I am nearly in Darwin!

I took a day off work today to do some 'admin'. This sounds dull I know, but is necessary. I now have a ticket to Darwin, and very shortly will be sending some stuff home. The last few days have been pretty cool - there are three canadians living in my room: Ashley, Guiseppe and Alicia. All three are right off the plane, and up for a laugh. Friday night saw a large chunk of the hostel playing a canadian drinking game - involving lots of rude actions, clapping in rhythm (think of the drum set on the Queen song 'we will rock you': bang, bang, crash! bang, bang, crash!) and plenty of singing.

I fly to Darwin on 12th of next month. I am excited.

The March into Redfern

I have now been backpacking (‘youth hostelling’ would be far more accurate) for just under five months. I have met a lot of interesting people, but it was not until Monday night that I caught my first real glimpse of the size of Australia that is ‘hidden’ or at very least ‘out of the public view’. My march into Redfern began in the back of a desire to get a bit healthier. I have been eating a lot of rich food and working in a sedentary job for the last few months and have a tummy a 50 year old would be proud of. I am going to ‘make that change’ as Wacko Jacko would say. Plus I want to be able to stride around Darwin with my top off when I go up there, so all in all there are good reasons for doing this.
Julia suggested that I start to walk home from work - a plan that made some sense. So...

Sunday night, Julia and I went and talked to Luke (the nice kiwi who manages the hostel on Sunday evenings) and he suggested a route for us to do. When asked how far the walk was he said ‘oh about 3.5km’ which is reasonable. My route home from work will take me down the long road beside my work, down past Central station, though a little park, through Redfern and then up some wiggly little streets for about half a mile. It’s not all on the flat either, there are hills and dales too.

So on Monday night I set off, and it was fun. Sydney in the evening is very pretty and I was taking photos of this, that and the other and doing some beat box because I was on my own and in a good mood. I went though the park and turned into Redfern. The place is quiet dilapidated. Buildings are not in great shape (but could be with some work – please look up gentrification when you next use Google!) and there was rubbish everywhere. I was snapping off photos of buildings and up ahead I could see people sitting by the side of the road. No worries. I kept walking until I got out into a park area. There were tents up (almost like tepees) and some people sprawled around. Far up ahead I could see some people clustered round each other doing something. I kept walking, admiring the murals on the walls to my left – they were lovely: indigenous art. In the distance I could see the indigenous flag of Australia flying so I took a picture. On a whim I turned round and could seen another flag painted on the size of a house. At this point mental gears started to turn and I began to wish I had not taken photos at all – I was being disrespectful, so the camera went back in the bag.

I kept going towards the other side of the park. As I was getting about two thirds of the way towards the street I saw a piece of tarpaulin tied to two poles which read (NB this is not a quote but the gist only) ‘Corroboree taking place. Please, if you do decide to enter the corroboree ground, be respectful of people and events’. Now I felt bad – I had stumbled in on something religious with my camera. My actions were analogous with turning up at a synagogue with a bacon sandwich! I vowed not to repeat my mistake.

I could see that one or two people had noticed me from their tents. So I kept on walking. No one did anything. No one talked to me or looked at me, but I was very relieved when I got into the main road. There were more murals, and I asked the lady who stopped to see if I was all right if it would be okay to take photos. She shook her head – ‘they don’t like it Love’ she said so I thanked her and walked home. The walk took me an hour and 20 minutes. I’d just had my first proper brush with the indigenous people of Australia – not the Yolngu from Arnhem Land, but the Eora from the Sydney region, a group I had not even considered, even though I have seen language maps of Australia. I guess one lives and learns. On my return to the Hostel, Haico – another manager (incredibly well informed) listened and gave me a bit of a wake up call and told me a few things about the area I had just walked though. I am very pleased to have come out in one piece, not to mention a bit embarrassed for my lack of research. For those of you not in the know, here is some text about Redfern I got off the Wikipedia website:

• The 2004 Redfern riots began with a riot on 14 February 2004, at the end of Eveleigh Street outside Redfern station, sparked by the death of Thomas 'TJ' Hickey. The teenager, riding on his bicycle, was allegedly being chased by a police vehicle, which led to his impalement on a fence. Members of his family were then reported to have started grieving for TJ around Eveleigh Street with a crowd gathering commiserating with the family. Fliers were distributed blaming police for TJ's death. The police closed the Eveleigh Street entrance to the railway station, but youths in the crowd became violent, throwing bricks and bottles; this escalated into a riot. A memorial service was held for TJ Hickey in Redfern on 19 February, and in Walgett, New South Wales on 22 February. A subsequent inquest found that although the police were following Hickey, they had not caused the accident, a verdict that has caused controversy in Redfern's Aboriginal community. The riots have sparked fresh debate into the welfare of Australian Aborigines and the response of the police to those living in the Redfern area.
  
• The Block - "The Block" is an area in the immediate vicinity of Redfern station and is home to a socially disadvantaged community. Nearby Waterloo is another socially disadvantaged community due to the concentration of large public housing estates. As a result, the crime rate in the area is quite high. Redfern has a large Australian Aboriginal community. Eveleigh Street, which is part of 'The Block', is well-known for its community of Australian Aborigines. In 2004 much of the housing here was demolished with plans for redevelopment, but it is still an area around which much of the Aboriginal population congregates
  

Needless to say my route home has changed a bit, but my little walk and then being able to discuss with interested parties afterwards as opened my eyes. Even if only for a few minutes.

