While the nation’s legislators struggle with what to do about same-sex marriage, there’s at least one major bank which thinks I’m still in a relationship which ended over a decade ago.
“Back in the 1900s and early 2000s” (I say this for dramatic effect), Damien and I had a joint bank account, with linked credit cards. After we went our separate ways as a couple, we also went our separate ways as a financial entity. Or so we thought.
Despite the fact we’ve both told the bank we’re no longer a couple, and despite having received at least two letters (yes, letters) apologising for the inconvenience and saying they would rectify the fault, I continue to receive a new credit card from them for this linked account every two or three years. The latest arrived in the bank yesterday.
“Can you just cut it up and promise you won’t go to Stockholm with it”, Damien joked to me in an email this morning.
There was a moment toward the end of tonight’s show when a large tear welled up, and rolled down my right cheek. It’s also the bit in the movie that always upset me: the moment when the mother died. Or rather, committed suicide.
My mum didn’t commit suicide, but in many ways, she had lost the will to live. Though not by her daughters and me, my mum was similar to Betty Helsop: also called Betty, she was undervalued and often verbally and physically abused by her broader family. And when dad lost his battle with cancer in 1982, and when I went off to university in 1984, mum became increasingly unwell. Only a few days before her heart attack, she said she wanted to leave the house where she was living with her mother and brother.
Muriel’s Wedding – You Can’t Stop Progress
That’s just one reason why the story of Muriel’s Wedding resonates so deeply with me, and why love the film so much, as I wrote a few years ago… And then, there’s the fact Porpoise Spit isn’t UNLIKE the town in which I grew up, I can almost name the characters from the movie as actual people from my hometown, and the fact that, like Muriel, I spent so much of my youth sitting alone in my room listening to ABBA songs.
Do you ever feel like you’re nothing?
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.
“Are you really ready for it?, I asked my friend who I attended tonight’s show with. We knew the “black side” of the story of Muriel. Lines like the one spoken by Muriel to Rhonda on Hibiscus Island when she says:
“Do you ever think you’re nothing. Sometimes I think I’m nothing. Useless.”
…illustrate the pain she and many others have encountered.
It’s such a contrast to the often joyous feeling of both the movie and the musical.
It’s one of my all-time favourite movies. It was with a certain amount of trepidation that I went along to see the musical adaptation. But I’m really pleased to say the musical is absolutely true to the heart of the movie. There are just so many lines from the movie appearing in the musical, and I had to stop myself from reciting them out loud, as I’ll often do when I watch the movie at home.
Muriel’s Wedding – Goodbye Porpoise Spit
But it’s not a simple re-telling of the movie: there are lots of modern touches (Muriel no longer works in a video shop, for example).
And then, of course, the wonderful music by Kate Miller-Heidke and her partner, with the song about arriving in Sydney being particularly memorable.
“When you get to Sydney, your life begins…”
(or words to that effect) they sing, with a chorus still stuck in my head a couple of hours later.
And then there’s ABBA. I’d heard, or assumed that like the Priscilla Musical, Bjorn and Benny had not agreed to license ABBA songs for “Muriel’s Wedding – The Musical”. In fact, quite the opposite is true, as there are five or six ABBA songs throughout the show, and ABBA themselves appear throughout the musical as a Bjorn Again-like “Greek chorus”, The only downside? “That’s not a fucking Swedish accent, not even close”, I whispered in my friend’s ear.
The songs are terrific, the plots great, the ensemble is wonderful (except maybe Gary Sweet who could NEVER come close to the role made famous by Bill Hunter), and the young woman who plays Muriel (Maggie McKenna) is exceptional, receiving a well-deserved standing ovation.
The movie, “Muriel’s Wedding – The Musical” was a rollercoaster of emotions from tears to laughing out loud moments. Though I couldn’t possibly afford to attend the musical as many times as I’ve watched the movie, I’d definitely go again.
“This is the ABBA musical that ‘Mamma Mia’ COULD have been”, I said to my friend, as we walked away tonight.
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw the Christmas Decorations in the David Jones window, when I walked past there ealier tonight.
Even though I live close to the city, I don’t often go past there, as I’m not a particularly good “shopper”. Wandering around shops is not my idea of a good time. And so when I saw the DJs windows tonight I was genuinely surprised. I know I shouldn’t be, as it’s only a few weeks to Christmas, but I was nonetheless.
Unlike Yani who has already been Christmas shopping, and Tom who has been dealing with overseas postage issues, I’m pathetic when it comes to Christmas.
I was on my way to see James Valentine perform at The Basement. The place was packed and everyone seemed to have a good night. There was even a group of people having their “work” Christmas Party. Ours is next week.
Another reminder of the impending year’s end came at my Swedish class tonight when Marianne announced “We have just two more weeks”. “Oh yeah”, we all realised, wondering what had happened to the last few weeks.
It was an interesting class tonight, if not only for the reason we had to call the police. There was a drunk and disorderly bloke causing a bit of nearby distress, breaking windows of the next door shop. Thank goodness, we had a bloke who works in security in the class who knew exactly what to do.
