In almost the same way that I carried around my new “T-Box” last night, my friend Graeme carried around a box for much of the day and the night. This is the way it is when you have things delivered to your work address because it’s near impossible to organise a home delivery when you work 9-5 weekdays. I shan’t reveal what’s in Graeme’s box, as it’s a bit of a surprise. All I can say is that its bloody heavy. After the summer break, we resumed “normal transmission” tonight. For me, that’s a combination of Swedish class followed by beers and dinner with mates at the pub.
Swedish classes recommenced for 2011 with two new students. One has a Swedish mother, and actually lived and taught in Sweden for a while back in the 1970s. The other comes from Russia, but has also lived in Sweden. It makes for a wonderfully diverse and interesting group of people. Even if I had no interest in learning Swedish, I think I’d still like to go to class :) Tonight’s class was a real job, though it’s becoming increasingly clear we’re a group of people with little interest in grammar and such, and more interest in conversation.
After class, I grabbed a cab and made my way to the pub to catch up with mates. One of the regular crew has been in hospital for an operation, so it was good to see him back and, despite a bit of pain, feeling not so bad. And then of course, there was Graeme and his box. An odd addition to the evening, but it’s great that life is back to normal on a Wednesday night. I love it.
Gosh, I love the internet. You can lie on your couch in Sydney (as the rain intensifies) and via your television set, be transported across the other side of the world to Sweden and watch the announcement of this year’s host of the Eurovision Song Contest. Sweden’s hosting this year, by the way, after Loreen won last year with Euphoria.
When she hosted Melodifestivalen, the Swedish finals for Eurovision in 2009, Petra Mede came on stage saying. “Äntligen! Äntligen!” (At Last! At Last!). I wonder how she felt when, just a few minutes ago when she was announced as the sole host of this year’s Eurovision Song Contest? Normally they have a male-female duo hosting Eurovision. One of them is usually a local pop star (and sometimes former Eurovision contestant), the other is usually a local television host. But this year, they announced her role as the sole host on Swedish television a short while ago.
Petra Mede to host Eurovision 2013
My money was on Sarah Dawn Finer who was fantastic last year as a co-host for the Swedish finals, and as the “character” who delivered the Swedish votes at Eurovision, along with Måns Zelmerlöw, the former Melodifestivalen contestant and host of the legendary Swedish television program, Allsång på skansen. I didn’t even think of Petra Mede, as she’s been “off the radar” a little over the last few years. Yes, she has had her own national night-time talk show, but it’s been a while since we’ve heard much from Petra.
And yet, she was so good at Melodifestivalen in 2009.
As well as being a warm television host, she can do a wonderful show-tune, with humour and panache. This is fantastic!
And she’s also a really nice person, apparently. My friends G&G, met her at Stockholm Pride as The Best Judge blogged in 2009.
I saw Petra at the Alcazar unplugged show that was also part of Stockholm Pride this year. She joined the group for the final song and sang ‘I’m Yours’ by Jason Mratz together. She was just very normal, no make-up, just very real and very down to earth. It made me love her even more! Then, on the Friday afternoon at Stockholm Pride, Yoda and I were sitting at a table in front of the small stage watching Magnus Carlsson perform and who should come up to our table with a bottle of coke and calamari? Yes, you guessed it – Petra Mede! She asked very politely if she could sit down and luckily our Swedish friend Claes was able to reply in Swedish. I was very unsubtle: ‘OH MY GOD, YOU’RE PETRA MEDE, YOU HOSTED MELODIFESTIVALEN THIS YEAR, YOU WERE FANTASTIC!’ Petra looked a little shocked until Claes explained in Swedish: ‘They’re from Australia.’ She politely smiled. Later, after the show, Petra was hanging around the soundbooth and I took the opportunity to go up to her and ask for a photo. She was very gracious and I explained that I had a friend who downloaded the Melodifestivalen finals for us to watch (since they would never, ever be shown in Australia!). I also explained that we watched the final as a group in our local pub on a big screen together. She was very interested in that. I said to Petra, ‘I remember the first semi-final. You were wearing that beautiful dress and you came on stage and said “Äntligen!, Äntligen!” (“At last!, At last!”). She said it again for me and laughed.
And here she is, singing with Alcazar. Have a look at the two bald heads in the front row to see my friends…
I swear, if Julia and Sam talk over the top of Petra Mede, there’ll be trouble.
‘Would you mind if another patient borrowed your wheelchair for a day or so? We don’t have enough stump rests.’, one of the hospital therapists asked me yesterday. After discussing I wouldn’t really require the stump rest for the next few days, and even less so thereafter, I readily agreed.
Now, with my newly acquired “Prosthetic Limb #1” (PL#1) – I haven’t given it a personal name just yet – my focus for the upcoming week revolves around familiarizing myself with it. This means daily walking sessions with the limb in the gym (with supportive bars) and each day increasing the duration of wearing it. Yesterday, it was only fifteen minutes of walking. This morning, I extended it to twenty minutes, and tomorrow’s goal is thirty minutes. Over the next week, we’ll progress to two sessions each day.
