the streets of Paddington tonight I looked up at the sky in awe. It wasn’t one of those spectacular red, orange, pink sunsets you would normally describe as stunning. Instead, the clouds in the sky were whispy, almost powdery. It was a sight to behold.
I was in Paddington to help a friend install his new phone.
After a long day at work, I caught the bus late this afternoon. I love catching the bus. Unlike the train where people are always a little conversational, people on buses seem to love a chat. And they love chatting on their phones, in particular.
The woman behind me tonight was obviously trying to organise a meeting with a friend. “Where are you?”, the friend must have asked. “I’m just passing the um…. the ahhhh…. the…. I’m about five minutes away”, she replied as she struggled to name Victoria Barracks, the home of the Australian Army in Sydney.
Her point of reference? “I could get off at the Paddington Inn or the…. ” (as she recalled the names of the different pub stops along the way).
After fixing my friend’s phone, I came home via Oxford Street and stopped in for a bite to eat at Churra’s Brazilian Barbecue. Located the near The Balkan and the new Greek BBQ restaurant, it’s located in what is emerging as a bit of a BBQ strip on Oxford Street. I had a tasting plate which consisted of sausage, chicken, potato salad, various vegetable chips and some rice. It was very yummy and quite good value, I thought at $15.
It was almost eight o’clock by the time I got home. Sticky, humid. It was one of those walk in the door and get your gear off kinda nights.
Jumping online I was confronted with an absolutely stunning photograph of Stockholm on the blog of Sandra in Sweden.
As she describes it…
The sun is shining at last. Both yesterday and today, we are having amazingly sunny days, the kind that make you feel good to be alive. It’s been a while since we had this kind of weather, so yesterday we bundled up in our winter gear and headed out for a long walk. I don’t think I was alone in needing the sun – there were a lot of people out walking and also just basking in the rays.
And to think, I’ll be there in just over three weeks.
“Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture….” (gratuitous ABBA lyric)
“No problems .. it runs till 9 .. might be the last gathering we go to for a while?” my friend Kate said to me in a text, when I told her I might not make it to Cockatoo Island for last night’s event held there for the Biennale of Sydney.
After a week at work dealt mostly planning and action around COVID-19 (aka Coronovirus), I was feeling a little tired. In the end, when I got home, and was still dealing with some emails, I decided I didn’t have the energy or the headspace.
And besides, I’d already been out to two other events: Wednesday night at Artspace, and Thursday night at the National Art School. These are my favourite works from those events.
Artspace
This work by Ibrahim Mahama is awesome in many ways, including the smell. “It smells like a freshly oiled Drizabone, or one of the camp stretchers we had as a child.I really loved this work by Tennant Creek Brio, where they’ve taken discarded poker machines from the local club, and have turned them into works of art.
National Art School
A beautiful work by Tony Albert greets you, as you enter the NAS.
I’m normally asleep before take-off. Within seconds of switching off my mobile phone, my head can normally be found bobbing from side to side, probably to the annoyance of the person sitting next to me. And there is always only one, as I have a preference for aisle seats. I don’t want to be the one who has to ask for permission to slide through on my way to the toilet. Instead, as the person who falls asleep, I’m generally the one who the permission is asked of.
But not today. I scored well in Airline Lotto or Airline Sudoko. I’m not sure what the call it: the process where I carefully select my seat on the basis I’m hoping to score three seats between two. You tend to go towards the back of the flight, as it seens people tend to more commonly book seats in rows closer to the front. You aim for those seats where someone has already chosen a window seat, as no one ever wants to choose a middle seat. Yes, these are the thoughts that go through my mind. There’s just me and one other bloke sharing three, while the rest of the plane to Melbourne is packed to the rafters.
Not that it really matters, I suppose, since I am an awesome sleeper. Friends joke about my ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime. I can sleep on planes, on short bus trips, even when I’m with a friend and we’re lying on the couch together watching television, I can sometimes fall asleep. To my embarassment, I once slept through and missed a dinner invitation. My friends were worried and rang and sent messages, but I slept through. They teaase me about it all the time.
I thought I’d sleep all the way to Melbourne. Yes, I fell asleep before take-off. But after what I thought was a fairly decent nap I awoke, only to discover we were still on the tarmac. So, after a brief nap, I thought I’d take this time of internet silence for a few brief updates.
