There was a brief moment when min kompis Graeme and I looked at each other and thought “this is not real”. We have only ever known each other in Sydney and surrounds, but there we were, sitting together in a bar in Stockholm.
As late as I made my decision to come to Stockholm, he made his even later. The temptation of a mid-year escape from Sydney, Stockholm and Stockholm Pride became far too great in the end. He’s here for about 10 days, staying for a few more days after I return to Sydney.
Stockholm Pride
We spent several hours together wandering around the city, looking in shops, taking photographs, and generally enjoying ourselves until all of a sudden we realised the day had almost disppeared before our eyes. It was six o’clock and time to head off home to freshen up. In my case that meant a brief nap before heading out to enjoy some of the festivities of Stockholm Pride.
Later, we met up with min kompis, Kim and his friend Linus at Victoria on Kungsan to see Hallå hela pressen. They’re the Swedish schlager band we have both seen before and both like very much. They perform great Swedish pop songs with enthusiasm, passion and fun.
The venue was really crowded. “It’s our busiest night of the year” the waiter told us when he asked us to move from the table we had been sitting at for an hour. “Someone must have forgotten to put the reserved sign on, or someone must have taken it away” was the rather lame excuse offered to us. And so we made way for a group of young attractive women who spent the next hour or so with their backs to the stage. Not that we’re bitter about it, but it reminded me of the joke “What’s the Swedish word for customer service? Oh, you mean there isn’t one?”.
Still, we had a great time singing along to their songs, and managed to make it home before the sun rose.
Even though I may have appeared on a Mardi Gras float or two in my life, a good friend claims that I just don’t act “gay” enough. In fact, part of her argument about why I’m “still single” is that I just don’t give off enough of a “gay vibe”. She argues I’m missing out on potential suitors because they just don’t know that I’m gay.
It would be wrong to use the phrase “straight acting” to describe myself. First, because I think it’s actually quite a negative, possibly homophobic phrase which carries with it some quite bizarre notions about appropriate gender behaviour. And second, because it’s simply not true: for everything aspect of my life that’s “straight acting” there’s probably another aspect of my life that’s “quite girly”.
Although I think we’re all a bit of everything, I’m not one for the “I don’t like labels” ideology that seems to be fairly common these days. I think if you’re straight, you’re straight (or gay or bisexual or whatever) and you should be happy enough in yourself to be able to say “yep, that’s what I am”. Although I understand notions of labelling theory, that once you declare yourself something, you can begin to fulfill the stereotype, I don’t think that needs to be the case in the modern world in which we live. I think we label ourselves in so many other ways, it’s crazy not to label potentially one of the most important aspect of our lives: who we fall in love.
It’s interesting though, as just a few years ago I was in Estonia where I went to a local club, “Angel”. On entering the door, they actually gave you a badge declaring your sexuality. They gave me a “gay” badge: I don’t know how they knew :) As I wrote at the time…
Swedish T-Shirt and Estonian Gay Badge
Looking around the room it was fascinating to see how people were defining themselves. The hip-hop dancers on stage had badges declaring themselves “bi”. Two blokes at the bar had badges declaring themselves “hetero”. Quite a few, though not as many as I’d hoped, had badges declaring themselves “gay”. And finally, there were lots of people declaring themselves “bi”. For just a moment I was standing next to a bloke wearing a “bi” badge. He was a nice looking bloke, dark blonde, a bit nerdy, about 30 years old, but pretty gay looking if you ask me. Obviously it must have caught the attention of someone else nearby who leaned over and began to speak to him. I’m guessing by the body language he asked about the “bi” definition. At that point the bloke pulled out his mobile phone and showed a photograph of a baby. Question answered…
On more than one occasion, I’ve had approaches from similarly aged females who for whatever reason find me attractive, interesting, whatever. Famously, my friend and I were at a dinner together in the country several years ago, and we were joined – in a large group – by a woman who had obviously expressed an interest in meeting me in a romantic manner, such that neither she nor her friend (who I had known for a while) had picked up on the obvious fact that I like blokes. I don’t think she felt embarrassed any more than I have been for all of the times I’ve expressed an interest in a bloke who I thought was obviously gay, but who turned out to have a wife and kids.
