As I sat and waited to meet Sandra and Robert ahead of the Valborg celebration last night in Stockholm, I picked up a copy of the Swedish gay newspaper, QX. It’s a magazine I read from time to time, as it usually has a fair bit of Swedish music news. For example, this month’s edition features a track-by-track review of the new album by ABBA’s Agnetha Fältskog. But what excited me most was noticing the big article on Newtown. Yes, Newtown in Sydney. Sydney, Australia to be absolutely clear.
Magazines, of course, do regular features on different countries and different cities on a regular basis. Occasionally you might even see a feature on somewhere smaller like Bondi or Byron Bay. But Newtown? Wow, what’s that about.
The article goes on to explain Newtown is a little alternative, a little hippie, and that if you’re visiting Sydney, and you want to “go gay”, you should head off to Oxford Street. The article explains, though, that gays are welcome in Newtown, and that many gays prefer it over Oxford Street.
QX Magazine profile on Newtown in Sydney
The article mentions a number of people who have chosen to call Newtown home, including a bloke called Mark Reid who used to live in Canberra, and a couple Nick Roth (and his girlfriend) who operate “Claire’s Crepes”. I’d never heard of “Claire’s Crepes” (to be honest), but I’ll be sure to look them up when I return to Sydney. In particular, I’ll be interested to see if young Swede, Jonatan Duregård is still working there, though the article does note… “Jonatan är hetero…”
One of the people interviewed, Aaron Petriddi describes Newtown as the “new” Gay Sydney, with more and more couples moving to the area for a simple life. “It’s a good mixture of people and business”, he says.
…”det nya gay-Sydney” – allt fler par flyttar hit tack vare den ”sköna livsstilen” i området. – Det är en bra mix av människor och affärsverksamheter. Det känns som att allas blickar är på Newtown nu, alla man pratar med kan tänka sig att flytta hit…
The article paints such a glowing image of Newtown that I find myself thinking “Why am I in Stockholm? I should be in Sydney instead”. The other man’s grass is always greener, I guess.
Twelve months ago tonight I was preparing to head off to Pride Park in Stockholm for Schlager Night.
I’d heard about the annual celebration of all things Eurovision and Melodifestivalen for a number of years and was very excited by the prospect of four or five hours of live music in a crowd of, maybe, 30,000 others with an almost unhealthy interest in three-minute sing-a-long Swedish pop songs.
Schlager Night at Stockholm Pride 2008 – Lena PH
Tonight, in contrast, I’ve just spent two or three hours passed out on the couch, fast asleep, and with the television playing Fox News.
I had a brief reminder, though, of this night twelve months ago when Graeme called from Sweden with a cheerio call.
He and Grant have been there since Sunday, enjoying the ups and downs of a Swedish summer. “One minute it’s insanely hot, the next it looks like it could rain”, he told me.
They’ve managed to do a fair bit, though, in the few days they’ve been there, including having seen Alcazar perform a live set of some of their hit songs. Very jealous.
They also managed to pick up some “mini raincoats” from Pirate Bay, which they were selling at Stockholm Pride. “Keep up the good work people kept saying to us”, Graeme told me, as they walked around the park. Even more jealous!
The call woke me from my slumber on the couch which is pretty much where I’ve been since arriving home.
Or at least since Sue and I chatted on the phone about our future travel plans. Previously we’ve chatted about Darwin and New Zealand. Tonight we pretty much settled on Vanuatu which we both thought offered us the relaxation we both desire, as well as a small degree of exoticness. And it also looks pretty cheap! If you’ve been there and have some thoughts, we’d appreciate your input.
The reason I was a bit tired after work today is two-fold. First, I’m doing a new job at the moment, and am going through a period of massive information download. And second, I’ve been out the last three nights. The combination of long and intense days, followed by busy social activity, had slowed me down briefly.
The phone call from Graeme, tonight, however cheered me up to no end.
