It was a truly glorious day in Sydney when I took this photograph of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Minutes later, I was enjoying a coffee and banana bread at the Opera Bar. A touch indulgent perhaps, given my diabetes, but I was feeling optimistic about my health and decided to treat myself. The gentle breeze and clear blue sky created a perfect ambiance, with a steady stream of tourists adding to the lively atmosphere.
A winter’s day in Sydney
A similar crowd of “seniors” was making their way to the Concert Hall for a Sydney Symphony Orchestra (SSO) rehearsal. My friend John, a recentish retiree, had invited me along to a mid-morning rehearsal, offering a glimpse into a potential future lifestyle as a “senior” myself.
While I’ve been taking Wednesdays off for medical appointments and recovery, in my return to work after last year’s medical problems, today felt different. It was a genuine mid-week escape, even if I had work commitments later in the day. As I sat and waited for John, I began to envision the many delightful ways to spend my retirement.
A conversation with another former colleague later in the day revealed that her “retirement” still included part-time work and volunteering. I could see myself doing something similar, while still prioritizing leisure activities like attending performances.
I was surprised to learn about the SSO’s free open rehearsals, accessible to supporters, schools, and the general public. It was a wonderful chance to experience the magic of a live rehearsal, with occasional stops and starts that were fairly minimal due to the enthusiastic audience.
To listen to legendary conductor Simone Young’s insights into the performance were fascinating. Her keen ear and ability to analize both the big picture and fine details explained her esteemed reputation.
Augsutin Hadelich with Simone Young, in rehearsal at the Sydney Opera House
The first piece , Symphony No 8 in C minor by Anton Bruckner was a complex and challenging piece for me, lacking familiarity, and at close to 80 minutes in duration,r. Although I enjoy classical music, I’m no expert and this was a bit of a challenge. However, Augustin Hadelich’s performance of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E monor, Opus 64, was captivating, filled with familiar passages and played with immense passion and skill. I loved it!
There are worse ways to spend a Wednesday morning in the heart of Sydney.
It’s hard to believe it, but today was my last full day in Stockholm. With my departure looming, I woke up with a clear mission: it was time to tick off those final bucket-list items that have been lingering on my mind.
I decided to head back out to the archipelago—specifically to Vaxholm. I’ve been here once before during the summer when it’s a bustling, sun-drenched holiday resort. Winter tells a different story. The crowds are thinner, but the ferry was still surprisingly lively. I found myself surrounded by a mix of French and Italian travellers, along with plenty of Swedes heading out for a Friday escape.
This is not a TV screen, it’s the view of the snow and ice from the front window.
The journey takes about 80 to 90 minutes. I’ll admit, I was crossing my fingers for a sea of thick, dramatic ice, but nature had other plans. While there wasn’t as much as I’d hoped for, there was still enough to satisfy the soul, especially as we pulled into Vaxholm. I even managed to snag a short video of an icebreaker working alongside our ferry.
The ferry was completely covered by my weekly transit pass—no extra cost at all, which is always a win for the travel budget. I settled in for a light lunch at the Vaxholm Hotel, right opposite the quay. There’s something incredibly peaceful about a Friday lunch overlooking the frozen water (or at least, the “slushy” water) with a few locals enjoying the view.
As I sat on the bus and train today, I found myself drifting off and wondering about the automated voices you hear on public transport. I ended up discovering a really clever piece of Swedish engineering. It turns out that northbound trains are announced by a female voice, while southbound trains are announced by a male voice. It’s a unique system designed to help commuters with visual impairments know exactly which side of the platform to stand on just by listening to the gender of the voice. It’s such a simple, thoughtful touch that makes the city that much more accessible.
Back in the city this afternoon, I finally tackled something I’ve wanted to do for ages: a traditional Swedish sauna (or bastu). I’ve done the baths in Iceland and Japan, but never the local experience here. I headed to the swimming hall at Medborgarplatsen.
As an amputee, navigating these spaces can sometimes be a bit of a logistical puzzle. At the entrance, there’s a strict “shoes off” rule before you even reach the changing rooms. I had to explain to the staff that my prosthetic limb and shoe are a package deal! They were great about it, though—they gave me these blue plastic covers (very IKEA-esque) to keep the grit off the floors.
After a relaxing 25-metre lap swim, I hit the sauna. It’s a very different vibe from Australia. It’s incredibly family-oriented; fathers and sons all relaxing together, which felt very natural and wholesome. I did have a sweet moment with a little girl who was absolutely transfixed by my prosthetic. Her father was a bit apologetic, but I told him it was no worry at all.
