“The crowds aren’t anywhere as big as last year”, a former colleague, Anna told me as we chatted in the foyer of Deutsche Bank in Sydney. Although it’s been a couple of years since I’ve been to a Sydney Open, I had to agree. The last time I went was maybe four or five years ago, and there were often long queues to get into most of the buildings.
I think part of the problem may be that some of the buildings this year weren’t that interesting. As my friend Sue and I went through the brochure on Saturday night to prioritize which buildings we wanted to see, I’ll admit we sometimes struggled to find something interesting that wasn’t already widely accessible on any given weekday. That, and the fact that access was often limited to a foyer, as was the case with 1 Bligh Street, a state-of-the-art “green” building. It would have been fantastic to have travelled to the top floor and to have seen all of the “enviro” things such as the water tanks, the gardens and so on, but unfortunately, we weren’t able to go beyond the, admittedly, amazing foyer. There were also restrictions on when and where you could and couldn’t take photographs at a number of buildings. Presumably, these restrictions were security-focused which I understand, but was nonetheless disappointed.
Looking Upwards at 1 Bligh Street, Sydney
We visited a number of buildings, including Hong Kong House (and heard about the building’s chequered history as a hotel), the British Medical Association Building (on Macquarie Street), and Allan’s Lawyers in the Deutsche Bank Building (which has a wonderful art collection, views, and an ear-popping fast elevator).
British Medical Association Building in Sydney
Our favourite, though, was the office of NSW Governor, Marie Bashir. Until entering the building, I hadn’t known she had an office separate from Government House, but indeed she does in the Chief Secretary’s Building (which is also home to the NSW Industrial Relations Commission). What we both thought was interesting was the informality of her office, with photographs of her grandchildren on her desk, various nick-nacks, a stack of CDs (and one cassette) and signed photographs of the Queen and Prince Phillip. The office was almost a little “untidy”, and so you actually got the impression this was a very real office, a place of work, as opposed to a formal, stuffy environment. But what else would you expect from Marie Bashir? Unfortunately, no photographs were allowed there also.
Tonight Damo and I went to a really fantastic dinner at Aqua.
Neither of us have been there before, but were attracted by the lure of a dinner featuring wines from Eldridge Estate.
Damien’s connection with the winery goes back seven or eight years when he went there for a day or two of grape-picking. They have an interesting scheme where you go there, help pick grapes, are treated to some lovely food and wine, and receive ongoing discounts on wine sales.
The setting for Aqua, near the North Sydney pool is pretty spectacular. No matter where you look, the view is spectacular.
View from Aqua at North Sydney
Dinner at Aqua
North Sydney Pool as viewed from Aqua
The food and wine were also pretty spectacular.
I’m sure Damo will blog properly about the food and plentiful wine that was on offer, but in the meantime, here are some photographs.
I was almost late for the ABBA tribute concert tonight in Sandviken, near Gavle, north of Uppsala in Sweden. As much as I love ABBA, this wasn’t, however, the attraction to move out of Stockholm for a couple of days.
News today from Sweden – the weather forecast for Easter
Rather, I was keen to see one of the participants, Magnus Carlsson. I discovered Magnus when he became a member of Alcazar a few years ago. Aside from “Crying At The Discotheque”, my favourite period in the band’s history was when he was a member. They had great songs and video clips during that time.
After leaving the band, he has released a few singles and a couple of CDs including far too many Christmas CDs, but they’re always quite popular here. I like both of his proper solo CDs very much, though possibly preferring the Swedish language album, as it’s one which has been quite helpful for me in my Swedish language studies: he sings with good diction, making it easier to follow.
I was also interested in seeing a little more of Charlotte Perreli, Sweden’s Eurovision winner in 1999 and contender in 2009, however she called in sick and was replaced by two other singers, including Anna Sahlene (who I really like).
Charlotte Perrelli is sick, replaced by Jessica and Anna
The train from Stockholm to Gavle only takes ninety minutes and, if you choose the right time, can be reasonably cheap.