So getting back to my point. I think my friend is right, I think I need to be a little more obvious about this stuff, and I need to get out there and get a little more involved, and not just come home and sit in front of the computer/television/radio.
I guess it doesn’t help that so far this year, I’ve done absolutely nothing this year related to “Mardi Gras”. I was telling a colleague today – also gay – that I’ve almost completely missed Mardi Gras. No films. No plays. No events. Nothing. Even though one of my favourite annual events is the “Gay History Walk”, I even missed that this year. The closest I’m going to come is seeing Lily Tomlin on Friday night, and perhaps going for a look at the parade for a moment on Saturday (and even then I’m not sure, since I’m not one for crowds).
With a few days left I’m gonna have to make more of an effort, I reckon.
When you’re in a new town or city, a place you’ve never been before, you should always head first to the main church and to the main public arts building. In towns and cities where there aren’t too many sky-scrapers, the main church usually has an excellent view of the city. In a more modern sense, prominent arts buildings (such as an opera house or a museum), usually have great restaurants and cafes which overlook the city.
I would have liked to have taken the elevator to the top of the main church, but there was a funeral there today, and I thought it would be somewhat mercenary to be ranging around waiting for the hearse to leave. Instead, I visited the Recital Hall and Conference Centre, with its unashamedly modern architectural style. In some ways, the design reminded me of the water cube in Beijing, from the outside at least. It’s fairly new, with construction slowed by the economic collapse which occurred. There was hardly anyone there when I visited later in the morning, wandering comfortably through all five levels by myself. At one point, from the fifth level, it was great to sit, quietly, on a comfy leather lounge and enjoy the stunning view of the nearby mountains.
Hallgrímskirkja in Reykjavík
As you do your tourism research, it seems much of the tourist attention for Iceland is focussed on the outdoors experience. It wouldn’t surprise me if a lot of people arrive from overseas and go straight to the countryside, ignoring Reykjavik. I’ll be doing that later in the week, heading off on a two-day trip looking at volcanoes, walking on glaciers and the like. But my personal interests are usually far more cultural. For me, travel is about getting to know the place, to meet some locals, and to better understand the background of why they write, sing, act, and paint/photograph the things they do.
Located on the waterfront is a rather gorgeous statue called The Sun Voyager which I liked very much. The work is accompanied by an artist statement, saying it’s all about the voyages we take in life. To me, and I guess visitors it looks like a stylised Viking ship. The Wikipedia article about this emphasises that’s a common misconception.
I popped into a couple of commercial galleries today and took a look at the art on display. As with many commercial galleries, there was nothing which really touched me. I’m guessing the more interesting works may be found at the national gallery and museum which I plan to visit later in the week. There was a photographic gallery, though, which I thought looked really interesting. Out the front of the gallery, they were promoting the book, “Shot In Reykjavik” which featured a lot of street photography.
Inner city graffiti, housing, artsy place in Reykjavik
I also noticed there were lots of record stores around the central parts of town, many of them specialising in the music from Iceland. Although I certainly know Iceland which has produced a lot of great music in the last few days, my specific musical knowledge doesn’t extend far beyond Bjork. Her album, Debut, remains one of my all time favourites. It was interesting to have a look through some of the stores and to listen to some of the local music. Located roughly half way between the United States and Europe, the cultural influences of both locations seemed evident.
Later in the afternoon I called in to a bar called Kofinn, hoping to hear a little more in the way of Icelandic music playing softly in the background. “It’s Happy Hour”, the young American bloke behind the bar told me, adding I was eligible for their two-for-one beer option. Winner. But it wasn’t so much the beer that attracted me to the bar as the sign outside which offered Free Wi-Fi. Inside there was only about a dozen people (including myself) and it was almost completely silent. In the main part of the bar there were three young people seated at a nearby table. Two of them had computers. The other had a smart phone. They were all on Facebook. Occasionally they would communicate with each other (in Icelandic), but mostly they were just sitting there looking at their screens. The other reason it was quite in the bar, and I did smile when I realised the reason for their quietness, was there was a large group of deaf people at the other main table. It seems I’ll need to look elsewhere to find a bar where they play local tunes softly in the background.
