Canberra. The capital city of Australia. A city that almost all Australians dislike. A place that, when brought up, an Aussie will generally say, "Canberra? Why would you want to go there? So boring." With all that in mind, imagine how thrilled I was to be giving up the majority of one of my few precious weekends to make the trip to the political capital.
En route, we stopped a Bundanoon, the first city in Australia to "ban" bottled water. Sounds thrilling, doesn't it? I mean, this city has... get this... fancy water fountains! And they sell... aluminum water bottles. Shocking! They even have Camel Bak as a sponsor... Oh and all of those aluminum bottles are extremely overpriced. And the citizens of Bundanoon are all crazy about their achievement. Now, I will grant that it's a nice move in the way of environmental awareness, in the whole Green movement--except when asked about if they're taking any other extra cautions for Green awareness, it turns out they aren't even trying to be part of that movement. They've banned bottled water and, for now, that's the only thing they're doing as a city. Also, the city is tiny. It's not really a city. It's a town. And they're all extremely proud... and frankly, they seemed rather insane and cultish and attention seeking. I think the move is an interesting and good step in an environmental direction, but they seemed to be doing it more for publicity and tourism. Lame.
After that short stop, we continued into Canberra where we went to Parliament Hill--their Parliament building is literally built into a hill. Epic. We sat in one of the debate rooms and talked to a clerk who told us about some of the processes of government, though she avoided all questions concerning her own opinion on anything. That was kind of interesting, but not really. Cramming into elevators with 26 other people (mostly lovely ladies) was far more fun. Just sayin'.
But then we went into the larger senate room, where the Senate was in session. We sat down and watched the wonderfully fascinating event that is Australian politics--and I'm not being sarcastic. Let me simply write this as a dialogue.
Senator Barnaby Joyce: I just want you to answer my question, minister. It's not even my question! It's their question! [he indicates the audience to his left... my group... we're Americans, though he does not know this] It's them you're affecting! These people want an answer, minister! We'll stay here all day and tomorrow and the next day until you stand up and answer the question.
[Senator Joyce continues rambling for five minutes--the minister does not respond]
Joyce: Minister, I know you can hear me. I know you have many deficiencies, minister, but deafness is not one of them! Hello? Hello? Wake up, minister! Wake up! Wakey, wakey, anybody home? No? Nobody home? Minister, come on and stand up and answer the people's question! Come on, we just want you to stand up, Steve-er, minister.
[more time passes with more rambling]
Joyce: Minister, if you sit there like that any longer, we'll need to get a gnome hat to put on you and move you to the garden!
[Joyce sits. Senator Not-Joyce stands]
Not-Joyce: Hear, hear! A garden gnome! You'd make a good one, minister! And it would put you to good use! Good use! Now, I agree with Senator Joyce. You need to answer his questions.
Anywho, you get the point. Not-Joyce talked for a while. Joyce got back up again. They just kept going and going. And Minister Steve never did stand up--at least not in the 30 minutes we watched. At one point, Joyce straight up called the government party stupid. Australian politics are far more entertaining to watch than American ones. And Australians hate their government! It's glorious.
Then we went and talked to an Aboriginal woman who lives in a tent outside Parliament protesting for Aboriginal rights and a return of Aboriginal land. And then we went to the hostel, ate, played games, and told stories.
The next day, we went to the National Portrait Gallery (good! especially the black and white photography), the National Museum of Australia (eh, okay. all history stuff and laid out weirdly), the National Gallery (absolutely fantastic, reminded me of the Pompidou and the Tate Modern--enjoyed the Pollocks, Rothkos, Picassos, Stills, and more a lot), and the National War Memorial (very well done, similar to the Imperial War Museum in London). I took several photos at the War Memorial around the inscriptions of names--several portrait shots of friends.
Then, we got on the bus to go back home. (Now there's a weird feeling. I'm calling Sydney home.) The bus ride was a lot of fun. Chilling with Alessandra, Tess, Rachel, and Nick mostly. But of course, given being on a bus, others were in and out of the conversation as well. At one point, several of us clambered into one set of seats, all squishing together. It ended up being like 2 guys and 6 or 7 girls squished into that one seat. Epic. We took pictures. And then we returned to our separate seats once more, though Allana decided to come lay across Alessandra and me, which resulted in more pictures.
