Normally on NYE there would be two or three parties in my apartment block (of 32). But last night, as we’re in COVID-lockdown in Sydney, there was barely a peak from my neighbours. The only neighbourly noise I heard was from a group of people walking down the street at about 1.00am. They were on their way home.
Going home at 1.00am? Gosh, I remember going out with friends on NYE and arrving home on January 3rd. I was much younger then. These days I much prefer going to bed early. As I listened to ABC Radio (my job) and ABC TV’s coverage of NYE, I struggled to keep my eyes open. (That’s no reflection on the content, just that I was a little tired).
Even today, in the city, there weren’t many people around. I had to go into town to buy a replacement kettle. As I wandered around, I saw small groups of young people, but mostly it was fairly quiet. Even Oxford Street, which would normally be “party central” on New Year’s Day was quiet.
George Street, Sydney
I called in to my local pub, and spoke to the security guard. He’s a big boofy guy from the Pacific Islands who works hard (in a couple of jobs) to support his extended family. “I was in bed by 10.30”, he told me.
I spent a fair bit of the day asleep. It’s been raining on and off, and so the desire to stay in bed has been strong. In between I’ve been watching a few things on Youtube. In particular, I quite like languge podcasts.
“The Swedish Lad” (Martin) has a terrific piece about the new words officially recognised in Sweden this year. Though it’s mostly in Swedish, you’ll be able to follow it, as many of the words are definitely “of the times” and sound like the English language equivalent. It’s worth turning on the subtitles (CC), as you’ll also see descriptions of the words in English. Some of these are words or phrases I’ve never heard before in English. I sent the video to my Swedish teacher, as I thought she might enjoy it. Heaven knows what she’ll think of “kemsex”.
The other language podcast I regularly watch comes from a Canadian bloke who has hundreds of videos about languages. Normally, I really enjoy his work, but was a little disappointed with this one. It’s about 3 or 4 minutes before he acknowledges there was a history of Australia prior to 1788, and even then it’s a very brief mention of some of the MANY words from Indigenous languages that have been absorbed into Australian English. There are literally hundreds and hundreds of words where that’s happened, and I thought it would have been a more interesting path to pursue than to repeating 1950s/1960s cliches about “Barbies” “Chrissy” and “Arvos”.
And then the other thing I’ve been watching today is “I, Claudius”, the classic BBC drama from the 1970s/1980s. I fondly remember watching it during my high school years, and I remember reading the books by Robert Graves.
Although it’s forty years old, it stands up remarkably well. It’s very “theatrical” in style, in the sense it could have been a recording of a stage play, but the script and acting are very good.
“The last time I was here, it was a plate-breaking Greek restaurant called Dimitris”, I told my visiting interstate colleagues. I was referring to “Gardel’s Bar” at Porteño in Surry Hills. After years of plate-breaking, it’s now an uber-fashionable bar for the Surry Hills crowd. Along with the “Norfolk Hotel” which has also become uber-cool, Porteño seems attract big crowds, even on a Monday night.
Tonight there was the added attraction of a CD launch by Lanie Lane, a singer-songwriter who was discovered through Triple J Unearthed. As such, she’s fairly new and some of her style is derivative. A little bit of Amy, a little bit of Adele, a little bit of Tammy, a little bit of Tina, and a little bit of Janis, to name but a few. But she’s also a lot of Lanie. Although she obviously listens widely, she has a style of her own, and a voice of her own, sings well, plays the guitar, and write songs with clever lyrics. One song had a sadness to it that ended suddenly and made me feel even more sad. Another song, Bang Bang Bang made me smile with its joy.
I was also impressed with the make-over they’ve given Dimitris. It’s very cool. Dark. Rich colours. A fashionable crowd – we were the oldest there aside from Lanie’s mum and dad – and you would never know it’s on Cleveland Street. They’ve done a good job silencing the traffic, though the noise from the downstairs bar was loud enough to travel upstairs during her quieter songs.
“Where shall we eat?”, my colleagues asked. It didn’t take too much argument to convince them to visit one of my new favourites, Cafe Sicilia on Crown Street. Good food. Good wine. Good prices. Good conversation. And just minutes from home. That’s why it was okay to head out on a “school night” ahead of the next few days at work which are fairly busy for me.