Protest about the urbanisation of central Reykjavik
In terms of architecture, you can’t help but noticed the large amount of construction work going on in the centre of town. There are lots of multi-story apartment blocks being built. The construction is not without controversy if you look closely at some of the graffiti and protest signs I noticed around town. “Money destroying art and culture” was one of the messages I saw written on one wall in a central area of town with a lot of high density housing covered in street art.
I finished the day with an evening dip, once again at my “local” thermal pool. The crowd on both nights has consisted of family and friend groups of all ages. A guy started chatting to me tonight, and then quickly switched to English when I gave him that blank look. When he asked me why I’d come to Iceland, I told him because I thought it would be so completely different to Australia. “We’re at opposite sides of the world and in opposite hemispheres”, I told him. Of course he asked if I was planning to go to the world famous Blue Lagoon hot baths, and when I told him yes, I asked him what he thought of them. He looked at another bloke who was in the pool for guidance, and told me “Sometimes they’re good and sometimes they’re not so good. You should go when the weather’s fine”, he added. I read somewhere the other day locals don’t go there so much anymore, as they’re very expensive in comparison with the local public pools. Another guy, sitting nearby, tried to explain how the Blue Lagoon was constructed, but his English wasn’t up to the task, and so he explained in Swedish instead.
A little while later, as I was enjoying the cooler water of the main swimming pool, an American guy asked me, “Excuse me, are there pools here with different water temperatures?”. “Yes” I told him, pointing him in the right direction. When he asked about the temperatures, I joked they came in hot, hotter, and hotter again. After trying out the hottest one, he very quickly joined me back in the much milder one. Clearly, the hot water/sauna thing is something it takes a little while for non-Icelanders while to get used to.
“A lot of people in the homes we’ve visited just stand and stare into space”, one of the volunteers working on the flood recovery in Lismore told me today.
I had just apologised to her for finding it difficult to respond to a very simple request. I can’t remember exactly what it was, but to illustrate, I found it difficult yesterday to put on rubber gloves. I struggled for a couple of minutes to find the thumb hole.
Today, I’ve seen two other family members go through this also. My job today quickly became one of assigning them simple tasks which didn’t require much thought. “I need you to wash these plates”, I said to one family member. “I need you to sweep this floor”, I said to another.
It’s the one part of cleaning up that I didn’t consider. I was expecting tears, as we moved into cleaning our family home, not an inability to think clearly. But that’s what has been happening today.
Today was the first day that Jack, who has lived in the house since 1969 came down to assess the damage. “It’s as bad as I expected, and then 100% worse”, he told me today.
Jack is my brother-in-law, “But really you and Pat (my sister) are like mum dad”, I told them today with a tear. Later this afternoon, we sat around and shared many moments of laughter, as we reminisced about family stories. It was a welcome end to the day.
Today I also visited some near-neighbours, checking in on their welfare. I also visited the former home of Nancy who died last year. “My sister lived here until last June”, I told Cathy who lives there now. She told me she had bought the house after that, and after significant renovation, had only recently moved into the house., “That’s my home on the lawn”, she told me, adding, “I can never go through this again”.
The flood waters reached the gutters of a number of houses on Union Street, South Lismore. All of their household items now sit outside on the street, awaiting assessment about what can be saved, and what will go to the garbage dump.
She welcomed me into her home to see the renovations and introduced me to the builder.
Only minutes after arriving in our house today, there was a group of six volunteer workers from the Gold Coast knocking on the door. There were four women who did an awesome job of cleaning mud-covered household goods and photographs, and there were two huge blokes (a carpenter and a plumber). They achieved all of what we wanted to achieve in the day in just an hour or two.
Later we were joined by a group of Michelle’s colleagues, a bunch of nurses from Lismore Base Hospital. They have been awesome in their hard work and care. One, in particular, has been wonderful recognising the emotional stress we’ve all been under. Another of her colleagues will be delivering dinner. We are so incredibly lucky, and fortunate to have been helped through this. And when Jack scratched himself, there was no shortage of nurses on hand who could treat the wound. But Jack, being Jack, he treated himself!