Trying to book online though is frustrating. Before leaving the hotel this morning I tried unsuccessfully to book a ticket. The system asks you for both a credit card and a phone number. My conclusion at the end of several attempts was the system either doesn’t like one or both if you’re from Australia.
I tweeted about this while waiting for the train and received a few similar frustrated responses. One bloke I know mentioned on one system you could get A and A…. but not Australia. A friend mentioned he was having similar problems trying to book tickets in Italy.
And then I remembered trying a few months back trying to do the same, having the same problem, and finally using the telephone operator system. It’s much easier to go to Central Station and use one of the kiosks I’ve found. You select your route, you put in your credit card, and out pops your ticket.
The train today was quite full. In second class, at least. Lots of American backpackers choosing the cheap option which gets you a ticket, but not necessarily a seat, so there were a few of them sitting in the stairwell.
In stark contrast to central Stockholm where much of the snow and ice has been removed from the roads and footpaths, the countryside between Stockholm and Gavle remains blanketed in snow. As I looked out the window, I felt very Anna Karenina.
Along the way you pass through Arlanda (where the airport is) and Uppsala (not terribly impressive from the railway at least) before finally arriving in Gavle, a town of about 100,000.
Before arriving, I tried to find some useful tourist information about the town, but there wasn’t much to be found. There was mention of a Railway Museum. But mostly the recommendation was to use the town as a point for exploration of the nearby area.
Hotel Gavle isn’t anywhere near as glamorous as the accommodation I’ve been enjoying the last few days. But it’s clean, has a bathroom (no shared facilities), and since I paid for it a few months ago, it’s kinda like having a couple of nights of free accommodation.
I haven’t seen all that much of Gavle. As soon as I arrived mid-afternoon, my main priority was to get to nearby Sandviken for the ABBA tribute concert by the local symphony orchestra.
As you catch the bus between Gavle and Sandviken you get a real sense of the countryside. Even though it’s only 20km by road, you get the sense you are really in a rural part of Sweden. “We’re not in Stockholm anymore, Toto”, I thought to myself at one point.
Unfortunately it’s been a day for losing my sense of direction and any ability to speak Swedish, it seems. Even a simple phrase like “I would like a white wine” (which I used a couple of times) tonight drew blank faces on the locals. Do they speak a different type of Swedish here? Or is my accent too thick to make sense?
So although I made it to Sandviken, I went to the wrong venue. I misread the ticket. Although it was promoted by the Folkhuset, it wasn’t actually there. Feeling a sense of frustration at being totally lost, I went into a local shop. Yes, I think it might have been a video shop. They apparently still exist in these parts. Thankfully, the woman behind the counter was very helpful, and even dialed the right number for a cab into my phone. Hemmakvall – thanks to the woman here who sent me in the right direction and helped calling a local cab
I made the show with just seconds to spare, and boy was I excited since it was ABBA songs sung by one of my favourite singers.
Unfortunately, the bloke next to me, who STANK of alcohol. He also insisted in singing along with just about every song. The passive aggressive soul in me stopped me from saying, “I’ve come all the way from Sydney in Australia, via Stockholm. I’ve paid a lot of money to hear this show. And you think you sing better than Magnus?”.
I refrained from saying this because there was a creepy quality about the guy next to me. He had a SIGNIFICANTLY younger girlfriend (which in most cases is quite okay), but in this case had a kind of “dueling banjos” quality about it. At interval, thankfully, he moved to the row below, leading to a sigh of belief for all of us closeby.
The show was pretty good, though not great. Magnus, of course, was tops. I was particularly impressed with his versions of “Knowing Me, Knowing You” and “When All Is Said And Done”. He also did an excellent version of “On & On & On” and kept the references to picking up men in bars, not changing the gender. Good onya Magnus.
There were times though when you though they may have contracted Frida as their lyrical consultant for the show. Non-ABBA fans may be surprised to learn Frida was notoriously bad for remembering the lyrics and often fluffed them. There were times tonight when the show resembled karaoke, unfortunately.
