Gosh, I love Sydney
Gosh I love #Sydney . I went to the launch tonight of the Sydney Writers Festival at the wharves near the Sydney Harbour Bridge. While the festivities went on inside, there were people outside fishing. A great multi-purpose site!
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Big Night Out
A mate who was sitting one seat away from me – who spends his working life as a food critic – noted there was something special on the menu for me, The entree at this year’s “Andrew Olle Media Lecture” was gravad lax, a typically Swedish meal, though the descriptor in the menu had this particular version as “Norwegian style”. Accompanied by herring in a teppan’yaki style batter, it was a very lovely entree. The main was good too – I had the chicken – and so was the desert and other parts of the night. Given the scale of it all, I’m constantly amazed at how they can dish up 300+ meals simultaneously without any obvious stuff-ups.
The venue was the Shangri La, by the way, or the old ANA, as many older people still refer to it. On my annual calendar, this is my annual “big night out”. Most of the time for the last five or six years, though, I’ve been working, as I’ve always had some involvement in the planning and implementation of the night. But this year I’ve had no involvement, and for me it was just a night to relax, have a great meal, chat, and generally enjoy life and just to experience the event as a “punter”.
I wasn’t around for the first one, but I’ve been going regularly to the “Olle Lecture” since the second was delivered in 1997 by Jana Wendt. As I recall, she and Channel 9 had just parted ways, and there was a “story to tell”. Along the way, there have been various journalists, media owners, and media players most of whom were on “their way up”, though some have some “made their way down” again.
2009 Andrew Olle Media Lecture – Julian Morrow
2008 Andrew Olle Media Lecture – Ray Martin
2007 Andrew Olle Lecture – John Hartigan
2006 Andrew Olle Lecture – Helen Coonan
2005 Andrew Olle Media Lecture – John Doyle
2004 Andrew Olle Media Lecture – Chris Anderson
2003 Andrew Olle Media Lecture – Harold Mitchell
2002 Andrew Olle Media Lecture – Lachlan Murdoch
2001 Andrew Olle Lecture – Kerry Stokes
2000 Andrew Olle Lecture – Eric Beecher
1999 Andrew Olle Lecture – Steve Vizard
1998 Andrew Olle Lecture – John Alexander
And this year it was the Editor of The Guardian, Alan Rusbridger who
has overseen the newspaper’s website being voted best newspaper website in the world, while he has been named Editor of the Year three times and he is also noted for fighting, and winning, a number of high-profile legal cases involving free speech issues and corruption in government.
His central thesis concerned the The Splintering of the Fourth Estate, which he observed in these terms
Digital is biting most fiercely on the press, if only because we have somehow to earn our own living (I will qualify that in a moment) and don’t enjoy the sheltered protection of licence fees or government funding. As digital eats into the press, so the press has turned its fire on public broadcasters, imagining that if only they went away everything in the garden would once more come out in bloom. And so the balance between these three separate ideas of journalism begins to teeter.
A highlight of the speech was his 15-point – very good summary – of how important Twitter is, and how it’s often under-estimated by many working in traditional media.
I’ve lost count of the times people – including a surprising number of colleagues in media companies – roll their eyes at the mention of Twitter. “No time for it,” they say, “Inane stuff about what twits are having for breakfast. Nothing to do with the news business.” Well, yes and no. Inanity – yes, sure, plenty of it. But saying that Twitter has got nothing to do with the news business is about as misguided as you could be.
“I’ve never heard Twitter intellectualized in such a manner before”, a colleague said to me as we chatted after the speech.
As the official part of the evening came to an end, a few of us made our way to the Horizon Bar on the 36-th floor, I think. I’d only ever been there once before, but remembered the view in particular. With cocktails starting at $20 each, it’s not the kind of place you chuck em down with gay abandon. But with such a great view, you’re hardly inclined to.
Very memorable night. The only downside was arriving home at about 2.00am, and discovering it was more difficult to take off my bow-tie than it was to put it on. Nothing to do with the cocktails of course :)
Rainy days and Mondays
“I woke up and thought for half a second of taking a sickie”, a bloke at work said to me as we took the lift together this morning. I knew exactly what he meant because I had the same feelings an hour or so earlier. However, I have a reasonably strong work ethic, and far too much on at the moment to even think about having a day at home.
