Although we had intended to go to Lupitas, a tapas restaurant on Elizabeth Street, Surry Hills, I guess one of us – probably me – should have checked to make sure it was actually open on a Tuesday night.
Damo was in town for Spanish class and that’s why I recommended something Spanish. Co-incidentally, I saw a terrific blog post, which recommended the nearby restaurant in rather glowing terms.
Unfortunately it wasn’t to be, so we headed across the road to El Bulli, another Spanish tapas restaurant which I’ve passed many times but have never been to before. We were both starving and so thought – what the heck. It was nine o’clock and El Bulli was pretty busy for a Tuesday night we thought. Still, they found room for us, though regrettably next to a rather loud guitarist and pan-pipe player who, though talented, was just a little close and we found ourselves cupping our ears, shouting slightly and lip-reading to maintain the conversation.
El Bulli Spanish Tapas in Surry Hills
The food was good, though not stunning. The stand-out for both of us, I think was the pickled herring which was just beautiful, with a slightly more sophisticated, gentle flavour than you might otherwise find with rollmops. The chorizo was also good and so was the ham. We also had some rather tasty balls which contained all manner of things. “Surprisingly filling” was how both us described the three simple tapas plates we had. I also had a beer, just so I could say I’ve had a Spanish beer. I’m not sure I’d go back there, but it was fine for a Tuesday night catchup. And judging by the photographs on the blog about Lupitas, we missed out on something rather special there.
But maybe it’s also because I’ve been feeling a bit crook over the last few days. On top of my food poisoning experience on Saturday night, I’ve been a bit sniffly and sneezy for the last couple of days which I mostly put down to the change of season and assorted crap in the atmosphere. I would have cancelled tonight except we haven’t seen each other in quite some time, and so when I left work tonight I came home and went straight to bed to see if I could get back a bit of energy. I think I may need a day in bed tomorrow to try and kick whatever this malady is.
Messina, Crown Street, Surry HillsFurther to my previous post about Sydney’s ice-cream phase/fad/obsession, I have one thing to say: “it’s winter, it’s Monday night, it’s 10.30pm, it’s time for these people to be home in bed, not queuing for ice-cream”. :)
Swedish class was a lot easier this week, and therefore a lot more enjoyable.
Amongst the many things we did this week was listen to, and study the lyrics from the recent Melodifestivalen hit song, Snälla snälla by Caroline af Ugglas. Grant did a terrific translation of the song, and I brought a CD along to class. We read the words, attempted our own translation, and then listened to the song.
It was good in many ways. The lyrics were reasonably simple and so we could all follow what was happening without too much difficult. It was great fun to listen to the song, and it seemed to cross the range of age and interests in the group. And mostly, it was a new and contemporary way to practice Swedish.
Oh yeah, and did I mention the rain?
Last night, we were heading home without the power. Tonight, it was in heavy rain.
I was tired after work today and so didn’t go to Swedish class. I’m a little exhausted after the last two days at work which I’ve found a little boring and bureaucratic. So I came home, bought a pizza, bought a bottle of wine, and did absolutely nothing, as I consumed both while watching television.
“I’d like to know who approved this”, my friend David said today of the Jeff Koons exhibition at the Versailles Palace. “I mean, I quite like his work”, he added, but wondered why this world-famous building was deemed an appropriate space to exhibit Koon’s famous statue of Michael Jackson and Bubbles.
“Maybe it’s because of the extravagance of the work. Or maybe he was influenced by Versailles?”, I wondered out loud, trying to understand myself. I mean there’s a certain extravagance in his work, and he uses a lot of gold leaf, but the works did seem kinda odd when exhibited against furnishings and art work with a definite eighteenth century feel to them.
As it was my final full day in France, David suggested we should visit Versailles. “Sure, why not?”, I thought to myself, recognising that deep inside I only had a knowledge of the palace because that’s where the peace agreement for the First World War was signed. Until I did some reading, I didn’t really know it was the home of the royal family for over 100 years, and that at one point in history, about five-thousand people had lived there.