But hey, they had a couple of last minute stand ins for Charlotte, which Magnus mentioned on at least two occasions. I also think I saw him sigh, somewhat, when one of his co-stars got the words wrong.
It was fascinating, however, to go to a country town and to see a show in an arena like this. Once in a lifetime, eh?
As I walked back to the bus stop in Sandviken I felt an incredible urge to have a wee. If I was in Australia, I would have walked off the road-side, hidden in a bush, and done my business. But in Sandviken there was still a lot of snow, and the trees had no leaves. Thus, I had a wee, for the first time in my life, on a roadside in full-view of traffic. The people of Sandviken will probably never sleep comfortably again.
On arriving back in Gavle, I got lost again. I couldn’t find my hotel, so I wandered aimlessly. Along the way I saw a group of young people in two old American 50s/60s cars, barely roadworthy, driving around town. That was a highlight.
Finally, walking into the Clarion Hotel and asking them for directions, I was soon sent in the right direction.
But not before I had a drink. I mean, it was that kind of day. So I settled down for a glass of white wine in the Absynthe Bar of The Clarion. It was fascinating to watch the locals, and especially to see some Swedes get totally smashed. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen that on this trip. It was also fascinating to watch some small-town goings on. Who’s sleeping with who and all that kind of thing. My lips are sealed.
After so many mixed experiences, it was great to have a couple of glasses of wine after a long, long day.
“She looks a bit bored”, my friend Kate said to me, referring to the expression on the face of Emmylou Harris, as she performed tonight at Sydney Festival First Night. I’m not a huge fan of Emmylou Harris, but I was keen to see her perform. I thought she looked more like Deborah Harry, actually. To be honest, I was a little disappointed. She didn’t really seem all that excited to be here. I thought she was going through the motions, though I could be wrong.
Emmylou Harris at Sydney Festival Opening Night
At the risk of being seen as highly parochial, I actually enjoyed the Ruby Hunter tribute more. Although not entirely familiar with her output, I have a strong memory of interviewing Ruby Hunter and Archie Roach many years ago when I was doing the Morning Show on ABC Radio in the Riverland in South Australia in the early 90s. I don’t remember much about the interview, except that I remember Ruby was originally from the Riverland, and I think that’s why I interviewed her.
Ruby was a tremendous songwriter, with many of her songs focussed on her homeland on the Murray River, and her Aboriginality. There was everything from beautiful songs about the water to almost-angry songs about domestic violence. Tonight’s opening night at Sydney Festival was a really enjoyable evening, as they paid tribute to Ruby who died several months ago. The highlights? For me, Tiriki Onus was fantastic, Dan Sultan was way sexy, and it was great to see Tiddas back together.
Kate and I had enjoyed a lovely day together with started with lunch at Red Chilli. We had been there once before, about twelve months ago, and had enjoyed the food very much. The food we had today was not disimilar to the food we enjoyed together in Beijing a few months ago, though not as chilli hot. There’s a pork dish we had today which I can’t recall the name of which I enjoyed very much. And there’s a wonderful chilli chicken dish which is just spectacular. Twelve months ago I thought it was too hot. I had it in Beijing. And then today, I thought it was quite mild. Either way, I thought Red Chilli was a great place for lunch and I would highly recommend it to anyone.
In between that and Sydney Festival, Kate and I wandered around the city for a while. And then we went and bought some socks and razor blades for my friend who is currently in hospital. The socks weren’t so important to him, as the razor blades. We had a conversation on Thursday about how the Mach 3 by Gillette was probably the world’s best razor blade. He’s been struggling with some cheapies, and asked if I could get him some “real blades”. As soon as he mentioned the Mach 3, I knew immediately what he meant. Other blades hack your face to pieces. The Mach 3 is a little more expensive to start with, but last longer, and does a wonderful job on your face. So I picked up those two items, visited him at the hospital, and then re-joined Kate later with chairs for us to sit on as we watched and enjoyed the Ruby Hunter tribute.
As I made my way back to meet Kate, along the way I was rather surprised to discover the statue of Mary MacKillop now outside St Mary’s Cathedral in Sydney. On reflection I think it’s a rather nice statue, particularly since it features Saint Mary with people, and you can actually sit down with her, as I noticed quite a few people doing.