In between these sessions, there will be moments when I wear the limb without bearing any weight on the stump. Both my brain and body need this adjustment period. PL#1 is slightly heavier than my final limb, and this morning’s weigh-in revealed an increase in my overall weight from 68kg to 73kg. While the limb felt a bit “heavy” this morning, it has become quite comfortable this afternoon.
Due to the natural fluctuations in body weight throughout the day, I may need different “socks” at various times. This morning, a “thick sock” felt excessive, so we opted for two “thin socks,” which I’m continuing to wear this afternoon.
The woman who temporarily borrowed “my wheelchair” was at the gym this morning. We also had a conversation last night since her room is across from the kitchen.
Unlike my emergency situation, she underwent a voluntary lower limb amputation after enduring several years of problems.
“It’s really comforting to connect with someone in a similar situation,” she remarked, as we discussed the charity “Limbs For Life,” which I mentioned here a few weeks ago. It’s a peer support organization that provides a platform for amputees facing similar challenges to connect.
We also discovered that her daughter works with a friend of mine here at St. Vincent’s Hospital. Small world, eh? A retired nurse, she was a delight to chat with.
While I have plans for lunch with friends tomorrow, today has been a day of relaxation. I’ve caught up on the newspapers, enjoyed some sunshine, listened to some music, and worked some more on my “paint by numbers” project.
So anyway, I hit the town last night in expectation of a big night in Stockholm. It had been a warm day, the homos had arrived for Europride, it was a full-moon, and you just knew it was gonna be a big one. And it was. In fact, it was too bloody crowded. Even the very lovely “Torget” was packed to the roof with dozens and dozens of people who all looked remarkably identical to each other.
So instead, I ended up at an Irish bar with an Australian barman behind the counter. As I entered the bar, however, there was already trouble going on. The bouncers were dealing with a Swedish bloke who was totally wasted. Inside I heard half the story, that someone else had taken his seat by accident or something like that. And then the Swedish bloke threatened to bring in the Hell’s Angels “to close the place down” or something like that. All too dramatic for a simple kid from the country, like me, so I finished my beer, went home and hit the sack.
And now I find myself in another bar in Eskilstuna, a town of about 20,000 (I think) about 75 minutes by train from Stockholm. There’s only five other people in the bar aside from me at the moment.
There’s two Irish blokes who are obviously having a totally dodgy conversation because they keep going back and forwards between English and Swedish (presumably because they think I’m listening in to their conversation – how rude to make such an assumption). The dodgy bits seem to revolve around how long it’s going to take to get married or something like that. Sorry guys, I know the Swedish word for marriage.
And at the other table is a young woman (maybe 25) with a child and a male partner who is much, much, much older. Lots of inappropriate personal displays of affection going on at that table, let me tell you. Let’s not go there.
“And how did I get to Eskilstuna” I hear you ask? Well, I woke this morning with a great desire to get out of Stockholm. I’ve been there for about ten days, and I guess I just needed a little bit of country air. Even beautiful cities can be like that. So I went to the train station, looked for the next “out of Stockholm” train and hopped on it.
It was a fast enough trip. So fast, in fact, that my ears popped on a couple of occasions, though to be honest I slept most of the way. Once you’ve seen one pine forest, you’ve seen ’em all, in my view. And small Swedish train stations seem also to have a certain sameness about them all.
I’ve found Eskilstuna, however, to be an incredibly friendly place. I’m not sure how many tourists they get around here, but I’ve found lots of people saying hello, welcome, and all of those things you might say to a tourist, if you were so inclined.
There have been three highlights to the trip.
First, a terrific river cruise to the nearby town of Torshalla (which incidentally was where Frida from ABBA was raised after fleeing Norway). The cruise was really lovely, the views quite spectacular, and once again, it was great to view the backyards of ordinary Swedes. All along the river people were swimming or relaxing and sitting enjoying the sunshine.
Boat trip between Eskilstuna and TorshallaBoat trip between Eskilstuna and TorshallaAnd, since it’s a regulated river, we got to go through a lock and weir system which dates back to the nineteenth century. A couple of hunky Swedish blokes came out and opened and closed the mechanical weir in, I guess, the same way, as people have been doing for several generations.
The second highlight was going on a big walk (maybe 10 kilometres) along the river. Along the way I passed two inland river beaches. I was intrigued by the cultural diversity of those people using them. This wasn’t your usual blonde Swedish crowd. There were lots of darker-skinned people, including quite a few from Africa.
And a third highlight was having lunch at a cafe on the river called Restaurang Abryggan. “You don’t have to speak Swedish you know”, the waitress said to me. “And when I replied I want to”, she happily acquiessed and we conducted our dealings in Swedish. I was quite proud actually, that I basically understood everything she had to say, and responded accurately, though obviously very simply.
Frida Hairdresser in Eskilstuna, SwedenDiving Centre in Eskilstuna, SwedenTwo other things I’ve noticed in Eskilstuna are the hair dressing salon named “Frida” (presumably named after the Princess) and a Dyk Center. Ok, I know it’s a diving centre, but it’s still funny when you see the sign.