With the memory of the signing of the Treaty of Versailles in my head, I wasn’t prepared for the size of the palace and the grounds. Nor was I prepared for the huge amount of tourists who were there today. Thank goodness David knew some of the shortcuts to try, and we avoided queues all of the day.
After lunch we went on an English language tour of the royal family’s private chambers during the reigns of Louis XIV, XV and XVI. As you might expect, they were quite lavish, though not as outrageous as I thought they might have been. Our tour guide, who was excellent, also gave us an insight in the human face of these royal figures, and of their own idiosynchrasies.
The story, for example of Louis XV (I think) who failed to take communion for over thirty years because he didn’t feel he could because of his own infidelity was a fascinating one.
As was the story of the transformation of the royal guards from being made up solely of foreigners (because they had no allegiances) to being made up solely of French aristocracy (as a good PR exercise for the many different areas of France, and to help the French aristocratic families who were finding things financially difficult).
Unfortuntely, we couldn’t visit the private domaine of Marie-Antoinette, due to bad weather. As in Sydney, France had a terrible storm in 1999 which the authorities had failed to warn about. “Ever since then, they’ve over-reacted to any storm warning”, David told me, echoing the experience we have back home.
With the day cut short, David dropped me at the train station and we bid each other a fond farewell.
On my arrival back in Paris, I called in for a glass of wine to celebrate my final hours here. As I walked in to the nearby brasserie, my attempt to order a simple glass of wine failed. As in high school, when I elected to learn German not French, I’ve realised once again French as a language totally eludes me. I know the words, I hear the pronunciation, but everything just comes out wrong. So I’m back in the hostel, resting up and updating my blog.
Tomorrow is a really big day for me: I’m leaving to come home. I can scarcely believe my time is nearly up. A hideously long flight awaits me, broken up by a couple of days in Hong Kong, which I hope will be just the right medicine to ensure a smooth transition back to life in Sydney.
It must be a decade, maybe more, since the glory days of the Grand Pacific Blue Room on Oxford Street, Sydney. They had good food and service, and they were located in an imposing building which, sadly, has remained empty for a number of years. That particular part of Oxford Street, which was once vibrant, is a shadow of its former self, with many empty shops.
As I sat and waited for my friend to arrive, I had a beer at The Beauchamp Hotel. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, Sunday afternoon drinks at The Beauchamp were part of my weekend routine. Across the road, The Albury was still a very popular gay bar, and so you would often find people going back and forward between the two. As they were opposite each other, The Beauchamp gained the nickname, “The Wodonga”.
So it was with some fondness and excitement that a friend suggested we dine at Don Peppinos, a new restaurant which has opened in the old Grand Pacific Blue Room. The food, the atmosphere and the service were all excellent. And they seem to be doing quite well, as on the night we were there, they were running two sessions, both full.
SardinesPasta
The other really terrific place where I’ve eaten lately is called “The Spice Temple”. Their website declares they’re “one of Australia’s most awarded Chinese restaurants”, and it’s easy to see why. Again, very good food, and very good service. The only downsides – perhaps a little too dark for my ageing eyes to read the menu, and it was probably a little too pricey for my budget. But an awesome experience, especially as it was an opportunity to farewell a long-term colleague.
I spent a lot of the day answering questions from friends, family and colleagues. You know how it is, though. You’re trying to do your job (Friday always has lots of deadlines I need to meet), and there’s a pop up message which you answer quickly, ignore, or promise yourself to get back to later in the day.
The questions, today, weren’t especially complex. They often didn’t involve a simple “hi, hello” greeting. No context was needed. They just simply asked, “so, what do you think?”
They all wanted to know what I thought of the new ABBA songs, released less than 24-hours ago “I don’t think I know yet. I think I need time to think, to write down my thoughts and feelings first”, I’ve told most of them.
And that’s mostly why I’m writing this blog post, to make some sense of it all.
I’ve actually appeared three times on different ABC Radio stations in the last 24-hours, since I’m considered a bit of an “ABBA Expert” amongst my colleagues. They’ve all asked similar questions. “What do you think of the songs. What do you think of the holograms they’re using, rather than their 70-something selves who are in the video clips and will appear in the stage show”, that kind of thing.
