“Have you ever been to Nepal”, a man asked me this afternoon. “No”, I told him, adding, “I think I’d like to, though.” I hadn’t realised there was such a large community of people from Nepal, living in Sydney. I also hadn’t realised there was a festival until a friend sent me a text yesterday, asking if I would like to attend with her. The food was great, the dancing was great, the people were friendly. A terrific afternoon. I hope it happens again next year, as I’ll diarise to remember.
As we have a six-year-old in the house, and as it was Easter Sunday (read easter eggs) no one had much of a chance to sleep in this morning. For a six-year-old, Easter lacks the excitement of Christmas Day, but the idea of an Easter Egg Hunt is still enough to get him up early.
For the rest of us, it’s been a day of doing nothing much at all, though we did watch a couple of movies together, including Bran Nue Dae which emerged as a family favourite. Although I’ve been “wanting” to see it for quite some time I never have gotten around to it, mostly due to the limited cinema release, and because I never hire videos anymore. My sister does, and she hired it a few months ago and loved it so much she thought it would be great family viewing. And indeed it was. A great story with a sense of humour, wonderful music, and very well-told.
The other movie a few of us watched today was a replay of “Paper Giants” which I wrote about last week.
And all by myself, I watched “The Emigrants” the classic 1970s Swedish drama which screened this afternoon on the commercial television station, GEM. “Wow”, I thought to myself when I saw it in the program guide. Prior to Bjorn and Benny’s composition of the musical, “Kristina fran Duvemala”, I had no idea of the movie, the books, nor of the immigration to the United States of something like 25% of the Swedish population during the nineteenth century.
Scene from classic Swedish film, The Emigrants
As a film, I don’t think it’s dated all that well, unfortunately, as there are moments when the acting is a little wooden. Still, it was an interesting historical document and still quite entertaining to watch. The best-known names in the film included Max Von Sydow and Liv Ullman, but I was also impressed to see the Swedish jazz legend, Monica Zetterlund play the role of Ulrika.
The only disconcerting thing I found in watching the film was that it was dubbed, not subtitled. The dubbing was very good, but it was still recognisable, particularly in one scene where Robert went from his dubbed English into real English (with a strong Swedish accent).
So, as you can see, it’s that kind of Easter Sunday. Chocolates and film.
Meanwhile, we’re having gorgeous weather in Lismore.
“I hate those f***ing bikes,” a random bloke recently told me after I witnessed him push one over, not far from home. It was one of those hire bikes which have become popular in most Australian cities, and in particular, in my part of Sydney.
While I’d never actually push one over myself, I get where that anger comes from.
The rise of hire bikes and the proliferation of delivery riders on both bicycles and electric or motorbikes have brought about significant shifts in our cities, and we probably haven’t arrived at the right equilibrium,
One of the things that really grinds my gears is the apparent disregard for road rules. I’ve had more close calls than I can count with cyclists speeding along footpaths or just going straight through pedestrian crossings. I’ve had a few instances where I’ve almost been knocked over because cyclists or home delivery riders have just barreled through.
It’s that feeling that riders don’t seem to have any sense of road rules or footpath rules that really gets to me, especially when you feel vulnerable, like when you’re just trying to walk down the street. And for me, as someone with a physical disability, I need to take things a little more slowly, and keep a closer eye out for what’s happening around me. When someone comes quickly in front of me, or too closeby, I run the risk of losing my balance.
The carpark on Crown Steet, Surry Hills tonight.
Footpaths have been widened, and parking options have been limited, and that directly impacts residents and other road users. Personally, that doesn’t worry me so much, in fact, as a pedestrian I think it’s a good thing, but I can understand why some people feel the anger they do.
On a more personal level, one thing that really frustrates me is that hire bikes are often just left in the middle of footpaths, creating huge obstacles. When I was getting around in a wheelchair, these often thoughtlessly placed bikes could turn a simple trip into a frustrating ordeal.
When I was getting around in a wheelchair, these often thoughtlessly placed bikes could turn a simple trip into a frustrating ordeal.
And don’t even get me started on what they’ve done to our restaurants. Sure, when COVID first hit, those delivery riders were a lifeline, helping keep businesses open when no one could go out.
But now, as things have gone back to normal, I really hate what they’ve done to our restaurants. Places that used to be buzzing with people now often have just a handful of patrons.
