I’d forgotten how busy Cleveland Street can be in the early hours of the morning. Although I like to wake early, it’s been a few months since I’ve wandered down the road in the early hours. As with last time, I’d run out of milk. There’s a particular brand of milk at the nearby service station which I really like the taste of called Farmhouse Gold. It’s a little more expensive than supermarket milk, but it tastes good, and anyway, I’d run out. I’d also run out of yoghurt, so the walk down the road was worth it. I’d also forgotten how expensive the yoghurt was at the service station but, ah well, that’s life. But yeah, at 5.45am, Cleveland Street as quite busy.
Cleveland Street, Surry Hills
It was much busier than a few months ago, which I guess reflects the COVID-related changes which have taken place. It’s not over yet, both Melbourne and Perth have gone through recent lockdowns, and we’ve yet to receive vaccinations in Australia, but the last few months have seen some changes.
Almost without exception, people are wearing masks on public transport. There was one bloke I saw the other day wearing his mask on backwards (which I assume was some kind of protest). There was also a bloke the other day not wearing a mask, but I assume from his behaviour, he had some mental health issues. But by and large, people appear to have settled into a groove, recognising the need for safety precautions, but not with the same level of paranoia we experienced a few months ago. Thank goodness I live in Australia, and not some other parts of the world.
On the trip to Manly the other day, there weren’t a lot of people on the ferry. I went there with some friends to visit some other friends. We caught up for lunch, for drinks, and a lot of great conversation.
On Saturday, I caught up with friends at the New Brighton Hotel at Manly. As it was overcast/raining, both the pub and the beach were reasonably quiet.
And then on Sunday, a friend and I went to see the play “A Beautiful Thing” at “The New Theatre”. I don’t know which came first, the movie or the play, but I first saw the movie maybe twenty years ago. The plotline concerns two teenage boys who live in adjoining apartments who embark on a relationship. It’s a sweet story. I thought the play was very good, as it was very true to the movie. The only thing I’d do differently was drop the English accents. “She sounds like Catherine Tate as Nan”, I whispered into the ear of my friend, as we watched the play. Nonetheless, we both enjoy the production very much, and would highly recommend it.
Closer to home, the empty shops on my part of Crown Street continues to be repopulated. Noodle Star has re-opened, and I enjoyed their Singapore Noodles (my favourite) on Sunday night. They’re offering a 20% discount, as they re-open after the closure of the Surry Hills Shopping Village.
We’ve been talking a lot about travel lately. In particular, he’s interested in knowing more about Sweden, as he is considering travel there next year. “I have thousands of tips”, I’ve told him.
My workmate and friend, Tony retired last night, having spent the last twenty-six years presenting Nightlife on ABC Radio. Along with a group of others, I went in to work late last night with champagne and nibbles as he hung up his microphone. It’s not retirement, it’s not farewell, it’s bon voyage.
“I don’t want to come to work tomorrow. I just want to spend the whole of tomorrow watching television” I told my boss at the pub today. A few of us had gone to a nearby pub to watch “Melbourne Cup”. Quite frankly, it’s an event I no longer feel any interest for or excitement in. I agree today’s photo finish was pretty good. But I’m far more interested in the outcome of tomorrow’s US election.
As the results should be clear by mid-to-late afternoon, Damo and I have made tentative plans to catch up after work tomorrow to conduct our own “post-election analysis”. We’re both “election junkies” who find as much, if not more excitement in watching an election night on television, as others would find in a world cup soccer match.
Melbourne Cup, on the other hand, is just a bit of a yawn to me personally. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a betting household, where my grandmother (in particular) was always putting some money “up the field’ or “both ways” on her latest horse. I swear I knew as much about horse-racing by the age of ten as I knew about anything else in the world.
Of course we had an office sweep. You have to, don’t you? And I drew #13 “Boundless” which was doing fairly well for a while. “I’m gonna peak early, just like last year”, I said to a colleague at the pub, noting that I always seem to end up drawing those horses who, after a good start, fall dramatically behind in the last 1000 metres.
So we watched the race, had a beer and wandered back to the office. I was back at my desk by 3.30 or thereabouts.
Melbourne Cup day also meant a reasonably small turnout at Swedish class tonight. There were just four of us, this week, meaning most people have probably declared their own public holiday.
I found class a little bit harder tonight, as I haven’t practiced for a few days. That, and I was also a little bit tired. “It’s hard to work a full day concentrating and then having to come to concentrate again”, the bloke next to me at class confided.
Coming home tonight I was pretty mentally exhausted so I slumped in front of the television and watched further coverage of the US election. I’ve been watching the Breakfast and Morning Shows on Fox News where they’ve been offering “advice for the undecided”. The polls have already opened.