I'm so glad to be getting comfortable enough with these people to be ridiculous. And I get to be ridiculous a lot. It's glorious. The Canberra trip ended up being a ton of fun, though I do think the city itself had little to do with that. Mostly, it was fun because of the people--though I really did love the National Gallery a whole lot. And then we came home and I got up the next day and..... well, go read the post about my trip to the Opera House and you'll know more, as chronologically it takes place after this post (but I had to turn in a blog post as an assignment, so I wrote about the Opera House trip for the assignment, causing this post to get overlooked for a few days).
:)
28 March 2011
I went to the Sydney Opera House. Be jealous.
There I was, standing on the steps of the Sydney Opera House when all of a sudden: DOUBLE RAINBOW: All the way across the sky. I kid you not. It consisted of two complete arches--one of which I could clearly see hitting the ground just beneath the Botanical Gardens. These two rainbows were the best rainbows I have ever seen in person. A bit later, everyone's attention was drawn to the sky once again. Large bats had replaced the double rainbow, flying overhead. Meanwhile, I sat down eating some fish and chips and drinking the Australian energy drink V. And that was how I began my visit to the most famous opera house in the world.
I'd bought my ticket to go see Tim Minchin, an Australian musician and comedian of whom I'm quite fond, about a month ago as soon as I saw that it was on sale. Fearing tickets would sell out quickly, I bought mine without really seeing if there was anyone else interested in going. This turned out to be a valid fear as the show quickly sold out soon thereafter. Thus it was that, after finishing my food and drink, I walked alone to the doors of the illogically structured architectural wonder and promptly found my way to the loo. As if the double rainbow, the bats, and the massive arches of the outer shell of the building were not enough, I knew I was in a truly special place as soon as I saw the sinks. A long white counter with dips in it stretched across the length under the sinks. The water sprayed directly onto the counter, flowing down into the dips. This, in itself, was a fascinating design element. And then I went into the concert hall.
I stood staring at the immensely high ceiling, the thousands of seats around the hall, the wooden walls, and the brilliant lights shining down onto the stage. It was only after this that it clicked where the usher had taken me: nearly dead center, in the second row. I sat down, finding out that even the seats were structurally wonderful. In my opinion, there are three criteria that make up good seats: they must be comfortable, aesthetically pleasing, and, most importantly, they must leave plenty of legroom. Somehow, the red-cushioned, wooden-backed seats of the Opera House concert hall managed to fit all three criteria.
But enough about the architecture and design. I was there for a show, not to marvel at the incredible infrastructure of the venue. The orchestra filled up their seats and a violinist came downstage right, a brilliant white light shining on her as she played a solo that gradually built up. Then, Minchin's voice rang out: "Yeaaaaaah. I'm in a cage!" And a black veil that had been covering a large box on stage about 5 feet in front of me was removed to reveal the ginger-haired man himself. The show consisted of a fun mix of music and comedic gags, making fun of the audacity of a comedian playing with a symphony orchestra in a gigantic arena style concert hall. Foul language abounded throughout the show. Minchin made fun of religions, races, women, and just about everything in between--though perhaps his most frequent target was himself. I've known much of his music for a long time now and so I knew what to expect. He's offensive but hilarious. And I'm fairly sure the man really loves the world--that's why he makes fun of it so much.
Tim is Australian, after all. Part of the job description of Australian appears to be: "Make fun of those people or things that you love." And I saw that mantra carried out thousand fold at this concert. Minchin kept poking fun at the conductor--at one point he took the baton and went into a discussion about how it kept making him think the conductor was Harry Potter. But enough about the humorous side of the show. After all, Tim Minchin does have a dark side too.
During the show's interval, Minchin changed out of the white shirt he'd worn at the beginning. When he returned to the stage, he wore a black shirt. During a few introductory words, he told us all that, while the first half was all fun and games, the second half, as indicated by his wardrobe change, would be much more serious. He then preceded to "accidentally" mess up the next song humorously. But here's the thing: even though there were still plenty of laughs throughout the second half of the shows, Minchin didn't lie. The songs got darker and a bit more serious. While still quite funny, almost all of them had a good deal of subtext to them. And they got me thinking.
Minchin sang about the world, living in it and loving it for being the world we live in. He sang about the difficulty of creating something beautiful in the modern world. He sang about loved ones being important. I laughed and smiled a lot during the show. I was seated in an incredible building, in an incredible city, watching an incredible performance of a comedian and an orchestra. And I found myself thinking about home.
I love Australia. I've been here for a little over a month now. I'm making good friends and getting to do all sorts of wonderful things. I have a public transport pass that allows me to take as many buses, trains, and ferries as I want during my stay. I've been to several great museums, I've traveled to Canberra, and I get to travel to the Outback and New Zealand. I've been working on several awesome theatre pieces, having wonderful opportunities unlike any I've ever had back in Tennessee. But Tim Minchin hit a chord within me as he sang about the importance of home.
