Ah, the joy of a long weekend in Sydney! While I used to escape the city for getaways down the coast or to the countryside, I’ve come to appreciate the unique charm of Sydney when it’s a little quieter.
This past long weekend was a perfect example. With many people away, my neighborhood was wonderfully peaceful. The usual hustle and bustle of the cafes and bars subsided, leaving a relaxed atmosphere I thoroughly enjoyed.
On Saturday, I embraced the tranquility and simply recharged after a busy week. Sunday was dedicated to friends. We met for our monthly “Sunday Roast Club” – a tradition where we take turns choosing a restaurant with a delicious roast. This time, Morrison’s in the city was our destination, and it did not disappoint! The food, company, and service were all excellent.
Monday brought a visit to the Paddington RSL. Unlike many recently renovated RSLs, this one retains its old-school charm. The classic carpet, the familiar pokies, and the traditional bistro menu (featuring an enticing $18 roast!) are a big draw for my friends and me. We’ll definitely be back for another Sunday roast, and I’m already planning my birthday celebration there with a different group of friends. It’s the perfect spot for a long, leisurely lunch filled with good food, drinks, and conversation.
But the highlight of the weekend was a spontaneous bus trip to Bondi Beach. Seeing a bus head that way, I decided to hop on. It took a few tries to find one with space (many were packed!), but I eventually made it. A short walk along the beach and an ice crream were all I needed for a refreshing break.
Visting Bondi Beach on October Long Weekend
Or I could have headed down the coast with friends and found myself stuck in traffic coming back!
Long weekends in Sydney offer the best of both worlds: the vibrancy of city life and the tranquility of a slower pace. I wouldn’t have it any other way!
There was a wonderful moment at the First Nations Media Conference (Converge) when Miriam Corowa was presented with an award for her achievements in journalism.
You might know Miriam from her appearances on the ABC News channel, or from other work she has done in the media, including at SBS. It’s been quite a journey from her time doing Year 11 work experience at the ABC in Lismore!
She had just been on a panel of Indigenous journalists talking about the joys and challenges of working on stories about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islands. In the midst of important stories about deaths in custody and closing the gap, they also spoke about the joy that comes from seeing positive stories, too.
Miriam spoke with passion and emotion about covering these stories, and about being “back home in Lismore”. Though born in Adelaide, she grew up here, and her mum still lives locally.
Miriam Corowa at Converge, the First Nations Media Conference
The other woman in the photograph above is also from Lismore, the renowned broadcaster and arts worker, Rhoda Roberts.
Rhoda was one of two key-note speakers at the conference, along with Pat Turner. Rhoda also spoke with passion and emotion about her career in the media and the arts. And with humour, too.
“Does anyone here know what a candy-striper was”, she asked the audience. I put my hand up. “Ah just the old people with glasses”, she replied with a laugh.
I’m pretty sure my aunty, Meg Webb worked with the candy stripers (domestic assistants) at Lismore Base Hospital. My dad also worked at the hospital as a plumber/boilermaker. Their sister-in-law Eileen (Crummy) O’Brien (my aunty) was a Widgabal/Bundjalung elder.
So I had a bit of an understanding of the story as Rhoda talked about her “expectations” as a young Aboriginal woman growing up in Lismore during the 60s/70s. “You were quite good as a candy striper, so you could become a nurses’ aid”, she told the audience she was told. As an FYI, my own careers adviser at the same school Rhoda attended told me I would never have a chance of getting a job at ABC Radio, and that maybe I should become a librarian :)
Rhoda spoke with passion about her father, Pastor Frank Roberts who encouraged her throughout her life and career. With passion, she spoke about how proud he was when she hosted the first anniversary of The Koori Mail. “He died the next day”, she told us.
But you get the idea Frank has always been on her mind throughout her career, as she has gone on to great achievements, including the Sydney Olympic Games, her work at the Sydney Opera House, etc. And now she’s back home, “back on country” and working at NORPA.
It was so terrific to be able to attend part of Converge. There were so many interesting discussions, and it was awesome to catch up with some current and former colleagues. But, being local and parochial for just a moment, the highlight was seeing these two great Bundjalung women being recognised for their work.