Two weeks of events and then going up in a balloon

The last couple of weeks have been so full of events -

30^th July – Julia took me to see the Korean film '3 iron' - one of the best films I have seen in years about a man that breaks into houses, repairs broken things for food then moves out. Have a look on IMDB!

4^th August - Hard candy at the Dendy cinema

6^th August - I watched 'the Graduate' with Julia; a film we both roared at - Dustin Hofman is painfully funny.

7^th August - A crap film at the Dendy, this time: Jindabyne, a film with a great story which was badly made. You leave the cinema thinking "?". Don't waste your money.

8^th August - Art gallery of NSW: adventures of form and space near my office at Hyde Park. Julia had helped erect one of the pieces of art herself. Imagine a sea of coloured balls floating in mid-air, moving almost like water. There was a piece of art made from neon kitchen bulbs, another piece of art that reminded me of Mary Magdalane as she bent over to wash Jesus' feet. Yet another was carved to look like it had been grown.

9^th August - Opening of the Mori art gallery. Julia and I managed to track down one of the artists at the Mori and get him to explain what his art meant. It was very interesting.

11^th August 2006 – Opera House: Julia took me to a performance piece by the pianist Tomoko Tukaiyama. Rather hard to explain! I am still thinking about it, even now!

Then there was the balloon ride. My diary entry for this is below:

Julia and I have just been in a hot air balloon and in the words of Lester Burnham from American Beauty it was 'Spec-tac-ular'. This has been the best bit of my trip so far (bar landing back in Australia in April).

We were picked up at 3.30 in the morning and driven to the ‘balloon base’. It was pitch black and blisteringly (is that a word?) cold. We were all given cups of tea and told about the course of events: blow up the balloon, fly the balloon, land the balloon then eat champagne breakfast… and we followed that plan. Blowing the thing up was the only remotely arduous task, as Julia found. She and two or three other people volunteered to hold the neck of the balloon open while huge fans blew cold air into it. I was standing some way away and I could feel little bits of who knows what hitting me at speed on my cheeks. Heaven knows how it must have felt for Julia, but she stood there, tough, hardly flinching. Once the balloon was full of air, huge flame guns (for want of a better word) were turned on to heat the air. Within minutes the balloon (with a little help) began to sit upright. We (15 of us) were yelled at to hop in the balloon before the bloody thing took off!

And then we were away into the open sky. It was all a bit Wind in the Willows. It is unsurprising how pretty the world looks from a hot air balloon. If you have ever had a flying dream you will have some idea what it is like – quiet and peaceful and clear. The world looks so clean from up there. The little toy cars make no noise, the houses look big enough for dollies. I was pleased Julia was there. There was fog, there was a lovely sunrise and, not wanting to harp on, silence!

We are up for about 45 minutes all told (maybe an hour – you lose notions of time a bit up there) and when we finally landed, it was a soft and gentle one. Almost no bump at all. Then it was back to the range for bacon, eggs and all the trimmings (tally ho!). The journey back was a quiet one. All of mulling over what had just happened. If I every get the chance I will repeat the experience.

I spent the rest of that day in a drugged up haze – 3.30am really is far too early!! I wrote a bit and chilled back on the ground. There is little else to say.

More Art at the MCA

Last Saturday Julia and I went back to the 2006 Sydney Biennale. Here is some of the notes I wrote after the event about some the pieces I had seen. I am enjoying the Biennale a lot - it is a mind expander!

Călin Dan the MCA

The man with the door is made and set in Bucharest. A video, watched on ‘sag-bags’ with a soundtrack listened to through headphones. The film is about a man walking through the streets with a door strapped to his back and the faces of the people he meets along the way. The music is a bit like how I would imagine Turkish drum and bass to sound [nasal clarinet sounds] like. The screen is sometimes split into four bits (with some clever camera stuff, so that on occasion the door-man crosses from one screen to another. It is filmed in lots of different angles. The nice bit is the feeling of a back-story. There is a reason for the man walking about with a door strapped to his back; it is just that you never find out what it is - He could be delivering it and got lost or it could be a bet or something …There is a bit where he walks down a steep slope by the side of a motor way (gray concrete everywhere) to where a family live in a yurt (?) – a large gypsy’s tent. This made me laugh because the tent clearly has no need for a large wooden door. The man’s face never moves. His purpose is to carry the door about.

* * *

On the other side of the room from the video about the door-man was another Călin Dan piece where he describes how he likes [not his word] the Egyptian Pyramids, Mayan temples (think of big steps and so on) that sort of thing. This piece does not stick in my head so much except the last couple of minutes. There is an opera sound track playing while a camera waves madly about whilst showing generals. As the opera rises the camera moves quicker until everything is a blur. The final scene is of a large concrete staircase that just leads up; the way the camera is positioned there is nothing to be seen except sky. People walk up the steps and disappear, or re appear and walk down the steps. This reminded me of an Odysseus story (the title escapes me now) with a similar idea. Julia and I watched the short film on beanbags again, a good position because of the way the film was short – being so low on the floor gave the images in the film more depth (i.e. if felt like I was in the picture, evening if only fleetingly). Had we being sitting on the seats provided, the film may not have worked as well. Bits of the film gave the impression of being on a very old ocean liner.

* * *

Finally, a film of a man with a camera strapped to his head, and saucepans strapped to his waist, spinning round and round so that that the saucepans rattled and banged. There were no seats this time, so we were looking down at a video down near the floor. The film was short on two cameras: one of the man spinning and one shot by the man. The soundtrack was called “Swamp blues” by Sleepy John Esties. There was no story for this!