Colleagues who help
Michelle and I were interviewed for ABC Radio.
Dom: We continue to focus on Lismore here with our colleague James O’Brien, who is Lismore born and raised and coming to terms with what’s happened to his hometown over the past week or two where he still has a whole lot of family. James. Good morning.
James: Hey there, Dom Yeah, I’m at my sister’s house at the moment in Elliott Road, South Lismore. And there is a pile of rubbish. We’ve just thrown out the window onto the street. And I can see what’s happening on the rest of the street. The people next door would have similar size actually, these might be bigger, down another house. They’ve got rubbish out the front. And I can’t the reason I can see up the street is that our front windows were broken. So we’ve got lots of air conditioning we’re joking about here this morning.
Dom: Yes, I’m sure I’ve got a photo of where you are now. And really, it’s almost indistinguishable, the scene outside the front of your family home there. From when you gut to the house. It’s basically you haven’t got the house, aren’t you? That’s what’s going on?
James: Yeah, absolutely. So we’re in the front bedroom now. And I spent last year I have the last year living with my sister and brother in law in this house. And so this is my bedroom from last year. My great-nephew, Sam is living has been living in his bedroom over the last few months. And he was amazing in helping his nan and pop, my sister and brother in law survive. We’re in the bed in the front bedroom now of a two-story house. And the water as you can imagine got up to the top of the windows. So that’s about three feet taller than I am. And about four feet taller than my niece is standing here next to me. She grew up in his house. So to mom and dad’s house, and her son was amazing. Can I kind of hand it over to Michelle, we want to Yes. Here you go. Here’s Michelle.
Dom: Michelle, thanks for joining us. Great to have you with us. Talk us through the past couple of days. How on earth have you gotten through this?
Michelle: Oh, I’ve got no idea. I think you just switched into autopilot and you just do what has to be done. I think want to go over the shock of that. You know, like if I didn’t, except if my son wasn’t here with my parents, they would have drowned in their home.
Dom: And sadly, that’s been the case for some in your community. There have been deaths. But it just seems as though no one really anticipated something on this scale. This is an area that knows flood the Northern Rivers, you know that the rivers rise, everyone knows that but not like this not before and your community just got swamped, didn’t it?.
Michelle: That’s right. I mean, I remember the 1974 flood it’s there were a few steps from coming in. And that was a massive one. And then, you know, there’s been ones over the years when I’ve been in high school and then 1988 And you know, you know, it just went underneath the house and we were you know, just trapped in the house. You know, you can still live you still drive. We still got our electricity. But this was just and then 2017 Just just about wiped out loose more. And this mall was barely had barely recovered since 2017, and then this one come along to just about pretty much wiped us out completely. But everyone just thought, Oh, well, you know, we survived 2017. So it’s not going to be as bad as that. So you know, we rebuilt once we’ll rebuild again. But then it was just terrible. When my son rang me early in the morning he said Mum was coming in to nan and pops house. And I was just in shock. I was like, Okay, well, I need I said I need you to be strong. And I needed to look at the look afternoon and I just had the ad caught stay awake and worry. Yeah. And then just kept in constant, you know, half alley phone calls. And as I’m sure that the story for everybody else. And you know, that was quite affected.
Dom: I was talking to my colleague Chris Bath earlier in the show has just come back from spending the weekend in the northern rivers, she said that there were two hardshell flood boats in Lismore at the start of this and it just goes to show that even with the experience that has been had in the planning of this thing, this just went far beyond what anyone expected. How are you feeling about the future and about rebuilding? We’ve I’ve got a photo in front of me of just your house with everything ripped out of it. What are you planning to do from here? Or is it just too early to make plans?
Michelle: It’s far too early to make plans. I’m not even sure if the house is gonna be safe to move back into like the floorboards are bowing and you can see in part so you can see through to underneath the house and you think it moves, you know, you walk through it and it moves and it’s like, Well, shit, I’m not even sure if you know it’s safe for us to be in here ripping up carpet throwing things out, but
Dom: and this is a town of 20,000 people, many of whom would be in the same boat. It’s just the devastation is unimaginable. Our hearts are with you, Michelle.. I really hope you can find a way through this and work out what to do next. Because, yeah, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t know.