“It took me an hour to get to work” he told me, complaining about the sluggishness of the road system. “We don’t cope well with the rain in Sydney”, I suggested.
And we don’t. I had to go looking for an umbrella this morning and all I could find was a busted one which I had to hold open myself. It’s my “big gay umbrella” as I like to call it, a reference to the rainbow flag design. All of my other umbrellas were in my office at work, as that’s generally what happens in Sydney. Generally, it’s raining in the morning, so you take your umbrella to work, and then you leave it there, because it’s generally dry by the afternoon. But there are times of the year – like now – where it just keeps raining and raining.
I like the rain at night. In fact, I love the rain at night. I’ll often sleep with the window slightly open so I can take in the smells and slight chill of the rain at night, as well as the sounds. I almost feel like I’m back in the country again. But when it comes to daytime, ugh.
And you can see it around town in the ways in which people cope with the rain. You see a lot of broken down umbrellas when it rains in Sydney. Others will jump from cover to cover, as the idea of owning an umbrella almost seems foreign. There was one bloke on the bus this morning whose “rain strategy” was a baseball cap.
There was a bright moment in the otherwise glum day, however, as I caught up with Cellobella who has been in Sydney for the blogger’s conference. “There were so many amazing stories” she told me, of the people who had bared their souls after years of domestic abuse or had recovered from a serious illness. We both agreed our stories about weather and pop music pale into comparison. Still, we love doing it.
It’s been a take-away pizza night for me and a bit of television watching. I’m a little congested at the moment – I think it’s a bit of hayfever – so I’m feeling a little sluggish myself. Or maybe it’s the combination of the rain and a rather amazing full moon?
The International Language
One of the odd things about staying in a Youth Hostel is the uncertainty of which language to use. Over breakfast this morning, for example, I didn’t know whether to “God Morgon”, “Good Morning” or “Guten Tag”. Any one of these greetings in themselves would have been fine, it’s knowing which one to use to which person. Mostly, I’ve found people have resorted to a word that sounds something like “Hej” and “Hi”. The same goes for “excuse me”. Do I say “forlot” or “entschuldigen”? Mostly, I’ve just smiled in an “excuse me” kind of way. Most people are assuming I’m Swedish, though I hardly have the typical Swedish features. I am, however, developing that lightly slightly sunburnt look many Swedes develop at this time of the year.
Sometimes my attempts at the Swedish language have been successful, other times not. Today, I concluded however that I must be speaking Swedish with an Australian accent. At the Tourist Centre, I purchased one of those electricity converter plugs, saying hello, paying for it, and then thanking the attendant in Swedish. He responded with “Thanks Mate” in a broad Aussie accent.
The most difficult experience I’ve had with language, though, was today in an Italian cafe. The owner spoke mostly Swedish and a little English, but I couldn’t understand either, due to the presence of an Italian accent. And, she couldn’t understand me for exactly the same reason. Thank goodness, her daughter was able to translate.
As I mentioned yesterday, my German language skills have also come in extremely handy. On the downside, remembering all this German has sometimes confused my Swedish, due to some similarities between the languages.
It came in handy last night, though, at Torget. Torget is a gay bar attracting a more mature crowd just across the road from the Gamla Stan metro station. It was like no other gay bar I’ve ever been to. On the left-hand side as you enter, there were seats and tables for dinner, in the middle was a large area for standing, and then on the right, there was a raised seating area.
Seated along the raised area, like a bunch of wall-flowers looking down on the passing parade below was a group of mostly middle-aged men. I sat on a chair just below the raised area, but still close enough to listen in to the conversation of a couple of German blokes checking out those around the bar. It was very amusing, especially since they seemed oblivious to the fact that I, and probably others, COULD understand what they were saying.
Although the Swedish have a reputation for being alcoholics, I didn’t see much evidence of it last night. There was only one bloke in the bar who I would describe as “blotto”. Clearly, white wine is the choice for the young and dandy about town, while the older crowd mostly drinks beer. I drank beer, choosing Carlsberg Hof as the only brand of beer I actually knew. I was also pleased that it was actually reasonably priced. In all, I spent about $20 for the entire night.
When I ordered my third beer (in about three hours), the barman gave me a strange, slightly disapproving look. “Heavens”, I thought to myself, “that’s not even binge drinking in Australia”.