And in another odd co-incidence, as I walked towards David Jones, I overheard a couple speaking in Swedish. “How many bloody Swedes are there in Sydney?”, I thought to myself.
David Jones window for Christmas, Sydney, Australia
All of which leads me to a new resolution. Along with blogging every day, and making sure I go out for lunch, and making sure the house remains tidy, I’ve decided to write something in Swedish every day. I figure if I’m going to crack this language thing I need discipline. And so I figured if I wrote something every day, even just a few lines, it would help me… So here goes…
This is a real dialogue I had last Friday night at the September Concert…
H: Hej, hej. Kommar du från sverige?
J: Nej, jag kommar från sydney.
H: Men, du har en svensk t-shirt. Varför?
J: Jag var i sverige i juli och augusti.
H: Jaha. Jag också. Jag heter Hannah. Vad heter du?
J: Hej Hannah. Jag heter James. Hur mor du?
H: Mycket bra! Varför talar du svenska?
J: Jag lyssnar på svensk pop-musik och tittar på svensk film. Jag var i sverige i juli och augusti, och jag såg många konserter: Magnus Carlsson, Peter Jöback, Eva Dahlgren, Hep Stars, ocha många andra artister. Varför talar du svenska?
H: Jag var född i sverige, och min gudmor ar svensk.
J: Ar du svensk eller australier?
H: Jag ar australier…
If you’re Swedish, please feel free to correct mistakes, as I embark on this new, interesting part of my blog.
And if you’re not Swedish, maybe you would like to attempt some translations? This could be fun…
I was seated on the top deck of the boat on the “sunset cruise” on Darwin Harbour when the woman next to me asked me where I was from. I told her my story and then asked her about her story. I found out she’d been living in Darwin for a couple of months visiting her “adopted” son, as she described him, who was now living up here. Not an actual son, not an adopted son in the traditional sense of the word, but a young man who’d been part of her children’s group of friends for many years and who became a “son”.
Welcome to Darwin
She was born and bred in Canberra, and told me she’d taken a “package” (redundancy package) twelve months ago and has been travelling ever since. She’d spent some time travelling in Europe and had done some mighty outback travel also. She loved Wales, and had an envious couple of weeks in Paris. She’d also driven a four-wheel drive from Canberra across to Ceduna, up into the Territory, and then across to Broome and back.
One of the great things I quite like about cruises and tours is that you get to meet and chat with interesting people like this woman who you might otherwise not meet in life. Often it’s only a brief chat, and the conversations are often of little substance, but it’s nice to connect with people you don’t know and may never see again. And that’s part of the reason why I chose to spend my final night in Darwin on a “Sunset Cruise”.
Darwin Rocks
Work has been a little busy the last few days, and so I declared tonight was “my night”: I’d planned a sunset cruise, and swim, and then later a visit to “Throb”, Darwin’s gay nightclub.
Although I’d previously done a Darwin Harbour Cruise, the one I chose this time was a little different. The other one was on a converted pearl lugger. This one was on a more expensive, had better catering, and was a little more in the traditional style of a sunset cruise. The cruise cost $94 for dinner (drinks separate) and a three hour cruise around Darwin Harbour. The food was good, with the highlight for me being locally-caught smoked Spanish Mackerel.
Darwin Harbour Cruise
On a boat which could have held up to 100 people, there was no more than twenty people on the cruise. This meant there was plenty of room to wander around, have moments where you felt like you were the only person on the boat, and other times where you could sit and chat with others. There were a few couples, a few small family/friendship groups, and there was a young gay bloke with his mum.
The views were great: on one side there was the sun setting into the ocean; on the other side there was the formation of a storm over the city. The storm never eventuated, just lots of lightning, as you might expect in Darwin at this time of the year.
Darwin Harbour
By the time the cruise was over, it was quite sticky. And so when I arrived back at the hotel I turned the air-conditioning on (I’m feeling a bit guilty about my carbon footprint for this trip), and then soon afterwards went for a swim.
And then I had a little nap as I waited for “Throb” to open. I felt like a teenager again. You know, staying at home, having a sleep, and then going out to a nightclub.
Eight years ago when I was in Darwin, the city had two gay venues: the converted railway car, the “Mississippi Queen” with its unique style; and the more traditional nightclub style of “Throb”. I discovered on this trip the “Mississippi Queen” closed abut five years ago, which has left just “Throb”.
As you walk up the stairs at “Throb” there are signs which “warn you” this is a gay and lesbian venue, and that you’ll see “men kissing men” and “women kissing women”. It occurred to me that to run a business you couldn’t be an exclusively gay and lesbian venue, and that you’d need to rely on a mixed clientele. There were no problems as far as I could see, except a guy who I thought was chatting me up had his tongue down a girl’s throat half an hour later. Oh yeah, and there was the guy who was a “dead-ringer” for one of my exs who kept looking over and smiling at me in a “come hither” kind of way. “Don’t go there”, I kept saying to myself.
The highlight of the night that was the drag show which started at 1.30am. Over the course of the show there was maybe a dozen people on stage throughout as they lip-synched their way through a variety of camp classics. I guess what I liked most about the show was the “community” feel about it. By that I’m not saying “amateur”, though I’m sure they’re not getting paid much to perform. But I liked the way the shows included men and women, straight and gay, and how they all had smiles on their faces as they danced. It was very refreshing.