On the weekend I went to the new film about Erroll Flynn, “In Like Flynn”. As it was billed as a “pensioners screening” at George Street, I was imaginging something quite old fashioned. Instead, the movie is a modern action-packed adventure, telling the story of Flynn’s early life, before he went to Hollywood, when he was quite the adventurer, travelling the Papua New Guinea and Queensland. The film is quite violent, and there were times when I had to turn my ahead away, due to the violence. The film is also “quite sexy” with the lead actors providing a fair bit of “eye candy”. I quite enjoyed it, and I’d recommend it.
In Like Flynn
The other thing I’ve watched lately, and which I’d also recommend, is a Netflix documentary about the life of John Lennon. The focus for the film is Lennon’s time in New York City during the 1970s. Initially attracted to a quieter life (away from the celebrity he enjoyed in Britain), he and Yoko settled in Greenwich Village. I hadn’t realised how much there were attempts to extradite him, due to his anti-war activity. I also hadn’t realised he and Yoko had separated for a time. After a period of heavy drinking, they ended up together together, and he transformed himself into the “home dad” evident in the Double Fantasy albium. Threre’s an interesting reference to the number of times songs on the album use the word “well”, as a description of his sense of well-being. Listen to the song “Woman” and you’ll hear the word many, many times. It’s a really interesting film which I enjoyed very much.
Aside from these cinematic recommendastions, the last few weeks have involved lots and lots of work, and lots of regular catch-ups with friends. I particularly the treasure the catch-ups with my good friend who was diagnosed a few months ago with breast cancer. She’s been through a double-mastectomy and reconstruction, and she’s currently undergoing radiation therapy. Throughout, she’s had a terrific attitude of “fuck cancer”. She even has some ear-rings with that phrase on them. Yes, we talk about how she’s going with the cancer, but we also talk about “normal stuff”.
We caught up last week for dinner at The Paddington. Awesome food. Awesome company.
I’m in Melbourne for the next few days with work. I’ve also organised a catch-up on Thursday night with some friends from different parts of my life, who I think may really enjoy meeting each other. One is someone I’ve known since high school. After a number of years living in the Phillipines, he’s back living in Melbourne with the partner he met there. He loves a good chat, especially about politics, which he worked in for a number of years. Another is a friend I’ve known since university, and who is now living at Geelong. Then there’s the friend who I met many years ago while working in Wagga Wagga. Through a mutual connection, she’s also met and made a friendship with annother friend in Melbourne. They both work in photography and the arts, and through Facebook updates, I see them now catching up regularly. I think they’ll also enjoy meeting and talking about art with another friend who I only met physically about a year ago, but who I’ve been chatting online with since the days of Myspace!
As you travel through life you meet so many interesting people, and too often they are segmented into different and quite separate parts of your life – your high school days, your work colleagues, your hometown and family friends – so I’m quite excited at the prospect of half a dozen people from different parts of my life coming together and meeting each other.
And, thankfully, it’s not at my funeral!!
“How’s the weather?” I asked my friend Sue who has been in Melbourne for several days. “Sunny and 26”, she replied in a text. Clearly, I’ve brought the weather from Sydney down to Melbourne.
Kate, a friend of hers and I went to the opening of the Jumaadi exhibition at Sydney’s Watters Gallery. I first met Jumaadi a couple of years ago, as he was part of the exhibition, Crossing Boundaries curated by Kate, as part of Lunar New Year celebrations in Sydney. Jumaadi is from Indonesia, but has lived in Australia for a number of years.
Though I wasn’t a fan of the paintings in this exhibition, I REALLY loved the papercuts, and I REALLY loved the installation work. The papercuts were beautiful. As they were hanged throughout the exhibition space, there were lots of opportunities to “engage” with them.
And the installation? There was so much to see. A wonderfully engaging work of faces, limbs and even shoes! As there were lots of people taking photographs of the installation work, I really hope the exhibition is successful and he makes lots of sales.
It’s been four weeks since I last went to Swedish class, and I was feeling apprehensive. I’ve had a few commitments over the last few weeks which have kept me busy and unable to attend class. I’ve also been neglecting study, and haven’t really listened to or read much Swedish in the intervening period. I was anxious the class would have moved well beyond me, and I would have found myself struggling.