"You will learn someday that wherever you are and whatever you face, these are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world."
The song these lyrics come from, White Wine In The Sun, has been my favorite of Tim's for as long as I've been a fan of his. It was the first song I ever heard by him, but tonight was the first time it really felt true to me. The song continues, discussing that, even when you're nine thousand miles from home, your loved ones will still be waiting for you to come back. Well, I am quite literally nine thousand miles from home--more than that, actually. Thinking about that almost makes me a bit melancholic. Tim's words made me miss friends and family.
But that's part of what this trip's all about. I have lived in the same place with the same people for twenty years. It was time to get away from home. It was time to open myself up to new things. And Australia is providing that wonderfully. I'm having a blast. I'm getting to see incredible things and visit incredible places. I'm even getting to wash my hands in aesthetically pleasing sinks. But most importantly, I'm getting to forge wonderful new relationships that I'm convinced will last for many years to come. And all the while, there are people waiting for me back home. Knowing that's true is a wonderful feeling. But for now, I'm in Australia and these new relationships are just starting. And I can already tell: by the time I get back to Tennessee, I'm going to feel like I've left another home nine thousand miles away. Despite the melancholic tinge, that's going to be a beautiful feeling. That feeling will probably be almost as amazing as a double rainbow.
PS. After the show, I got a 50 cent cone at Macca's, which is Australian for McDonald's. Yum.
PPS. I'll post about the Canberra trip sometime in detail. It was epic. We watched a senator call another senator a garden gnome.
19 March 2011
Kissing Point (and more!) with 3 lovely ladies
Today was rainy. The world was soaked repeatedly on and off all day. It would come in great rushing spurts all of a sudden. To be caught in one of these was to be drenched. And of course, today I had plans in the city, where there was not to be constant cover. The weather disappointed me, initially. But I still packed my bag and made my way to town, meeting up with Alessandra on the way. Soon after, Tess and Rachel joined us at the Queen Victoria Building and the four of us made our way to Paddy's Market. Here, we split up.
I meandered around the place, enjoying the frantic nature of the place--people were scurrying everywhich direction, the shops were packed to the gills with all kinds of things (mostly touristy things, but still interesting). The place was crazy, but kind of fascinating. I found myself eyeballing shoes. See, I only brought my sandals and some Rockport sneakers to Australia. I've been having Converse withdrawal. So when I found my way to the second floor where it was much more like an American mall, I was quite sad that the store I first entered was way over-priced (the cheapest shoes I saw were $90!). But then, walking back towards the elevator and I looked up and saw a grand sight: one floor up, there before me was a Converse Outlet. I made my way up the escalator and entered the store. After much debate, I settled on a pair of Deep Lichen (read: forest green) high tops.
Rejoining the girls, I was amused when Rachel said, "Converse? I'd not have marked you as a Converse wearer!" See, my entire fashion sense here is completely different than at home. At home, dark jeans, mostly dark colored t-shirts or button up shirts, and casual shoes are my regular attire. Here, I'm almost always in shorts and bright colored t-shirts. And of course, before today, I only had two sets of shoes. Oh, and I wear my Busch Gardens hat here. A lot. It's kinda wonderful. But anywho, I now have some new Converse that are wonderful. And the day could have ended there and been a good, successful day, but it was only just beginning.
Wandering across the street into Chinatown, we soon found a small shop where we bought pastries and sat down to chat. We took silly pictures--most notably outside of a strange pink stuffed animal store. We found ourselves caught in one of the sudden rain spurts (fortunately, we had 3 umbrellas with us, so we were able to stay relatively dry). And we decided it was time to go take a ferry--having unlimited bus, train, and ferry passes is freakin' wonderful; most useful things in this city--just sayin'. Thus, to Circular Quay, we made our way. Throughout all of this, by the way, I was carrying my film camera. I took a handful of pictures, most of specific moments that I had to move quick to get shots and, in all likelihood, the photos won't come out. But there was an adventurous quality to shooting some film moment to moment, knowing the lighting was low, the rain was going to cause issues, and most of my targets were moving people. I took shots quickly and we shall see if they work out... in a few months.