I finished the evening with a quiet glass of wine at a local bar before retreating to the hostel.
To be honest, these past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind. I’ve had to remind myself that things are a bit different now than they were during my last visit nine years ago. Between the amputation and the slippery winter streets, I move a little slower than I used to. I haven’t ticked off every single thing I imagined, but I’ve learned to be okay with that. Travel isn’t just about the volume of sights; it’s about the quality of the moments.
Tomorrow, I’m jumping on a four-hour train north to Sundsvall. It’s Melodifestivalen Heat 5 weekend (the massive Swedish lead-up to Eurovision), so the energy in the country is going to be electric.
Thirty-ish years ago, I was a young ABC Radio presenter, fresh from my move to Wagga Wagga. My first big national story revolved around the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir being asked to change its name to compete in the national choral championships, held in Wagga Wagga. It was a significant story at the time. Recently, I’ve updated the piece I recorded back then, incorporating new material, and after securing the rights to use some additional material. With Mardi Gras approaching, I wanted to share this radio package, reflecting on the events of the time and how much has changed since.
TRANSCRIPT
ABC Radio Archives: From Westside Story, somewhere by the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir. The issue was whether Wagga might be that place because earlier this year, the championships’ organizers asked the choir to consider changing its name to the Eastern Suburbs G&L Choir.
James O’Brien: It was 30 years ago on The World Today on ABC Radio. I remember I had just arrived in Wagga a few months earlier, presenting the morning show, and it was my first big national story.
Stephen Schaeffer (from the documentary “Something To Sing About”): It’s obviously an important one. It’s the one just before we hit Wagga, okay? I understand there’s been some flurry of excitement in the press about our imminent arrival in Wagga. ABC Radio Riverina rang me at nine o’clock in the morning on Monday in my office, and before I’d even had my cup of coffee, I was talking live on ABC Radio. Is the choir’s participation political?
With permission, taken from the documentary, “Something To Sing About”
James O’Brien: That’s Stephen Schaefer, musical director of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir at the time, and he was talking about being on the radio show with me.
Meredith Knight: And then the job of actually applying to go to Wagga was my responsibility to put in the application form.
James O’Brien: This is Meredith Knight. She was secretary of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir at the time.
Meredith Knight (Choir Secretary): And I remember clearly to the day that I was at work as a property manager in my own office, when the phone call came through from the secretary of the organizing committee to say that they had received our application, but I can’t remember exactly how she said it, but I think she said, “Look, there’s just one problem.”
And I said, “Yeah, okay, well, what’s that?” And she said, “Well, we’ve discussed it with the committee, and we’d like you to change your name to the G&L Choir.” I mean, she said to me on the phone, because I said, “Well, why do you want us to change our name?” And she said, “Because we kind of think there’s going to be children’s choirs involved, and that might discourage them from participating. And also, we have a lot of sponsors to sponsor this event, and we don’t want the publicity of there being a gay and lesbian choir that might chase away sponsors.”
Of course, it didn’t, as far as I’m aware. But I remember when we got into the final, that there were two, I think, school groups that stayed behind to cheer us on. They were actually supposed to be going back home, wherever they were from, I don’t know, but they were supposed to be going back home.
But they asked their supervisors and their teachers if they could stay because they wanted to cheer on the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir in the final.
James O’Brien: I caught up with some of the choir a couple of years ago. In particular, I remember one woman who talked about her apprehension at returning to Wagga as she’d previously lived there.
Choir Member: I won’t go into my whole life story, but in 1979, I was in a relationship with a woman that came from Wagga. In 1978, we were sacked from the Mater Hospital for being gay. Yeah, and so she was dragged back to Wagga by her family.
Six months later, I went to Wagga to live with her. It was probably the worst time of my life because it was the most homophobic town. Of course, her parents, I won’t say their name, were quite well-known in Wagga at the time, apparently.
They did everything they could, so I couldn’t get work, I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t do anything. It was just a nightmare. Eventually, I left, and many years later, some years later, fell in love with Tamina and never looked back until Stephen announced that I was going to Wagga.
James O’Brien: So was this a bit triggering for you?
Choir Member: It was, absolutely. I was petrified going back to Wagga. Yeah, yeah, petrified, because I was worried.
