“You can sit wherever you like, so long as you don’t sit in the front row, and so long as there are two empty seats either side of you”, I was told in response to my question about where I could sit tonight. “Perfect”, I said, “That’s exactly how I like it when I’m attending live theatre”.
Yes, tonight I’ve been to see an actual play in an actual theatre, with an actual cast, and an actual audience.
Some of the cast of Neighbourhood Watch
“What play are you seeing, and what’s it about?”, a friend asked me on Messenger tonight. “I have no idea”, I told him, adding that I’d received an email for a live play, and bought the ticket on solely that basis.
The play at Sydney’s New Theatre in Newtown was called “Neighbourhood Watch”.
Without giving away too much, the play tells the story of two women, neighbours who develop a good friendship.
One is a young woman on the rebound of a relationship, and sharing a house with another young man, with the possibility of a relationship developing betwen the two of them.
The other is an older woman, a Hungarian refugee who has lived in Australia for many years, and who moved into the neighbourhood after the death of her husband.
The play goes back and foward between the contemporary situation, and her younger life in Hungary, with parralels between the stories of the two women.
Though it wasn’t a “life-changing” story or play for me, I enjoyed it very much.
As I watched the play, I kept thinking “I can see this being made into a film”. On returning home, I checked the Wikipedia entry for the playwright, and this confirmed she is currently adapting it for the screen.
Neighbourhood Watch at Sydney’s New Theatre
And it was GREAT to see some live theatre for the first time in several months.
There were several reminders about social distancing from the theatre staff, and, as I watched the play, thoughts about social distance between the actors kept going through the back of my mind.
“I’m sorry, there are too many people in the foyer”, we were told at intermission. “Some of you will need to go outside or back into the theatre”.
It’s Wednesday night, and I’m busy downloading music, videos, and books for my upcoming trip to China. Even with an e-sim and VPN, I anticipate needing offline content during the long flight and at other times when internet access might be unreliable. So, I’m curating my favorite music, books, and videos to enjoy over the next couple of weeks.
This isn’t my only preparation, though. This trip is significant; it’s my first since my amputation a couple of years ago. It’s also my first major solo trip in a while. Before COVID, I used to travel independently overseas quite often without much worry, but a lot has happened in these past few years. Consequently, I feel the need to be more prepared than I used to be, particularly now that I have a physical disability that requires extra consideration.
Despite having travelled with friends and family recently, I’m keen to regain my confidence in travelling independently. That’s why I’ve chosen a destination I’m familiar with. About 10 years ago, my friend Sue and I went on an organised tour of China. Even before that, in 2010, I visited my friend Kate when she was living there. So, I’ve been to China before and have visited most of the places on this itinerary, meaning I know what to expect.
When I booked this trip a few months ago, I knew what I was getting myself into. A bonus was that it was incredibly cheap – around $888 for everything included, although I anticipate some optional extras. But the core experience is familiar.
This time, however, I need to consider my physical limitations more. I’m thinking about how much I can walk each day and the terrain. For instance, I know the Great Wall of China will be challenging due to its steepness and cobblestones. But having been there before, I know I don’t need to climb to the highest point. I can enjoy the experience without covering a huge distance or scaling great heights. I can take my time and don’t need to walk excessively.
James, Phil and Guy on the Great Wall of China in 2010
I’m aware I’ll be part of a tour group and need to keep pace, which I believe I can manage. However, I’m also prepared: if things become too much, I can rest on the bus or sit and wait. It’s not crucial for me to see and do everything, as I might have felt compelled to in the past. I also know from previous excursions that if a day or two proves too strenuous, I can inform the tour guides and opt to stay at the hotel or leave an activity early without it being a major issue or letting others down. I’m also mindful that on similar tours, I’ve seen others with mobility or weight issues that limit their movement, so I likely won’t be alone in taking things easier.
My research and preparations have been quite thorough. A new aspect of this has been using artificial intelligence to help me plan. For example, I’ve used AI to find out the closest restaurants, metro stations, and bars to our hotels. Alongside this, I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube videos for general tips and tricks about visiting China.
This combination gives me a good sense of accessible options. For instance, if a restaurant is only 100 metres away, I know that’s manageable for me independently, without needing to walk kilometres. That kind of information is really helpful. I’ve also researched nearby shopping centres and pharmacies.
Due to health issues, including diabetes, I’ve seen my doctor and have ample prescriptions, so I should be covered on that front. Furthermore, I’ve read some very useful travel guides written by other amputees, offering practical advice which has been invaluable. https://www.limbs4life.org.au/uploads/amplifiedFiles/Amplified-Edition-3-2023.pdf
Additionally, my research into flying as an amputee also highlighted the need for compression socks to manage potential swelling in my residual limb due to cabin pressure, so I’ve made sure to pack those.