We had just missed the ferry to Manly, which is where we were planning to go. Thus, we found ourselves looking at other potential destinations--after all, the journey's more important than the destination, right? Upon seeing the name "Kissing Point" as an option, we knew we'd found the place for us. I mean, where else would one guy and three girls go on a day out and about? (And of course, this was our running joke of the day). Thus, with no knowledge of the place aside from the name, we got onto a ferry. Mid-travel, I put my arm around Rachel and said, "Hey, Rachel. I know we're headed to Kissing Point, but we could bring it to us right now, if we wanted." I grinned big and cheesy and got some laughs.
And then the ferry was arriving at the little dock that marked Kissing Point. We got off the boat to see a woman sitting, smoking a hookah, minding her own business. We knew we were in a good place. We followed the dock to the shore, a small beach with lots of shells and seagulls. We took some pictures and enjoyed the peaceful land--it rained a bit again, but not hard enough to be obnoxious. A path swerved into Kissing Point Park, but we decided not to investigate today. Discussions were made about how perfect this little beach would be for a picnic. And then the ferry was coming back and we were heading back to Circular Quay once more.
Mid-travel, I put my arm around Rachel and said, "Hey, Rachel. I know we just left Kissing Point, but we could bring it back to us right now, if we wanted." I grinned big and cheesy and got some laughs again and some eye rolls. Docked once more, we headed to the Rocks in search of dinner. We finally ended up at a small hotel, eating good food. Then, Alessandra and I waved goodbye to Tess and Rachel and we caught a bus heading back to Drummoyne. The bus journey brought us back to discussion about my new Converse and I told the story of how I came to own my first Converse, which lead into a walk with a lengthy conversation about my life in the last few years and part of why I'm so glad I'm in Australia right now. Then, I returned home, having had a day full of Oz, that wonderful fantasy world I've discovered here, as well as having had a day that closed with conversation reminding me of the real world. It was a good day. My one regret is that I did not, at some point, blurt out, "If this isn't nice, I don't know what is!"
Well, you know what? Better late than never. I'm in Australia with some wonderful people and if this isn't nice, I don't know what is. That's all I'm sayin'.
I meandered around the place, enjoying the frantic nature of the place--people were scurrying everywhich direction, the shops were packed to the gills with all kinds of things (mostly touristy things, but still interesting). The place was crazy, but kind of fascinating. I found myself eyeballing shoes. See, I only brought my sandals and some Rockport sneakers to Australia. I've been having Converse withdrawal. So when I found my way to the second floor where it was much more like an American mall, I was quite sad that the store I first entered was way over-priced (the cheapest shoes I saw were $90!). But then, walking back towards the elevator and I looked up and saw a grand sight: one floor up, there before me was a Converse Outlet. I made my way up the escalator and entered the store. After much debate, I settled on a pair of Deep Lichen (read: forest green) high tops.
Rejoining the girls, I was amused when Rachel said, "Converse? I'd not have marked you as a Converse wearer!" See, my entire fashion sense here is completely different than at home. At home, dark jeans, mostly dark colored t-shirts or button up shirts, and casual shoes are my regular attire. Here, I'm almost always in shorts and bright colored t-shirts. And of course, before today, I only had two sets of shoes. Oh, and I wear my Busch Gardens hat here. A lot. It's kinda wonderful. But anywho, I now have some new Converse that are wonderful. And the day could have ended there and been a good, successful day, but it was only just beginning.
Wandering across the street into Chinatown, we soon found a small shop where we bought pastries and sat down to chat. We took silly pictures--most notably outside of a strange pink stuffed animal store. We found ourselves caught in one of the sudden rain spurts (fortunately, we had 3 umbrellas with us, so we were able to stay relatively dry). And we decided it was time to go take a ferry--having unlimited bus, train, and ferry passes is freakin' wonderful; most useful things in this city--just sayin'. Thus, to Circular Quay, we made our way. Throughout all of this, by the way, I was carrying my film camera. I took a handful of pictures, most of specific moments that I had to move quick to get shots and, in all likelihood, the photos won't come out. But there was an adventurous quality to shooting some film moment to moment, knowing the lighting was low, the rain was going to cause issues, and most of my targets were moving people. I took shots quickly and we shall see if they work out... in a few months.
We had just missed the ferry to Manly, which is where we were planning to go. Thus, we found ourselves looking at other potential destinations--after all, the journey's more important than the destination, right? Upon seeing the name "Kissing Point" as an option, we knew we'd found the place for us. I mean, where else would one guy and three girls go on a day out and about? (And of course, this was our running joke of the day). Thus, with no knowledge of the place aside from the name, we got onto a ferry. Mid-travel, I put my arm around Rachel and said, "Hey, Rachel. I know we're headed to Kissing Point, but we could bring it to us right now, if we wanted." I grinned big and cheesy and got some laughs.