I’m not sure if I’ll have time to blog, but will definitely a few photographs and stories here and there on Google+.
Lanie Lane CD launch at Gardel’s Bar at Porteño, Surry Hills
A couple of friends and I went to see “Keating – The Musical” last night at Sydney’s Seymour Centre, and I can’t stop raving about it. Funny, thoughtful, and very entertaining.
Mike McLeish was terrific as Keating. From the moment he entered the stage from stage-left, with all of the cool of a member of the Hollywood Rat-pack, to the more physical moments of an energetic performance, he was totally believable as “Keating”. As well as the physical similarity, I also got the impression he understood Keating, meaning he portrayed the bravado, the frailty, the arrogance, all of the many elements that make up Keating’s obviously complex character.
On the other hand, Terry Serio played Hawke and Howard as caricatures: the ever-grinning, ear-tugging Hawke and the buffoon-like war-mongering Howard. There’s a particularly memorable scene as Howard takes on a variety of costumes, including jogger’s outfit, army fatigues, and moleskins. There’s also a moment when Howard and Keating come into the audience to shake hands… and while the audience can’t wait to shake hands with Keating, they recoiled in touching Howard.
But that shouldn’t surprise. This was, after all, an audience which I assume was made up largely of Keating supporters, the so-called “intellectual elite”. I spotted, for example, former ALP numbers man, Stephen Loosely in the audience. But that shouldn’t be a bad thing, as I thought the play had something for everyone.
A shot from interval during Keating – The Musical at Sydney’s Seymour Centre, Australia
And while Keating emerges as a “hero”, there are lots of political jibes from both the left and right. There’s a love song, for example, between Gareth Evans and Cheryl Kernot that had everyone in stitches. Eddie Perfect was hillarious as a Rocky Horror-like Alexander Downer in drag.
There were also some wonderfully tender moments, such as the song Keating sang based on his famous Redfern speech, acknowleding the Aboriginal history of Australia.
It was a hugely entertaining, funny, and well-acted and performed show by a very talented cast, and if you have more than a passing interest in Australian politics you’re bound to enjoy it.
P.S. The SMH has confirmed what we thought: Andrew Peacock was in the audience.
“Does the airport still operate at Casino?”, I asked Pat the other day. She’d picked me from Ballina Airport and we were driving home to Lismore. After a moment’s hesitation, she confirmed she was “pretty sure” it had closed.
With both a sense of fondness and incredulity, I remember the flights from Sydney to Lismore often included a brief stop-over at Casino, where less than a handful of people would leave the plane. Then, taking off again, and barely making it above Parrot’s Nest, we would land at Lismore Airport roughly eight minutes later. In those days, Pat could stay at home until she heard the aircraft overhead, and still be at Lismore Airport in time to meet me.
It’s been years, too, since I’ve flown to Lismore Airport. It’s so much cheaper to fly to Ballina/Byron, serviced by Virgin and Jetstar, while Lismore is only Regional Express. Though it means a longer trip for my family to meet me, they try to “make a day of it”. Though they’ve made improvements to Lismore Airport, and I’m sure business trips direct to Lismore keep the airport active, I can imagine a time in the future when Lismore Airport is also threatened.
Which brings me to the subject of the Lismore Railway Station, which closed several years ago, largely as a result of under-use, I suppose. Though, as a teenager, I would do small trips to and from Casino, and would often travel with my brother-in-law who did track inspections, only twice in my life have I ever caught a train from Lismore. On both occasions, it was to Sydney: for my first overseas flight, aged 17, and then, aged 18, for a job interview with the ABC (which I didn’t get).
That said, I have fond memories of Lismore Railway Station. As I wrote the other day,
As a child growing up in South Lismore, one of my strongest earliest memories was of the arrival at the nearby railway station of hundreds of people for the Aquarius Festival. Though it’s often described as Australia’s answer to Woodstock, I don’t think there was such a high musical component to it. But as a youngster, I remember a whole bunch of “odd looking” people arriving, providing quite a spectacle for the residents of South Lismore, as the people made their way to Nimbin. Their ongoing presence has fundamentally transformed the area in which I grew up.
Also, I’m old enough to remember when Casino was actually the area’s main railway station, and connections to Lismore and Byron were still around, though on a much smaller scale. In contrast to Lismore, Casino Railway Station still operates with daily XPT services to Sydney and Brisbane, and as a hub to railway buses.