My research has helped me identify what’s feasible. For instance, I noticed a jazz club that was relatively close to one venue, but still far enough that it might be an issue, so I’ve decided against it. Looking at the itinerary, I’ve noted free days, which I plan to use for rest if needed. There are also optional tour segments, and I’ve decided to skip most of them, though I will participate in a couple. I have booked an external food tour, which I’m excited about, and I’m also planning to meet up with a friend who lives in Beijing during my free time. These are things I’m looking forward to.
Overall, I’m feeling okay about the trip. When a friend asked how I was feeling, I said I’m pretty good, but also slightly apprehensive about the possibility of falling or injuring myself. I don’t think it will happen, but the concern is there.
My friend mentioned someone she knows who also had an amputation around the same time as me. She asked if I had disclosed my situation. And yes, I’ve informed the airline and the travel company about my needs. And I have travel insurance!! This includes arranging for wheelchair assistance at the airports, as distances within them can often be quite long and challenging. However, a part of me feels I shouldn’t have to disclose it, that I should be able to manage and plan for myself.
This increased level of planning has become routine for me over the past couple of years – consciously thinking about my steps and movements. So, downloading books, music, and videos is actually one of the simpler parts of my preparation.
I head off on Tuesday, so if you think of anything I should consider, please comment below.
“I don’t feel like fifty. I certainly don’t ACT like I’m fifty”, I shared with a colleague at work today. He turned fifty a few years ago. We talked about the difference between when our parents were this age, and what it’s like now.
Twenty or thirty years ago, we agreed, fifty was “old”. You would be well into the later years of your life, and within a few years of retirement, you would be dead. But life expectancy has changed all that, and we both agreed we would probably have “many years” ahead of us.
Although I’m having drinks with friends next weekend, I turned fifty this week without much “affair”. On Monday, I went to work, came home and watched television. Though I’ve toyed with the idea of a range of party options for twelve months, I realised (in the end) it probably wasn’t that significant. It’s not as though I’m in denial or anything like that, it’s just that it’s not really all that important in the grand scheme of things. Yeah, there’ll be a bit of a party, but there are probably many more significant milestones in someone’s life.
Twenty one matters, because age matters when you’re younger. Memorably I thought there was a big difference between 19 and 23 when I was about that old. But at 50, you can have friends, colleagues, relationships with people across all ages.
All of that said, I got a letter in the mail today from the Commonwealth Government inviting me to participate in the National Bowel Cancer Screening Program. Really? I can’t be THAT old!
I’m currently in Norrköping, about 75 minutes south-west of Stockholm (via the fast train). It was never one of those towns I really wanted to see like Kiruna or Narvik (on my last trip). I came here on a bit of a whim: to see Helen Sjöholm live in concert.
Helen is a Swedish singer who has worked extensively with Bjorn and Benny in their musicals, with Benny in his BAO, and as a performer on stage and screen. In fact, she is probably best “unknown” from her role in the film, “Sa som I himlen” (“as it is in heaven”) which screened for two or three years at a cinema in Sydney. She’s the woman who lives with domestic violence.
So, a bit of a whim, but why not?
After a good night’s sleep I woke early this morning. Although I was tempted to go out last night to check out the nightlife of Stockholm, the lure of central heating kept me rugged up in my hotel room. I watched some television, including a Swedish dancing program called, “Let’s Dance” which was reasonably easy to follow.
And there was a Norwegian chat show which featured, amongst others, Al Gore as a special guest. As a language exercise it was quite interesting, since the program was conducted in English, Swedish and Norwegian, often simultaneously. The bits in Norwegian and English were both subtitled in Swedish which was good practice for me. I find that I can read better than I can listen, so if only the people of Stockholm could walk around with Swedish subtitles, and I’d be very happy.
I actually skim-read a newspaper this morning, concentrating on the bits that interested me most, such as tonight’s Melodifestivalen.
I also noticed a new subset of guests had arrived at the hotel, members of the Centre Party (which I think is a bit like The Democrats were, though I could be wrong).
With a wonderful late check out at The Clarion – midday – I wandered in to town to purchase my train ticket to Norrköping. I also spent some time walking around Djurgarden which looks absolutely stunning with all the snow. And in such contrast to the last time I was here when there were boats sailing up and down the water and the grass was lush enough to have a good afternoon sleep on. You couldn’t do that now.
And yet, in the midst of the sub-zero temperatures I’m starting to feel quite okay. It must be the sun which is genuinely warm on your face. Don’t be surprised if I come home with a tan. For the last two days I’ve been feeling a little “rugged up” with my many layers of clothing. But today, as I walked about wearing a shirt, a scarf, a jumper and my puffer jacket, I suddenly didn’t feel so fat anymore. Well, not fat looking anyway.
The river on the right, the path and the gardens of Djurgarden
Everywhere you go people are wearing much the same clothing. People seem to express their individuality in both their scarves and their headgear. I wasn’t going to say anything before this, in case I was being culturally insensitive about traditional Sami (indigenous people of Sweden) headgear, but these Swedes wear some crazy things on their heads during winter.