I mean, in hindsight, it probably never would have happened, but I was worried I’d run into the girl, I’d run into her family, because people were really horrible to me in the town when I was there, so I was petrified. But none of those things happened, and it was actually a lovely experience. And once I was there with the choir, a lot of those panicked feelings I had sort of settled.
Stephen Schaefer: Hi, I’m Stephen Schaefer. I was the founding music director of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir. I always went there with a great sense of confidence.
I mean, I think I raised the idea with the choir to general incredulity, if I remember. We’d only been going for a little over a year, maybe 18 months, something like that. And for some crazy reason, I thought we should go and do it, even if we didn’t win, which wasn’t exactly on the agenda at the time.
It would be a great experience. It’d be a weekend away, never to be forgotten, as indeed it was. It was sort of like several weekends away, never to be forgotten.
But it was such a wonderful experience. It really put the choir on the map, certainly when we won. But I think it did a great deal for us, each of us, just starting on what has become a 30-year journey.
James O’Brien: One of the interesting things for me, as well as reporting on the story, is that I was also a member of the local gay and lesbian community. So I was given a bit of access behind the scenes to the story as it unfolded.
ABC Radio Archives: Because every time someone stands up and says, “I’m gay and lesbian,” it’s a brave act.
And when 70 people get up and say it and sing it, and they win a competition, it’s really wonderful. Given that early adverse publicity about the choir coming to Wagga, was there any trepidation about coming to Wagga? Well, we didn’t quite know what to expect when we got here. In fact, you know, we got off the train and got onto the bus, and that was that.
But yeah, we had little second thoughts and stuff, of course. And so winning in the face of that is, you know, even sweeter. The gay and lesbian choir took first place in the community choir section, fighting off six others.
With it, political and artistic kudos. We were competing tonight in the mainstream, nationally, with other mainstream choirs. And as a gay and lesbian choir, we won.
I think that’s really important for the community. Stephen, artistically, what is the significance of this? Musically, it means that the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir, which is a group of totally untrained and unauditioned singers, most of whom just can’t read music at all, can meet the challenge, can discover something that they love sharing and communicating with their friends and the wider community, and perform to an Australian class standard. After Wagga, what next? We’ve been invited to sing at the Fifth National AIDS Conference closing dinner, which is a very exciting and prestigious event.
We’re very proud to be part of that. We’ll probably mount another concert early next year as part of the Mardi Gras, and we’re planning to release a CD. International touring has not yet crossed off the agenda.
Getting the choir to Wagga was a major undertaking. So New York or London is a little further off, I think. And I think we’ll actually try and aim to go to the Gay Games in New York in two years’ time.
And I would also like to see the choir go to the Australian Gay Games, the China Standards in Melbourne, in January, long weekend next year, I think we’ll be there. Well, that’s a good thing because we’re part of an ever-widening and very active community in all areas. It’s just fantastic that gay and lesbian people are everywhere and are living and functioning, funnily enough, and enjoying it and starting to say, “Hey, we’re here.”
And celebrating as we can hear. Absolutely.
POSTSCRIPT : I attempted to locate some local members of the organising committee, but unfortunately it was such a long time ago that most have died.
But this is something I recorded at the time. This was the item which played locally on ABC Radio in Wagga, which was very much about the success and challenges for the community itself, as the competition gained further national exposure.
JO: Both artistically, and in terms of popularity, the National Choral Championships are undergoing rapid growth and rapid change, and will expand in coming years, according to one of the judges, Adrian Wintle.
Adrian Wintle (AW): We started very modestly, as you’re aware in 1990 with seven choirs actually entering, and it’s been pretty much a slow moving thing, but it’s starting to spread around, the word of these championships, and as people get to hear about it, and realise it is the richest choral event in Australia, we expect to see even more entries next year.
JO: In terms of quality of performance, where to from where, do you expect to attract better choirs from Australia?
AW: We’re all acutely aware, the judicators, that there are squillions of choirs out there in the wilderness, and we would hope that some of the cathedral choirs, for instance, the collegiate choirs, the university choirs, might see fit to come to Wagga. We also held a think-tank session on the Sunday morning after the event, and we as a committee, gleaned from that various things that will help run the championships in the future including, possibly, the subsidisation of choirs coming in, if we’re to gain sufficient sponsorship to cover the basic travel costs, because we are conscious that Wagga being situtated as it is, represents expenditure of a high order for groups coming in from abroad.