Raqs Media Collective: Jeebash Bagchi/Monica Narula/Shuddhabrata Sengupta at the MCA

Transit Lounge

A short story about people stuck in an airport transit lounge, behind chicken wire. I asked the lady minding the room if the chicken wire was because the glass got smashed. She laughed and said it was part of the exhibit. Julia liked that one.

Interesting links:
http://www.context.ro/dan/ http://www.artfacts.net/index.php/pageType/artistInfo/artist/23008 http://subsol.c3.hu/subsol_2/contributors/calindanbio.html

Byron Bay

Ah Byron! The place I have been thinking about ever since I came out here... Will it have changed? Will be be a huge sprawling metropolis of shops offering to realign my chakras? Will it still have hippies it it? Well, the answers to those (and other questions) are available here: Yes, of course it had changed. I would have been a fool to expect that the little hippy village I visited in 1999 would have stayed the same! It was popular when my friend Leon went, it was more popular when I was there in 1999 and in 2006 it was heaving with people.

My contract at WorkCover finished up at the end of June. My plan was to roll up the coast, and go to Garma. Having had my conversation with Jeremy (my Yidaki tacher) I decided to stay in Sydney for a bit longer and save some money so that when I get to NT I will have a sack of cash to fall back on. So three days after leaving Workcover, I was already on the phone organising interviews. I got offered a job within a few days of that, but was told it would not start before the middle of July. I had a couple of weeks of freedom before I started I chilled. My first week was spent sitting round the hostel, having the odd lunch with Julia here and there and not a lot else. By around the 8th I was getting itchy feet. I drew up a little plan of what I wanted to happen over the next few months (included for your pleasure):

After that I hopped onto the ‘net. I was not going to sit around for the following week, on my bottom wasting my time. I decided to take a walk down Nostalgia Street and head to Byron bay for sun, sea, sand and lovelies. I booked the ticket.

The evening of departure, I gave Julia a call and met up for a walk and some dinner. We walked around Strawberry hills (a suburb in Sydney), until we came to a little restaurant called El Bulli, that did tapas. We ordered, ate and chatted, and became more and more amused and annoyed by the waitress who wouldn’t leave us alone! She must have thought she was being helpful but she was a royal pain in the bum! “Would you like more to eat?” (Sod off!!!) “Can I get you anything else?” (blah blah).

The food was great but any Michelin stars should be taken off because of the dopey waitress! Julia and I went to the bus station, then she waved me on to the bus and it pulled away.

The bus ride was 13 hours (left is a picture taken about 6ish in the morning - note the fog!). My bottom at the end was so numb I could have sat on broken glass without breaking a sweat. But finally I had arrived at the place I had been picturing for seven years, not without a huge wave of nostalgia. It was good to be back in many ways – the weather was so lovely that first day.

That first day (12^th) I wondered around. I looked at the beach (which was just where I had left it), the town centre (which had only changed in a few ways – more commercial unsurprisingly) and the hostel (Backpackers on the beach). I slept for a lot of the afternoon that day… 13 hours on a bus is far from lovely and I relished my bunk.

That first evening there was a bar-b-q, sangria and a fire juggle r. I chatted to a very dull girl from Essex who said some dull things about her opinion of Australia. I did not talk to her the next day! Late that evening, I spent some time writing and writing. My head was very full of events from the last few days I did not want to lose any of it. I wrote several pages.

To the left is a picture of the beach (<).

On the 13^th I enjoyed being asleep and being unknown for a bit. It is a nice thing to do sometimes – spend time on your own and I relished the thought as I walked off to the lighthouse that is on the easterly most point of Australia. After at least an hour – having walked through some really charming scenery) I made it to the top of Cape Byron (?).

The weather on this day was a lot less pleasant that before, but I did not care. The walk was tiring but made me feel super human. I was pleased to go and chill in the hostel though.

The 14^th is a bit of a blur! Not sure why! Could have been down to beer but I don’t think so, so I will skip to my last day. I checked out of the hostel by 10am and dumped my bags in the lockup at the bus stop. I took my camera and wandered around in the rain taking photos – photos on the beach in the rain, didjeridu shops in the rain, surfers (yes that’s right) in the rain…. You get the picture! On that last day I ate like a king and then took the bus back to Sydney. You might think I became a bit jaded about Byron, and in a way you could be right, but it was still good to get back there.

The hostel was waiting for me, with my bed and my didjeridu! Julia was there on laundry patrol too.

On the left is my impression of Man Friday from Robinson Crusoe. I call this picture "Dan Friday" - there will be autographs in the foyer after the show.

:)

Another Lesson with Jeremy Cloake

I have just had another music lesson with my yidaki teacher, Jeremy Cloake; a really decent sort of individual from New Zealand. He has been playing yidaki for years. He is an impressive player - not just his skills, but his modesty about what he can do, and who he knows. I went back to talk to him to help me improve the growley sounds I make on the inbreath, playing yidaki, so he sat and went through some techniques me designed to start improving diaphram strength and cheak strength. The Yolngu yidaki players work with a lot less backpressure in their yidaki than western players do hense they must learn to work with their diaphrams to provide the kick needed from the sniffing-inbreath. So, over the next few weeks I will be practicing with the view to improving my diaphram and cheaks. I was starting to make the desired sound by the end of the lesson. Imagine a flam sound on a drum kit: two sounds played almost together, but only slightly off and that is the sound I was after.