The “day” started a little later for me, as I enjoyed a reasonably good “sleep in” this morning, after last night going out for a drink at Torget.
After a moment or two of sitting by myself, I was befriended by a young bloke who told me he was originally from the far north of Sweden, near the border with Finland. He told me he was planning to return there after he and his partner get married in about six months time. “How long have you known each other?”, I asked. He blushed when he told me it was less than twelve months. I assured him I knew heaps of people who’ve begun long term relationships which involved living together soon after meeting (myself included).
He was a friendly type, and so introduced us to two other blokes seated nearby. For the next couple of hours we engaged in a terrific conversation about identity, language, politics and so on. It was really, really enjoyable, and really nice to connect with some locals. The conversation was so good that it was past midnight when I made it home to sleep.
So this morning I had a little sleep-in, and watched a bit of morning television before heading out for my daily routine of a morning coffee, and a bit of sight-seeing. As much as I thought I knew Södermalm very well, I found myself discovering parts of the island I’ve never seen before, which was very exciting.
It was then I began to imagine my life in retirement. Admittedly, it’s still twenty years to go (or thereabouts), but I found myself sitting on park benches, enjoying the view, watching the world go by, and exchanging pleasantries with older women. STOP! I’m not ready for that yet, and so went out in search of some interesting, challenging art to view.
I discovered a really terrific exhibition of photographs and videos by Tova Mozard. Although much of her work is centred on the United States, she was born and lives in Sweden.
There’s quite a bit of video work in the exhibition. There’s a lengthy black and white piece, for example, in which a middle-aged man is telling his life-story while digging a grave. He tells the story of an early life with an alcoholic father, spending time in an orphanage, taking lots and lots of drugs, and fathering and then leaving children. When he uttered the words, “When I went to prison”, I decided I couldn’t take any more. It was all a bit too grim, and so I wandered on.
Later I found a video piece which I quite liked, which featured an older woman who was possibly a cabaret singer in her early life. As she told the story of her life, she would sometimes burst into song, half-remembering the lyrics of the songs she had sung during her cabaret career.
There’s definitely a “blackness” to much of Tova Mozard’s work, as many of the photographs dealt specifically with death. There was everything from a rather touching photograph of an older man and a younger woman (father and daughter, I thought) with grief-stricken faces, to a photograph of the “Bates Hotel” sign, underscored with “No Vacancy”. Another favourite was a young man and a woman standing in front of the grave of Jean-Paul Satre and Simone de Beauvoir.
I liked the exhibition very much, and it was a lovely way to spend a couple of hours.
And then later this afternoon/earlier this evening I went to the Östasiatiska museet (East Asian Art Museum) on Skeppsholmen, which has an IMPRESSIVE collection of art from Japan, Korea, China etc. I’m not really one for the antiquities; I’m much more interested in contemporary art. And there’s a terrific exhibition there called “Secret Love” which is about homosexuality in China.
One of the most impressive works for me is a four panel work called “Hello Comrades” which one the surface, purports to show just lots of faces involved involved in similar pursuits including construction, the military, and playing ping-pong. When you look more closely, however, there are obviously homosexual images. The same “hidden” depiction is also found in a series of paper cuts in a dark room which only become apparent when light is shined on them. Most memorably, there’s a video work which depicts a demonstration of and public reaction to same sex couples seeking to be married.
I actually went on a tour of the exhibition delivered entirely in Swedish. I estimate I understood about 40% of what was said. Even if I missed some of the jokes along the way, I understood most of what was being said to convey issues and ideas covered in the works. There was one point when the tour guide asked all of the group what we thought of a particular work. He looked directly at me first for a response. Although I could have resorted to the Swedish word for all occasions, “bra” (good), I looked to the woman standing next to me, and thank goodness she responded.
On arriving home tonight I was greeted by the first fall of snow on this trip. It’s pretty light. Just a few flurries. I’m hoping that when I wake in the morning there’ll be white streets to great me.