JO: But there was also high praise for the choirs which won from the audience…
Voice Over: The first prize for the male and female choir goes to the Melbourne Chorus of Sweet Adelines.
JO: But Adrian Wintle is fast to point out that it’s artistic merit not just popularity that assures a choir of a win.
AW: There’s a yardstick you apply according to the capabilities, the inherent capabilities of a choir. If you’re judging in a community choir section you can’t expect the attainment of that community choir to rival that of a professional or a sub-professional, advanced chamber choir. And the set works reflect that sort of division, if you like. But within the perceived limits of a particular section you look for excellence.
JO: One of the big surprises was the win by the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Choir. Crowded earlier this year in a controversy – they were asked to change their name to the “Eastern Suburbs G&L Choir” – the secretary of the choir feels proud of their achievement, to have won first place in the Community Choir section.
Stephen Schafer, Choir Musical Director (SS): Musically, it means the Sydney Gay &and Lesbian Choir, which is a group of totally untrained and unauditioned singers, most of whom just can’t read music at all can meet the challenge, can discover something they love sharing and communicating with their friends and the wider community, and perform to an Australian class standard.: We also got the positive reception from the Wagga people, who were the organisers of the Choral Championships. They were very pleased that we were here; they were very pleased that we won. And that was from the Wagga people, who organised the championships. And that was just terrific to just be accepted for who we are by the people. The other choirs thought we were terrific. In fact we’ve got some here tonight celebrating with us, and we’ve just got a tremendous response from people, in fact better than we expected.
JO: So where to from now? Adrian Wintle believes the championships will grow, attracting bigger and better choirs…
AW: Overall, I think it speaks of an expansion. We as a committee have to be ready to cope with that. We have to be sensitive to the requirement of these choirs coming in, to offer them the prospect of reasonable accommodation, and for that, we need the assistance of the Motelier’s Association, which support us already. We have to ensure they have adequate rehearsal space when they get here. There was a thing that was floated at the “think-tank” session concerning the use of churches which led to a suggestion, perhaps, we should have a category for church choirs. And all this sort of material from around and aired suggests that we’re on the bring of a choral music explosion.
When you have some visiting from the country, and they’ve only ever visited Sydney maybe a dozen times in their life, you have to think about maximising the “Sydney Experience”, and showing them some quite memorable things. So when Michelle told me she was coming down from Lismore for a long weekend, I thought long and hard about what we could do together, and what she had already done.
Manly – done. Opera House – done. Harbour Bridge – done. “Bondi?”, I asked. Not that she remembers, so I suggested we do the Bondi Coastal Walk. I thought “Sculpture By The Sea” was still on, and that would have been great, but it finished last weekend. And lunch? I suggested the Bondi Junction Westfield. Though I know that sounds like a pretty boring suggestion, there’s a bar and restaurant called Kelly’s which has good food that’s well priced, and has awesome views, and we could go it on the way back to the city. When I explained Michelle was visiting from Lismore, the waitress organised a terrific window table.
The view from Kelly’s at Westfield Bondi Junction
Michelle is a nurse, which is a good thing for updates on the health problems of ageing family members. On the phone or Skype, you’re never quite sure how serious some of the ailments can be. But face to face you get a better insight, and you also get to know lots of the stories that never quite translate on the phone.
My favourite family story right now concerns Michelle’s father, Jack. Jack’s brother, Bill died recently after a lengthy battle with cancer. I’ve known them both all my life. Though he was in his eighties, I’ve never known Bill to have a partner. Two of ten children, Jack and Bill were not only siblings, but also close mates.
“We’ve got a problem. We can’t pay for the funeral”, Jack told the funeral director with a straight-face. “You know how you told me I needed to give you a suit to dress Bill”, Jack said, adding “I put the cheque in the inside top pocket”. The joke continued for a while, with Jack saying Bill’s bank account had been frozen. “Is your father serious? I can never tell with Jack”, the funeral director said to Michelle, to which Michelle replied, “I can never tell either”.
We also talked for a while about my fairly vague retirement plans which involve a return to Lismore. I’m reasonably sure a few of my Sydney friends don’t quite believe I’ll do it, as I’ve been living here now for thirty years.
Their surprise/incredulity reminds me of when I was living in Brisbane, and going to university in the 1980s, and then moved to Bourke in Western NSW. Memorably, I received a number of calls from worried friends, concerned that I’d be lonely or bored.
