Once again, the Andrew Olle Media Lecture, which I’ve been attending for over twenty years, delivered. A terrific speech about sports journalism, and the changing face of media, viewed from the perspective of award winning footy writer, Caroline Wilson. Good food, good company, good conversation. Always a pleasure to attend.
For the seventeenth time, Richard Glover does a terrific job hosting the Andrew Olle Media Lecture.The lecture is in memory of Andrew Olle, a legendary Australian journalist, who died from brain cancer. Associate Professor, Kerrie McDonald talks about brain cancer research.Describing her employment as a female footy writer in the 1970s as an “experiment”, Caroline Wilson described the changes in her career as a reflection of society’s attitude to women.The crowd waits in anticipation, as Annette Olle draws the lucky door prize of dinner at a fancy restaurant. Our table won!!!Dressed up, coming home after the Andrew Olle Media Lecture
So I’ve been to one of Sydney’s new “small Melbourne-style bars”. Well, strictly speaking it wasn’t a “small bar” in the way Clover Moore has described and legislated them, it was still a “restaurant”, but it had all the characteristics of a “small bar” thus re-inforcing my earlier point previous licencing laws could already deliver this type of establishment, it was just a question of “will” and “market demand”.
That argument aside, it was pretty good. “Yulli’s” has opened up opposite The Clock Hotel on Crown Street, Surry Hills offering a range of nice wines and good vegetarian only (shock horror!) food. Aside from the restaurant, they also have a backyard which they’ve decorated with astro-turf (yes seriously) and plastic chairs. Although on the surface that all sounds a bit odd, it was seriously a really great place for an intimate catch up, as I did with my friend Michaela this afternoon.
While there we got talking to the-bloke-of-the-couple who’ve opened the bar, who outlined their vision for the place. “My girlfriend worked in restaurants and I worked in pubs. This is a nice combination of the two”, he told us.
As we chatted, he mentioned the need for intimate neighbourhood spaces like this one in Sydney . He also talked about sourcing really good quality food, which they seem to take great care in. Their haloumi is to die for by the way, well-cooked and tasty and not at all “squeaky” or “rubbery” as some haloumi can be.
And he was, generally speaking a charming kinda bloke who made us both feel very comfortable. We both hoped he and his girlfriend make a real “go” of it in their new venture, as it can’t be easy opening up a business in the current economic climate.
Aside from that it was a fairly average kinda day at work, with nothing extraordinary to report. I did, however go out for lunch/yum-cha with a colleague, which was good fun. Nice food. Nice company.
The only pressing thing on my agenda which I didn’t manage to achieve today was a hair-cut. My hair has reached the stage where it’s kinda “fluffy” about the ears. As a man of “limited hair”, and a slight greying about the temples, it’s important for me to keep it short to keep it tidy.
Although I’ve toyed with the idea of buying some clippers so I could maintain it myself, I’ve never actually made the jump in that direction, fearful I’d mess it up. And you can just imagine how terrible it could end up looking if the “desire to trim” hit me after a couple of wines at a small bar.
For the last couple of days I’ve been wondering if I should share with you one of the downsides of being in Stockholm at the moment. Even though, as I’ve said, it’s lovely and sunny in the daytime, it can still get quite cold. Unfortunately that’s caused my body some slight grief, and after much hesitation, today I’m revealing my legs, and the slight case of cold weather hives I’ve developed.
Cold urticaria is the proper name for the red welts which have emerged on my legs in the last few days. Even though I’ve kept myself reasonably warm and protected, it’s still been cold enough to have developed a fairly minor outbreak of the condition. According to everything I’ve read, it’s reasonably common, and even though it can sometimes cause death, it’s fairly easily treated with some extra moisturiser. So there you go. The bad as well as the good.
Cold Weather Hives – Cold Urticaria
I was up reasonably early this morning checking out the online news. OMG, there was talk on Twitter, briefly, of another leadership challenge back home. Following on from successful leadership challenges in Victoria and the Northern Territory, there was talk Kevin Rudd had the numbers and was about to challenge Julia Gillard for the ALP Leadership. Seriously, the news in Australia is never as interesting when I’m back home as when I’m overseas. The talk was short-lived and quickly denied. I dropped a “sorry” note to my colleague back home, apologising for going on leave and leaving her to deal with the breaking news associated with all of these political happenings, as well as the election of a new Pope.