Tova Mozard photograph at the grave of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir
Late afternoon sun on Surbrunnsgatan in Stockholm
Secret Love exhibition at Stockholm’s Östasiatiska museet
As we sat and waited for the performance to begin, I had little idea of what to expect. My friend invited me, on the recommendation the work had been curated by a colleague at the ABC, Daniel Browning. Daniel presents “Awaye”, a weekly program about Indigenous arts and culture. And one of the most awesome segments on that program is “Word Up”, a weekly insight into the estimated 500 Indigenous languages spoken in Australia prior to European settlement/occupation.
There are many things at the heart of “Blak Box” (by Urban Theatre), including some of the words commonly spoken by the Gadigal people around the time of first contact. Throughout the performance, you also learn some of the Indigenous words which quickly came into existence, as a result of occupation.
Over the course of an hour, you learn these words, and hear the many words and sounds associated with both the early days, and more recently. It’s a wonderful soundscape that lasts about an hour, so you can either close your eyes and absorb the sounds (as many people did), or (like me) take part in the experience, absorbing the words, the sounds, and the associated lights. Tickets are free. http://urbantheatre.com.au/2018/blak-box-2/
Deep listening at Sydney Harbour: Past, present and future coexist. If the speed of sound warps our sense of time then we can still hear the crackle of fires lit thousands of years ago on the foreshore of the world’s most magnificent harbour. The presence of the First People is inscribed in the acoustic memory of the place they now call Barangaroo. Contemporary voices share stories of country. Are you listening?’
– Daniel Browning, Urban Theatre Projects, BLAK BOX Curator.
Winter has well and truly arrived in Sydney. And though I often dismiss Sydney-siders complaints about the cold (I’ve experienced far chillier conditions), I was feeling it earlier tonight, as I wrapped myself tightly at home, consuming more of the cheese I took home from yesterday’s market.
With both things in mind, I thought I’d share a few photographs I’ve snapped over the few days around the theme of “Winter Nights” from the area in which I live.
The VIP Crowd awaits the opening ceremony of the games.
It’s amazing who you meet on the train.
You sit down and see the people opposite you and you have two choices.
You can either ignore them (or stare at them as I saw a young woman do with a homeless man the other night on the way back from Cronulla) or you can engage.
I’ve just arrived home from the World Masters Games at Homebush.
Sitting with a colleague, we noticed a couple of older women debating which train station they had just gone through.
When we confirmed it was Strathfield and they still had plenty of time to wait before getting of at Central, we got a smile of “thanks” and opening up of the conversation.
The two women were from Vancouver, and were here competing in Athletics.
The young woman I’d estimate to be about 70 years old. The older, the 90 year old, was, we discovered, the first person to win a gold medal at the games. I’m no expert at sport, but her specialty was something to do with throwing a big lump of metal through the air over a long distance.
Adam Spencer hosts part of the pre-opening ceremony entertainment.
Also tonight, we got chatting to a really nice bloke involved in the kayaking.
Formerly from South Africa, he has been in Australia for many years. Nonetheless he keeps in touch with current events back there, and had some interesting observations to make.
He’s currently reading a biography of Alan Paton, a South African author and liberal political activist, and said it was a good read, and a good insight into how South Africa went down a particular path, but could have gone down another.
But of course the highlight of the afternoon/evening was having a good close up look at Frederik, Crown Prince of Denmark who attended the function we were at this evening.
In real life, he’s a little more slight than I expected. I was half expecting a taller man, but in reality I think he’s only slightly taller than I am.
He arrived about half way through the function, and even though he arrived at about seven o’clock this morning was looking remarkably cogent. Still, I’m guessing he flew first class and not cattle-class like most of us do.
It’s after midnight and I’m having a glass of wine to try and wind down a bit after a very busy day’s work in the Tally Room for the NSW Election. Although I guess everyone knew the overall result several weeks ago, confirmed with this week’s opinion polls, there were some interesting competitions to observe, including Goulburn, Murray-Darling, Tweed, Pittwater and Manly.
