My final day in Sweden turned into a memorable adventure, filled with unexpected turns that I navigated with a spirit of discovery.
The morning began beautifully; waking up at 6:30 am, I was delighted to see light snow falling over Sundsvall—a lovely contrast to the previous day’s clear skies. I enjoyed a classic Swedish hotel breakfast, indulging in all my favourites: tomato, cucumber, cheese, ham, and, of course, a generous serving of Kalles kaviar.
By 9:00 am, I was ready to head out. After a short, snowy taxi ride to the station, I grabbed a coffee and boarded my train. I eventually realised I had boarded a different service than intended, but the ticket inspector was incredibly helpful, guiding me through the seat mix-up and helping me secure a new ticket to ensure I reached my destination.
Even when I hopped off at the WRONG quiet, snowy stop in the middle of nowhere, things had a way of working out. Though rideshare drivers were busy, a local taxi arrived to save the day, and I decided to take it all the way to the airport for peace of mind.
My driver was a highlight of the trip. He had a wonderful, knowing smile—likely because it isn’t every day he picks up an Australian in a quiet Swedish town wearing shorts over long johns with a prosthetic leg! I’d opted for the “thermal-shorts” combo to prepare for the transition to Bangkok’s heat, and we had a great laugh about it. We spent the drive chatting about the weather and our upcoming travels—me to Thailand and him to Spain—while listening to a nostalgic mix of pop hits on the radio.
Arrival at the airport was smooth, and I appreciated the wheelchair assistance through customs. While boarding was a bit of a bustling, proactive experience amongst the holiday crowds, I made it to my seat successfully. Even a minor hiccup with my Thai arrival card was easily managed thanks to my travel card’s security features, which kept everything under control.
The flight was full of families heading off on school holidays, and while some travellers are navigating cancellations due to global events, I feel fortunate to be on my way. I’ve reassured my family that my route is safe, and I’m looking forward to the next leg of this journey with fingers crossed and a spirit of adventure.
Although we had intended to go to Lupitas, a tapas restaurant on Elizabeth Street, Surry Hills, I guess one of us – probably me – should have checked to make sure it was actually open on a Tuesday night.
Damo was in town for Spanish class and that’s why I recommended something Spanish. Co-incidentally, I saw a terrific blog post, which recommended the nearby restaurant in rather glowing terms.
Unfortunately it wasn’t to be, so we headed across the road to El Bulli, another Spanish tapas restaurant which I’ve passed many times but have never been to before. We were both starving and so thought – what the heck. It was nine o’clock and El Bulli was pretty busy for a Tuesday night we thought. Still, they found room for us, though regrettably next to a rather loud guitarist and pan-pipe player who, though talented, was just a little close and we found ourselves cupping our ears, shouting slightly and lip-reading to maintain the conversation.
El Bulli Spanish Tapas in Surry Hills
The food was good, though not stunning. The stand-out for both of us, I think was the pickled herring which was just beautiful, with a slightly more sophisticated, gentle flavour than you might otherwise find with rollmops. The chorizo was also good and so was the ham. We also had some rather tasty balls which contained all manner of things. “Surprisingly filling” was how both us described the three simple tapas plates we had. I also had a beer, just so I could say I’ve had a Spanish beer. I’m not sure I’d go back there, but it was fine for a Tuesday night catchup. And judging by the photographs on the blog about Lupitas, we missed out on something rather special there.
But maybe it’s also because I’ve been feeling a bit crook over the last few days. On top of my food poisoning experience on Saturday night, I’ve been a bit sniffly and sneezy for the last couple of days which I mostly put down to the change of season and assorted crap in the atmosphere. I would have cancelled tonight except we haven’t seen each other in quite some time, and so when I left work tonight I came home and went straight to bed to see if I could get back a bit of energy. I think I may need a day in bed tomorrow to try and kick whatever this malady is.
Recording an interview with Taj Mailata for The Limb Shift last weekend was an incredibly powerful experience. Taj is someone who refuses to let circumstances dictate his life, even when faced with the dual weight of family grief and a sudden, life-altering workplace accident in 2018. For Taj, navigating the aftermath of his amputation required a deliberate shift in focus from broad, overwhelming realities to small, actionable goals. Here’s part of his story which will feature in the podcast when it launches later this year, in October, during Amputee Awareness Week.