As great as it would be just to stay home tomorrow and spend all of my time watching it, I’ve got quite a bit on. Still, it’s gonna be fascinating to watch it all unfold. And who knows, despite the polls, it might also be a photo finish?
“Obviously it’s been reviewed by Margaret and David”, I said to my friend as we looked around at the crowd who attended this afternoon’s screening of Boy at The Verona. The crowd was older and looked very “Eastern Suburbs” and “North Shore”. In our 40s, we were probably the youngest attending the screening.
I’d caught up with my friend for a late breakfast. Although we’d planned to meet at 485, a newish cafe on Crown Street, there was a “Surry Hills queue” and we ended up eating at the nearby Book Kitchen instead. It’s bizarre how many things people in Surry Hills will queue for.
After brunch we window shopped for a while and continued to chat about this, that and the other. Along the way we noticed a “pop up shop” in what was previously a gallery. “Pop up shops” are all the rage, apparently, at the moment.
On a wet day in Sydney, the cinema was, as you might expect quite busy. We got in early, bought the tickets, and had a lovely peppermint tea as we waited for the film to start.
All I knew about the film was that it was set in New Zealand, had a Maori cast, and had been receiving good reviews. The film is seen through the eyes of a young boy being raised (along with several other family members) by his grandmother. His mother had died in childbirth, and his father had been in prison. For a week or so the children are left to raise themselves while their grandmother went to another town for a funeral. During that week, the father turns up unexpectedly, and a kind of havoc ensues. As a result the boy comes to know his father in many unexpected ways.
It’s such a great film. The story is simple and well-told, but also profound. The actors are all very good and play their roles with great authenticity. It’s beautifully shot. And most importantly, it’s about the right length. Most films, these days, are about twenty minutes too long in my opinion, but I never lost interest in the film and never thought it dragged.
I rang my sister Pat today to wish her happy birthday. Pat isn’t her real name, but that’s what we call her because she was born on St Patrick’s Day. And why not? Our ancestry is mostly Irish Catholic. I also caught up with some of the family who moved from Dublin to Denmark after the potato famine. How else would you explain so many people out and about in Copenhagen celebrating St Patrick’s Day?
The irish national day celebrated in Copenhagen
Yes, I am in Copenhagen for a couple of days to attend a conference. “What do you think of Copenhagen?”, a bloke in a shop asked me this afternoon. I had just told him I was spending a month in Stockholm and just two days here. “It’s more of a city than Stockholm”, I told him. “Stockholm is much more laid back and relaxed which I like very much. But I also really like Copenhagen. It’s terrific. It has more of a buzz”, I added. If I had to rate the two though, of course Stockholm wins.
Since arriving around lunchtime I’ve done a little bit of sight-seeing – taking a tour of the canals – and a bit of shopping. I’m getting a little sick of wearing the same clothes most days. The jacket I borrowed from Damien is getting a work out. And my jeans are due for a rest. But honestly, so far, they’ve been the perfect clothes for Stockholm most days. Here in Copenhagen, I need lighter clothing. So I bought a pair of jeans from H&M. How great is that store? A really nice pair of jeans for the Danish equivalent to $65. And best of all? The legs are the right length for my waist.
Canal tour – I need new clothes
The canal tour was excellent. You travel around the old town, out into the harbour and into some of the new developments around town. One of the interesting things was to hear about how many of the major city projects, like the opera house, for example, were paid for by the private sector as a gift to the nation.
Copenhagen from the canal
You also get a brief visit to The Little Mermaid which was good, because I was told it was difficult to find. You also go past the Royal Palaces – they’re in town at the moment – and the guide pointed out a tower you can climb to the top of. Hopefully, if the weather improves I’ll do just that. It’s a little grey, to say the least, not the sunny conditions I’ve become accustomed to in Stockholm.
Little Mermaid
The tour guide did the commentary in three languages – Danish, English and German – and mananaged to make everyone feel welcome, it seemed. But oh my Lord, the Danish language! What kind of language is that? To my ear, it sounds like Swedish spoken with a Dutch accent. My ears are used to Swedish and German, but Danish has offered a whole new range of sounds to the ear. I guess it hasn’t helped that I haven’t prepared with the usual please, thankyou, hello and goodbye pleasantries which I normally like to do. But I’ve found the people to be quite friendly so far.
Hans Christian Andersen
I went out for dinner and had the rather odd experience of being able to speak more in Chinese than I could in Danish. Just around the corner from where I am staying there is a Chinese noodle place where I was the only non-Chinese person staying. In some ways it’s just a “hole in the wall”. The food was good, and they seem to appreciate that I could say please and thankyou in Mandarin, but not in Danish.