And so after that third drink, I caught the metro back home and hit the sack within minutes of arriving at the hostel. In a room of mostly middle-aged independent travellers, like myself, there was only one who snored. I was pleased because I had fears of being known as “the fat old bloke who snores”. Thankfully, that reputation goes to someone else.
I sighed when I saw the weather this morning. The beautiful “Svenska Sommaren” had turned into the wet and windy Swedish summer. “This is a typical Swedish summer”, according to a bloke I met this morning. He was in charge of the tour boats and was doing his bit to meet and greet some of the customers. “When I was a young twenty five years ago”, he said, “We used to have very hot summers, and now it’s sometimes warm and sometimes cold and wet”.
Even though the weather was pretty shitty, I decided to go on the “Royal Canal Tour” anyway. While the crowd of mostly older couples sat inside rugged up, I walked out to the back of the boat. While they sat with rain-soaked windows, I had a great view and could still hear the commentary.
It was just as interesting as yesterday’s tour; maybe even more so, as there was a lot of discussion about how Sweden had changed dramatically in the last twenty or thirty years. The tour emphasised many of the debates about development policy, and there was a wry comment about how there was a “working shipyard which HASN’T been converted into apartment blocks”.
It might sound odd to say this, but in some respects, the tour reminded me of the trip between Perth and Fremantle. Obviously quite different landscapes, but similar in the sense there’s still a lot of parks and gardens along the riverside which haven’t been developed.
As we toured, the guide specifically mentioned us passing “the house of a member of the pop group, ABBA”. I can’t be sure, but I suspect it was Bjorn’s house we passed. And if that’s true, I’m reasonably sure I saw him jogging along the riverside. He was dressed in black, wearing a cap, but I recognised the beard and the facial structure. Of course, I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am. Stop stalking me!
We made it back in time for a quick look at the Dance Museum, which was interesting enough, before heading off for a tour of the Swedish Parliament.
In many respects, the Swedish Parliament is a bit like most modern parliaments. They have a prime minister, a government, an opposition, something resembling a question time, parliamentary committees and so on. Interestingly, though, they have just one house, with the bicameral system abolished in the 1970s. Also, interestingly, people sit in the parliament according to where they’re from, geographically speaking, not along party lines. They have this characteristic in common with the Norwegian parliament, and I think it’s a very interesting response to modern democracy. Perhaps, just perhaps, it goes some way towards promoting a cooperative, less adversarial approach to government?
I struggled with the weather for a while today. It got really well and really shitty for a while. And you know how in Sydney when it rains, every other shop has umbrellas for sale? Well, not in Stockholm. I looked everywhere for an umbrella to no avail. For a while, it was starting to get me down, as I became soaked through. Thankfully, the microfibre towel which Colin gave me before leaving came in extremely handy.
As the weather improved, I wandered around the back streets of Gamla Stan. I came across some really amazing little streets and took some great photographs. It was then, approaching the Nobel Museum (very interesting, especially the speeches by previous winners which you can listen to), I had another ABBA experience. I noticed some of the buildings which they had famously been photographed in front of during the 1970s. It was a lovely moment.
Finally, I found a good internet cafe this afternoon, Cafe Edenborg on Nyra Storgaten in Gamla Stan. For the cost of a couple of soft drinks, I was able to check my email, upload some photographs, and post my diary entry from last night.
I don’t know what I’m going to do tonight. I’m back at the youth hostel right now. We’ve watched a kid’s show, the news, and after much channel swapping, the room has settled on “The Simpsons”. Truly international.
Swingers
When I arrived home from work today I was completely “shagged”, and not in a good way :) The last month or so has been quite exhausting, and the most energetic thing I could do was check out the EPG and select some programs to watch.
I caught up with “Gruen Transfer” (which was very good), watched a bit of “Lateline”, glanced at “60 Minute Makeover” and then selected a classic movie on 7TWO, “Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice”. It’s a film that I’ve kinda known about for many years, but have never actually watched. It’s firmly set in the late 1960s, and, although it’s concerned with “open relationships” and “swingers” on the surface, more deeply it’s really concerned with “exclusive relationships” and finding depth within monogamy.
It was an interesting choice, since I’ve also been looking at a few internet sites tonight with a view to internet dating. It’s a long time between relationships, and I think it’s probably time to look around again. “What’s with the swinger thing?”, I’ve thought to myself as I went online tonight. “Why are there so many people who look kinda nice and sound kinda interesting, and who then reveal they’re in a relationship, but are looking for a bit on the side?”, I wondered to myself. How can people say they’re looking for a “daytime catchup” when I barely have time for lunch?
