Tuesday
I worked, came home, hit the couch, watched television.
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Stockholm Pub Crawl
I’ve just arrived home from a pub crawl in Stockholm and, to be honest, I’m quite sober. If I had been a bit pissed, that might have helped explain why I’ve ended up in Alvsjo. In Sydney terms, I guess you might say Alvsjo is like Homebush. There’s not a lot here, aside from where the Stockholm International Fair was held and some associated hotel accommodation. By train it’s about 15 minutes from the centre of Stockholm. I’m staying in a budget motel in a very small room which I booked and paid for several months ago. As a room, it’s not so bad, though it is small, and the email confirmation did say “no facilities”. And yet I have a television, wireless internet, a clean modern room, and the bathroom isn’t too far away. Unfortunately, it cost me about $40 to get home in the cab tonight, which is something I didn’t really figure into the equation. But it was a nice enough trip and the cab driver was fine. You live and learn, I guess.
It’s been a reasonably good day also. After waking, showering and doing all of the usual holiday things, I actually did something work-related today. I caught up for lunch with a friend of a colleague in Sydney who also works in radio. We talked about radio around the world, the similarities, the differences and all of those nerdy kind of things. Still, what would you expect of two similarly aged blokes who have been interested in and working in radio since their teenage years?
Later, I checked into my accommodation in Alvsjo and then had a shower and a rest before heading back into town. Catching the train was an assortment of people including a fair number of people wearing the Europride bands around their wrists. It’s a funny sight to see so many people wearing them, and people responding so well. A mate of mine commented tonight that in London you’d be bashed for wearing one, whereas here they say, “Welcome to Stockholm”.
I went into town tonight with no firm intention in mind, except that I thought I should be home by midnight. A friend of a mate from Canberra arrives in Stockholm today and we’re gonna catch up mid-morning. So I had this idea I should be sensible, pop into town only briefly, and then come back home for a good night’s sleep.
As it was, I headed towards my favourite bar since arriving, Torget, for a quick white wine, with the intention of seeing Lady Miss Keir (the former lead singer of Dee Lite which had the hit, “Groove Is In The Heart”) play Europride. I never quite made it, though, running into my mate Paul, and his friends from London and Glasgow.
“Feel like joining us for a bite to eat”?, I was asked, and then if I had any preferences. “Swedish food”, I replied, adding to my thesis that Sweden doesn’t really do “ethnic cuisine” all that well. One of the blokes then added a story about going into a Chinese restaurant in his native Germany and being served what SOUNDED like a really interesting meal, but which turned out to be chicken schnitzel with sweet and sour sauce. So we ended up having a bit to eat at a place in Galma Stan. While the others had meat balls, I went for the salmon which was excellent.
And so we then went looking for a bit of Stockholm nightlife. One of the blokes had the idea of seeing what a guide book had described as Sweden’s best “schlager band”. Anyway, we went to the bar, had a few beers and a dance, and, after finally deciding we wouldn’t have gone to this bar anywhere else in the world, went looking for somewhere else. You just know you’re in the wrong bar when there’s a queue of about 50 blokes waiting to get in and 4 women, and the blokes have to wait outside while the women are given quick entry. And then of course, you know you’re in a dodgy place when you walk outside and there’s a woman on horseback.
The bottom line is we wandered around and around from bar to bar in an endless search, didn’t drink all that much, and then, at about 1.30 gave up, deciding it was all just a bad joke. Not long before this, one of the blokes made his position clear, “I don’t care if I don’t see Alcazar and BWO. I want to go to Lino tomorrow night and I don’t want to queue”. The advice was heeded all ’round.
And then of course, we noticed the bloody train station was closed, thus forcing us into cabs.
Still, we saw a pretty funny poodle at Central Station.
AND we had a great night, and it was loads of fun just to hang out with a really nice bunch of people.
Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade 2017
“The last time I went to the party, I saw YOU there”, I said to a colleague this week, in response to the question about my plans for Mardi Gras. “Oh that was a long time ago”, she responded. Though they say you’re only as old as you feel, I definitely feel too old for the party. Sweaty. Crowded. Noisy. Or perhaps another way of looking at it is I don’t actually have any friends who would want to go with me, even if I did. We’re all in a different phase of our lives, I guess.
But I do quite enjoy taking a walk to Darlinghurst to watch the parade. Though I must emphasise my tolerance for crowds isn’t what it once was (i.e. compared to the days when I actually went in the parade), so I tend to find a quieter spot towards the end of the parade, rather than be in the thick of it all at Taylor Square.