I also went out tonight to check out some of the gay bars listed in the local guide. The first one was just around the corner called, “Gimmick”. It was very, very quiet. Just a couple of young guys sitting in the corner, an older bloke reading a magazine and then a bunch of women playing Wii.The second bar I went to “Cental Hjornet” was also rather quiet. I got the impression it was very much a “closed shop”, so I didn’t stay long.cThe third bar I went to was, “Can Can” was a little more friendly. Still only a handful of people, but I went there and found the barman and the people sitting at the bar to be very kind and friendly. And then finally, I went to another bar a little closer to where I am staying. In fact, it’s just around the corner.
Copenhagen Cafe: It’s called Jernbane Cafee, and in some ways it reminded me of those bars I found in Amsterdam a couple of years ago. Lots of crap on the walls. A bunch of old blokes playing schlager and everyone singing along. For a moment I thought, “This could be the world’s greatest bar”. There were quite a few bohemian characters in the bar, including my favourite, a woman I discovered was from Finland, who offered to singt “Besame Mucho” in Finnish, and who spent much of the evening drawing pictures of people she didn’t know and then getting them to buy her beers. Wow. What a great place!!
I’m staying in the hotel district, which also happens to be the red light district. I have a gay bar just 50 metres away. Only problem is, to get there I need to dodge all of the prostitutes. I’ve been approached three or four times today going to and from my accommodation. I guess it doesn’t help that I’m a 44 year old man walking around by himself. I guess I need to take the advice of a friend who mentioned a few years ago that I don’t act gay enough. I guess I need to flame it up a bit more.
And then tonight on the way home, it was three approaches in 30 metres. As I struggled to find my card on the way into the hotel, the bloke on the counter let me in, sensing my frustration. I found it quite distressing actually.
The other negative? They still allow smoking in bars in Copenhagen. Yes, really. Thus I’ve arrived home and my clothes stink of cigarette smoke for the first time in years.
Climate change needs to start with smoking in bars, I reckon!
Swedish class was quite good fun tonight, especially as this week’s homework is a challenge right up my alley: I need to conduct an interview in Swedish with a Swedish person in Sydney.
I’m going to interview a colleague about her life in Australia, her Australian-Swedishness etc.
Overall, it’s a challenge I’m looking forward to, and much more fun than inserting an adverb!
And of course the other bit of regular homework I do is listen to Swedish pop songs. Well, I consider it homework. And I’m reasonably sure it’s helped a lot with both pronunciation and vocabulary!
Amongst the many things I did after arriving home from class was put together a new page of my favourite music for this website which includes, amongst many other things, quite a few video clips of Swedish songs.
If you ever wanted to understand the language similarities (and differences) between Swedish and English, have a look at the video clip of “Dom andra” by Kent on this page, where the Swedish lyrics and an English translation are shown on the screen together. Perhaps the only line you might put a question mark over is the one where they sing about being an alien, and eating too much sugar and vomiting, and becoming a “four ton martyr”.
The other cross-cultural comparison are the two clips of the song, Sa lang vi har varran, which Frida from ABBA recorded with Swedish band, Ratata. And although there’s both a Swedish version and an English version of both songs on this page, I think Frida recorded it more for fun than anything. Though perhaps in the back of their minds was the idea Ratata might have had some international potential in the days of Wham, Tears for Fears, and all those other “two blokes with synthesiser” bands in the period when that was all the rage. It’s an interesting cultural document in lots of way.
Frida from ABBA sings with Swedish group, Ratata back in the late 1980s. Note the difference between the Swedish and English version video clips where one of the blokes in the band is absent for much of the Swedish language version of the clip.
But for me the most interesting thing is that, having seen both clips many times over many years, is that you realise although very similar, they’re also quite different. In particular, the near absence of “the other bloke” in the band, Johan Ekelund from the Swedish clip. I’d just never noticed this before. But when you play both clips at the same time, you just notice Johan is just not there all that much in the English clip.
The English version has pretty much disappeared into history, as all of the subsequent releases have been produced in Scandinavia where there’s more interest in the Swedish language version. I also think this version has a little more “authenticity” if you listen to the way in which it’s sung.
Both clips are completely “80’s power pop” in style, with shoulder pads, though thankfully, they’ve held back on the big hair. And Frida, in particular, looks pretty fab. She would have been 41 or 42 years old at the time of recording.
I like both versions, by the way, and think it’s a good song in either language.
I haven’t been exercising (walking) enough lately, so I went for an aimless wander around my neighbourhood today. I hadn’t noticed these trees before in Moorehead Street, Redfern. Gorgeous, aren’t they?
Many cars but not a soul on foot.
Good point, though it was 5.45am and still dark, and raining.
I do love a good ‘grant reopen’, reminds me of something my father or grandparents may have written or even yelled out ‘Grant Sale, Grant Sale!’ :-)
I’m still not entirely sure what it was meant to be.
Surely ‘grand reopening’?
I’ll check with my friend Grant.