I don’t really “get” the swingers thing. I completely understand it’s not for others, and I accept that other people feel differently, but it’s not a part of my nature. Maybe I’m a little old-fashioned, but I think when you make a commitment, you make a commitment. Making a commitment to a relationship is the probably the most important thing you do in your life.
That said, I’m sometimes reminded of a quote where we often make the most important decisions of our lives – relationships, children, jobs etc – with little thought, where we often agonise for days, weeks, over the trivial.
In the end, I thought “Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice” was quite a good film. It kinda reminded me of “Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Wolf?” in the way the actors spoke to each other with apparent honesty.
It’s also interesting the film starts and ends with a scenes where the characters are looking into the eyes of others truly trying to “connect”.
At the end, though, it’s symbolic the closing music is “What The World Needs Now Is Love” by Dionne Warwick.
In the end, I’m guessing I’m the Elliot Gould character who feels most uncomfortable with the open-relationship situation, though without the obvious chest and back hair :) OMG, he has so much back-hair.
From ‘Murder Mall’ to Modern Marvel
For the three decades I’ve lived in this area, my local shopping centre in Surry Hills was affectionately, or perhaps ironically, known as the “Murder Mall.” I, however, preferred to call it the “Methadone Mall.”
But as gentrification swept through the neighborhood, so too did an upscale makeover for our mall. Now, it boasts a Harris Farm, new upmarket restaurants, and a massive Coles, shedding its old, grungier vibe.
I found myself heading back there for lunch today with former colleagues, a cherished annual tradition. Our destination was Olympus, a Greek restaurant that has generated considerable buzz over the past year. Everyone I’d spoken to raved about it, so I suggested it for our special catch-up.
As we settled in, the conversation naturally turned to our lives, our careers, and, hilariously, our impending or recently passed 60th birthdays. I playfully asked, “So, what pills are we all on?” This led to a lighthearted, yet surprisingly bonding, discussion about our current medications. Even our fittest friend, we discovered, is now on a few prescriptions! It was a lovely, relatable moment with colleagues I’d worked very closely with for years.
Olympus certainly lived up to its hype. The space itself is striking, designed to accommodate 240 people without feeling crowded. Unlike many modern restaurants that cram in too many tables, Olympus offers ample room, allowing for easy conversation without needing to shout. A truly unique feature is the large tree in the center of the dining area and an overhead opening window. While it was closed due to winter, this million-dollar window, as our waiter informed us, floods the space with natural light, making it easy to read menus – a welcome change from dimly lit establishments.
We sampled several dishes, all excellent. Here are a few of them.
It was a genuinely great meal, and surprisingly affordable given the quality. Only two of us opted for a glass of wine each, so the bill wasn’t astronomical – a far cry from the indulgent, office-ditching lunches of the 80s! But it’s also not a cheap meal, either. I’d highly recommend Olympus, though be prepared for a higher-end experience if you choose to truly indulge.
Beyond the Mall: Bingo, ABBA, and Back to Reality
Also this week, I enjoyed a different kind of outing, attending “Bingay” at the Beresford Hotel.” This fun event was a fundraiser for the AIDS Council of New South Wales, set to a fantastic ABBA soundtrack. One of the drag kings even channeled an ABBA member in their costume, adding to the entertainment. It was a joy to reconnect with friends who’d attended previous events and meet new people, making for a truly enjoyable evening.
Aside from these outings, it’s been a week of settling back into work and life in Sydney after my break in Lismore. I had a funny moment this morning when a colleague asked about my weekend plans, and I realized I couldn’t instantly answer. I’m back to that stage where plans get added to the diary and sometimes completely forgotten until they’re upon me! Such is life right now.
My Final Day in Tokyo
Of course, I drink like a fish. But over time my body seems to have built up a bit of resistance, so I don’t often get hangovers. Today, however, was an exception: I woke with one of those mind-numbing hangovers.
Last night I went out looking for something to eat and headed towards the “gay area” of Tokyo. The first bar I called into (for a beer) had the best name for a bar ever: Cholesterol. And then it went on and on, met some lovely people, and suddenly it was 5 am.
Fortunately, the hangover disappeared quickly.