Michelle: Yeah, can I thank the volunteers. There are so many people that have just come in, even friends of my teenage son have just turned up and just came in and got their hands dirty. But work colleagues that are dropping in for a couple of hours at a time help out. There are random strangers pulling up across the road with washing machines to the service station, there are people pulling up in their cars out the front singing out food and water, food and water and we just run out and get some food, you know, and, and then they drive to the next house and hand out food and water. It’s like, the generosity has been overwhelming. We’re very, very grateful.
Dom: Well, I’ll tell you what, but for the tinnies Michelle, what we’ve seen the tinny army going around and helping people and as we heard from some experts before, it’s quite hard to do. Flood rescue is there special training for that, that people do in the evacuation centre that was used for, you know, Olympic kayaking and so on, but people have had to do it for themselves. And that’s what happened in your family. People have had to rescue other family members and the community has pulled together but it’s a pity you had to
Michelle: Yeah, my poor mum, I mean, you know, she’s got a bit of a back end on her and I pushed it through an 18-inch window in the kitchen, you know, into a boat and the dock in under the power lines and you have a look outside how high the power lines are, you know, they were 20 foot off the ground.
Dom: Yeah, I mean, we’ve all seen the phone with the fast-food joint where the waters were as high as that as the sign. You know. I’ve been to Lismore a few times over the years and the notion of the amount of water that was there. The mind absolutely boggles Michelle. Look, really appreciate your time, all the best to your community. And thank you for sharing your story with us. Thank you. Yeah, that’s Michelle there, the nice of our colleague, James O’Brien, who’s on the ground and Lismore trying to make sense of what happens next.
I’ve had a wonderfully nostalgic night listening to the soundtrack of the “cult” 1980s ABC-TV series, “Sweet and Sour”, released this week on CD. Somewhere in the garage, I’m sure I have the original album on vinyl, which I used to listen to regularly, though this is probably the first time in over twenty years since I’ve heard the album in full.
I got a copy of the CD earlier in the week, and for a few days, I’ve been walking around singing a few short phrases over and over again. Phrases like “life can be sweet and sour, but I am in control…” and “from glam to wham, they let me fall I can’t believe I’m here at all…” The songs are so well embedded in my consciousness, I don’t think remembering these lines, in particular, is necessarily Freudian nor reflective of my state of mind :)
Still image from Sweet and Sour by The Takeaways, as featured on ABC-TV Australia
To be honest, I don’t remember too much of the TV’s show’s plotline, except that it concerned an up and coming rock band, and I’m sure – as things do – there was drama along the way. But I do remember loving the show, and when news went around this week about the CD release, including my tweets, there was much affection for the show from the 30 and 40-somethings I know.
In the last couple of years, I’ve also met the actor Tracey Mann on a couple of occasions over a glass of wine at theatre opening nights – she’s a friend of a friend – which caused me much personal excitement. “Oh my God, she’s the lead singer from ‘Sweet and Sour'” I thought to myself when we met. “Be calm, be cool. Don’t appear too much like a groupie, crazy fan…” I kept saying to myself :)
How does it sound 26 years later? Remarkably good actually. Although there are a few songs that now sound dated due to 80s production values, most of the songs stand the test of time, especially the title track with vocals by Deborah Conway.
Still from video for How Do You Talk To Boys by Sharon O’Neill
The title track was written by one of my favourite early 80s singer-songwriters, Sharon O’Neill who I’ve also been remembering this week.
For the last few days, as well as singing lines from Sweet and Sour, I’ve also been remembering and singing… “How do you talk to boys, how do you get to take them home”… an early hit by Sharon. As with the songs from Sweet and Sour, I wouldn’t read too much into it, I just think it’s the association of “Sweet And Sour” with Sharon who composed some of the songs for the album. The kinda interesting bit of trivia about this song is the opening line… “I’m on a computer date… the result of my request the perfect mate”. It was 1980! She was ahead of her time.