So yeah, I’m part of the problem that faces public transportation in country areas. I quite like short distance trains (though I hate anything over about seven hours), and yet I mostly use planes because they’re cheaper and faster. And because I and so many others currently use planes in preference, governments won’t support major infrastructure projects which could make long distance trains more attractive, like they are in Europe and Asia. Catch 22.
Colin and I have been anticipating seeing “Shane Warne – The Musical” for quite some time. We’re both big fans of Eddie Perfect, for a start, and all of the reviews have been largely very positive.
Likened in many of the reviews to Keating – The Musical, I thought it fell short in one important way. In “Keating” you really get a sense of Keating the individual, you get a sense of the person, you actually “care” about him, but in “Shane Warne”, I don’t think I ever once got a sense of him as a person, and thus I didn’t care about him.
For example, when Simone Warne sings the heart-felt song about his infidelity, I thought Shane’s reaction was less than human. Although I understand there may have been a sense of purpose to show him as the self-obsessed narcissist that I’m sure exists, I wasn’t “convinced” by his response.
The second half was much better than the first. It was far more biting. It was much more clever than the first half which was a “Celebration of Shane”, but I still thought it fell short of what it could have been.
And I think it’s because the show was a little unsure of the audience. Contrast that with “Keating” where the character acknowledges the audience attending is full of “inner city elites”, and thus it plays exactly to that audience.
“Shane Warne” seemed always about attracting a broader audience. We knew the people behind us, for example, who came up from Wagga. And as we waited for tickets, the people next to us had come from Campbelltown. But I didn’t get a sense of real enthusiasm in the audience. I didn’t get a sense of genuine excitement about the work.
Seated next to us, for example, was a bloke and his girlfriend. I got the impression this was their “compromise night” where they thought this was a night at the theatre they could both enjoy. They appeared totally unmoved.
It’s a real shame, though, because everyone worked really hard and delivered a fantastic performance (aside from the dud note here and there). Eddie Perfect, in particular, remains a star, even if I thought he spent a little too long in his lower register.
We got a laugh here and there, especially as Colin knows one of the key characters in the plotline quite well. I won’t name names, but remember that we’re both from Wagga Wagga.
I don’t think the early closure of the show in both Perth and Sydney has anything to do with “the recession” or the size of the theatre, as noted in today’s Sydney Morning Herald. I just get the feeling it’s a story no one really cares about.
“There’s a little bit of Warnie in us all” (or something like that), came the refrain throughout the show. I’m not sure if I agree, as I didn’t get any real sense of Shane Warne and his personal motivations from tonight’s show, aside from the self-obsession, the narcisim etc. clearly evident.
And I don’t accept the argument, “but that’s the point about Warnie”, as I think a musical or play or whatever that needs to explain itself, or have someone apologise on its behalf, obviously hasn’t worked.
I hope Eddie recovers from this and goes on to further greatness, as I’m sure he will.
I woke early this morning with a determination to do some sightseeing. I’d done my research, the weather was looking good, and I was looking forward to seeing more of Riga and a little of neighbouring Jurmala. My research had told me that when Latvia was part of the Soviet Union, the town Jumarla was a favourite holiday-resort and tourist destination for high-level Communist Party officials, particularly Brezhnev and Khrushchev. I’d also read that you could take a 2.5 hour river cruise from Riga to Jurmala at a very low cost. Unfortunately, for whatever reason the vessell wasn’t running today. And so I settled, initially, for the vessel called “Jurmala”, which of course doesn’t actually go there. Instead, the “Jurmala” takes you on what is possibly the lamest one-hour river cruise I’ve ever done.
There wasn’t a lot to see, aside from a distant view of the town, the television tower, a building that looked like a penis and the nude beach. Well, maybe not a nude beach per se, but as we toured along the riverside I noticed a couple of guys having a skinny dip. “Should I take a photo?”, I thought to myself, responding with “why not?”. I’ve blurred the faces of the two blokes, though, for their anonymity. And especially since they had a bit of cuddle seconds later. And besides, if they were to be recognised you’d hope it was for their faces and not their genitals, as I think D.H. Lawrence once said.
