“Often I used to help the veterans and the windows get ready for ANZAC Day”, one of the community nurses who came to our house last week said. “But there aren’t so many of them around anymore, so I’ve got a pretty clear day”, she added.
As I looked around the crowd attending today’s Dawn Service in Lismore, I noted there were lots of people aged in their 60s and 70s marching, but not many older than that. The WW1 and WW2 veterans of my childhood are no longer with us; it’s those who fought in Vietnam who are the “veterans now”.
“The first time it was fathers, the last time it was sons, and in between our husbands marched away with drums and guns…
“Mothers Daughters Wives” by Judy Small…
As a child in school uniform, I’ve marched several times in Lismore, including a memorable occasion, aged nine or ten, when I collapsed due to the heat. But today was, I think, the first time I’ve attended a Dawn Service in Lismore.
I’d estimate 800-1000 people attended the service which commenced with a march from “The Old Post Office” at 4.55am.
ANZAC Day Dawn Service in Lismore
The service lasted half an hour or so, and included all of the expected features. As it’s a couple of years since I’ve last attended a Dawn Service, and so I’d forgotten about the references to royalty which grated for to my “republican ears”. “The Prayer for The Queen” was quickly updated to be “The Prayer for The Crown”. After her lengthy reign, I’m guessing it’s going to take a few years for that to be fully embedded in people’s minds, much like how it takes a few weeks to remember the new year when writing dates down.
ANZAC Day Dawn Service in Lismore
My resolution for next year? To learn the second verse of “Advance Australia Fair” beyond… “Beneath our radiant southern cross”…
Beneath our radiant Southern Cross, We’ll toil with hearts and hands; To make this Commonwealth of ours Renowned of all the lands; For those who’ve come across the seas We’ve boundless plains to share; With courage let us all combine To advance Australia fair. In joyful strains then let us sing Advance Australia fair!
The gastronomical excess of yesterday continued today. I feel as if I have eaten half a pig. I had agreed to meet Kate and Wendy on the steps of Town Hall, co-inciding with the start of the Chinese New Year Parade. The warm weather and increased popularity of the parade conspired to ensure the parade this year was significantly larger than last year, making it difficult for us to actually meet in that spot. We eventually caught up in front of the cinemas on George Street. As we often do with parades, we wandered along taking photographs, travelling with the parade, rather than standing in just the one place. I also used my portable recorder to capture some of the sounds.
These were my favourites in the parade, because they made so much noise!
After the parade we wandered down to Darling Harbour in the hope of finding entertainment and food. And while there was plenty of entertainment, there was very little in the way of food.
As the hunger paints became stronger, we went back to Chinatown and wandered along to what is possibly the best yum-cha joint in Sydney, the East Ocean Restaurant. After an hour or so sitting on the steps our number – fifty seven (the year in which Kate was born) – was finally called. It was like winning the lottery, as the wait on the restaurant was singificant. “It’s a two or three hour wait”, we heard one woman exclaim (and exaggerate) as she walked down the stairs in disgust. At one point I said to Wendy we should take a photograph of those walking up the stairs and call it “Optimism” which gave a smile to the Spanish-looking bloke who, along with his heavily pregnant wife, had been waiting for a fair while. Once inside, we enjoyed a tremendous meal. Highly recommended.
Although Kate was still keen to keep wandering, I was beginning to tire by mid-afternoon. And as she went to watch a movie, I went home in search of a mid-afternoon nap… or at least a rest.
I was awoken by a call from Sue and then from Damo who I had agreed to meet with for dinner at Ventuno, which I had been to previously with him and with Shanthini.
While on the 339 bus as I practised my Swedish (in anticipation of Tuesday nights lesson), Damo called me with a suggestion to dine instead at Firefly.
I always thought it was more of a bar instead of a place for proper dinner, but I agreed, since he was already there. Upon arrival, we enjoyed a glass of the Seville Estate Pinot Gros 2006 from the Yarra Valley.