PALMERSTON NORTH, NEW ZEALAND – SEPTEMBER 04: Tajhon Mailata of Wellington passes during the round six ITM Cup match between at FMG Stadium on September 4, 2010 in Palmerston North, New Zealand. (Photo by Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)
For Taj Mailata, navigating the aftermath of life-altering accident required a shift in focus from broad, overwhelming realities to small, actionable goals. Following a workplace accident in 2018 and the devastating loss of his brother a year prior, Taj found a unique tool to process his recovery. He downloaded a simple shopping list app on his mobile phone. However, instead of managing groceries, he used it to manage his existence.
“Every time I go through and I tick it off, it’s almost like a sense of accomplishment that I’ve achieved what I wanted to achieve the next day,” Taj notes. “And that kind of got me through on the day-to-day things. It could be any simple thing like fold washing, whatever it is. Every time I ticked it off, the list got smaller and smaller.”
This structured discipline helped ground him as his physical reality fundamentally changed.
Before the accident, Taj’s professional world was defined by high pressure and rigid, time-sensitive quotas. Working for a supplier that provided glass bottles to a major brewery, the operational margins were incredibly tight.
“You’re really time-sensitive with getting deliveries over to the brewery,” Taj explains. “There’s just a lot of costs or fines that come back to the company if you don’t fulfill the quota of how many glass bottles you need to get over there.”
On September 18, 2018, Taj was navigating a standard “split”—switching production from one type of beer bottle to another—when he drove a forklift toward the office. As he swerved around a corner to avoid a safety barrier, his foot swung out. It was caught between the forklift and the barrier, cleanly shearing off the front part of his heavy, metal-sheathed safety boot.
Initially, the sheer shock masked the true extent of the trauma.
“It’s kind of weird because it felt like I actually injured my knee or sprained something right at the start,” Taj recalls. “But then when I looked down, I realized that my foot was pretty much nearly decapitated—the front half was kind of just hanging by a thread.”
After Taj independently moved himself onto an ambulance stretcher, he faced a rapidly escalating medical reality at the hospital. Surgeons initially removed the irreparably damaged front section of his foot. Only a day later, medical staff approached him with a sobering recommendation to consider a below-knee amputation to secure long-term mobility.
With no prior knowledge of amputee care, Taj’s decision-making process was instantaneous, anchored entirely by his role as a father.
“I had three young daughters to look after for the rest of my life. If that was an opportunity to get a better quality of life, then it was kind of a no-brainer to make that decision.”
Driven by an intense desire to escape the clinical confines of the hospital, Taj pushed through the immediate recovery with remarkable speed. He was discharged and back home by the weekend, less than five days after the initial trauma occurred.
Taj’s resilience during his amputation recovery was deeply intertwined with an existing emotional scar. In 2017, his brother tragically passed away, plunging Taj and his parents into the absolute lowest point of their lives. When the workplace accident occurred just a year later, Taj viewed his physical loss through the lens of that profound family grief.
“The death of my brother actually hit me the worst,” Taj admits. “When I lost my leg, believe it or not, it didn’t really affect me as much because I think I already went through all the pain. I kind of just looked at it as, well, as long as I can walk after this and go back to work, then I’m good.”
Determined to prevent his family from sliding further into despair, Taj consciously chose a pathway of positivity.
“I kind of had to do it—I had to be positive because everything was so negative around that period of time,” Taj reflects. “We didn’t really have too much to celebrate, and I needed to be positive or else we would have just gone down another rabbit hole.”
Taj refused to allow his physical impairment to alter his life or standard of work. Despite his entitlements for time off work, he grew restless at home. Within a month, he purchased a gym set for his garage, and began lifting heavy weights. By the six-week mark, he contacted his manager and returned to work, initially handling essential administrative duties and supply chain scheduling.
He was fitted with his first prosthetic limb by late November 2018 and was signed off on full-time hours by early 2019. His fast rehabilitation even earned him a formal corporate award for return to work. To this day, his mindset remains completely unchanged by his prosthesis.
“I took it upon myself to let the family know that I’m good, that nothing’s going to change,” Taj explains. “Like, I just mowed the lawns today, and I live on an acre block with a push mower. Nothing’s ever going to stop me from doing what I wanted to do.”