It doesn’t rain all that much in Sydney, but when it does, it really does. Much the same can be said for my experience of the Swedish summer.
I was reminded of an experience three years ago when I was in Stockholm for the summer and was waiting for Allsang pa Skansen to begin. It’s the sing-a-long tv program that runs for just a few weeks over summer each year. Crowds line up for hours if there’s a good act, and on this occasion the act was Benny Anderssons Orkester. As my friend Tony was expected to arrive in Stockholm later in the day I lined up, obtained a great view of the stage, and waited patiently in the rain. By late afternoon when Tony had arrived I was numb. The combination of cold weather and rain – even though it was still summer in Sweden – was all a bit too much for this lad from the North Coast. Soon after Tony’s arrival I found a spot indoors to thaw out.
That wasn’t exactly how it was today, but I still felt a little under-prepared for the combination of heavy rain and colder weather. The weather has been wonderful, and I was hoping I wouldn’t need the North Face jacket (fleecy inside with rain protection on the outside) which I left behind in a bar last week. Oh well, never mind.
I spent the morning updating my blog. I had a bunch of posts written in my head, but hadn’t actually put them to paper. Later in the afternoon I went out for lunch at Slussen, and then did a little bit of souvenir shopping. My prize purchase? A t-shirt that says, “I Love Swedish Boys”. I’m not sure if I can think of an appropriate place to wear it back home – aside from maybe a Eurovision or Melodifestivalen party – but it gave me a laugh.
I also picked up a copy of the book, “Mit liv som hund” (My life as a dog). It’s the book which inspired the fabulous 1987 Swedish film of the same name, The film is one of my favourite films of all time, and so I’m hoping that with that background I’ll be able to make some progress on the book over the next few months. I was also interested to discover the book is part of a trilogy.
Later, Graeme and I caught up for a drink at Torget where DJ Karl (aka Scandipop) was playing.
It started with a cough on Tuesday. A persistent cough. I was in a series of quite important meetings, and apologised profusely to my colleagues about my cough. Later in the afternoon, I wandered home. And almost as soon as I arrived home I had a “Hillary Moment”, as I’ve since joked about. Within minutes I was in bed with quite a high fever.
Maybe because I’ve grown up on the North Coast, I have a “natural” approach to health. Go to bed, have a rest, and you’ll get better has mostly been my approach. But a couple of weeks ago, I learned of an old school mate who, with a persistent cough, went to the doctor, was diagnosed with cancer, and died a week later. These are the things that play on your mind when you’re fifty, I guess.
I spent the next day and a half in bed, mostly sleeping, before finally deciding I needed to come back into work for some more important meetings. Probably, I should have stayed in bed a little longer, but with some visiting interstate colleagues, I felt it was important to make an effort.
Bar Brose
“This is my first glass of wine in a few days, and the first time I’ve eaten properly in about forty eight hours”, I told Damien as we sat down for a meal and drinks at Bar Brose, a bar/restaurant in Darlinghurst which, Damien admitted, he’d been two two or three times in the last few weeks. Though my appetite wasn’t that great,I understand why: the food and service were excellent. I especially loved their specialisation in organic “raw” wines. If I’d been healthier, I would have eaten and drunken more.
Bar BroseBar BroseBar Brose
My favourite wine was a red from Portugal, and my favourite meal was the kingfish, which Damien told me was native to the area around Lord Howe Island (which I didn’t know). He and his wife are planning to spend six months there, ahead of moving to Hobart where they’ve bought a house.
Bar Brose
It’s over eighteen years since we first met. I was 32, he was 23. It seems like a lifetime ago. This was a lovely place to meet for a meal, wine, and a chat, as we bid each other “farewell”, as he moves on to the next part of his life. Brose, bros.
Summer has well and truly arrived in Stockholm. I don’t exactly know what the temperature was today (maybe late twentes), but today’s paper “warned” there were a further eight warm days ahead. Oh the joy! And I can tell you, it was definitely warm enough for a large number of people to find themselves somewhere in a park near the water, and to take off their clothes.