Sharon O’Neill was a favourite of mine for a number of years. She wrote and sang songs with wonderful melodies and heartfelt lyrics which were both well-sung and produced. Favourites included, “Words”, “Asian Paradise” and, of course, “Maxine”… “Case 1352 a red and green tattoo…” (she was singing about tattoos long before Stieg Larsson was writing about them). I saw her sing that at the Countdown Spectacular a few years ago and was mightily impressed.
There are worse ways to spend your Friday night than listening to CDs and searching for clips on Youtube.
“I’m surprised I’ve got anyone on the tour today”, commented Michael, our driver and guide for today’s Barossa Tour. It’s Melbourne Cup Day and it was a surprisingly good day for a bus tour to the Barossa, since the bus was only half full.
As we headed towards the Barossa for lunch and wine tastings we called in at a number of locations along the way including the giant rocking chair, the Angas Park Fruit Factory, Herbig’s Tree (here an early German immigrant family lived for six years) and on the way back at locations like the “Whispering Wall” (another irrigation facility!) where you can, literally stand on one side of the dam wall and speak to people on the other as the sound curves around.
Amongst wineries, for taste the highlight was Grant Burge, and for buildings/location etc it was Chateau Yaldara, owned by McGuigan. We called in to another couple, but they weren’t nearly as memorable.
Overall it was a good tour, with our guide showing a lot of knowledge about the history of the state, and far more pleasant than driving ourselves.
Whispering Wall at Barossa Reservoir
All roads lead to Stockholm, even from the Barossa Valley
Giant Rocking Horse
Angas Park Dried Fruit Line
Tasting room at Yaldara Estate in Barossa
Herbig Family Tree
On arriving back in Adelaide, I caught up tonight with my friend Jacqui who I used to know in the Riverland when we both lived there twenty years ago. Thanks to Facebook, we’ve been reunited, as we lost touch as we both moved places several times in that period. A wonderful evening.
Robert Ruwoldt of Horsham, Victoria, is named Australian Farmer of the Year.
“So what do you know about life in the country?” a colleague asked me with a degree of incredulity when I told him I was going to the “Australian Farmer Of The Year Awards” at Sydney’s Westin Hotel.
“A fair bit”, I told him. I then proceeded to tell him how I had spent most of my life living in the country (and parts of the outback) and that my grandfather (and previous generations) were actually farmers. “In fact”, I told him, my great-grandfather was an award winning pig farmer”. He seemed genuinely surprised that a seemingly “urbane inner-city dweller” was actually a “boy from the bush”.
Even though I’ve now lived in the city for almost sixteen years, my “country identity” remains an important part of how I see myself, even if many of my friends in the city have long forgotten this. And it’s on occasions like the “Australian Farmer Of The Year Awards” that I’m reminded too.
It was a great night, especially as I was able to catch up with half a dozen people who I know from my life before moving to Sydney. In fact, a former colleague, also now living in Sydney, told me of a recent encounter with someone who also doubted his “country credentials”. “What would you know about life in the country?”, he was recently asked by someone who had moved from Sydney to a regional centre less than five years ago. Clearly, the woman involved hadn’t done her research, as he too had spent half his life living in the bush, far more than her.
Every time I go to something like this, or any time I make a trip home to Lismore (or any other part of the country) I feel a little sadness that I haven’t remained living in the country. Whenever I’m there I genuinely feel happy. But whenever I return I also feel a sense of frustration, as there are so many aspects of life in the city I love also.
I’m pretty sure I’ll return to life on the North Coast when I’m older and feel I’ve done everything I wanted to achieve with my career. But you never know, do you? I came to Sydney thinking I’d spend just a few years here, and suddenly it’s sixteen years later.
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Thought of you yesterday. There was a Swedish flag hanging from the second storey balcony of a terrace house in Carlton. I wondered why?
Thought of you yesterday. There was a Swedish flag hanging from the second storey balcony of a terrace house in Carlton. I wondered why?
There were probably eight Swedish backpackers packed into a room sharing a bed in shfits :)
Great stuff James. Glad you’re having so much fun.