And though not officially “working”, I made a brief appearance on ABC Radio tonight, describing the parade.
Memories of my Catholic youth
It was sad to read this week news of the death of Sr Janet Mead. Her version of “The Lords Prayer” (which was an international hit record) came out around the time of my First Holy Communion. There are so many things I remember about that time of my life, and the song is one of them. I remember it as a time of my life when I became quite deeply religious.
I think there was a bit of interest in me from the priests and nuns, and not in the way that’s sadly become all too familiar. I was a smart working-class kid, quite good at public speaking, and I think they thought I could be a future Priest or Brother. Who knows? By now I could be living in Rome!
I used to regularly play an album called “Hymns Of Praise” – or named something like that from K-Tel – (which featured Sister Janet’s version of “The Lord’s Prayer”) and even had an “altar” of sorts in my bedroom, displaying lots of religious artefacts. Unlike many parents who might otherwise encourage an interest in religion, mum was deeply concerned about this.
We were Catholics, but not CATHOLICS! Mum would say The Rosary every night before bed, but none of us ever went to a Catholic school, and we didn’t attend church. Instead, I went with my cousins to Sunday school at the Presbyterian Church. Mum ordered me to dismantle the “altar”.
After that, I never considered a religious vocation ever again.
But I continued to be fascinated by the nuns, in particular. I know many nuns have done terrible things, but the ones I had contact with as a young person always seem like such good-hearted souls.
My “favourite” nun in Lismore was Sister Elaine. I THINK she might still be alive, though probably very, very old. I remember reading a few years ago that she had gone to live and work at a leper colony in Peru, though I can’t be sure that’s true.
It’s not often that I mention my work here, but thought I’d share a piece I did for my radio show which tells the story of Sister Janet, and how her international pop song fitted within the context of the Catholic Church at the time, and her own religious vocation.
Keen to find out more about her work, and how a “pop song” fitted in with her vocation as a Catholic nun, I spoke to Noel Debien from ABC Religion & Ethics.
“It was a very big deal. She would get 2,000 people to the cathedral in Adelaide to these “rock masses” for this type of music that she was composing and recording and performing and it was unexpected. A lot of what her parents would have learnt at school would have been Gregorian chants. It was only three years beforehand that the mass had gone into English officially. There just wasn’t much music around in English for Catholics to sing, so she was in part filling a void.
https://www.abc.net.au/radio/programs/editorschoice/janet-mead/13732262
The entire piece goes for about 25 minutes, but well worth a listen.
China – Group Tour
Sue and I went out for a meal tonight at a nearby Chinese restaurant where the food was a little spicier than what we’ve been experiencing over the last couple of days. I like spicy food, I like challenging food, I like to try new things. In contrast, the food in the last few days has been a little mainstream, a little same-same for my liking. That said, the menu’s obviously been designed with the tour group in mind: people who aren’t, perhaps, as adventurous as I am. At lunchtime, today, for example, there was a level of surprise and unsurity in the group about the flavours and the individual preparation of Peking Duck.
Going on a tour group is, by its very nature, about individual compromise. You need to go on a tour accepting there will be some things you will enjoy, some things you won’t, some people you will like, and some people you won’t. Life is about compromise. Sue and I were discussing this on the bus this afternoon, noting we would have found it difficult to have done so many of the things we have done over the last few days if we had travelled by ourselves. “We could have hired a driver for the day”, I said to Sue, but balanced that by noting it would have been more expensive to have done so, and then on top of that, there would have been all of the additional costs (including entry prices, accommodation and flights) which are all covered as part of this tour.
Today’s activities included a couple of things which I really loved (The Great Wall and The Summer Palace) and some things I wasn’t terribly excited about (a visit to a jade factory, and a visit to a factory where they make enamel-covered copper pots and ornaments). “I might have been born with the gay gene”, I joked to Sue, “but I was born with a damn big straight one as well”. I swear every man in the group (including myself) felt as though these visits looking at jewellery and ornaments were on par with Chinese water torture. I did enjoy the look behind the scenes at the manufacturing at both factories, even if I did find the final products a little uninspiring. But there again, you make compromises. For example, the part of the wall we visited was good but not as great as the spot I visited when I came here in 2010. I really loved The Summer Palace: a really beautiful spot on a lake.
The dynamics (and the pros and cons) of being on a tour group are fascinating to participate in and observe. There’s one couple in the group, for example, who seem to want to dominate proceedings, in some ways want to run the tour themselves. Hopefully, by the end of the tour, this particular couple might have learned a few lessons about the compromises inherent in travelling in a group, and maybe accepting the guides have done the tour before and maybe know a little more than you.