We settled on a series of four tapas plates which turned out to be both reasonably inexpensive and incredibly filling. There was some Maggie Beare’s pate, some halomi wrapped in proscuito, some lamb on skewers and I’ve already forgotten the fourth. Perhaps it was the bottle of St Hubert’s Pinot Noir 2006, also from the Yarra Valley that made me forget?
Or perhaps it was just the terrific view?
Or maybe it was the great conversation? A lot of those having dinner were obviously heading off to “The Stars Come Out” which was playing at the Sydney Theatre – hi M-H – and so we were soon left alone as the only people left in the restaurant. We had a really great night and it was a really terrific way to end a tremendous weekend.
For just a few seconds every three years my mind go back to the early high school “rumble chamber”. That’s what it’s like when you go through the gates of Bourke Street Primary School on election day, as the party supporters surround you and offer you their “how to vote” cards.
Despite the total absence of any political material through the mail from anyone other than Tayna Plibersek, there were representatives from all of the candidates in my seat handing out cards.
Voting queue at Bourke Street Primary School
I never take “how to vote” cards, as I always go into the booth knowing exactly what I want to do. I know they have a role for many people, but they’re just not for me. It’s interesting though, to see the different approaches some people take. While I take none of them, you see other people taking them all. And those who take just one are divided between those who hide them, and those who hold them high so you can see exactly how they intend to vote.
After I voted, I sat down on the nearby bench on Bourke Street to eat my bacon and egg roll (supporting the local school sausage sizzle). As I ate my roll, an older woman sat down next to me. She had been handing out “how to vote” cards since early this morning and told me she needed to rest her feet for a bit. While she had been there all day, some of the other parties had gone through shift changes, she told me.
She was a lovely woman who had obviously done this quite a bit before. “It’s a very calm booth here”, she said, noting that at some booths people can become quite angry. “I was talking to my husband about this and we concluded it’s the one day some people have to express their anger”, she said.
As we chatted I observed the interchange going on between those handing out “how to vote” cards, and there was a lovely calmness about it all. Perhaps it’s because the woman from the Sex Party was keeping everyone entertained with her comments, or maybe because it’s such a lovely environment with the shade offered by the trees? “We’re a happy bunch in the area”, I told her.
I also told her that it’s a good booth to vote at if you’re a local. When I voted, there were just a handful of locals, whereas the absentee voters queue was massive, and so I was in and out quite quickly. Further down the street, the length of the queue for bread at Bourke Street Bakery was somewhere in between.
I’m a bit of an election junkie. I’ve actually worked on my employer’s coverage of the last few state elections, and I normally spend Federal Election night in front of the television. I won’t be doing that this year. I’ll actually be in at work, so it will be an interesting new experience for me. In the meantime, it’s an afternoon of resting up.
The itch to travel has always been a part of my personality, and so too has been a tendancy to plan the associated detail.
For the past 20 years in particular, that’s meant meticulously planning many details of my overseas adventures. I’ve always been drawn to the challenge of creating the perfect itinerary, mapping out each day and anticipating potential hiccups. I really like the research aspect of travel, learning as much as I can about the activities I could participate in, and learning a few words of language (for example). I’ve never been obsessive about having a bucket list to tick-off, but I do like knowing what some of my options might be ahead of time.
The only packing mishap I can recall was forgetting a new camera on a 2008 trip—a regret that lingers even though my phone now captures all the memories I need.
Eighteen months ago, my travel plans took an unexpected turn when I had to have a lower-limb amputation. It happened after a trip to Vietnam and Cambodia with friends; an infection I picked up during the trip became serious upon my return. Though the experience was difficult, my love for travel has never waned. Even when I was in hospital (on serious pain relief) I was dreaming of new adventures.
When the serious possibility of post-COVID/post-amputation international travel started to become a reality, my initial thoughts were of nearby destinations like Japan and New Zealand. I have also spent some months researching a return trip to some of my favorite European haunts: Paris, Berlin, and Stockholm. https://thelimbshift.com/2024/09/travel-plans-wanderlust-and-stumpy-charting-my-european-adventure/
But then, fate intervened. A friend saw an exceptional TripADeal tour of China. I’ve been to China twice. First when my friend Kate was living and working then, and then a few years later when my friend Sue and I did a 10-day package tour. https://thelimbshift.com/2014/05/nexus-holidays-china-sampler/
This new itinerary is slightly shorter but significantly cheaper, even with the single supplement. https://www.tripadeal.com.au/deals/5364-incredible-china After a few days of deliberation, a couple of friends convinced me to seize the opportunity.