Through systematic goal-setting—from purchasing an acreage property between Brisbane and Toowoomba to marrying his wife in late 2025—Taj continues to structure his life around building long-term security and stability for his loved ones.
Central Railway was awfully busy at about two-thirty this morning when I arrived home from New Year’s Eve. Of course I don’t know what it was like down at Circular Quay or at The Rocks, but at that time of the night, the public transport crowd was quite well behaved. Aside from a couple of “sleepers” on the train, there was little evidence of a night of drunken revelry.
Actually, I hadn’t intended to stay out so late. The plan was that Graeme and I would catch up mid-afternoon for a few drinks and a few laughs, getting home early to mid-evening, thus avoiding the usual crowds and public transport difficulties. And so at around three-thirty we began our pub crawl at the Midnight Shift. For several hours the bars remained reasonably quite until about nine o’clock.
It was at about that time that we experienced a really funny moment: watching the lead up to the nine o’clock fireworks on the big screen. With disco music blaring in the background, we had to rely on live subtitles to understand what Gretel Killeen and Daniel McPherson were saying. I don’t know if the subtitlers were using predictive text or were just bad at their jobs, but we noticed the following, amongst many other mistakes. Carpe diem became “cup podium”, the “diversity of the school choir” became the “perversity of the school choir”, and one bloke was going to Melbourne so he could “experience some crack” (meaning craic, I assume). There were occasions when what was being typed on the screen made absolutely no sense at all. Great fun.
After a few text messages, we ended up meeting another mate, Paul at legendary hotel, The Imperial. As we entered the bar I smiled, because a couple of years ago Paul and I had been refused entry there when we were actually quite sober. The bar was reasonably full, though not completely when one of the drag queens counted us down to midnight (or thereabouts) with all the usual celebratory kisses and wishes for the new year. Good fun.
After a few more drinks, we decided to call it a night and so bid farewell. Seconds later, there was a story in the taxi queue someone had been hit by a car, and so I rushed up the road to make sure it wasn’t Graeme. With the reassurance that it wasn’t him, I gave up on the taxi queue, wandered down to Erskineville Station and caught the train back home.
And so here it is, early in the morning on New Years Day and I’ve woken up without a hang-over and feeling reasonably good. Clearly I’ve become old and sensible, having paced the afternoon and evenings of beers with orange juice and joke, and occasional light beers in between. Hopefully that’s a good sign for life in 2007.
Mindful of my my rant earlier this week about having recently put on weight lately, I’ve been eating sensibly the last few days.
Well, if you exclude the champagne and canapes the other night, and the glass of wine I had with a lunch today.
But I figured a prawn salad was a reasonably healthy lunchtime option.
Outside the weather was awful, but inside the David Jones Food Hall, it was warm and cosey and the perfect place for a late lunch.
I’d just been to the Opera House for “Soapbox”, a public speaking event as part of the Festival Of Dangerous Ideas.
The finalists ranged in age from a thirteen year old boy who spoke about how religion needed new meaning, to a woman in her 60s or 70s who presumably has a terminal illness who spoke about her “right” to choose the timing of her own death.
There was also a woman who spoke naked – “well, as naked as I can be at the opera house”, she said – about women’s body issues.
I loved the bloke who spoke about why he hates people who press the traffic light button after you’ve already done it. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you doubt my ability to press a button?”, he asked. Not a particularly dangerous idea, but pretty amusing in its execution.
Food for the mind.
The event was going to be outside on the forecourt of the Opera House, but ended up inside at The Studio due to the poor weather.
When I got home this afternoon – after a bit of window-shopping – I found myself a nice spot on the couch and had a nap. It’s that kind of weather in Sydney.
Oddly enough with so much to do in Sydney this month – Art and About, Cockatoo Island Comedy Festival, Sydney International Food Festival etc – the weather’s been pretty crappy the last few days.
I spent $200 tonight purchasing an artwork by the artist, Hu Ming. The truth be told, I didn’t know the work was by Hu Ming, as the work was part of an anonymous fundraiser by 4A Gallery in Sydney. I’m a great fan of 4A, having previously visited quite a number of their exhibitions, and having previously purchased works through their “Edition” scheme. In some ways, tonight’s purchase was a little like “Edition”. Through “Edition” you paid an annual amount of money and received three or four unseen works. Tonight’s annual fundraiser featured works by a range of artists, some of them well-known, others emerging. All of the works, without names attached, cost $200, so in some ways it was a lucky dip.