We discussed Garma and he suggested that rather than going to it (it would be in about a month's time), I wait a few months and he might be able to take me up there himself. If this happened, I would manage to fulfill a dream I have had for some years - to go a meet people up in NEAL. It would be astounding. Cross your fingers, my dear readers, that your humble author gets to go on this trip - the slide show back in the UK would be amazing. I am going to have to work very hard to save the money to go on this trip.

Into the Blue (I & II)

My contract at Workcover was rolling to a close by the end of July, and at that point I still had not seen anything out side of Sydney! I remedied that on Thursday 22nd and Friday 23rd July. I had been at the Billabong Backpackers on Egan Street since arrival on April 16th (except for two days at the dreaded Wake up! hostel) and was starting to get cabin fever, even though I had met some cool people. I had been playing Shit-head most evenings and had bought a backgammon set too and had played it to death...
One evening I got in from work. It was raining hard - the pool in the hostel (more of a paddling pool really) was getting more and more diluted by the moment and my mood was less than its best... I got talking to Rod (one of the hostel managers) who told me he was going to drive up to the blue mountains with a couple of people. Would I like to come along? Of course I signed up - Rod knows the area quite well and knows the manager of the Flying fox; a lovely little hostel in Katoomba.

My friends Sue and Graham signed up too. Here is Rod in the left (<) and the rest of us on the right (>). So we got up on the Thursday morning. Sue made some pancakes to reheat for breakfast the next morning. I made something exciting with pasta and pesto then the four of us got into the car and left. It was exciting the leave Sydney after such a long time - within minutes we were driving through suburbs that I had never been to. After so long walking everywhere, travelling in a car was great and because I had called shotgun (still a child at heart) I had a great view... We drove and drove and drove, stopping once for some 'English tea' (a.k.a dishwater in a teapot) and then making further stops for a bit of sightseeing. (This is when it gets a bit sad for me because I managed to lose so many of my photos...). Well, I say sightseeing, but there is not a lot of sightseeing to be done when the whole place is covered in fog! Hahah!! Here is another photo to show you what I mean...
Fog is very pretty obviously, but not when it is blocking my view of "rolling vistas"... We would stand out on the side of the road looking out into nothing from a viewing spot (ever seen the Neverending story? - looking at The Nothing is like being blind). We would have to guess what we were seeing from the little plaque - 'here is a waterfall' (great!)... After we had stopped half a dozen times, and the fog showed no sign of abating, we were getting a little jaded. We decided to stop at the chocolate factory (no, I didn't know there was one in Katoomba either) and have some hot chocolate. From a glutton's point of view, this was one of the high points of the day. The idea is this - take a handful of high quality chocolate buttons, melt them in a little pot that looks a bit like an oil burner, then pour the result into warm milk. I did not think it was possible to overdose on chocolate, but I was wrong! I had to roll out of the chocolate factory and felt green for at least 20 minutes afterwards!

The plan was to have a bar-b-q that evening, so we went to the IGA (ozzie Sainsways) and stocked up on kangeroo steak. Contrary to popular belief, it tastes nothing like chicken. It is very gamey and almost sweet. Yum yum yum!
The hostel was very cool - there were guitars and didgeridus (tourist rubbish mind you). The staff were cool too. One of them was a smiley german called Katherine, who ended up eating pancakes with us all on Friday morning. So that evening we sat around with Mr Flying-fox and ate bar-b-q. We drank too. The next day, we slept in a bit then got up for pancakes, maple syrup, ice cream and fruity-stuff. The drive home was very chilled. We stopped off at the skyrail and picturesque (I don't like that word!) views. By the time we got back to the hostel, we were all pleased to relax with our legs stretched out.

I saw 10 Canoes on Saturday night (1st July) and loved every minute - it is a great film for so many reasons: it is very funny, the story is complex enough that it keeps you entertained and it is groundbreaking too. Its tag line is "Ten canoes, three wives, one hundred and fifty spears...trouble", which I like because it is very witty. It has to be seen to be believed. I went with my friend Julia, who is interested in Australia for some of the same reasons I am, with the addition of art as well. Julia was the person that told me about the Bangu Yilbara exhibition at the MCA (near Sydney Harbour), and knowing someone like her is good because it means I have someone to discuss some of the things of interest while in the hostel, such as Garma. She is not just here to get pissed - she wants to see Australia, and I am sure she will. She is good humoured and intellectual so the film was spot on for her.

Anyway, back to 10 Canoes.

10 Canoes is a story within a story, narrated by David Gulpilil. David tells the story of ten men who went into some marshland on their canoes (which the audience watches being made). One of the men is called Dayindi and it is his first canoe making trip. Dayindi, it turns out, is falling in love with the young, lovely, third wife of his elderv brother. The elder brother knows this and spends the rest of the film telling Dayindi a story about a group of ancesters in an attempt to make Dayindi see his folly. In that story, Yeeralparil, yet another young man, has fallen for the third wife of his elder brother too. Yeeralparil tries to see the girl as often as he can, much to the irritation of his sisters-in-law. The film splits and converges several times. The punchline is very funny, and I don't want to spoil it. The story is told in the Ganalbingu language and it's website is here. Two nights later (Monday) I went back and watched it again with some other people. It was even better the second time.