I’ve seen a lot of hand-knitted by mormor (grandma) beanies and far too many “Daniel Boone” hats. And, although I understand the cultural background associated with full-length fur coats, I note that it’s “crazy looking older women” who wear them, not the stylish young things of today.
This afternoon I caught the train to Norrköping. Along the way we passed through endless fields of snow which, to be honest, looks a little bit the same after a while. I wonder if this is how Swedes feel when they catch trains in Australia passing through endless hours of gum trees? Australians of course, can see the difference between different types of bushlands, and I’m sure the Swedes can see more variety in the snow than I can.
The arrival in Norrköping was a bit of a surprise. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. But after the last few days in Stockholm, I was quickly reminded I had arrived in a country town. In home terms, I’m guessing it’s a Newcastle or a Hobart. It’s not a village, but it’s also not a huge city either. It’s large enough to have an arts scene and a university, but it’s still small enough for a weekend afternoon to include “doing a blockie”. And thus on a Saturday afternoon, the streets were reasonably empty, although there was a lot of activity around the service station and the railway station.
Having eventually found a tourist map, I found my hotel. It’s not as glamorous as The Clarion, but it’s quite nice, nonetheless. Although it’s a hotel – Hotel Drott – it has the feeling of a bed and breakfast. The room is large enough for one, although the television is large enough for five. It’s huge.
A late afternoon beer followed at The Bishops Arms which was near perfect aside from awful music they played on the public address system.
It was bland reggae influenced cover versions of songs by, amongst others, The Beatles and Bob Dylan. Can you imagine? By the way, later tonight I went into another pub, and they were playing awful reggae as well. And that was at another English-style pub. It must be this towns thing.
One of the things which struck me immediately on arrival was the cultural diversity of the place. There were, seemingly, lots of faces from the Middle East and Southern Europe. I think I read somewhere that Norrköping has been home to many, many migrants. And you can see it reasonably instantly when you arrive in town. You can also see it in the churches in town, as there’s both a synagogue and a Methodist church not far from where I’m staying.
After my beer, I came home briefly and then headed quickly to the concert hall where the show was being held.
By the time I arrived – twenty minutes before the show – the place was already packed with gays and greys. It was like going out for a night of theatre in Sydney (or Wagga, for that matter).
Although I’d booked the ticket a few months ago, I hadn’t looked closer at the detail, aside from the show featuring Helen Sjoholm, the Norrköpings Symfoniorkester and Fredrik Lycke. I was both pleased and disappointed that it was a tribute to Stephen Sondheim. I love Sondheim, but I also hoped Helen might do a few of her other hits. But that wasn’t to be, although there was a joke earlier in the show when Helen began to sing her bit hit song from Kristina, and then stopped saying “not tonight”.
It was a terrific show, featuring some of my favourite Sondheim numbers including, “Losing My Mind” (sung by Fredrik) and “Another Hundred People” (sung by Helen). I would have LOVED Helen to have sung, “Ladies Who Lunch” but that wasn’t to be. It was fascinating to hear some of the songs sung in Swedish and some of them sung in English. Helen, of course, sang beautifully, though if push came to shove, I’d admit a preference for when she sings in Swedish. She sounds so much more dramatic in Swedish, which I guess is partly because she softens her consonant sounds when she sings in English.
I also learned a few interesting cultural things tonight about concert going in a Swedish country town tonight, such as the intermission snack, with many people having pre-ordered a table and meal, and the cloak room. Let me tell you, the queue to get out of a concert where EVERYONE has handed in something into the cloak-room rivals Sydney airport check-in on a really bad day.
Helen Sjoholm on stage in Norrkoping
After the show I wandered out behind the concert hall and noticed a few of Helen’s fans standing by the concert door. I’d noticed them earlier in the night as a group of four women sitting in the front row. At the end of the show they all brought out large cameras and snapped a few photographs which, interestingly, Helen acknowledged on stage with a smile and a pose.
Seeing the women lining up, I thought to myself, “why not wait around and check her out in person also”. She came out reasonably quickly, smiled, chatted and signed some photographs. As I didn’t have anything on me, I asked simply, “Helen, may I please take a photograph” which she happily said yes to. The rest of the crowd moved slightly aside, Helen struck a pose, and I got my photograph. I said, “thankyou” and moved on.
Here are some photographs from activities around Art Month, launched last night in Sydney. It was a busy night, as Kate and I attended a book launch at Kinokuniya Sydney, an exhibition launch at UNSW (will return on Saturday for a proper look at the videos), and then stuff at the National Art School. After three hours or so, we got exhausted and had to go home. But there’s lots more happening, so check this out http://www.artmonthsydney.com.au/
Great… I am going this Sunday performance!! Can’t Wait
Enjoy!