Last week we launched our 4A A4 Members’ drive and fundraising exhibition. We’d like to welcome all our lovely new Members’ and wish to thank everyone for their generous support. With your help we have raised just under $25,000! This is a fantastic result, and a successful campaign. With a few weeks to go until the end of the exhibition on November 30 we hope to nudge that figure along, all works are now available for viewing and sale through our website here. Details of artists are revealed once works are sold. We’ve had great feedback from all kinds of people about 4A A4, and a number of Members have said that we should run it every year! Based on this feedback 4A A4 may become a regular feature in our program. In our next Members’ newsletter we will publicly launch the key components of our 2014 program. It is going to be an exciting year, with a number of great opportunities for Members and artists. We will be continuing our Beijing Residency Program as well as our Members’ Program of talks, discussions and studio visits. You will also have noticed that the support of our Members is now recognised as a level of support on our Funding and Supporters page here as we recognise the valuable contributions that 4A Members make to our program and activities. Thanks once again for your support! Team 4A Hipster Cocktail
As I walked around the exhibition tonight, there were some artists I could identify simply by their style. But for me, the thing about purchasing an art work without the names attached to them, meant everyone was probably more inclined to purchase something they really loved, as opposed to something they thought was a “good purchase” or a “wise investment”. Unfortunately a lot of the works I really loved were already purchased before I arrived. But there was still one I really liked, and after mentioning it to Kate, she said, “Well, why don’t you just get it”. At a time when I probably shouldn’t be purchasing an art work (travel plans), I thought “what the heck” and $200 on my credit card later, I’m now the owner of a work by Hu Ming, which I like very much.
Painting by Hu Ming
There was a real buzz in the room tonight, with more than half the works sold in about an hour. A fabulous evening all round… No doubt things were helped by the hipster drinks… cocktails served in jam jars!
One of my goals this year is to relearn the simple art of just sitting and enjoying the present moment. I became intimately acquainted with this ability during my four-month hospital stay 18 months ago. Back then, I had no choice but to surrender to the stillness.
In the months after leaving hospital, but still at home, I found joy in watching the birds from my balcony, listening to music (not the news) savoring each sip of coffee, and eating my lunch slowly.
My window view
But as I returned to work, that hard-earned skill started to slip away. I’m back to old habits – checking my phone the moment I wake up, turning on the news, and filling my days with activity. It creates a sense of conflict within me. I love my work, but the last 18 months revealed that those things aren’t the true center of my life.
One beautiful change that emerged from this period is a deeper connection with my family in Lismore. Now, I check in with them every day. Sometimes it’s just a quick 40-second call, other times longer conversations. These frequent, informal check-ins have strengthened our bond in a way that weekly phone calls never could.
Lately, I’ve been making a conscious effort to reclaim that stillness. I sit in my comfy chair, gaze out the window, and greet the cockatoos and other birds that visit the trees nearby. When the urge to get up and do something arises, I resist. I try to stay present and simply enjoy the moment.
Some mornings I wake up early, others late. On workdays, I’m usually out the door by 8. But even on weekends, I struggle with this “wasted time” mentality. This morning, for example, I finished breakfast and immediately felt that familiar pull to fill the time – to go out, run errands, do anything but just sit.
This feeling of needing to be productive is so ingrained. It took a significant life event, being forced to stop, to break free from it. Now, I have a choice, and I’m determined to choose stillness, to truly savor my life.
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“I’ve reassured my family that my route is safe”
I presume that means you took a direct flight. (Also, I checked the ARN – BKK flight schedules.) Lucky for you! Not a good day to be changing planes at a Gulf State hub.
Marcellous – I could hear people around me being impacted by the war. In front of me on the flight from Stockholm to Bangkok was someone who “picked up this flight only this morning, and it was very expensive”.
“I’ve reassured my family that my route is safe”
I presume that means you took a direct flight. (Also, I checked the ARN – BKK flight schedules.) Lucky for you! Not a good day to be changing planes at a Gulf State hub.
Marcellous – I could hear people around me being impacted by the war. In front of me on the flight from Stockholm to Bangkok was someone who “picked up this flight only this morning, and it was very expensive”.