The next weekend I went back to the Blue mountains, this time on the train for a didgeridu (yidaki) lesson with a chap called Mike Jackson - a well known player who plays in the traditional style. I had been having problems making the sounds and breathing in the correct places. I was expecting to go over some of the similar stuff that I went over the Jeremy Cloake during his lesson, but that did not happen. Instead of talking about Yolngu yidaki mouth sounds, we talked about how to punctuate a yidaki rhythm with toots (the horn tone): e.g. toot! toot! digi digi digi digi toot! toot! etc; useful for strengthening the mouth. Things got exciting when he started to show me how to inhale on the toot! That'll mess with people's heads!

Near the end of June, Ryan (a friend from back in the UK who used to live with my good mates Leon and Tracy) got in touch and invited me a beer convention. LOL! Good bloke! I rolled up to that, 'sampled' a few beers and rolled home. A few days later he invited me to his house party, in Bondi Junction. I was quite excited to see Ryan and to finally get to Bondi (even though it was late in the evening. I went and got larrupped! I spent the evening drunk and chasing an american girl round the party. So that was nice... :)

I had my last day at Workcover on June 30th. I took the train up to Gosford which is roughly 1.5 hours northish of Sydney. I worked, closing calls during the morning and then was taken to Iguano Joes for lunch! It was a good feed: Thai Green Curry and Rice :) Brett, one of the guys I worked with then gave me a lift him, which was jolly kind of him.

Garma is not long away - it is a huge indidjinous festival of dance, music etc. The blurb about Garma goes like this (taken from the website): “A garma is a sort of place – of rich resources for many people, this garma thing. For all yolngu [people]. Like this, all yolngu always used to come to this thing garma, coming together, all different groups.” - Gunygulu Yunupingu.

At Julia's recommendation I went to the Bangu Yilbara exhibition Sydney's museum of contemporary art. The blub is as follows: Bangu yilbara: works from the MCA Collection11 May - 1 October 2006The MCA's collections are extraordinarily rich in their diversity. This exhibition reflects the variety of directions contemporary artistic practice by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists has taken over the last two and a half decades as represented in the MCA’s collection. New and recent acquisitions are presented with earlier works shown for the first time or rarely exhibited. bangu means “to make” or “to do” and yilbara means “now” in the local language of the Gadigal people, acknowledging the traditional owners of the land where the MCA is situated. The exhibition includes Tracey Moffatt’s Adventure Series, Dennis Nona’s Sessere, and David Malangi Daymirringu’s Dhornbal/ Guwatjuru ga Nungula/Bimbudi (lawyer vines and water plants).Artists included are Ian W. Abdulla, Brook Andrew, Gordon Bennett, John Bulunbulun, Destiny Deacon, David Malangi Daymirringu, Lena Djamarrayku, Tony Djikurlurlu, Tony Dhanyala, Fiona Foley, Mary Gubriawuy, Melba Gunjarrwanga, Wally Lipuwanga, Tracey Moffatt, Jack Nawilil, John Ngarrarran, Dennis Nona, Brian Nyinawanga, Elizabeth Nyumi, Eddie Puruntatameri, Giovanni Tipungwuti, Bede Tungutalum, Joseph Warlapinni, Micky Wungulba, Dick Yambal, Lena Yarinkura and the collective Redback Graphix, Karen Casey, Alice Hinton, Merrille Lands, Fernanda Martins, Marie McMahon, Arone Raymond Meeks, Sally Morgan, Trevor Nickolls, Lin Onus, Jeffrey Samuels, Bede Tungutalum and Paddy Fordham Wainburranga.

It was not a big exhibition, but what was there was lovely. There was 'traditional' using the four standard colours - red, black, yellow and white. Then there was also art from 1988 (the bicentenial) and art about racism. A good example of this was a white on black piece that said 'coon, coon, coon, coon, coon, coon, coon' etc.

Still early days in my art-appreciation, but I am glad I went. I'll get to discuss it after, too.

New Plans...

My plans are in a constant state of change. In their present incarnation I would like to do the following: leave Sydney at the end of this month with a pocket full of dollers and mosey up the coast to Cairns, covering the distance in three weeks (making a stop of at least three days in Byron Bay). Once I get to Cairns, I want to take a bus to Darwin. On arriving in Darwin, I want to get somewhere to live with some good people and get work.

Once I am up in NT I want to go exploring. I want to see the Garma festival (and have just put an 'expression' of interest about that in), meet Djalu Gurruwiwi, see Kakadu National Park and spend some time in the Gove peninsula. I want to make friends with interesting people and when I blog the events of the next few months, I want to do so with pride.

My yidaki playing is improving slowly. I have learned a mouth sound: "Witj-dju" quite well and hope to play "didh-dhu" with the right breathing soon.

Sydney Harbour Bridge

Doing what I love best (on the side of my face)



Right near the harbour bridge!!!! Haha! COME ON!!!!!


Outside my work on a nice warm day...

Family, Mormons, Yum Cha and Sugar....

My Cousins, the Enevers.....They live in Fairy Meadows, a suburb of Wollongong. Keith and Gill moved out to Australia about 20 years ago, when it was still possible (and almost encouraged) to do so, and to be blunt, I am jealous of the life they have. Their house is beautiful and spacious - a large 'rustic' kitchen that opens out onto a garden full of 'cawing' birds, several lovely shady bedrooms, a front garden that looks out onto a street so clean that you could eat your dinner off the floor. When I first arrived in Sydney I was armed with their phone number and arranged to see them. So on 27th of May I hopped on the train (with the world's best hangover from the night before: an evening drinking and singing raucously with hostel people) and made the trip down past Austinmer (where Claire Gerson lives), Thirroul and so on to Fairy Meadows. I was met at the train station and given a bit of a tour of Wollongong (not a bad city, only slightly scabby because of all the industrial buildings) and then dinner. Because of the night before, I was in bed early. I must have slept for about 14 hours! It was great! The only real downside of hostel living is the snoring bugger in the bunk above mine, so a night in my own room was a real Godsend. The next day we took a slow drive up the escarpment and through the bush to the outskirts of Sydney, and had lunch on the way. There is a bit in 'Crocodile Dundee' where Dundee and his pretty blond friend are driving though the bush. Birds are calling to one another and that truly Australian way.... In a way, the lunch was like that - the trees were full of birds (very noisy birds), shouting to one another, and any Englishman-abroad (such as I was). It was magical.