A far bigger surprise occurred earlier today when I went to vote at my nearby Bourke Street Primary School. Joining the fairly lengthy queue which extended outside the door, I suddenly found myself whisked to the front of the queue and able to vote within seconds. The issue, you see, is that as a registered voter in “Sydney” I was a bit of a rarity. In a queue of maybe 50 people, almost all were registered in other seats.
Media pass for the NSW Election Tally Room
I was glad I was able to go to the front of the queue, because I was just about to knock a bloke on the head (no, not really), who was standing behind me who was telling his girlfriend how to vote. “Now, you need to vote for Clover on the small paper, and for the Liberals on the large paper”. I don’t care about his choices, it’s just that he was telling his girlfriend how she should vote. Is this 2007 or 1907, I wondered for a moment.
Although I normally vote by putting in every number ticket for the Upper House (I’ll direct my preferences, thankyou!) I was a little lazy this time, just putting a #1 for my first choice and letting them do all the hard work.
What also surprised me today was the presence on the Upper House ballot of groups like Unity & Australians Against Further Immigration. I hadn’t realised both parties were running again.
When I arrived at the Tally Room this afternoon I also noticed they had been allocated seating places for the night, though I don’t recall if they were actually next to each other. It would have demonstrated a wonderfully wicked sense of humour by the State Electoral Office had that occurred.
Surprisingly it was a reasonably long night, although the overall result was clear quite early. At the last NSW election, I recall, the Leader’s Speeches were at about 8.45 and 9.05pm, while this time they were roughly an hour later. We were all quite relieved when at last they occured, as it had been a long day.
This wasn’t the only competition I’ve been to this week, though.
On Thursday night I caught up with my mate Paul after work for a couple of beers. It had been a long day and I was feeling a little thirsty. I also hadn’t seen Paul for a couple of weeks, so what better way to combine the two than to meet for an afternoon beer at the Newtown Hotel.
After a couple of beers and a meal at the nearby vegetarian restaurant he asked if I wanted to stay for the Amateur Unisex Stripper Night. Sure, why not? Little did I know we would be soon watching a 60 year old female stripper who showed more than many of the gay boys in the audience felt comfortable with. Little did I know we would soon be seeing a former member of Manpower (or so he claimed) who would also make many of the gay boys in the audience feel uncomfortable. “I’m turning straight”, I overheard one say, when the Manpower bloke did his stuff.
Sign announcing the Amateur Strip Night at the Newtown Hotel, Sydney, Australia
But so fascinating was the night that I’m probably going to go again next Thursday for the Grand Final. And unlike tonight’s competition, it will be good to see a competition that I don’t already know the results for.
I went for a brief walk up the road this afternoon, as those participating in the Mardi Gras parade were preparing themselves. As the crowd gathered, there was some pre-MG entertainment. I love this song. It was the UK entry for Eurovision last year.
For just a moment I thought I would have stayed longer, as I was really enjoying walking around the crowd. But then it got busier and noisier and all a little same-ish. I mean, I´ve been in the parade three times and have lost count of the number of times I´ve attended. So I´m back at home watching Music Max thinking ¨Yeah, I´ve flown the flag enough¨.
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You are sounding a little homesick. It is a long time away.
The New York Times, not long ago, had a full page item on Sydney’s exciting multicultural suburb of (either) Dulwich Hill or Petersham (I can’t recall which it was). It was both odd and fascinating to read such a glowing report about an ‘ordinary’ Sydney suburb in such a noted publication.
You are sounding a little homesick. It is a long time away.
Not homesick Andrew. Having great time but a bit sick of suitcase living.
The New York Times, not long ago, had a full page item on Sydney’s exciting multicultural suburb of (either) Dulwich Hill or Petersham (I can’t recall which it was). It was both odd and fascinating to read such a glowing report about an ‘ordinary’ Sydney suburb in such a noted publication.