I feel confident I can handle the physical demands of the trip. I am also conscious of not over-taxing myself, and making sure I can take rests along the way.
Although the idea of a group tour sounds stressful, I know most of the people who do these tours are often older, and so the pace wouldn’t be as stressful as an 18-35 group tour. I know the Great Wall can be steep in sections, but I also know I can likely manage some of it at my own pace. And if I can manage it, I can still experience things at a slower pace, knowing I’ve walked the wall previously.
The familiarity of the itinerary has given me confidence to know what to expect.
Thats me and thats the Great Wall of China in 2010
But the clincher? The price: $888, all inclusive (plus $500 single supplement) which includes international flights, accommodation and lots of meals was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
So in a few months time, I’m heading back to China for the first time since 2014, retracing some familiar steps. This time, it’s less about discovery and more about rediscovering a country that has undoubtedly changed in the past decade. And maybe having a “deeper” experience at the slower pace my physical condition demands.
As always, I’m diving deep into the details. I’m researching the hotels (a couple of which I’ve stayed previously), scoping out public transportation options, and identifying potential rest stops along the way. I’m also brushing up on the nuances of modern China, like its transition to a cashless society. I’ve loaded up a travel card and established some Chinese pay services, ensuring I’m prepared for any transaction. With a local e-SIM card for my phone, I’m feeling confident and equipped for this new adventure. I already have some of my travel things packed!
This trip feels like a gateway to reigniting my passion for international travel. It’s a chance to prove to myself that I can still navigate the world, embrace new experiences, and create lasting memories, all while adapting to my new physical reality. I’m excited to see where this journey leads.
As I walked through McElhone Place, Surry Hills this afternoon, the first thing I noticed was the smell of jasmine. It’s one of the great smells of summer in Sydney. And McElhone Place is such a beautiful street – where the neighbours have worked hard to make sure they have beautiful gardens – that I stopped for just a moment to take in the fragrance. Beautiful.
And then I saw the pussy cats. Sitting in a doorway was “the king cat” surrounded on the footpath by three others in court. It was a great scene.
As I walked further towards home I saw a group of young parents with their hoola-hooping children enjoying a glass of wine, the people outside Bourke Street Pantry on a ladder watering the plans, and a bloke just enjoying the beautiful spring late-afternoon daylight saving “light” we enjoy in Sydney. taking a photograph with his phone.
In my mind, I was contrasting their stress-free ends to their working weeks with mine. As I’ve ended the week, I’ve felt a lot of the “good” of a holiday has been undone. Combined with returning to work, I have a few concerns for friends and family who are going through some difficult things at the moment. The kind of things you wish they didn’t have to go through, and although you do your best to support them, you still wonder if you’re doing enough.
So tonight I’m doing my best to de-stress a bit.
A quiet weekend is planned, and then on Monday I start a new job. I’m feeling a bit Gen Y at the moment, having had 4 jobs (3 of them “acting” positions) in the last 18 months. This new one is “acting” too, though I’m hopeful it will become permanent for at least a couple of years.
Through Facebook I’ve recently made contact with some long-lost extended family members. And this week, two of them have left some interesting comments on an old photograph I posted a while back of me, with my mum and my granny.
“Wow, I havent seen many photos with granny in them”, one of them wrote, while the other added, “oh my god. i can’t remember granny when she could walk around. I remember your mum but not as good as i thought. they look so much like nan. i cant believe it”.
They’re my second cousins. Their mother Julie was my elder first cousin with whom I grew up, and I remember when they were born. I was also page-boy at their mother’s first wedding. And now they’re in their twenties (thirties?) with children of their own.
Both comments, as well as some recent events in the family, have been a reminder I’m no longer “the younger one” in my family. Suddenly I’m the grown up who the younger ones look up to (kinda), and who the older ones rely upon (kinda).