That was one of the last days of bright, hot sun before Sydney winter really started.

I had bought 'Name of the Rose' some days before and was reading it on the train. Quite a hardcore book - funny sitting on a train in Oz reading about monks in Europe...

I have been at Workcover for weeks now. As you know, my first few days were spent in Gosford. Then I was working in Sydney under the watchful eye of Stephen Mason, learning the ropes. Stephen is now off round NSW on a server refresh, so I am manning the fort! A nice twist to this is that the chaps in Gosford are on rotation and come down one day a week each to keep me company. Dan Wong introduced me to Yum Cha last week - and I am glad that he did.... Yum Cha is Chinese for 'drink tea' - basically it is a cool way to eat lunch. You and your mate sit at the table and swarms of pretty girls wheel trolleys over and you choose little plates of this, that and the other - noodles, rice, dim sums etc. When you are not eating, you are drinking tea (Dan says it helps digestion), which is served by the one who did the inviting - you thank them by tapping three fingers on the table, in the Chinese custom. When your pot empties you hang the lid half off, and one of the Chinese lovelies comes over and refills it free of charge. Lunches out are fun. With Dan, I eat Chinese food, with Brett, curry, with Ian, more curry and with Jon Heyman, burgers. I am not starving here, and because the food is cheap I am not breaking the bank either. Plus, (apparently) eating out is very Australian. Who am I to argue with such flawless logic as that? Plus, yum cha as bloody great!

In the hostel with me is a bunch of mostly nice people. Once of the better ones is a German called Isobell [sic], who has been out in Australia for 11 (?) months on her working visa before she goes to university. She is a laugh and a chatterbox who likes her goon (slang for cask wine) and tea. She is a practical character too - she bought herself a big bag of sugar a few weeks back, and rather than store it in the kitchen (her food box is not too large) she keeps a little salt pot full of sugar instead. Sensible! Her rationale being: it saves space and there is much less chance that some thieving-scumbag-backpacker is going to get their mitts on it!

Last week I went back for round 2 with the Mormons. Round one, the week before, had been an interesting experience, where I met three of them - Sister Tanner (US), Sister something or other (Kenya?) and Sister Dunno-her-name (China) who was very, very short, and smiled a lot. One of the things I wanted to do here was try new things (the week before I had gone to a Marxist meeting as perhaps you know) so when they said, "would you like to come to prayer meeting?" of course I said "yes". It was interesting: their outlook is different to mine, but they are not like other religions in that they do not tell me I am going to burn for all eternity if I call myself a Hindu. They gave me a book of Mormon (which I plan on reading one day) and some leaflets and sent me on my way.

Then the phone calls started.

They wanted me to go back, but I was not convinced! I told myself to politely decline when I next met them, so during round 2 with them, I did. I told them that I was not going to convert and that the reason I had come to a meeting was to learn new things. I am quite happy with my beliefs, thanks very much, and to be honest, if I converted to every new religion I heard about, my beliefs would not be worth a sack of beans! They have left me to learn a bit on my own now. If I have questions, I might go back. I am not going to be a Mormon though.

A letter

Below is an email I sent out over the weekend to some friends back in the UK. Rather than just writing into a vacuum, I wanted to send some news....

Hi folks,

Its Saturday morning and I have now been in Australia for nearly one Calendar month. Funny how quickly time has flown (cliche cliche) - five minutes at work feels like an hour bit a week here feels like no time at all! Although my blog has been sparse I hope some of you have read it. About Blogger.... something has happened so that the clever little jobba that should be on the side of the page is now on the bottom! Bloody piece of rubbish ^%^$&%$!!!!! Etc. I guess the big things this week are working (sigh), the hostel, drinking and sitting on the toilet playing my new didge (that is not as minging as it sounds actually).

So - the job is fun actually. Even though it is helpdesk, it is helpdesk with class! I have lots of rights to do cool stuff with Active Directory and Citrix (which only Ben S will know about and maybe Rich). The Oxford Street building is in amongst a shed load of skyscrapers. I went up to floor 21 to help with a call yesterday and the view up there was incredible. Whole forests of skyscrapers... On a clear day the view from the top floor must rival New York.

The hostel is still fun even though the number of people I knew from the start (three and a half weeks ago) has diminished somewhat. That's okay though, new people keep popping up (mostly german at the moment). Three nights ago most of the hostel was sitting indoors watching the box. After a little while we could hear singing coming from outside, and guitar playing. It was not your average backpacking sing-a-long either - the voice was beautiful and clear (with a strong german accent though) and it wafted about. It turned out to be the one german packpacker who never said anything to anyone (except her little cohort). She was sitting up on the top floor, dreadlocks blowing in the wind. It was pretty cool.