It feels like the rise of delivery apps has, for some, contributed to a decline in people dining out, and it’s really changed the vibe of our local eateries. I often find myself wishing people would get up a go to their local restaurant instead of ordering take away.
I totally understand why they do, especially during winter when it’s cold. When I was largely using a wheelchair, I would often order it myself.
For the restaurants too, I’ve often found myself dining alone, and the only other people who come in are food delivery riders. Last night, while negotiating my way into the nearby Indian, a driver in a hurry came in quickly, almost knocked me over, and then left the door open, letting in the cold night air, much to the annoyance of the patrons.
I totally understand and appreciate the food delivery riders are probably being paid only a tiny salary, and their need for speed derives from the fact they need to do as many deliveries as possible to make a living. But I also wish the riders would slow down a bit and be a little less eratic when they ride and drive around my area.
Like every change, it takes time for things to settle down, and I think that’s likely what’s happening now: we haven’t quite found the new equilibrium.
We had an argument over wheelchair parking with a man today at Maroubra.
I don’t have one of those stickers to put on car windows yet. I need to go to a doctor and get some paperwork from home. But today we used wheelchair parking spots for brief drop-offs and pickups, while my friends parked elsewhere.
But on seeing us in one of the spots at the beach, the man in question started abusing us. His wife was in a wheelchair; they already had a spot, and he was wanting to use the space we were already in to get her back into the car.
We tried to explain we were not able-bodied people abusing the disability spaces, but he didn’t seem to understand or didn’t seem to want to listen.
In one of those classic ‘don’t back down moments,’ he failed to acknowledge we were telling the truth when I emerged from the vehicle, got into the wheelchair, and my friend drove away to another spot.
My other interactions with people in wheelchairs have been a lot more positive.
“As I’ve been traveling around, I’ve become far more conscious of people in wheelchairs than I was a few months ago,” I told my friends.
As we sat and waited for the fish and chips to be ready, two people in wheelchairs rode by. “Hello, how are you going?” we said to each other, smiling. I noticed one of them was double below-the-knee amputee, but mostly I noticed they were really enjoying themselves being out and about, having a great time down by the ocean.
Later we had a lovely jokey interaction with a couple who, like the first, were getting ready to get back in their vehicle.
My future with a prosthesis means I’ll be spending less time out and about in a chair, but there will still be times when I’ll need to get around in one. Anticipated occasions include long-distance trips, when I’m feeling tired, or when the prosthesis doesn’t fit or work properly.
Today was a further insight into the times when that might need to be the case, and the kind of things I might need to consider.
We went to Maroubra today for a couple of reasons, including that it seemed quite wheelchair friendly. There is a long flat promenade that’s relatively smooth, there seems to be ample wheelchair access, and it was nowhere near as busy as somewhere like Coogee. At the surf club, you can asks for a “beach wheelchair” (large, wide tyres), which they provide free of charge.
We went there for some fresh air (out of the hospital), some good conversation, and (ostensibly) fish and chips.
Fish and chips doesn’r sound good for diabetics, does it? Even though the shop ‘Barnacles’ at Maroubra doesn’t have wheelchair entry, I was able to see the menu from outside and order through my friends who could go into the shop. My friends had some battered fish and potato scallops, and I opted for some baby octopus and a salad. They also had grilled fish (which is also diabetes-friendly). All of our meals were excellent, and I would definitely go back there.
Conscious of my diabetes, I ‘snuck’ a couple of chips and even had a single beverage named after a former Prime Minister.
Later we went to an ice cream shop at the nearby East Gardens shopping center which had something called ‘diabetic ice cream.’ Research tells me it’s sugar-free, or at least low-sugar. They only had two flavors advertised as ‘diabetic ice cream,’ and I chose the chocolate one. I can’t remember the name of the ice cream shop, but it was on the top level of the shopping center, near the outdoor car park.
When I got back to the hospital, the nurse tested my blood sugar levels, and they were right on track. “You’re getting to know your body”, she remarked.
I’m pretty sure these small amounts of ‘leave pass’ are aiding the rehabilitation process. I’m so incredibly grateful my friends today, and others who’ve taken me out for a spin over the last few weeks.