Of course I have similar thoughts/worries myself. There are so many wonderful things about city life, including having good friends closeby. But I’ll have family closeby (which can be a blessing in later life), as well as some creature comforts like a backyard and a garden. And I’ll be able to live a cheaper life, which I hope means there’ll be more money for travel. Or at least that’s the plan.
A lovely photograph, with many thanks to a kind American backpacker, who turned a simple shot into a mini photo-shoot. Very generous.
Are you familiar with the unwritten “two pub” rule that seems to persist in Australian country towns? It’s a peculiar phenomenon where you’ll find two distinct pubs: one that’s the go-to spot for everyone in the community, and another that’s typically shunned, often frequented by itinerants and alcoholics. Strangely enough, this rule appears to extend beyond Australia, even to places like Narvik.
Curious about Narvik’s nightlife, I decided to venture out last night. My first stop was Narvikguten, drawn to its seemingly authentic, non-touristy ambiance. It turned out to be exactly that—a small bar with around a dozen patrons, most of whom seemed to be in various stages of inebriation. Picture a scene from an American western movie: as I entered, the room fell silent, and even the barmaid shot me a disapproving “we don’t like your type around here” glance.
Despite the unwelcoming atmosphere, I found myself committed after ordering my beer. As I sipped and nibbled on pretzels, the vibe in the pub hinted at an impending unpleasant turn of events. It was palpable—the anticipation of a later brawl brewing in the air.
Having swiftly finished my beer, I made my way to the more popular bar. Initially, it wasn’t as bustling as its reputation suggested, with around twenty people quietly enjoying their drinks. The highlight, however, was the unexpected soundtrack—ABBA Gold. It was a stark contrast to the past, considering that sixty years ago in Narvik, Frida was shunned as a “German Child,” and now her tunes were resonating through the jukebox.
As I leisurely sipped my beer, I observed the diverse crowd, which remained relatively sparse until around eleven-thirty. That’s when the scene transformed. Suddenly, hundreds of previously unseen young people in Narvik flocked to Kaffeteria. The resemblance to an Australian country town was uncanny—a genial giant circulated, engaging in lively conversations and dancing. A hen’s night party paraded in matching “Tove Drikkett Up” t-shirts. Mini-outfit-clad, bleach-blonde girls enjoyed their mystery drinks. It felt like a flashback to “The Vines” in Berri in 1990 or “Choices” in Wagga in 1993—reminiscent of any small country town in the Western world.
Amidst the crowd was a local guy who had returned from Oslo, greeted warmly in a “welcome back home” manner. Accompanying him was a woman forever etched in my memory as “Muriel” (for obvious reasons), a former local seemingly forgotten by everyone. Additionally, there was the Oslo friend, intermittently shooting me curious glances with a “Where the fuck am I, and what am I doing here?” expression.
The quirk with the midnight sun became apparent: time becomes elusive. Around ten o’clock, I passed a group enjoying a dinner party in broad daylight—how did they gauge the hour without checking their watches? Strolling home at one in the morning still presented broad daylight. In Sydney, such a journey after a night out would be deemed a “walk of shame,” but here, it’s just routine. Renovation work on the street persists until ten each night, a norm in this land of perpetual daylight and darkness.
Contemplating kids playing outdoors, I wondered how they discern dinner or bedtime. In Narvik, where residents endure six months of continuous daylight and six months of near darkness, locals must possess an innate sense of time.
Today was a day of absolute leisure for me. After ten days of active sightseeing, a break was overdue. I napped, penned letters home, and indulged in Sunday television, an odd experience with news slides accompanied by BBC Radio audio and a channel featuring sports teams lip-synching to hits. The extent of my exertion was walking into town to make calls, revealing the frustrating reality of Telstra’s international roaming limitations—receiving calls and texts, but unable to make any.
The weather remained splendid. A stroll into town demanded no more than shorts, a t-shirt, and thongs. While not the typical Australian summer, it felt more like late winter or early spring. The occasional sun intensified, gently warming faces. Yet, signs of a chilly night loom with more snow on the nearby mountain, prompting locals to bundle up. It seems like it’s time to head back south.
“I’m sorry, I have absolutely no idea who you are…” is the kind of phrase you never really want to hear. especially when it’s delivered by someone you’ve known for over twenty years.