Then there are the evening toilet didge sessions. Crude though this sounds, it is the only way I get to practise! The Bathroom is pretty small and covered with tiles so the sound bounces about and hardly escapes into the room where the bunks are. Best of all I don't get some drunk nobba banging on the door yelling "boooooiiiiiiiinnnnnngggggggggggggggggggg!".

I am going to go and buy camera batteries in a bit and then I can paste some photos of the harbour bridge onto my blog.

Love,


Dan x

Marxist Economics

How about that for a title? :)))

Last night I went to a meeting of Socialist Alternative - a group of young australian socialists, some of whom are affiliated with the University of Sydney. I am proud to say that I have finally been to a political student meeting (a shame this did not happen while I was actually at university, but you can't have it all) and enjoyed it in a lot of ways.

It began like this (flashback to last Thursday night in 'Wayne's world' stylee'): I was coming home after an exciting day at work. I plowed up the stairs at Newtown station and at the top was the "Socialist Alternative" people, collecting money, selling their magazine and canvassing for people to come to their meetings. I got talking to one of them and because my knowledge of socialism is zero, 0, nil etc I asked her what it was all about and she proceded to give me some of her views: for example there are two classes - the ruling class and the working class; the currency between these classes is labour (I can't go on really, my knowledge is limited). To cut a long story short, even with my extremely limited knowledge of all things political, I disagreed with such a simplistic model (which about doctors, university lecturers, nuns for Pete's sake?) and told her so. She she told me to come up with a better one which I couldn't, so rather than walk away and be ignorant I said that I would go to their meeting (which was yesterday), and even if I didn't agree with (or even understand) the things they were talking about (with some serious fervour) at least I would try another view point.

So, I went, and was (fairly) warmly received. I had done a little bit of reading, and when I walked in the door, people started to grill me, on the account of my accent, my smart shirt (fresh out of work), my glasses (I must do IT...):
"What are things like in the UK?" "What do you know about the IR laws?" (Not a lot but I am learning"), "Why are you here?" etc... TIRING!

Next week, Cindy Sheheen will be giving a talk, and I have said I'll be going along to that...

We rounded the evening off with a beer and a discussion of the state of Sydney US. I was impressed - they were all so young and so angry. They don't want to be mucked about, and they want to be able to rely on their university allies. I was impressed - they were so positive and pro active....

Sitting under a tree

I practiced in the park this afternoon, sitting on a bench in a cluster of eucalypts. The sun shone, the sky was blue. I cooked my dinner and talked to friends in the hostel. I am writing a bit too.

A job and a didj

I have been here for three weeks. I am working now - I scored a job with the NSW WorkCover people working in their Oxford Street site. I'll be working with another guy supporting 200 users! Oh bloody hell - no one told me that in the interview! So most of last week, I was looking for work. That may not sound much like fun, but when I think about why - well, it makes a bit of sense.

One the first day I arrived, Dan Garner and I wandered around Sydney, site seeing. I wanted to see some didjeridus so he took me to the circular quay and a piss-poor little shop. The didjeridus were not great either. The shop owner told me about the Didj-beat shop in the Rocks (a lovely bit of Sydney) so a few days later I went and had a look.

It was Aladin's cave. Didjeridus of many shapes and colours. Of course a lot of them were tourist didjeridus but a good 50% were the real deal, and had that sound that only comes from hardwood. Mel (the owner) is a bit knowledgable about the whole thing. She knows about the colours and what they mean, the crosshatching (rarrk) and dot work. Red means blood, black means people, yellow means sun and white means bone.
She knows a lot about pitch and is a very good western-style player.

So I visited and tried out 'the toys' as she calls them. I met one of her people (Takk - who plays bloody well) and swapped playing skills. She put me in touch with Peter Lister and Jeremy Cloake (who I had a lesson off a few days after that).

I played a lot of those didjeridus and each time I went back afterwards there was one stick that I wanted to play again and again!

So yesterday I bought it.

It is over a metre long and has yellow, red and black bands on it. The mouthpiece is less than 3cm. It is a yirdaki (not a didjeridu and not a mago) so it toots easily. I now have the stick that I am going to learn traditional playing on. I wish (a little not a lot) that I was back in the UK so that I could learn traditional playing off Shozo. But for now, I am going to try and learn the soft-style of playing that he showed me a few months ago, on a piece of plastic pipe :)

I went to the didg-beat shop with Bertrand, the french bloke from the hostel. He is pretty sound - a bit tiring because of the langauge barrier but thats okay. After I bought my new toy, he and I went on a boat round the harbour. Of course, my camera was in the hostel! But Bertrand will give me copies of some of the pictures I think.

Most of the people in the hostel are okay - of course there is the odd pratt, but in the main they are backpackers out having fun. The mix is great - lots of different people from lots of different countries. What amuses me is that 99.99999999% are from Europe! There is the odd kiwi kicking about (chups!). We have had koreans, chinese, japanese (dirty knees, what are these?), norwegians, dutch, germans by the million and a few brit-folk.

It is like fresher's week at uni most of the time. During the day, people are out wandering about and in the evening, we all sit around and drink Tooeeys (that is not how you spell it but I can't remember) or cheap red wine (which is often better than the stuff from the UK).

NB - do not go and see MI-3. It is tripe from start to finish.
I saw it on Thursday night with friends from Wake-up. It was Rrr-ubbish! Tom Cruise should get his head out of his scientologist's bum, and do a good film.
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Books - "Popcorn" and "This other edan" both by Ben Elton.
"Veronika decides to die" by Paulo Coelho.
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The night I met Steph Scully

I had the hottest TV Aussie in my arms last night at the Neighbours night evening. Steph Scully (a.k.a Carla Bonner) is cuter than a bucket of kittens. I also met Toadfish! And Alf from Home and Away. Alf is a pretty top bloke (who will call people galaahs if you ask him nicely). Someone made a crack about Toady's jubble so he got a bit leary and said something along the lines of "everytime I bed your mother she gives me a cookie". He also said "f*ck" which I was not expecting.

