To be honest, we weren’t much impressed with the art works. But we did enjoy the social aspects of the launch last night of safARI. Lots of fun, great conversations in Chippendale laneways. Later, a terrific bite to eat at Emperor’s Garden in Chinatown.
Since arriving back in Lismore, I’ve spent a bit of time wandering around, checking out art (both public and in galleries). I’ve previously blogged about some of the art associated with the Tropical Fruits festival; these images are more permanent parts of the city’s awesome collection.
For the second time in as many weeks, I had dinner tonight at “The Balkan“. Or should I say “The New Balkan” or “The Original Balkan”, as “The Balkan” continues to exist, in another form, further up on Oxford Street. As you might say on Facebook, “it’s complicated”.
I’ve been going to The Balkan for as long as I’ve lived in Sydney which is now almost eighteen years. I’ve always liked the informality of the place, I’ve liked the friendly service, and I’ve liked the food. Although they have some terrific salads, especially the potato/coleslaw mix which is to die for, it’s really the meat that’s the restaurant’s main attraction. The mixed grill is a favourite of mine, as it combines a lot of different tastes, and that’s what I had tonight. Yummo.
The history of The Balkan goes back even further, as the current owner, John took over the business from his parents, now retired, but featuring in a photograph on their website. He’s a lovely guy. He always has a smile on his face, he always makes you feel very welcome. And so when he announced he was moving the business from Oxford Street to Crown Street, and calling it “The Original Balkan” our group, like lots of others it seems, followed suite.
They’re now located opposite The Columbian which is probably a good thing, as the part of Oxford Street where they once were, has become reasonably quiet, with quite a few empty shops. It no longer has “the buzz” it once had. In contrast, there are lots of places to eat in the nearby vicinity. Here’s hoping they do well.
I first saw Vanessa Larry Mitchell at the Northern Rivers Hotel in Lismore a few years ago, where she was hosting a comedy showcase. Some of the local comedians were fantastic, while others were… well, less so. That was years ago, but I’ve been following her career ever since.
I’ll never forget that night, as I ended up being the butt of her jokes. I was “the guy from Surry Hills” even though I was born and bred in South Lismore.
From that moment, I was hooked. It was clear she was an incredible talent, turning a seemingly dull job into a vibrant career as a comedian. A public speaker and trainer with a background in the disability and community sectors, Vanessa honed her craft on the North Coast before writing her hilarious show, “Tears Are My Dildo.” The show went on to tour nationally and even made it all the way to Edinburgh.
When I saw her again at the Sydney Comedy Festival a couple of years ago, she looked at me and said, “I know your face.” I reminded her of that Wednesday night in Lismore and the part I played in her routine. I must have one of those faces that comedians love to pick on—and I’m always happy to play along.
I saw her perform again just last night at the Sydney Fringe Festival. And sure enough, I was once again the butt of her jokes. When she asked where I was from, I told her Lismore, and we had a great chat after the show about our shared connection to the city.
Like many others, Vanessa lost everything in the Lismore floods in 2022. It was wonderful to see her tackle that difficult period with her signature humor, weaving some jokes about the experience into her first show, Tears On My Dildo. The new show, Lube Me Alone primarily focused on sex and dating and relationships, as the name would imply. The thing I love most about her humour is the joy with which she delivers it all.
The hour-long show was a blast, and I hope my nieces enjoy it just as much as I did.
“They’re cute, but I’m not sure I’d like either one of them as a boyfriend”, I told my friends as we walked out of the movie. “You mean they’re a bit high maintenance?”, one of my friends replied with a twinkle in his eyes. We were talking about the twin brothers – Larry and Garry – at the centre of the documentary film, “From Hollywood To Dollywood”.
Not only are they twins, but they’re gay, they’re from a conservative Christian background in a small town in America, and they’re big fans of Dolly Parton.
I really like Dolly Parton, but these guys really LOVE Dolly. In fact, they’ve written a film for Dolly, and this documentary records their cross-country road trip from Hollywood to Dollywood, and their desire to personally present Dolly with a copy of their manuscript.
Throughout the film we learn more about their lives. Their parents know, for example, they’re both gay, but it’s not something they “talk about” You sense a fair bit of anger from these two young men they’re unable to do fully share their lives with their parents. There’s one point in the film, though, when one of the twins says something like, “we’ve got to stop talking about mom in this way… she’s just one person… lots of other people… millions have these feelings too” (or words to that effect).
It’s perhaps the lack of parental acceptance that’s drawn them to Dolly Parton. Although, like me, they would have grown up listening to Dolly – “Coat Of Many Colours” is one of my earliest musical memories – I think it’s the fact that Dolly has been so forthright in her opening her arms up to her gay fans that’s part of the attraction. They mention, at one point, a song by Dolly which I’d never heard before called “Family”. They tell the story of putting it on their mother’s car sound system, and how she just cried and cried when she heard it.
When it’s family, you forgive them for they know not what they do
When it’s family, you accept them, ’cause you have no choice but to
When it’s family, they’re a mirror of the worst and best in you
And they always put you to the test
And you always try to do your best
And just pray for God to do the rest, when it’s familySome are preachers, some are gay
Some are addicts, drunks and strays
But not a one is turned away, when it’s family
Some are lucky, others ain’t
Some are fighters, others faint
Winners, losers, sinners, saints, it’s all family
Like all “road” movies, it’s got a great sense of narrative. Will they meet Dolly? What will the circumstances be? Will they overcome the road-blocks along the way such as flooding?
At one point later in the film, a boyfriend of one of the twins asks, “Why did you want to drive across America; why not just catch a plane?” In response, one of them says something about how the road-trip was also an opportunity to re-write the script, and to meet other people whose lives have also been touched by Dolly Parton in some way. I’m not convinced that’s the entire story, but I’ll take it on face value.
Anyway, it’s a lovely film which I enjoyed very much.
Naturally enough there was some disappointment in the room tonight when it became clear Eric Saade from Sweden hadn’t won this year’s Eurovision Song Contest.
For a long time he was in the lead, and then all of a sudden it became clear Azerbaijan had the numbers.
Unlike my friends who had managed to avoid the media today and had no idea of the winner, I found out inadvertently earlier this morning via ABC-1. Tuning in to watch “Insiders” (as I normally do) I thought would be a “safe” media option as I couldn’t imagine the likes of Barrie and Lenore discussing Eurovision. Unfortunately the “news headlines” at the start of the show contained a news item about the winner.
Still it was enjoyable to watch even if the results were already known, and even if I knew that Eric had missed out.
I thought Eric’s performance was really terrific with lots of energy and enthusiasm. For me, however, there were far too few stand out songs. As my friends and I discussed Eurovision tonight, we generally agreed the standard of songs has increased somewhat over the last few years. We agreed there were very few of the “shockers” that sometimes gave Eurovision a bad name. But perhaps it also lacked a bit of the “spontaneity” and slight “clunkiness” that also made Eurovision such a great thing to watch.
The only really proper laugh out loud moment came when the Slovenian actor, tv-star etc, Klemen Slakonja delivered the votes from his country as “Paul The Octopus”.
As for the winner? OMG. How dull was that song? The only thing that made it slightly interesting was the age difference between the two performers, they way they appeared to fight over the trophy at the end and the Swedish connection. The song was written by Swedes, Sandra Bjurman and Stefan Örn and the whole back-up team, including make-up, choreography, hair etc were imported from Sverige. So maybe Sweden did win after all?
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