My friend Yvette warned me about the Swedish custom of colleagues stripping off to their underwear in parks at the vaguest hint of sunshine. We would never do it in Australia of course, but here in Sweden sunshine is a rare enough commodity that you don’t worry too much about your own personal modesty. Oh, and guys do the “undress with a towel around you” thing that’s common on Australian beaches.
In fact, it was so hot today that I actually came back to the hostel around lunchtime for a while, chatting online for a bit with Patrick and Damien.
I also needed to come back to pick up my laundry. And that’s when I had my second rude shock for the day (after the weather). What I thought was 70kr for the wash (about $12) turned out to be 70kr per kilogram. As I had almost 3kg of washing to be done, you can imagine the shocked look on my face when the bloke told me how expensive it was.
I had a typically Swedish lunch today, by the way. My second typically Swedish meal in as many days, with the previous being a salmon dish with dill potatoes. Today it was a dish from the famous Herring Van at Slussen. It was a herring dish with mashed potato, vegetables, and hard bread. Very tasty and very good value.
A dish from the famous Herring Van at Slussen
YYSD. A young Swedish dad, fru och barn.
There are something like 700,000 registered boats in Sweden in a country of about 9 million.
Stockholm in summer.
Stockholm in summer – three blokes on a boat.
Stockholm in summer.
And then after lunch I wandered around Langholmen for a few hours just enjoying the sunshine. The island is absolutely beautiful, and although there were some very busy parts of the island, there were also vast areas where you could walk around without seeing anyone. Oh, and Graeme, yes you were right about Langholmen :)
After an hour or so sitting in the sun, the lure of the water became too great. And while it may have been an extremely hot day, it wasn’t matched by the temperature of the water, let me tell you. I wasn’t alone, though, as few very of the locals were venturing into the water either.
I have no plans for the night, though it would be a shame to stay here at the hostel. My guess is, that with the warm weather, people from Stockholm will be out and about tonight. So I guess I should get me a piece of the action.
I’ve moving to another hostel tomorrow which is a pain in the arse. But it’s not so bad I guess, as a young Australian bloke has just arrived to dominate conversation at the hostel. Wearing an Australian flag t-shirt, he has spent the about ten minutes now telling everyone what’s wrong with everywhere he’s been. “Too expensive and you don’t know where to go” is the theme of his complaint.
The idea this film should somehow fit within the genre of “documentary” is incredibly naive. And yet, oddly enough, I’ve had conversations in the last week with people who have seen the film, and I’ve read a number of dismissive reviews from people, who all seem to have missed the point. It’s not a documentary, it’s not even an “essay of argument”. It couldn’t possibly be when the film-maker is, himself, a member of “The Bra Boys”
I mean I understand the concern that because the film “looks” like a documentary, many unsuspecting viewers will assume an inherent truth in what is being presented. I think it’s incredibly patronising, however, to presume the audience for this film couldn’t put two and two together. That said, the film has attracted the attention of a number of celebrities, and Russell Crowe (also one of the executive producers) has provided the film’s narration. In scenes reminiscent of the debate about whether or not the media should have taken an interest in the writings of “Chopper Read”, Sydney police have urged celebrities against getting caught up in “The Bra Boys Hype”.
Movie poster for Bra Boys
And why has this occured? Perhaps there’s something about our culture, or about humanity more generally, that wants to assume the best in people. The film provides some genuine insight into the fairly difficult upbring of the Aberton Boys, as they were mostly raised by their maternal grandmother, since their mother was a heroin addict with four sons to three different fathers.
The film also seeks to present “The Bra Boys” in a positive light by highlighting the historical context in which the group emerged. With bans on surfing, a group of local surfers dressed in unusual costumes, leading Jai Aberton to declare the Australian quintessentialism of their response as an example of where “Aussie surf culture has always had larrikinism to it”.
Of course, this could have been one of those “tell all” films, where the insider becomes the outsider and delivers uncomfortable personal truths. But it’s not. The film also doesn’t provide much in the way of personal reflection. Why blame one individual – the standover character, Anthony Henz – for all of the “trouble” associated with the group? Where’s the sense of personal responsibility? Would this film have bee more insightful had it been made when they were older, armed (hopefully) with a greater sense of self-awareness.