“The guy in my room hasn’t had a single visitor in the week we’ve been together”, I told my friends today. Other people I’ve spoken to in the hospital have been here for periods of four and five months. By the time I get home, I will have been here for three months. I feel so incredibly lucky to have been able to get out and about, thanks to them.
“Just so you know, let there be no doubt, people really love you” my friend said today. We both almost cried.
I left work a little early today, as seemed to be the custom.
I had plans to head off home, get changed, and then meet Graeme for a drink later in the afternoon, but that somehow went awry.
Instead, a colleague invited me for a drink, and we spent an hour or so together chatting while she waited to catch up with her friends and I waited to catch up with Graeme.
Several drinks were then had downstairs at The Midnight Shift. But then, at about ten o’clock, as I realised I’d had a drink or ten, and it was a full-moon, maturity kicked in.
Suddenly I decided was time to go home and hit the sack. Graeme followed moments later.
It’s amazing how suddenly mature you can become, isn’t it?
They say Garbo was elusive in her life. She’s somewhat elusive in death also, it seems. Even though I’d found some online instructions about how to find her grave, they weren’t particularly clear. Even though they were seemingly quite detailed, they lacked specifics. The “general vibe” isn’t enough when it comes to navigation, I’ve concluded.
But if you’re looking for the grave of the famous Swedish actor, it’s actually pretty simple. First, you catch a bus or T-bana to to Skogskyrkogården (the woodland cemetery) in Stockholm’s south. Once there, you walk along the main path (walking past the chapels and the large crucifix) until you see signs which direct you to Skogskapellet (the woodland chapel). Once there, you enter the grounds of the chapel (it’s surrounded by a wall), and once inside, facing the chapel, look towards the right and you’ll see an exit. Walk to the exit, look straight ahead, and you’ll see her grave (about fifty metres away). It’s directly ahead.
Greta Garbo GraveGreta Garbo Grave in Stockholm during the summer
It was the first stop for us on a day of differing types of arts and culture.
Our next major arts “stop” for the day was the Moderna Museet, which I’ve been to on a number of occasions before, and which I’ve previously enjoyed very much. There were a couple of works which I enjoyed very much, including a fantastic self-portrait by Swedish artist, Cecilia Edefalk.
From the moment we entered the room I was captivated by the simple black and white photograph.
Self portrait by Cecilia Edefalk: In the photograph, Cecilia is holding a gun pointed straight at you. While the gun is slightly out of focus, the rest of the photograph is firmly in focus, as she looks you firmly straight in the eyes.
Nearby there was another work by an American artist, Elaine Sturtevant, which I also liked very much. Again, it’s a simple image, but with a twist, as the woman portrayed has neon lights for lips.
Elaine Sturtevant
In contrast, some of the current main exhibitions left me cold. In particular, I felt almost absolutely nothing as I walked around and looked at the works of the well-known Swedish artist, Hilma af Klint. Although the exhibition was well-attended, I couldn’t see what the attraction was. To me, there was no passion in the work. It seemed a little cold, a little clinical for my liking. I’ve probably missed the point, and maybe I needed to know a little more about her work before entering the exhibition?
Restaurang – Moderna Museet
After a brief mid-afternoon coffee break, we took a look around the nearby Arkitekturmuseet (Architecture museum). Essentially, it’s one very large room that takes you through a couple of thousand years of Swedish architecture, from early buildings made from timber and mud, to the latest and greatest. There’s a reference to aquatics centre at the Beijing Olympics, though I couldn’t work out what the connection was. (Updated)
Goteborg Central
What I thought was really interesting about the Arkitekturmuseet, and really enjoyed was the insight the museum also gave into the lives of everyday Swedes. There’s a series of panels and videos which describe (in Swedish) different modes of living enjoyed by everyday Swedes. To accompany the exhibition, there’s also an excellent audio commentary tour available. On the audio tour, I was delighted to instantly recognise the voice of Gaby Katz. “She used to present Sounds Nordic on Sveriges Radio”, I told Sue.
Later in the evening we headed to the Big Ben Pub for their English language comedy night. In a country where everyone speaks brilliant English, and where there are signs for everything in English, and where there are lots of English language programs on TV (ok, basically Big Bang Theory and The Simpsons), I was keen to find something which we could go both out and enjoy.