After a morning coffee, I spent a bit time of time wandering around Gamla Stan, the Old Town in Stockholm which is absolutely stunning. Since Sweden remained neutral during the Second World War, Stockholm escaped the bombing which destroyed many of the Old Towns in Europe. Thus, Gamla Stan remains wonderfully intact. And unlike other Old Town areas, such as Sydney’s “The Rocks”, Gamla Stan is more than a museum, more than one big tourist shop. People live in Gamla Stan. They have jobs in Gamla Stan that aren’t necessarily tourism-related. It’s wonderful to see an Old Town that’s living and, seemingly, thriving.
As I wandered around, a poster caught my eye in the window of The Riksdag, the Swedish Parliament. It was a poster which declared the Swedish Parliament passed lots of legislation every day. At the very top of the poster was an image of two men kissing. (OK yeah, that’s what caught my eye). For just a moment I reflected on the significance of an “official poster” from the Swedish Parliament of two men kissing. And, in contrast to Australia, it wasn’t a safe sex poster or something like that hidden away in a public toilet or a gay bar. It was wonderfully re-assuring to see something like that all official-like.
There’s room for all sorts of families and relationships in Sweden. The Swedish parliament passes all types of legislation, according to this poster.
But Sweden’s like that, you know. It’s been fascinating to reflect on the much discussed, much publicised gender equality you see here. And you do see it, most commonly when you see men pushing prams and bottle feeding their children in coffee shops and restaurants. Sure, men in Australia and other parts of the world do this also, but it’s so common place here no one seems to blink, whereas I think back home people would look and stare.
I also reflected today that the last week or so has flown by very quickly. Tomorrow I need to do clothes some washing, ironing and packing ahead of my trip to Berlin on Saturday. I also need to wash the sheets and make the bed, and clean up a little bit in the apartment I’ve been staying. In stark contrast to staying in a hotel or a hostel, it’s been so wonderful to have a place to call my own for the last week or so.
My friend Sue meets me in Berlin on Sunday, and we’ll be spending a few days there, followed by a few days in Copenhagen, and then back to Stockholm. We’ll be here for Easter which, apparently, is a pretty terrific time to be in Stockholm. Already the countdown is on with the feathers on sticks (a Swedish Easter tradition) all over the city at flower shops and stalls at the moment.
I learned more about Australian plants in an hour walking around the Botanic Gardens, Canberra than I think I’ve learned in my life. Although I was a member of the Gould League as a child, most of the detail about banksias and grevilleas has never really sunk in. I love plants, I’m just not one for “detail”. Ask me to name a flower, and I’d struggle. This is despite having grown up with a garden of my own which I tended with regularity. But with a specialisation in Australian plants, and with a careful as I walked around taking photographs, I learned a lot more. I probably should learn more, eh?
To be honest, I never really intended to visit the Botanic Gardens. I’d caught an ordinary Canberra bus (though labelled it would take you to a bunch of tourist attractions) with a greater interest in seeing the new National Arboretum. Located on land that was devastated in the bushfires of about five years ago, the Aboretum features lots of amazing tree species. Although well attended, I probably arrived there five or ten years early. At the moment, most of the trees are saplings. At the moment, it doesn’t look “visually spectacular”, though it’s conceptually very spectacular. It’s a really great example of the forethought that goes into some of the “nation building” projects you find around Canberra.
Still a wander around the Botanic Gardens (along with lunch) made for a very pleasant way to spend my first part of this trip to Canberra.
In contrast to my experience at Madrid Airport the other week (where I made it through security in less than five minutes), it took much, much longer at Delhi Airport. The man at airport security looked me up and down several times and asked me the same questions over and over. Even with documentation, he kept asking me, in various ways, which plane I’d arrived on, where I’d be staying, and when I’d be leaving. Though I truly understand the reasons for high levels of security at Delhi Airport, I thought the whole process seemed unnecessarily time-consuming and overly bureaucratic.