Overall, it’s been a great day. Very enjoyable. The only disappointment was that I missed the 6.05 train back to Stockholm. I was only three minutes late, but as the next train is two hours away (hourly on weekdays, every two hours on the weekend), I’ve wandered around to find myself a nice spot – “The Bishop’s Arms” – for a bit of blogging and a bit of boozing. Blogging and boozing – it’s just like being back in Sydney, I guess.
After getting into work early, I popped into the David Jones Food Hall for lunch.
Seated beside me was a woman who I would best describe as a combination of Edina from Ab-Fab and Noelene from Sylvania Waters. And I mean that in a charmingly, good way.
In the half hour or so we sat next to each other, she must have made half a dozen calls to various family members, during which she discussed “the boat”, the daughter who doesn’t love her and who is a “stupid as her father” (her ex), and her son’s new girlfriend.
“You know she threw up straight after Christmas lunch”, she said to her son. “How long have you known her? Six months? Do you love her? I think she’s pregnant. But darling if you love her, and you want to spend your life with her I’m happy to sponsor her to keep her in the country”, she added.
All of this was happening while she was knocking back a couple of glasses of Chandon, and frankly, I thought I was going to wet my pants laughing, as the family conversations got even more and more detailed. These were not quiet conversations, and I suspect the couple on the other side were enjoying them as much as I did.
Another reason to smile today was the lovely weather, with Hyde Park absolutely full, as people enjoyed the sunshine after several cloud days.
Reason to smile no. 1 – Yummy food at David Jones
Reason to smile no. 2 – The car with just married emblazoned all over it.
Reason to smile no. 3 – The re-emergence of sunshine in Sydney
And coming back to Surry Hills, I spotted a lovely car decorated with “Just Married” signs. Awwww :)
After a late afternoon nap – it’s actually a public service holiday – I caught up with John for dinner in Newtown.
I’ve known John now for almost 20 years, and we had lots to chat about.
So overall, a day in which there were many reasons to smile.
I spent a couple of hours today wandering around the Museum and Gallery of the Northern Territory, Darwin, home of the annual National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Award. Even though I’ve been to the museum a couple of times before, and I think it’s a wonderful museum, especially their Cyclone Tracey exhibition, today my focus was purely on the art award. These are the works I liked most. They’re contemporary (which is my artistic preference) and they often display humour, especially the work by Kaylene Whiskey, which is probably my favourite. The exhibition is on until November 11.
Super Anangu by Kaylene WhiskeySelf Portrait at the British Museum by Vincent NamitjiraPolice taking grog, Abbots camp, anywhere, everywhere by Sally MuldaAustralian Coat of Arms by Niningka Lewis
Is it just me, or is the text on the Australian inbound arrival card getting smaller? Between the tiny font, the bright yellow background, and the notoriously dim cabin lighting, I found myself squinting at those boxes, wondering if my eyesight is failing or if they’re trying to fit a novel’s worth of regulations onto a piece of cardboard. I used the camera app on my phone to zoom in. It’s a stark contrast to the simplicity of the flight itself. I noticed there is a trial underway for an electronic version—similar to what I used when travelling to Thailand—and I truly hope they roll that out soon to save us all the headache.
Incoming passenger card
My final day in Bangkok was all about the slow burn—or rather, avoiding it. With the mercury hitting 34°C, I spent the bulk of the day hiding in the glorious air-conditioning of my hotel room. I did attempt to head up to the pool twice in the morning, but it was a sea of tourists claiming every available chair. Instead of fighting for a spot, I retreated to my room to recover from the exertion of the last few weeks, listening to podcasts, and soaking up the cool air.
Before heading off, I did a final cull of my luggage to keep things light and easy. I left a few bits of clothing behind, ensuring my bag was well under the limit before I made my way to the airport. The transit was simple enough—a quick tuk-tuk trip to the train station and then the airport. Once there, I bypassed the crowded lifts to the fourth floor; there were just too many people with massive suitcases to make it worth the wait. Checking in with Jetstar was a breeze, even with that slight moment of “luggage-weight anxiety” we all get.
The flight itself was actually wonderful. I scored a bulkhead seat with only two of us in the row of three, and the crew were absolutely terrific.
We arrived in Brisbane earlier than expected, which usually sounds like a win—except for me, it just meant a much longer wait at the airport before the final hop. I’d clearly reached a peak level of relaxation by then, because by the time the flight attendant came to get me for pre-boarding for the final leg, I’d actually fallen asleep.
As we were leaving Brisbane, most of the other passengers had to do the walk up the stairs from the tarmac, but another woman and I were able to use the lift.
There’s always that distinct sense of travel shock when you arrive back home—seeing familiar faces in familiar surroundings after being a world away. By the time I finally walked into my apartment, the exhaustion was starting to set in. I think I underestimated just how much of an exhilaration it would be to return to a peaceful home after three weeks of such intensity.
I’ve got a couple of days to decompress before heading back to work. And then? It’s only a couple of weeks until the next adventure begins… though I can’t talk about that one just yet.