English language comedy night at Big Ben in Stockholm
Interestingly enough, I’d say 90% of the crowd (maybe more) were Swedes. On top of that, three out of the five comics were also native born Swedes, and most of their humour related to their Swedish-ness. During the first half we were a little worried, as the first two comics weren’t all that funny, and sometimes struggled a little with English.
The second half, though, was pretty good. In particular, we enjoyed the personal humour of the only female comic of the night, a Swedish woman from East Asian heritage who had recently moved to London. Much of her comedy was about her experiences growing up “looking different” in Sweden, and about her unsuccessful attempts at relationships. Sometimes that whole “I’m a woman who can’t find a man” comedy routine can be a little tiresome. I also think it can sometimes re-inforce some female stereotypes. Although tempted, she didn’t fall too heavily into that trap, emerging as a strong, confident woman. The audience loved her, and so did we.
Although I could say this was the worst airport I have ever been to, a simple photograph tells you Riga Airport was busy the morning I was there. Also, I joined the wrong queue and could have gotten through much more quickly if I had read the signs - in English - properly.
I love the internet. In particular, I love how it’s opened up the world to me in a way I could have only dreamed of twenty years ago. On the downside, however, it also attracts some awfully negative, nasty folk who hide behide the anonymity the internet provides.
As part of my travel planning at the moment, I spent some time online tonight looking at flights, seating plans, airline reviews, airline food reviews and accommodation reviews, and all I can say is: “what a bunch of bitches”.
On the one hand, you would hope anonymity might lead to a higher level of honesty, but a lot of the time when you read online reviews, you just know it’s more about “their issues” than the service or experience they have in fact received.
Some of the weirdest ones I’ve seen online tonight include…
“Little personal attention from the crew, meal choice offered as it was served”
– Darl, they’re serving 300 people in a small piece of metal hurtling through the air. What did you expect in economy, a discussion about Satre and a foot massage?
“Yes, when booking it seemed tempting to book something that is $150-$300 cheaper. But you do notice the lack of service and food on your journey”
– Well, dir… if you shop at a discount store, you should expect a discount service.
“Positively surprised. Flight on time in a decent A320. Good seat pitch in row 5 and edible warm meal rounded off by round of drinks, tea / coffee. Smiling crew a bonus. Paid a very competitive price and would recommend Finnair”
– In essence, she’s saying she was expecting something awful, and was surprised when that wasn’t the case. Raise your expectations, darl…
“When I tried to call Finnair, nobody dared to answer the phone.”
– What does that mean? When did you call? What sort of baggage does someone carry when they assume an unanswered phone call means “nobody dared to answer the phone”? “Everybody’s out to get me” is the next logical thing to say in such a review.
And finally…
“Maybe their European service is OK, however, having been on their long haul flight and comparing it to all other long haul flights I’ve been on, I would rate them 0/10, maybe 0.5/10. ”
– Honestly, would you ever seriously rate anything as 0/10, except perhaps an act on Red Faces?
I find it remarkable that people write such awful unsubstantiated reviews, expecting first class travel when they’re travelling on budget airlines.
Equally unhelpful was the overly positive review, along the lines of “this was the best place I’ve ever stayed”.
Many of the reviews I’ve read tonight were really unhelpful, as they didn’t actually give me an accurate portrayal or description of what was on offered and what was delivered.
You can’t just say it was good or bad. You need to be specific.
It’s like they say about Twitter…. “everyone’s talking but nobody’s listening”.
These reviews do, however, give you an insight into the weird and wonderful people you’re going to have to travel with.
I’m guessing the person who writes online reviews also puts their seat into recline as soon as they get on the place, talks incessantly all night while everyone else is trying to sleep, and constantly asks for assistance from the flight-attendant.
The only thing is to pray to God you end up seated next to someone with normal views, and not some of the oddballs who write online reviews.
PS. It turns out one of the barmen from my local pub is Nepalese. I heard him mention it, and so I engaged in a conversation. He hadn’t been to the festival, but enjoyed seeing my photographs.
Hello from Idaho
Hi Dora, from Sydney.
PS. It turns out one of the barmen from my local pub is Nepalese. I heard him mention it, and so I engaged in a conversation. He hadn’t been to the festival, but enjoyed seeing my photographs.