A reasonably diverse Saturday, you would agree? :)
We’re in the midst of Chinese New Year in Sydney. Last night, Damo and I went for a walk through the Dickson Street Markets, which are always fun. I have to say, though, there’s some real crap on offer, and I still don’t understand why “Spam” – the processed canned meat – has a stall of its own. On the positive, however, the markets are great fun, especially in the daytime with lion dancing and fire-crackers going off all around.
Damo and I also enjoyed a really wonderful meal at the House of Guangzhou. Accompanied by a bottle of Shaw & Smith Sauvignon Blanc, we enjoyed a tasty well-presented meal of a number of favourites, including BBQ Pork, Chicken, and San Choy Bow. Of particular note were the vegetarian spring rolls which were moist and tasty, in stark contrast to those which you often find in Chinatown which are tasteless and deep-fried beyond recognition.
While visiting Tibet, Kate bought this lovely little keep-sake for me. Apparently it contains lots of lovely written things by the Dalai Lama’s monks. But since it’s so beautifully wrapped, I haven’t unwrapped it, and I’ve been keeping it in my wallet over the last few months.
With fine weather forecast, I’ll also probably pop down to the markets tomorrow ahead of Mardi Gras Fair Day.
There is something very special about the laneways of Surry Hills, a feeling that the bricks themselves hold onto the echoes of those who once walked them. If you have ever read the books of Ruth Park, you will know these narrow passages are steeped in a deep, often gritty history. Even in my own time here—about 30 years now—I have seen so many changes, watching the suburb evolve from those shadows into the vibrant, modern hip hub it is today.
On the weekend, I found myself standing with a group of others in a small laneway near home for a memorial tribute to a local woman, Irena Dobrijevich. It was a moment of quiet reflection in a suburb that is constantly shifting, yet deeply anchored by the ghosts of its past.
My memories of Irena stretch back long before her time as a local icon here. I first knew her from her time at the Lismore Regional Art Gallery, but it was her arrival on Crown Street that truly cemented her legend in my mind.
I can still see it clearly: the day she opened her art gallery (next to the Trinity Hotel), marked by the surreal and magnificent sight of a “Lady Godiva” arriving on horseback, effectively closing off part of Crown Street. We think it was another local legend, Madame Lash on the horse!
Lady Godiva on Crown Street Surry Hills in 2005
Years later, I was part of a small group of people recording local stories, and she was one of them. She spoke with such clarity about the challenges and joys of this locality. In her own words, she noted the evolving soul of the neighbourhood:
“The joy of being here is the diversity of people… but the challenge is that as the locality changes, we must ensure we don’t lose that history that makes us who we are.”
There was another moment recently I also found particularly poignant. I spotted a young man in full Sydney Swans gear being photographed with the Adam Goodes mural on Fitzroy Street. Seeing that interaction—the reverence for a man like Adam—touched me deeply. Goodes represents a strength and integrity that resonates far beyond the football field; he is a reminder of the ongoing journey toward reconciliation and respect in this country. I can only assume the young man recently signed with the Swans, as there was a group of people supporting him, taking photographs.
Also recently, a family member from Lismore came to visit, and I decided to take her on a “Murders Most Foul” walking tour. https://murdersmostfoul.com/ Our guide, Elliott, reminded me that I was actually one of the very first people to do one of his tours when he started out—and that was 10 years ago. Time flies.
We wandered past the sites of old notoriety, including the story of the local sex worker whose history is woven into the darker fabric of the suburb. Between the tribute in the laneway, the memories of Irena’s Godiva, and the modern-day respect for figures like Goodes, it’s clear that Surry Hills remains a place where every corner has a story, and every story is worth keeping alive.
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Mannequin? That would be a 205 litre drum, even called so when I was a kiddie.
Mannequin? That would be a 205 litre drum, even called so when I was a kiddie.
James, I hope you kept the male torso. What fun it would be to dress him up!!!!!