And then the ferry was arriving at the little dock that marked Kissing Point. We got off the boat to see a woman sitting, smoking a hookah, minding her own business. We knew we were in a good place. We followed the dock to the shore, a small beach with lots of shells and seagulls. We took some pictures and enjoyed the peaceful land--it rained a bit again, but not hard enough to be obnoxious. A path swerved into Kissing Point Park, but we decided not to investigate today. Discussions were made about how perfect this little beach would be for a picnic. And then the ferry was coming back and we were heading back to Circular Quay once more.
Mid-travel, I put my arm around Rachel and said, "Hey, Rachel. I know we just left Kissing Point, but we could bring it back to us right now, if we wanted." I grinned big and cheesy and got some laughs again and some eye rolls. Docked once more, we headed to the Rocks in search of dinner. We finally ended up at a small hotel, eating good food. Then, Alessandra and I waved goodbye to Tess and Rachel and we caught a bus heading back to Drummoyne. The bus journey brought us back to discussion about my new Converse and I told the story of how I came to own my first Converse, which lead into a walk with a lengthy conversation about my life in the last few years and part of why I'm so glad I'm in Australia right now. Then, I returned home, having had a day full of Oz, that wonderful fantasy world I've discovered here, as well as having had a day that closed with conversation reminding me of the real world. It was a good day. My one regret is that I did not, at some point, blurt out, "If this isn't nice, I don't know what is!"
In explanation, I leave you with this quote from Kurt Vonnegut:
"And now I want to tell you about my late Uncle Alex. He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well-read and wise. And his principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is. So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is."
Well, you know what? Better late than never. I'm in Australia with some wonderful people and if this isn't nice, I don't know what is. That's all I'm sayin'.
17 March 2011
St. Patrick's Day.
I found a hat. It’s shiny. And green. And it’s a bowler. This was just after purchasing some amazing ice cream—the flavor? Sunshine Mango. It was truly amazing—several of the friends I was with tried bites and the critics were in agreement: I’d picked a winner. This was the beginning of how I spent my St Patrick’s Day evening.
To give a little back story, flash back with me to lunch this afternoon. I was just eating my corned beef sandwich (perfect meat choice for St Patrick’s Day!) when my phone buzzed. “Huh! A text?” I thought. And I discovered that Rachel was suggesting a journey to a pub in The Rocks for St Patrick’s Day. In that moment, I thought, “Sounds like an adventure!” And so I agreed. Then I asked who else was going… and Rachel didn’t really have an answer, but she told me to spread the word.
Well, I talked to a couple people who weren’t really that interested, but figured that didn’t matter too much, that Rachel would gather a decent group. Thus, I headed to Circular Quay this evening to find out whom I was meeting. And the group was great: Rachel, Tess, Liisa, Kara, Toby, and me. I must admit, I thought of my old group of friends back at Milligan, those wonderful girls I affectionately once called The Harem.
We were all quite relaxed and out to have a good time and that we did. We went to a pub—no worries, we all kept our bargain and didn’t drink anything with alcohol; though Kara stumbled a bit right by the bouncer and almost got denied entry because he thought she was drunk; quite funny if you know Kara—where we danced and mingled. A live musician played several classic songs, which we generally sang along with (as did most the crowd). Drunken guys hit on the girls some, but it was all harmless fun. The music was loud. The crowd was tight. And we all had a blast.
So, yes. I spent the evening of St Patrick’s Day at a pub in Sydney. And I got a shiny hat. That I wore all evening. Total win situation.
12 March 2011
Long Day's Journey Into Night....
Shortly after the day began, I found myself standing in front of a painting by Imants Tillers entitled "White Aborigines." This was a disturbing painting of chaotic blue, white, and pink colors covering 100 small canvas board panels. Black streaks created figures within the chaos, though these too were chaotic. The painting was frantic. It was hard to focus on one image at a time. The painting was violent. No happy faces here. Some German phrase crossed the bottom of the painting--I don't know what it said. It was a dark painting. And it began my day.
Yes, I'd begun my day at the Museum of Contemporary Art. After nearly 3 hours there, Nick and I headed out to the Rocks to find snacks. A wonderful coconut and jam pastry satisfied me. And then it was time to meet our friends. Tess, Anna, Kara, Reza, and Olivia. We wanted to find a place for a relatively cheap dinner. After a long trek across central Sydney, with discoveries of closed restaurants, we finally found our way to the Shark Hotel, the same place where a group from my homestay had gone "clubbing" back the first weekend here. The room was complete different in the daytime. It had a buffet for about $10, and it was glorious.