Yes, I struggled a bit, especially with a grammar exercise, but it wasn’t too bad. In fact, it was a lot of fun, especially as we spent most of the class chatting. There were three new classmates who have arrived in the intervening period, and it was great to meet them, and interesting to hear about the reasons why they’re learning Swedish. One had been a student in Sweden years ago, another had a wife, the third had a Swedish mother, and although he spoke well, he was there to learn to read and write better.
And then the subject got around to jeans. We had an exercise where we had to talk about a photograph in a Swedish photo book. The subject of one photograph got one of the classmates talking about Swedish fashion, and in particular jeans. He’s quite fashion-conscious, I think, and has quite a collection of Swedish clothing. He listed off half a dozen different Swedish clothing brands. Not being as fashion conscious myself, the only brand I recognised was ACNE.
Another classmate chipped in, and mentioned the difficulty he had in buying jeans in Sweden, since Swedish men tend (and this is a broad generalisation) to be quite tall and thin. A 34″ waist is a bit of an oddity in Swedish clothing stores, he noted. It’s a problem I shared a few weeks ago in Stockholm, when I asked for a 34-36 inch waist and was immediately taken to the “Grandpa Jeans Department”.
The original guy, who is reasonably short, complained he always has to have his jeans mended because jeans in Australia tend to be far too long. Another classmate chipped in, noting that at least H&M sell more varieties of sizes in terms of waists and leg length in Sweden than we find in Australia. I agreed. Until now, my best fitting pair of jeans was a pair I picked up in Copenhagen which recognised that some people are short and fat, not everyone is tall and thin. We all sighed that H&M hasn’t opened a store in Australia yet.
And then I chipped in with my anecdote about buying a pair of Swedish jeans from a store in Surry Hills, “Somedays” a few weeks ago. I couldn’t find the right size in Stockholm, but I found a perfect pair in Sydney.
Despite my apprehensions, Swedish class was great fun.
Afterwards, I had a drink with my friend The Best Judge about a project I’m planning to undertake. He provided some wonderful, sound advice.
“Would you like to join us for karaoke?” the young woman standing nearby asked me. As I looked at the list of available songs (all of which were in Dutch), there was one that caught my eye: “Tulpen uit Amsterdam”. With a slight twinkle in my eye, I looked at her and said, “I’ll give it a try”.
What I later found out was that she didn’t know there was an English-language version of the song, which I knew almost by heart thanks to a fondly remembered episode of “The Goodies”. What she also didn’t know was that I had some previous experience singing karaoke in Dutch. As I’ve blogged previously, back in 2008…
In a bar that comprised only two Dutch bartenders, two Dutch customers, five Spanish customers, and one Australian, it was time for a karaoke sing-along (in Dutch). As it turns out, it was the final night of residency at the bar for Jason and Kylie, and we were encouraged to sing them a farewell serenade.
The words (in Dutch) appeared on the television screen, and without even thinking twice, we all burst into song. I can’t begin to imagine how hilarious it must have been for the locals to watch the Spanish guys and the Australian bloke sing along to a Dutch-language pop song. “I’m singing in Dutch”, I kept thinking to myself in between moments of laughter. So funny.
My attempt at singing “Tulpen uit Amsterdam” in the original Dutch resulted in a combination of laughter and admiration. “You didn’t know many of the words, but you knew the tune”, one of the group said to me. That’s when I told her about the English-language version. “You should sing it in English for us too”, she said.
With just five hours in Amsterdam as I waited for my overnight train to Copenhagen, I decided a visit to “Amstel 54” was how I would best pass the time. Having considered the tourist options of a canal cruise or a visit to a gallery or museum, I decided it would be more fun to hang out with some locals.
Amstel 54 in Amsterdam
So I grabbed a map and made my way to a bar I fondly remembered from my last time in Amsterdam. It’s a predominantly gay bar that plays a great combination of pop music and where I remembered a friendly vibe towards travellers.
The bar staff may have changed since 2008, but the friendly vibe was still there. I chatted with a staff member briefly before his shift. He had observed that a woman sitting in the corner (along with a male friend, probably her partner) was doing a line drawing of the scene outside. “She’s a good artist”, I said. “And she’s got a great rack”, he responded with a smile. “As two gay men, we can be objective about these things”, he added.