ABBA, now aged in their 70s, dressed up in outfits used to create the holograms in the video clip and in the forthcoming live showsAnd here are the holograms (or whatever they are). When I spoke on ABC Radio with Wendy Harmer and Robbie Buck, I told them someone had posted “They look like Star Trek meets Tomb Raider”. Wendy laughed so hard!!
Probably the hardest question I was asked was by Angela Catterns from ABC North Coast. Ange is a legendary Australian radio announcer, best known from her days at Triple J and ABC Radio Sydney. I first came to know her from her days as a reporter on the TV show, Simon Townsend’s Wonder World which I watched as a child, growing up here in Lismore. In an earlier life, Ange worked at the local commercial radio station here in Lismore, 2LM.
She’s semi-retired and living back here now, doing the Saturday Breakfast Show. We recorded an interview today which she’ll put on the radio tomorrow (Saturday).
Before we started recording, she told me a close friend of hers, a well known Australian composer, had said to her “their production is always perfect”. “Yes, it is”, I agreed, “but there’s always an imperfection too. A slight issue of pronunciation. A slightly quirky orchestral sound”, I added. “That’s what I really like. The imperfection, the honesty of it all”, I told her. This is far more evident the more deeply you go into their back catalogue, and further into their career.
Ange’s simple question, “why do you like ABBA?” required some deep thought, asking me to consider why so much of my life has revolved around this pop group. They’ve been at the centre of friendships I’ve made, the career decisions I’ve taken, the travel I’ve undertaken, as well as other artistic and cultural pursuits in my life.
On many occasions on this blog, and throughout my life, I’ve mentioned the film, “Muriel’s Wedding”. The film features Toni Collette as Muriel, the outsider who grew up in Porpoise Spit, looking for something “more” in her life. There’s a bit of Muriel in all of us, in some ways, even if you didn’t necessarily grow up like I did, in a NSW North Coast town which dreams of moving away and finding a more interesting life.
At one point in the movie, Muriel confides to her friend…
When I lived in Porpoise Spit, I used to sit in my room for hours and listen to ABBA songs. But since I’ve met you and moved to Sydney, I haven’t listened to one Abba song. That’s because my life is as good as an Abba song. It’s as good as Dancing Queen.
As a kid growing up in my own version of Porpoise Spit, ABBA represented something very exotic for me.
I mentioned that exoticness to Angela in the radio interview, adding that the music we connect with as children and teenagers stays with us throughout our lives. “I listen to a lot of other music too”, I told her, “But I keep coming back to ABBA. Their music was how I learned about life, through the emotional roller coaster of the lyrics of their deeply personal songs. On another level, there’s the connection between ABBA’s music and the many very happy (and sad) times in my life.
A number of friends (ABBA fans) have posted comments about how they literally cried when they heard/saw the new songs. I wasn’t that emotional myself, but there was still a deep connection.
As I watched the video for “I Still Have Faith In You”, I listened closely to Frida’s voice (she has always been my favourite), and the harmonies with Agnetha. Aged 76, Frida’s voice sounds a little older, a little more fragile, with a stronger accent than which is evident in her earlier recordings. Personally, I love that.
“You know how when you’re a teenager you can sometimes listen to the same song over and over again? Well, I’ve been doing that”, I told Angela.
“Don’t Shut Me Out” (with lead vocals by Agnetha) is a song you can listen to over and over again. It’s a smooth pop song, but every time you listen you hear something new. An instrument, a vocal, there’s lots to discover”.
So, the short answer to the question is, “I like the new songs very much, but I haven’t completely discovered everything there is to know about them yet”. Undoubtedly, there will be lots more to discover as I continue to sit in my room in Lismore listening to ABBA songs. I’m sure there’ll be a follow up blog post.
Outrageous! I shall be writing to Kirstina Keneally and Barry O’Farrell about this ahead of this weekend’s election. Clover Moore – please explain! Failing that, a stern letter to The Herald.
Closed on a Tuesday! Just like the Louvre….
Outrageous! I shall be writing to Kirstina Keneally and Barry O’Farrell about this ahead of this weekend’s election. Clover Moore – please explain! Failing that, a stern letter to The Herald.