As the show finished, and it was 2.00am, it was time to head home to bed.
Have just been to see a preview of Destination Arnold, a soon to be shown on ABC-TV documentary, produced by my friend, Michaela Perske. I never thought I’d be interested in the world of female bodybuilding, but it was absolutely brilliant. I cared about the women involved, and loved the honesty of the emotions and experiences they shared.
Though I have some other stuff I’ll blog about later, here’s a few of the photographs I’ve taken in the last week, and the stories behind them.
It must have been a big party – a significant birthday or a wedding – but loved seeing this happening in the back laneway where I live. Looks like it was lots of fun.Ichibang on Crown Street, Surry Hills is one of my favourite places to eat. The food always tastes terrific and the owner/chef always has a smile.Spotted this in the garbage room in my apartment block. Clearly, one of my neighbours didn’t get the memo about using these new bags more than once. I’m still using shopping bags I bought in 2011. It’s not that hard to remember.I was in the post office, and I saw a turntable for sale for $49.99. “Why not?”. I thought to myself. It was easy to connect it to my sound system, and have spent the day enjoying some of my old records. Aside from the crackles and record jumps, it’s been money well spent to revisit an earlier time.
There are four main reasons why you should go to a bar when you’re travelling.
They generally have the best toilets, especially if you’re travelling in a country where you know the toilet regime is a little “challenging” to “western sensitivities”.
At the end of a long hard day walkig and sighteeing, sometimes a refreshing drink can be the perfect way to end the way. On this trip, we’ve already visited a few roof-top bars which have been excellent.
This is the view from the Social Club Saigon Rooftop Bar. https://www.facebook.com/socialclubsgn/ Though there was no sunset today (wet season rain), we loved seeing some city views, the drinks were excellent, and the staff friendly and knowledgeable.
3. To meet people that doesn’t involve a tourist queue.
In the midst of yesterday’s rainstorm, I called in to a small bar in Ho Chi Minh City called Terroir Bar.
The bar has only been open for about three months according to the owner, an American who ewas doing some “business” on his laptop while his wife, Vietnamese, served behind the counter.
When I entered I was the only person at the bar, and so he said, “If you don’t like the music, I’m happy to put on something else”. “Oh no, I love 70s disco”, I told him. He responded that he did too, growing up in Detroit.
He told me he and his wife met in (I think) 2017 while he was working here.
We had a nice chat about life in Ho Chi Minh City. In particular, some of the differences with Hanoi (being the city of government), and Ho Chi Minh (being the most populaous).
As with any new bar, he told me things had been going slowly, but they had benefited from being an overflow from “Frolic’, an LGBTQIA+ bar located next door.
After a little while someone else entered the bar and joined the conversation. They told us they were from Bangkok, and were also here for some sightseeing.
Though I wasn’t entirely sure of how they identified gender-wise (I assumed they were born female), it didn’t surprise me we both later found ourselves at the next door bar.
Both the staff and customers at Frolic were in their twenties, with the exception of a couple of older men. I MIGHT have been the oldest.
To my surprise, people were smoking (both the staff and clientelle). After almost 30 years of non-smoking bars in Australia, it still surprises me to go into a bar where it occurs. I think the last time I entered a smoking bar was in the United States, and before that, maybe in the Czech Republic. Almost instantly, my clothes began to stink!
As with every other bar in the world, these days, people seemed more interested in what was happening on their phones than what was happening around them.
I enjoyed a couple of Mojitos, and a bit of crowd watching, before heading home.
Earlier, I had also chatted to a couple of people on a tourist bus.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”, a middle aged woman asked me. “Of course not, and if your partner wants to sit here, I’m happy to move”, I told her. “We’re just friends”, the man said, “And this is my husband”. They were visiting from Taiwan.
There was so much I wanted to ask them about being gay in Taiwan (they only had marriage equality laws a couple of years ago), and of course about Taiwan and the threat from China. In the end, there are some conversations that can only go a little way on a tourist bus.
In both instances, it was a great way to see a bit of life in Ho Chih Minh City (formerly known as Saigon) that goes beyond what you see in the tourist queues.
In contrast to the other cities we have visited on this trip, this feels very much like a “global city” in the same was as you night encounter in Shanghai. With global store brands, and a great variety of restaurant styles.
And reason Number 4?
4. Sometimes a bar literally screams out “come on in”.
Souvenir drink coaster
When I handed over my passport to the Vietnamese behind the bar she looked, at first curious. And then saw my name “Oh my goodness”, she said, “handing around my passport to the other staff”. In honour of a visit by a member of the O’Brien family (I thought of joking “traditional owners”, but that would have made no sense to them), she handed me my first souvenir from this trip.
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I can never understand why things that should be so easy and done every day just don’t work. When my step father died, it was a nightmare to try and close his phone account. You would think he was only person who ever died who owned a mobile phone.
I can never understand why things that should be so easy and done every day just don’t work. When my step father died, it was a nightmare to try and close his phone account. You would think he was only person who ever died who owned a mobile phone.