Later, a couple of older guys wearing some amazing outfits joined the group in the bar. I politely asked for a photograph, which they were happy to grant.
And then there was an Australian guy in his early 30s whom I also chatted with for a while. With that distinctive accent we all know without resorting to cliché, I’d overheard him telling the barman he was travelling independently for a month, revisiting some of the places he had been to while backpacking ten years earlier. He was a nice guy who told me he was originally from Adelaide, but now lives in Darwin. Within a few minutes of chatting, I quickly realised he didn’t know he was in a gay bar—or at least, not until the main group left later in the afternoon.
The main group was there for the 39th birthday of a lovely woman called Amanda. When she and her friends began packing their bags, I wished her a happy birthday and thanked them for inviting me into their group. They all responded kindly with a hug and a wish for safe travels.
Minutes later, it was time for me to leave. With the departure of the main group and my own departure shortly afterwards, I wondered how long it would be before the bloke from Darwin realised he had stumbled into one of the most fantastic gay bars in the world.
An early CD errr LP from the Australian television program, Young Talent Time.
There have only been a couple of occasions in my life when I’ve found my musical tastes have matched up with my peers. My earliest and strongest musical influence was probably “Young Talent Time”. I absolutely adored that program and, in particular, had a special place in my heart for Jamie Redfern. In what was undoubtedly a sign of things to come, I discovered many years later that in Kindergarten, I had scrawled “I love Jamie Redfern” on my pencil case. Yes, seriously.
And then for a couple of years, I kept up with the charts, with “Explosive Hits 75” being a particular favourite album. Even though it contained popular hits such as Sherbet’s “Summer Love”, I was probably more attracted to Al Martino’s “To The Door Of The Sun” and Gilbert Becaud’s “A Little Love And Understanding”, instantly labelling me to my peers as a musical outsider. I mean, I had the posters of Sherbert (without their shirts on) plastered all over my wall, but I guess (again in hindsight) it may have been for other reasons.
And so I guess it wasn’t until the ABBA explosion of 1975-1976 that my musical tastes actually matched with my peers. Quite vividly I remember bringing along my copies of “Arrival” & “The Best Of ABBA’ to be played on the record player during lunch break, at a time when the world was divided between ABBA fans and “Bay City Rollers” fans. And then, of course, it all went pear-shaped for ABBA in Australia, with just a few of us remaining as ABBA fans.
At about this time I discovered Peter Allen, Barbra Streisand, Liza Minelli and Judy Garland (yeah, the writing was on the wall wasn’t it?), further demonstrating just how out of touch I was with my peers. While they were listening to Sunnyboys & Midnight Oil, I was discovering show tunes and the avante garde pop sounds of Yazoo, Eurythmics and Grace Jones.
And then I went to university and discovered dance music, with the likes of “Dead or Alive”, “Man To Man”, “Paul Lekakis” and various other European disco artists, providing a soundtrack which I could actually share with my peers. Mind you, a fair percentage of my friends at university were also deeply into “The Riptides” (later Ganggajang) and “The Go-Betweens” popular bands at the time.
In the period since then I haven’t really cared about the musical taste of my peers. I’ve just gone through life happily enjoying the music that I do, covering a broad spectrum of genres and artists.
But once again tonight, I was reminded about how out of touch I am with my peers when it comes to music. I’ve just finished watching My Favourite Album and was more than a little disappointed. Unlike last year’s “My Favourite Movie”, it would appear those who voted this year represent a very narrow percentage of the population. I’m guessing most of those who voted were aged 35-45 males. But isn’t that me? Well, yeah, but while I have broad musical tastes and don’t really care what others think, I’m guessing most of those who voted tonight read serious “music magazines” and like “serious rock”.
As Renee Geyer pointed out, there were no Australians, no women (five out of 100 albums had female vocalists) and no black performers in the Top 10. Instead, we had the usual suspects of white American male singer-songwriters and guitar-based rock bands. A boring, predictable list, IMHO.
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Why thanks for the plug. I will let Robert know you liked the photo. And I am sorry to say that it is now back to grey here….
Why thanks for the plug. I will let Robert know you liked the photo. And I am sorry to say that it is now back to grey here….