You see, at the Ross Frazer homestay, we have a group of 7 guys. Ross does not believe in salad. In fact, he doesn't really believe in vegetables in general. And he doesn't think guys in general are interested in such things. Most of what we eat on a regular basis is meat. It's good, but it's beginning to get old. It's also doing weird things to all of our stomachs. So, when I say that I didn't eat a single piece of meat at this buffet, you should understand something: it was an event. I loaded my plate with salad fixings, some Chinese noodles, humus, potatoes, and carrots. The combination is strange, I know. But it tasted incredible. I got happily full without a single shred of meat.
The conversation over dinner was good, crossing all sorts of topics--from relationships to 9/11. And then it was time to head to the bus stop to get to NIDA (National Institute of Dramatic Art), where Nick, Anna, Tess, and I had tickets to see the finalists of Short + Sweet, a 10 minute play festival--a group of Wesley students were participating, thus how we had heard about it. So, we're in a hurry to make sure we get to the theatre on time. And we're following Reza, who is using his iPhone to guide us to the right bus stop. And we're running late.
Thus, we moved quickly through the city, traveling several blocks. We finally get to the stop, only to discover that Reza's phone had messed up. We'd gone in the wrong direction. With only minutes before our bus is going to be arriving, we took off sprinting through Sydney. Block after block, we ran. Uphill, downhill, through the dense humidity of the Australian air. As we weaved our way through crowds, Reza frantically tried to find the right bus stop. We finally saw it ahead. And we also saw our bus turning into the street, heading towards the bus stop. We sprinted as fast as possible, trying to get to the stop before the bus left. God bless the old man who got on the bus and had not pre-payed and was having trouble getting the correct change out. We got on the bus. And Reza told the driver, "Drop these guys at NIDA, please."
And the driver said, "NIDA? You need to catch a bus on the other side of the road. Wrong direction."
Crap. Thus, we got off the bus, crossed the road, and waited... and waited... and waited.... And no bus of use to us came. Finally, we grabbed a cab. Nick struck up a conversation with the Indian cabdriver, and we got to NIDA just in time to pick up our tickets and head into the theatre.
The shows covered several different styles and genres--from dramatic dance to pseudo-existentialism to commedia delle'arte (the Wesley guys!). They varied in quality, greatly, the highlights for me being: a play about people trapped in a prison with no explanation (which had a crappy ending unfortunately--turned out they were lobsters. Lame.), a play about talking down someone from suicide (really powerful), a play about an autistic man meeting a woman on top of a building and falling in love (quite humorous and touching), and the Wesley guys showed great range and storytelling with their commedia piece.
There were awards given after the festival--the Wesley guys got $1000! And then it was time to head back home. We caught a bus and then a train all together. Then, Nick and I said goodnight to Anna and Tess, and caught another bus home, and it was 1 in the morning by the time we got there.
Throughout all of our adventures, there were many conversations, as we broke down barriers and began getting to know each other better. By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. It had been a long one, but a fun one. And I had a blast.
Yes, I'd begun my day at the Museum of Contemporary Art. After nearly 3 hours there, Nick and I headed out to the Rocks to find snacks. A wonderful coconut and jam pastry satisfied me. And then it was time to meet our friends. Tess, Anna, Kara, Reza, and Olivia. We wanted to find a place for a relatively cheap dinner. After a long trek across central Sydney, with discoveries of closed restaurants, we finally found our way to the Shark Hotel, the same place where a group from my homestay had gone "clubbing" back the first weekend here. The room was complete different in the daytime. It had a buffet for about $10, and it was glorious.
You see, at the Ross Frazer homestay, we have a group of 7 guys. Ross does not believe in salad. In fact, he doesn't really believe in vegetables in general. And he doesn't think guys in general are interested in such things. Most of what we eat on a regular basis is meat. It's good, but it's beginning to get old. It's also doing weird things to all of our stomachs. So, when I say that I didn't eat a single piece of meat at this buffet, you should understand something: it was an event. I loaded my plate with salad fixings, some Chinese noodles, humus, potatoes, and carrots. The combination is strange, I know. But it tasted incredible. I got happily full without a single shred of meat.