Cat On A Hot Tin Roof
When I got up this morning and looked at the television guide, it was clear there was only one program worth watching/recording: a mid-afternoon screening on Channel 9 of the classic, “Cat On A Hot Tin Roof”.
I don’t know how many times I’ve seen this film. The first time was probably in childhood. Though I obviously didn’t understand the deeper meaning then, there was still something about the story which captivated me. I’ve watched it numerous times since, and with every viewing I pick up something new. As a child it was a kind of interesting story of a family going through a crisis surrounding the imminent death of the patriarch. In my late teens, there was the sudden realisation of the potentially deeper friendship – potentially gay relationship – between the Paul Newman character, Brick and his best friend, Skipper. This was possibly the reason for Brick’s alcoholism: he got married, when deep down he was actually gay. Later, I realised what good actors Paul Newman and Elizabeth Taylor actually were: it wasn’t just Hollywood hype. And then the thing I picked up today, which was quite superficial, was the realisation Paul Newman was a seriously sexy man.
At a deeper level, I really love the works of Tennessee Williams. Although this is my all-time favourite, I’m also a great fan of The Glass Menagerie (1944), A Streetcar Named Desire (1947) and Suddenly, Last Summer (1958). The latter is an amazing film which also deals with repressed homosexuality and features Elizabeth Taylor. I guess what I like about his work is the complexity of the characters – the characters are usually, genuinely, seriously “f^&*d up”! (they make my life seem reasonably normal, in comparison :) – combined with such beautiful writing. Every word has depth and meaning.
Aside from that, it’s been a day of transforming my house from a semi-brothel like situation into something you might equate with first world living. Gosh, it was messy.
Tomorrow, I’m off to a Sydney Fringe play, a party, and then who knows what.
And with just a few weeks until I’m off to China, I’m starting to do some proper holiday research.
Life is a kabarett
The rise of right-wing populism in the world today is evoking for me, and many others, a chilling sense of déjà vu. For me, it taps into my long-held fascination with the politics and culture of 1920s/1930s Germany, a period I was introduced to during my high school years. Back then, History and German were my favorite subjects.
A trip to Germany during my final high school year to a still-divided Berlin solidified this fascination. It coincided perfectly with the peak of German pop’s influence in Australia, with songs like “Da Da Da,” “Der Kommissar,” and “99 Luftballons” topping the charts.
This period of my teenage years also marked the discovery of the musical “Cabaret,” its captivating score and themes of political turmoil and sexual liberation sparking an obsession.
Delving deeper, I explored the music and stories of the Weimar Republic. Artists like Brecht/Weil and Marlene Dietrich, and many others, captured my attention. This era of incredible liberalism and democracy swiftly descended into fascism, a chilling parallel to the potential dangers of our current political climate.
While I appreciate a good love song, cabaret’s edgy and political side truly resonates with me. This is what drew me to a recent show at Sydney’s Spiegeltent featuring Bernie Dieter, who is described as the “undisputed queen of punk cabaret.”
The show was a whirlwind combination of live music, acrobatics, wicked humor, and a healthy dose of political satire.
Her performance evoked thoughts of the other Nena of that era – Nena Hagen, an East German artist who never quite fit in anywhere, really. Though I loved her fierce political views and eclectic beliefs, including a fascination with ancient aliens, along with her strong vocals.
Throughout the show, Dieter’s audience interaction was audacious. At one point, she landed right on my lap! Later, my friend Michaela jokingly remarked, “I was worried your prosthetic leg might come off!” “I’m sure she would have handled it,” I replied.
The show’s acrobatics were equally impressive, adding another layer of spectacle to the evening. It was a truly remarkable performance, and I highly recommend it.
In contrast, my recent experience with Arthur Miller’s classic play “Death of a Salesman” was more introspective. Though familiar with the play, I had never seen it before. This production, directed by Neil Armfield and starring Anthony LaPaglia, offered a fresh contemporary perspective, even though it was first performed in the 1940s.
As the title suggests, the play follows Willy Loman, an aging salesman nearing the end of his career, who ultimately takes his own life. Accompanied by three friends in their 50s and 60s, I found myself deeply affected by the play’s themes of aging in the workforce, feelings of obsolescence, and societal pressure to succeed. These themes remain powerfully relevant today.
The play also explores the complex parent-child dynamic, highlighting the inevitable disappointments and the importance of letting go of unrealistic expectations. Despite its tragic ending, a glimmer of hope emerges as the characters confront the limitations of societal and personal expectations.