I was wandering home on Friday night, having spent the evening with a friend at the newly re-opened Newtown Hotel. And just metres from home I saw a very attractive tall blonde woman standing outside a Surry Hills restaurant and speaking on the phone. It was a woman I first met twenty years ago, and who I last heard from via email a few months ago, and who I last saw at a wedding a year ago. She’s a lovely woman, and it’s always great to see her. And so I waited for her to finish her call, standing a few metres away.
And that’s when she delivered that killer line. Normally it’s the kind of thing that would cause your heart to jump, and for you to wonder how you got it all so terribly wrong. But there was no need to worry. In just a half-beat, I laughed realising it was my friend’s identical twin sister. D’oh!
For many years, my friend’s twin had lived in the United States and so we had never actually met before. “We look a lot a like these days”, she told me, as I noted they now boasted identical hairstyles as well. “Say hi from James from Wagga”, I told her, as I made my way home. I’m sure it happens all the time, and it must get a little tiresome for them both, but for me, it was an amusing experience and anecdote, and one which was strangely, analogous, to the evening spent at the Newtown Hotel.
For years, the Newtown Hotel was one of the landmark gay hotels in Sydney, with an everyday crowd, drag shows, unisex stripper contests and so on. It was the place you would go to in the evening, until it closed about midnight, and then you would make your way to The Imperial to see one of their iconic drag shows. But the Newtown closed rather dramatically in 2007.
Newtown Hotel Tombstone
Although it reopened a couple of years ago with a mini-makeover, the gay and lesbian communities of Sydney have been waiting with anticipation the re-opening of a large, successful gay pub. In the last couple of years, the Sydney gay scene has undergone a transformation. Thanks largely to the internet, a lot of the reasons people used to go to gay bars – to make friends, to have friend, to pick-up – have gone on-line, and many bars no longer hold much attraction. As a result, the remaining pubs have been forced to cut costs, and thus, have become even less attractive places to go.
I’d hazard a guess there’s been a major investment in the “New Newtown”. I haven’t seen the figures, but it would have been millions and millions of dollars. The pub has had a major architectural re-design, with more levels, more spaces, and even outdoor verandah areas. “The view’s pretty good up here”, my friend and I agreed as we sat on the second floor and enjoyed the view down King Street. “You couldn’t have gotten better weather”, my friend added.
In the old days, the number of people who attended the re-opening would never have fitted into the bar. Or maybe they would, as the place was often very full. I remember on one occasion the place was so packed that it was easier to cross the road and get a beer at the nearby bar than struggle through the crowd to the bar. On Friday, the bar was full, but not so much that you felt uncomfortable. You could make it to the toilets and back fairly easily.
Newtown Hotel
The downstairs bar is your normal priced beer bar. Upstairs, the beer prices go up, and there’s more variety. There’s also a restaurant. On top of that, there’s a room which could easily book for a birthday party or a board meeting, and there are even plans for a small cinema.
Newtown Hotel Private Room
“But will it be gay”? was the question my friend asked as we caught the bus from Railway Square. “It’ll depend on the bar staff”, I told him. Although not entirely sure of the sexual proclivities of those serving us beer, my guess is they’re part of the generation and crowd where it doesn’t matter so much. “They’re certainly not hipsters”, I told him. Gay or not, people felt comfortable with the bar staff, I think.
We recognised quite a few faces on Friday night and ran into some friends. My friend recognised a former Sydney drag queen who he hadn’t seen and who had lived in Sweden (of all places) for eight years. We spoke Swedish. “I never thought I’d be speaking Swedish in The Newtown Hotel”, he laughed. I also ran into one of the students I’ve recently been chatting to. The world is too small.
Although now physically very different, there was something warmly familiar about the newly re-opened Newtown Hotel. Same, but different.
I had a meeting at Bondi Icebergs late this afternoon, which was a really nice end to the day. As they look out of their full-length office windows, the guys there have THE BEST VIEWS.
It’s a chilly night in Sydney – cold and wet – and as we arrived, I looked down to notice one lone swimmer. His body was red with cold as he slowly did his laps. Why would you do it? You’d have to be keen.
On the way out, I was lucky enough to capture the moment where the lights were on at the pool, just on dusk. As soon as I took this photograph, they were turned off, in recognition of the venue’s night time identity as a restaurant. Very nice.
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What a treat! Not sure of the extent to which it is available to the “general public.” General availability would somewhat undermine the business model.
What a treat! Not sure of the extent to which it is available to the “general public.” General availability would somewhat undermine the business model.
I was thinking about you at the time, and wondering if tou hasd ever been to one?