The conversation over dinner was good, crossing all sorts of topics--from relationships to 9/11. And then it was time to head to the bus stop to get to NIDA (National Institute of Dramatic Art), where Nick, Anna, Tess, and I had tickets to see the finalists of Short + Sweet, a 10 minute play festival--a group of Wesley students were participating, thus how we had heard about it. So, we're in a hurry to make sure we get to the theatre on time. And we're following Reza, who is using his iPhone to guide us to the right bus stop. And we're running late.
Thus, we moved quickly through the city, traveling several blocks. We finally get to the stop, only to discover that Reza's phone had messed up. We'd gone in the wrong direction. With only minutes before our bus is going to be arriving, we took off sprinting through Sydney. Block after block, we ran. Uphill, downhill, through the dense humidity of the Australian air. As we weaved our way through crowds, Reza frantically tried to find the right bus stop. We finally saw it ahead. And we also saw our bus turning into the street, heading towards the bus stop. We sprinted as fast as possible, trying to get to the stop before the bus left. God bless the old man who got on the bus and had not pre-payed and was having trouble getting the correct change out. We got on the bus. And Reza told the driver, "Drop these guys at NIDA, please."
And the driver said, "NIDA? You need to catch a bus on the other side of the road. Wrong direction."
Crap. Thus, we got off the bus, crossed the road, and waited... and waited... and waited.... And no bus of use to us came. Finally, we grabbed a cab. Nick struck up a conversation with the Indian cabdriver, and we got to NIDA just in time to pick up our tickets and head into the theatre.
The shows covered several different styles and genres--from dramatic dance to pseudo-existentialism to commedia delle'arte (the Wesley guys!). They varied in quality, greatly, the highlights for me being: a play about people trapped in a prison with no explanation (which had a crappy ending unfortunately--turned out they were lobsters. Lame.), a play about talking down someone from suicide (really powerful), a play about an autistic man meeting a woman on top of a building and falling in love (quite humorous and touching), and the Wesley guys showed great range and storytelling with their commedia piece.
There were awards given after the festival--the Wesley guys got $1000! And then it was time to head back home. We caught a bus and then a train all together. Then, Nick and I said goodnight to Anna and Tess, and caught another bus home, and it was 1 in the morning by the time we got there.
Throughout all of our adventures, there were many conversations, as we broke down barriers and began getting to know each other better. By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. It had been a long one, but a fun one. And I had a blast.
11 March 2011
Without light, there are no shadows.
A ghostly shadow under a noose, sadness across the dark face. Light shining through the window, casting another shadow on the ground beneath the noose; this shadow looks like a cross. The image is dark. It would be unsettling without the word written in red along the bottom of the painting: "Suicide."
Dark shadows frantically running, fear in their eyes, frowning. The shadows are of differing sizes and shapes, but all nearly human--some clearly infants. An amoeba is in the middle of these figures, its arms reaching out, grabbing the shadows, dragging them into its embrace. Aboriginal Protection Board, the painting says within the center of the amoeba. Genocide, the painting says above the entirety of the scene.
A horse with a reaper figure jumps out of the desert ground. Bones lay amongst the hot clay. Human skulls. The horse is almost as ghastly as the face of the rider. The horse appears to be in pain. It hurts to carry this rider. The sky above the scene is a melted, dark, British flag without apparent borders. Tyranny, the painting is called.
These are just 3 examples of the Aboriginal paintings on exhibit in the Australian Museum. There are several more there, and nearly all of them are just as disturbing as these. They are recent paintings, depicting scenes about the invading British who in bringing order and civilization to Australia broke apart a lifestyle going back many thousands of years. Some are in direct reference to the Stolen Generations--a time in which the Australian government thought they could "cure" the Aborigines by removing children from their families and educating them in Western thought. This was against the wills of these families. It was not an invitation. It was forced. This took place in the 1900s, not ending until the 1970s.
This disturbs me, especially when thinking about the incredible country I'm in. My week passed quickly. I enjoyed it thoroughly. It rained lightly a few days, but not enough to be annoying. The humidity was extremely high and uncomfortable at times, but it could have been worse. Classes went well. The short plays took most of my time and I'm getting more and more excited to be working on them. I'm getting to do so much that I'd never be able to do at home. The land here is beautiful. I live on the edge of a nature reserve. Fantastic, beautiful birds visit the house every day. I am making good friends, forming wonderful relationships. This place seems unreal. It seems magical. And yet the history of it is so dark. It would be easier to swallow if the wrongs committed against the Aborigines were long ago, but they were not. There is still a large amount of prejudice against these wonderful people today. Bring them up with the average Australian, and he or she will have some preconceived conception of who these people are. They are still viewed by many as somehow being lesser, somehow being people in need of a "cure."