At the funeral of my similarly-aged nephew, last year, for example, I found myself moving between the generation I grew up with, and the remains of the older generation who I used to look up to. Of my mum and dad’s brother’s and sister’s (a total of 10), there’s only two left.
“Who’s that?”, I was asked by my ageing aunt at one point, telling her it was the husband or child of “such and such”.
In each family, of course, there’s always someone who is the lynch-pin who keeps everyone in contact. In my family I guess it was my mum and my granny. And when they both died, and there was no longer a house on which to focus the family connection, a lot of us lost contact. I have cousins, for example, who I haven’t seen for maybe twenty years. I have no idea, for example, where my cousin Lorna is, these days. Her mum died in 1978 and I can’t recall the last time I saw her.
I always thought it was odd when a long lost aunt or cousin or whatever would suddenly turn up at our house when I was a child, and it was revealed my mum or dad hadn’t seen them for twenty years. And now, of course, I know exactly how it happens.
Most of my family have stayed in either Lismore or Brisbane, but having been away from my hometown for such a long time, I’ve missed out on seeing the extended younger generation growing up. Of course I know my immediate, immediate family, but it’s the children of the extended family that I’m only just coming to learn about. It’s odd though, since I know their parents very well. And of course we share the same DNA. An interesting, kinda odd, feeling in many ways.
I’m sure one day the information we’re sharing with Facebook will come back to bite us on the bums, but in the meantime it’s been wonderful to reacquaint myself with my extended family. And, as is the style of Facebook, it’s been fun to see photos of them acting like idiots!! :)
Yes, we defnitely have the same DNA! No doubt about that…
There was a moment today when the guy sitting behind me, Paul, said “You know I think I wouldn’t mind living in Shanghai for a year of two”. Without hesitation, I told him I’d thought the same thing earlier in the day. It’s odd, of course, because we’d only been in the city for less than twenty-four hours. Thinking logically about it, it’s probably because of the familiarity of the place. it’s the most “Western” city we’ve visited so far. It also reminded me a lot of Sydney. Maybe it’s also the fact that it’s a city based around water that gives the place such good energy. Obviously, we were both jumping to premature conclusions, but one thing I am sure of: I’d like to come back and visit the city again. Maybe for the next International Art Fair?
The organised parts of today’s tour included a trip to the airport and back on the high-speed train (reaching 430km/h), a visit to a clothing and electronics market (where I bought a really nice winter jacket at a really good price), a visit to Shanghai Bund, a walk around the city, and a night-time cruise.
Fast train to the airport in Shanghai
“So that’s where all of our coal goes?”, I joked to Sue, as we reflected on the bright city lights of Shanghai. City lights in Sydney (and most other cities) are normally a dull affair of corporate logos and simple colours. In contrast, the city lights of Shanghai are bright, colourful and imaginative. There was a real sense of theatre and occasion, I thought to myself, as we travelled around the harbour.
Sue on board the Shanghai city night cruise.
For the additional cost of 50 Yuan (about $9-10), we paid for “VIP Seating” which meant we got to sit outdoors in a less crowded part of the boat, and orange juice was even thrown in. Sadly, there was no white wine, so I settled for a beer. Indeed, there’s been an almost complete absence of white wine on the entire trip. In fact, I had an experience the other day which reminded me very much of an episode of The Simpsons. It’s the one where The Simpsons travel to Australia, and was when Marj went into a bar and tried to order a coffee. The barman replied “beer”. The exchange continued between them where Marj kept saying “coffee” (even spelling it out) and the barman replied “beer”. The other day I tried to order a glass of wine in a hotel bar, and a similar exchange ensued.
Shanghai
As we ended the day there was a little bit of sadness in the group, as eight of us (including Sue and I) are ending the trip tomorrow and returning home, while the others are continuing on a four-day river trip. “I know I’ll see you in the morning, but I’d still like to give you a hug tonight”, a woman from Adelaide called Carrie said to me, as we entered the hotel lift. There have been some really nice people on the bus with whom we’ve shared some wonderful moments of insight and humour.