Arriving back in town I headed towards Central Station, walking through the Central Markets. The fresh produce on display looked very good. The people here seem to really love their food, though I’ve found a disturbingly low number of restaurants in the area in which I’m staying. There were a couple of things about the area around Central, though, which disturbed me. First of all, there was a lot of begging. Lots of people with missing limbs and other disabilities. A lot of people who look like they might have been from the countryside. And there were a couple of quite old women. It was enough to make me feel very, very teary. But there was also a lot of dodginess about the area too. As I walked through the Central Markets there were two separate blokes who said something to me in hushed tones. I suspect it was something along the lines of “you wanna buy something”. I don’t know exactly what the “something” was, but it was enough to make me feel pretty uncomfortable with the area.
Later this evening at Jurmala, I had a similar problem with a bloke trying to sell me a “classic Russian camera”. He looked pretty out of it, but was also really quite insistent and followed me around the station for a while. He even followed me in to buy a ticket. Although I don’t speak Latvian or Russian, I found the phrase “fuck off” delivered a fairly universal message. As it was, I caught a mini-bus to Jurmala. It was my second trip on a bus today. The first one I didn’t pay for, as I had an older driver with whom I couldn’t communicate at all. As it was, he just told me to sit down and not to worry about the ticket. The bloke in the mini-bus was similar. By mini-bus Jurmala is about thirty minutes from Riga, by train it’s about forty. And it’s obviously the beachside resort that most locals would go to, even now.
As you walk along the beach, however, you can still see remains of 1940s/ 1950s hotels and the grand era of the Soviet Union. One of those old resorts was burnt out, while another remains in a state of disrepair. In their place are modern resort hotels. Russians still seems to be the most common kind of tourist you find though. When I went for a swim at one of the indoor pools, for example, the only language I heard spoken was Russian. And obviously there’s something quite fascinating about what’s on offer at these spa resorts. There’s a salt room to clear your sinuses, mud baths, honey baths, all kinds of things. As it was, I just had a swim.
Though there was an odd kind of massaging waterfall associated with the pool which I gave try. Imagine if you would standing underneath a waterfall with the water gently massaging your shoulders. After watching two blokes use the contraption, I thought I’d give it a go as well. The water pressure was so strong I actually fell over, much to the amusement of onlookers. Even when I recovered my footing, I found the pressure so incredibly strong that I just couldn’t stand it any longer and left before the “shower” ran out.
“Changing of the guard” at Riga, Latvia
River cruise at Riga, Latvia
Phallic building, Riga
Skinny dipping on the river, Riga. This image, by the way is always amongst the most visited pages on my website, thanks to search engines. Seriously
View from the river, Riga
Central Markets, Riga
Central Markets, Riga
Beach housing at Jurmala, Latvia
Old resort at Jurmala, Latvia
Australia in the Olympic Games in a bar in Jurmala, Latvia
Train between Riga and Jurmala
Borat graffiti in Riga
After my swim I decided to check out one of the bars in the resort hotel, the Baltic. Oddly enough, as I drank my glass of white wine there was a basketball match on television between Australia and Argentina. It’s the third time in as many days when I’ve seen a television with the Olympic Games, and every time there’s been an Australian on screen. Is it like that back home too? Or is it, as I suspect, only Australians on the television coverage?
I’ve arrived home tonight and my feet are aching. But my mind is also spinning. English isn’t widely spoken at all, except by the very young. A local “expats guide” says you’re best relying upon younger women for advice, as they both speak English and are willing to help. I think I’d agree with that assessment.
Heading back to my hostel tonight, I discovered Latvians have a great sense of humour. The graffiti of Borat was too funny for words.
I’m heading out for a drink tonight at the local venue for gentlemen such as myself, and then tomorrow I want to see some more of the history associated with Russian occupation.
Oh, by the way I found this blog which is pretty funny…
If you are a homosexual, this is probably not the best place unless you like rough people who look like they have just got out of prison.
I remember I Claudius as being written in an older language as I Clavdius, and that is how we used to pronounce when it was being shown. It was excellent and I am not surprised it has held up well.
I remember I Claudius as being written in an older language as I Clavdius, and that is how we used to pronounce when it was being shown. It was excellent and I am not surprised it has held up well.
Actually Clavdivs. I’s forgotten how violent it is, with lots of stabbings and beheadings. Oh, and Caligula has just done Caligula stuff.