It wasn’t nearly as bad getting a local SIM card. However, that also seemed to include a fair amount of paperwork that needed to be confirmed, photocopied, and signed, and they also took a photograph of me for their records. Getting a local SIM card wasn’t an antidote to some kind of “internet-addiction” thing. Prior to arriving, I’d decided if I was going to head into the middle of Delhi by myself, I’d definitely need a local SIM for Google Maps (just to get around) and phone calls (in case I ran into any trouble). At less than $8 for one gigabyte of data and unlimited calls, I thought it was an absolute bargain.
Even though Sue and I had looked online at a range of short tours I could do in the limited time I had in Delhi, in the end, I concluded I’d much prefer to stay in the hotel for a while, freshen up, and then wander into the city for a bit of a “self-tour”. And besides, I had to wait a few hours for the SIM to be activated. Once that happened, I walked to the nearest public transport stop (Aerocity) and caught the metro into the middle of the city.
Though I had many preconceived ideas about what the centre of Delhi might be like, I wasn’t mentally prepared for the sheer number of people I would see. But then again, what else could I expect of a city with a population that’s larger than that of the whole of Australia?
Also, I hadn’t realised the significance of arriving last night until a man wished me, “Happy Diwali”. As I wandered around the markets and then in the shops, it was a useful opening phrase to have. “You know about Diwali?”, a couple of people asked me. “Yes, and we celebrate it, too, in Australia,” I told them, to their apparent surprise. It was also a terrific greeting at the airport today, prompting quite a few smiles. To coincide with the annual celebration, there were lots and lots of coloured lights, candles, and floral decorations. And everywhere there were some wonderful smells (food, flowers), as well as some not-so-wonderful smells. Tastes too (as I bought a couple of samosa-like treats for dinner) and had a Bira Beer (apparently India’s most popular beer) at a bar to rest my weary legs and to take stock of where I was. I had the wheat beer and would highly recommend it.
I’ll admit I felt a little nervous walking around by myself. It wasn’t so much the idea of being led down a darkened alley or of being scammed; it was more the fear of a large, unknown city. And so when a couple of people called out to me, urging me to follow them, I kept my eyes straight forward and walked quietly and confidently ahead.
“Please help a poor old woman?” a poor old woman called out to me. I was about to take a selfie. When she saw me pull out my mobile phone, she quickly retreated. I also spotted a number of people unconscious on the street. It was then the realisation hit me: I’d see more unconscious people and have more people asking me for money on an average day in Sydney than I had in only a couple of hours walking around the centre of Delhi.
I figured it would be faster, safer, and also more interesting to take a car, not the metro, to head back to the airport hotel. As I’d read a fair bit about “surprise fares” and “unauthorised drivers”, I called into a local “tourist office” where they ordered me a car, and where I was able to pre-pay.
Though the traffic seemed erratic by Australian standards, and there were moments when I thought I should close my eyes and say a quiet prayer, I soon realised the driver knew exactly what he was doing and settled in for the ride. Honk. Honk. Left, right. Buses, cars, tuk-tuks, and bicycles all together as one, and with people seemingly, randomly, crossing the street. I’d learned the lessons of crossing these kinds of roads from when I visited Kate in Beijing a few years ago: find a group of locals and cross with them.
In stark contrast to what I’d just seen, I quickly settled back into my fairly nice hotel room. I had a bath, I had a glass of wine, and I Bluetooth-streamed some music to the room’s Bose sound system. You get the picture? I could never afford this type of accommodation in Australia, but it was definitely within my price range here. In a country with such a large population, it wasn’t surprising to see so many people working at the hotel. In stark contrast to some of the indifferent customer service I know all too well from Australia, and which I’d experienced in Spain, the hotel staff were all incredibly helpful and very polite. If you’re ever headed to Delhi, I’d highly recommend the Pullman Aerocity hotel. Yes, it’s a long way from the city, but for my brief stop, its proximity to the airport and the overall level of comfort made it good value.
I woke early and enjoyed the fairly elaborate buffet breakfast (which included every type of meal you might imagine), ahead of repacking my bag and then heading to the airport. Once again, there were lengthy queues at airport security, but I made it through with enough time to sit and relax at the “cricket bar” I called into on my last visit to Delhi.