But like a Michael Moore film, or even the recent Al Gore movie, it’s important to remember this is not a documentary. Unlike those two film-makers, however, there’s an obvious self-interest in the reasons for this films existence.
As a film, it’s also far too long and gets boring in parts.
At about nine o’clock tonight I got a slight craving for something sweet.
I’d been half-napping, half-watching television since I’d arrived home from work at about six thirty. And then all of a sudden, I thought “ooh I’d like one of those sweets from down the road”.
I’m lucky enough to have an Indian Restaurant (vegetarian) only a short walk from home that also serves wonderful sweets. Of all they offer, it’s burfi that is probably my favourite because it’s sweet, but not too sweet. In fact, it’s almost a little bit savoury. And you have the texture that’s cake-like in some ways, but also quite nutty as well.
According to Wikipedia…
Plain barfi is made from condensed milk, cooked with sugar until it solidifies. There are many varieties of barfi, which include besan barfi (made with besan (gram flour)), “kaaju barfi” (made with cashews), and pista barfi (which is a milk barfi containing ground pistachio nuts). The name is derived from the Persian word barf which means ice since barfi is similar to ice/snow in appearance. Barfi is often flavoured with fruit (such as mango or coconut) or nuts (like cashew and pistachio) and spices such as cardamon
By the way, I’m informed they can be called burfi or barfi. Whatevah.
So yeah, I popped down the road and bought some burfi. Yummo. The perfect way to round out the night in front of the television, or so I thought.
Burfi from Maya on Cleveland Street
I did my best to find something worthwhile to watch, but nothing showed great appeal.
Although I’m quite a fan of Graham Norton, for example, I’m starting to get a little bored with his program, as it’s more and more about the celebrity guest (sometimes fawning) and less and less of Graham’s cheekiness.
I’ve got a bunch of things recorded for later replay, including half a dozen episodes of “The Simpsons” and “Just Shoot Me” (as well as the more intellectual pursuits of “Big Ideas”) but even they didn’t hold much appeal.
And then I tried finishing off the three half-finished blog posts from this week which are still sitting in draft form. No inspiration there, either.
I guess the problem is I’m feeling a little mentally drained at the moment. I’ve got a lot happening at work right now. I’ve also got a few projects which are “halfway through” instead of starting or nearing completion, and that’s always a little boring, and sometimes hard to feel motivated about. Thus, I’m coming home most nights and hitting the couch, and doing nothing much at all.
So as I approach Friday – which will also be quite busy – I’m looking straight towards the weekend and hopefully have the occasion for a bit of “me” time.
Like this:
LikeLoading…
Related
2 Comments
That certainly is a traditional club carpet, hiding many stains.
Good luck here finding a roast for $18. Food is noticeably cheaper in your city.
Eventually a government is going to have to bite the bullet and build a rail line to Bondi Beach. 2km of underground railway and association works would not cost that much, especially through your softer ground. The argument that it will encourage more people seems hollow now.
I think the $18 roast is a bit of a rarity even in Sydney. I think this is due to the subsidy frrom the pokies! That said, the cost of eating out in Sydney can be quite good. And agree with you totally about a train/metro to Bondi. Those opposed to it for traffic reasons needs to realise it would reduce traffic in the area, and might actually mean quieter streets and reduced speed limits.
That certainly is a traditional club carpet, hiding many stains.
Good luck here finding a roast for $18. Food is noticeably cheaper in your city.
Eventually a government is going to have to bite the bullet and build a rail line to Bondi Beach. 2km of underground railway and association works would not cost that much, especially through your softer ground. The argument that it will encourage more people seems hollow now.
I think the $18 roast is a bit of a rarity even in Sydney. I think this is due to the subsidy frrom the pokies! That said, the cost of eating out in Sydney can be quite good. And agree with you totally about a train/metro to Bondi. Those opposed to it for traffic reasons needs to realise it would reduce traffic in the area, and might actually mean quieter streets and reduced speed limits.