There are so many things I could say about Ms Scully: her hair, her eyes, her other attractive features.... Instead I am going to finish by saying that she is better in the flesh, up close, grinning for the camera.

I had to take a cold shower afterwards. No wukkas though, eh Bruce?

A bit more

The next day (Tuesday 18th) I left the Wake Up hostel, waved goodbye to Emma, Kal and Dan G and jumped in a taxi! I had a chat with the cabbie who drove me to New town (Kings cross sounded like a bit of a whole, full of ladies of the evening) and to the backpackers on Egan street. I arrived and slept.

The next day was Wednesday (a certain logic, I am sure you will agree) and I get up at 3pm, filled with jetlag, but in a good mood. I went walking around New Town. I ended up lost and walked though Sydney University (which knocks Sussex Uni into a pointy hat). I called a friend of my mum's called Claire and had a bit of a chat which was cool. That evening I went out with people from the hostel and drank cold beer.

Thursday has been the best day so far, although the details are a bit hazy.I had taken off to walk round town as I have done on every day since I had arrived. I had taken the 422 into the Circular quay (past the University of Sydney which looks really sound) and then got out into a bit of park among the skyscrapers. It was warm and I wanted to use the bathroom and have a cold drink. I was in a good mood, and was
up for talking to anyone. I wound up in a bar in amongst the skyscrapers. I was looking for a comedy place, but the (very very pretty) girl behind the bar told me that naa it was a jazz bar. She gave me her number and I rolled out with a big smile on my face - Phoebe is young, pretty and studying sociology at Sydney University.

Finally that day, I would up in the The didg shop. 'Nuff said.

I am falling in love with New Town, thats the first thing. It has an atmosphere that reminds me of Brighton as it was during the summer of '96 when Ben Pinckheard was living in the beach house. It's filled with Thai restaurants along it's main road (King's Street) and I love Thai food. You can take a turn of down little side streets and walk amongst eucalyptus trees. I am going to buy a camera soon...

Click here for a map of Sydney

First couple of days.

It's Anzac day today and the weather is foul! For the first time since I arrived, I am envious of the people at home, because I know the summer is only just starting for them! :)

It has been quite a week, as I shall try and show.

I arrived in Sydney at about 9pm. It was warm outside, the street lights a but of a funny colour - rather than the orange of the UK, a softer pink (for want of a better word) colour. I got off the plane with a large grin on my face. I was tired, smelly and I had not slept for about 24 hours (I have got some more precise calculations on a bit of paper but take my word for it). I was thinking about taking the train into Sydney but realised I had little idea of where to go, so I skipped into a backpackers' bus and was trundled though the dark streets of Sydney into the centre and the WAKE UP hostel.

The wake up hostel is 9 floors high. Floors 1-8 are named after continents. It's full of bleary eyed backpackers, just of the plane, "little rubber people" out on their first trip away from Mummy and Daddy and then the people in my room, who are not bad.

Kal is from Leeds, Dan G (can't remember) and Emma (outside of Belfast). When I walk into the room the three are talking as if they have known one another for years. It turns out Kal and Emma had only met that morning. Meanwhile Dan had been in Oz for a few months. So far so good. They are friendly and chatty, even though I am slightly grumpy because I am so sleepy. The room is not bad either - the beds are great and I can stretch my legs out (a bonus since I have spent the last few hours in a plane seat).

So the four of us talked, and it was good. I has pleased and relieved - my first trip to this country, six years ago, was a lonely experience often and I had not talked to people until day two. I had landed on my feet, especially as Kal agreed to go to the basement bar of the hostel for drinks.

The next day (Monday) , I wanted to sleep, but was not allowed to. Dan G and Kal said I should get up and start getting over my jet lag - fair enough, but my bed was looking so tempting! Dan G took me around central Sydney. It was a very hot day (quiet too, bizarrely) and the sky was blue, without a cloud in it. We walked and walked - down Pitt Street towards Cirular Quay, the home of Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House. Like I wrote, it was very quiet which was nice - a slow start is always a good thing in a new city. When we arrived at the circular quay I had a little bit of an epiphany. Until that point, although I knew where I was, and what I was letting myself in for, I had not grasped it completely. I saw the Opera house (which looks like a big beetle squatting by the side of the quay) and the harbour bridge - symbols of Australia throughout the world. The sun was dancing on the water, and air was warm with little breezes buzzing about. Tourists were out and about, and the didjeridu-playing buskers were doing their thing and playing along to trance techno. Had I had a camera that day, I would have clicked off a whole roll, but as it was my eyes got to see the place unadorned.

Dan and I walked round the right side of the quay, passed lots of sunbaked australians. I spy with my little eye a didg shop (an aboriginal arts centre) and in we trooped (in I trooped, and Dan followed looking a bit bemused). It was like Aladin's cave (minus silks) for a didg player. I stayed in the shop talking to the owner for about half an hour and then Dan and I walked over to the botanical gardens via the opera house.

We then wended our way home on the overground train, the Central station. That evening me and my room-mates went out for a drink in an Irish pub and watched Aussies dancing. I was pleased to sleep...
More in a bit I guess....