With only a few hours to go until arriving back in Sydney, I’ve watched a couple of movies and have enjoyed a couple of terrific meals. Though the plane is pretty full, I’m pleased it’s just me and a similarly aged Indian woman over three seats. Bliss. A terrific way to end a wonderful holiday.
“Make sure Jack gets some of the puddings from Aldi before they sell out. They’re so good”, I sent Michelle in a text message the other day.
Now in his 80s, Jack has a routine of heading into town in Lismore every few days and buying groceries.
He’s been at a bit of a loss since the flood in Lismore earlier this year caused the closure of Aldi. Thankfully, they’ve re-opened, and thankfully they have plum pudding. I bought one the other day from my local store in Darlinghurst, and consumed it within a few hours!
Though I fondly remember Jack’s mother, Lillian (or as I called her, Nanny Bobbin) was an expert plum pudding maker (she used to call them plum duff), we get them from the shops these days. Along with cream/ice cream, they’re always a big part of the family Christmas routine, along with Pat’s very simple trifle.
Patsy’s Christmas Trifle, as filmed last year. We’re all hanging out for this year’s reprise.
After all the drama/relocation they’ve had with the flood this year, there have been many conversations about “getting back to normal for Christmas”.
Aldi Christmas Pudding : In the midst of all the many conversations you have with family, both light and serious, you can never underestimate the importance of taking a photograph of a plum pudding and saying “make sure you buy some”.
I’ve been back in Sydney for a couple of weeks now, and it’s nice to settle back into life here.
Still, a friend and I had dinner last night, and we talked about the “imminent” plan of returning “home” to Lismore.
“I’m not as happy in Sydney as I am in Lismore”, I told her.
We had dinner at a “Pasta Emilia”. Though it was the first time I’d been there, my friend told me “It’s been here for ages”.
Located on Riley street, Surry Hills, it’s got a “rustic” feel to it. Both the food and wine were excellent, and so was the service. They were always attentive, though not “in your face” as can sometimes be the case.
Dinner at Pasta Emilia, Surry Hills
And of course, the conversation was terrific.
Since arriving back, I’ve caught up with quite a few friends and colleagues.
There’s one couple, for example, who live close by who I haven’t seen much of this year, due to regular trips to Lismore. We caught up on Monday night, and it was wonderful.
Birthday Trivia with friends and colleagues at The Imperial
And then last week I caught up with some friends and colleagues for drag trivia at Sydney’s legendary bar, “The Imperial”. Coincidentally it was my birthday. And we came third place in the trivia. We might have won if we had concentrated more in the first round, instead of chatting, eating and drinking.
The next few days are definitely “diverse”. A couple of friends and I are going to a recording of a Christmas cabaret for the ABC religious program, Compass. On Saturday, I’m going to a housewarming/baby shower for a lesbian couple. And then on Sunday, I’m going to the induction of a friend who is becoming a Minister in the Uniting Church.
Today, I needed to visit a bank in the city, and then come back after a break for a second appointment.
In between, I took a break to see the current exhibition at the 4A Gallery by “TextaQueen”, which is described in these terms.
“Bollywouldn’t is a balm to the displacement of diaspora. This major commission echoes TextaQueen’s enduring practice of connecting with the community using texta as a mechanism to bring people together.
Through portraiture, photography, mural painting and projection, Bollywouldn’t presents decolonial narratives and the reclamation of power and space by South Asian diaspora. TextaQueen’s portraits of queer South Asian community have been digitally mapped onto buildings in and around London, creating the creating the illusion that they exist as actual murals on a monumental scale against colonial structures.”
It’s a delightful exhibition, with politics, passion and humour evident in the work.
It was nice to have an unexpected and unplanned break in the middle of an otherwise busy fortnight since arriving back in Sydney from Lismore.
Life’s rich tapestry.
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‘Caro’ seems to be on her way to being a national treasure. While perhaps all sports reporters report without fear or favour, she does rather stand out in the pack.
‘Caro’ seems to be on her way to being a national treasure. While perhaps all sports reporters report without fear or favour, she does rather stand out in the pack.
Yes indeed. It was a really good speech. ABC TV on the weekend, and of course iview.