It is disturbing. This place seems like paradise in some ways. But it is not.
---
There was one painting today that was not so disturbing. A beautiful landscape of a valley full of lush, green trees spread through most of the painting. A blue sky hung over it and a light fog crossed it. In the lower right corner of the painting, three men were gathered around a small fire. They appeared to be happy. This painting seemed to depict this land before it was altered by the settlers. Before modernization. It was the only hopeful painting in the exhibit, as far as I could tell. It's not the world as it is now, but the beautiful earth is still here. The wonder of the world is still here. The freedom to gather with friends around a fire is still here. And maybe, just maybe, there's still some hope.
Dark shadows frantically running, fear in their eyes, frowning. The shadows are of differing sizes and shapes, but all nearly human--some clearly infants. An amoeba is in the middle of these figures, its arms reaching out, grabbing the shadows, dragging them into its embrace. Aboriginal Protection Board, the painting says within the center of the amoeba. Genocide, the painting says above the entirety of the scene.
A horse with a reaper figure jumps out of the desert ground. Bones lay amongst the hot clay. Human skulls. The horse is almost as ghastly as the face of the rider. The horse appears to be in pain. It hurts to carry this rider. The sky above the scene is a melted, dark, British flag without apparent borders. Tyranny, the painting is called.
These are just 3 examples of the Aboriginal paintings on exhibit in the Australian Museum. There are several more there, and nearly all of them are just as disturbing as these. They are recent paintings, depicting scenes about the invading British who in bringing order and civilization to Australia broke apart a lifestyle going back many thousands of years. Some are in direct reference to the Stolen Generations--a time in which the Australian government thought they could "cure" the Aborigines by removing children from their families and educating them in Western thought. This was against the wills of these families. It was not an invitation. It was forced. This took place in the 1900s, not ending until the 1970s.
This disturbs me, especially when thinking about the incredible country I'm in. My week passed quickly. I enjoyed it thoroughly. It rained lightly a few days, but not enough to be annoying. The humidity was extremely high and uncomfortable at times, but it could have been worse. Classes went well. The short plays took most of my time and I'm getting more and more excited to be working on them. I'm getting to do so much that I'd never be able to do at home. The land here is beautiful. I live on the edge of a nature reserve. Fantastic, beautiful birds visit the house every day. I am making good friends, forming wonderful relationships. This place seems unreal. It seems magical. And yet the history of it is so dark. It would be easier to swallow if the wrongs committed against the Aborigines were long ago, but they were not. There is still a large amount of prejudice against these wonderful people today. Bring them up with the average Australian, and he or she will have some preconceived conception of who these people are. They are still viewed by many as somehow being lesser, somehow being people in need of a "cure."
It is disturbing. This place seems like paradise in some ways. But it is not.
---
There was one painting today that was not so disturbing. A beautiful landscape of a valley full of lush, green trees spread through most of the painting. A blue sky hung over it and a light fog crossed it. In the lower right corner of the painting, three men were gathered around a small fire. They appeared to be happy. This painting seemed to depict this land before it was altered by the settlers. Before modernization. It was the only hopeful painting in the exhibit, as far as I could tell. It's not the world as it is now, but the beautiful earth is still here. The wonder of the world is still here. The freedom to gather with friends around a fire is still here. And maybe, just maybe, there's still some hope.
06 March 2011
Walk. Mall. Tea Slime.
"Are you sure we're going the right way?" I asked Nick this question, as we walked... and walked... and walked... and walked...
"Nope," came his response. I stared at him blankly.
"Great," I said sarcastically.
"It is! It makes it more of an adventure!" Nick's that kind of a guy. He doesn't mind walking an extra few kilometers first in the wrong direction and then having to pull a big U-turn in order to get headed the right way again. To him, it's just a chance to see more, discover more. And that's just what we did today on our way to the Top Ryde Shopping Centre, aka the local mall.
Fortunately, today was an overcast day, staying around 21°C all day (that's around 72°F) without any beating sun. Occasionally a slight breeze blew our way, as we wandered the hills that split Gladesville and Ryde City. We were in no hurry. Going to the mall was purely to go see what we saw and to get out of the house for a while. Thus, the pace was casual as we meandered through the neighborhoods. We took note of the general silence of our surroundings. Occasionally, someone would be out sweeping his or her driveway, but that was the extent of the goings-ons for most of the walk. We saw hardly a sole outside of an occasional passing car. We came across bus-stops for bus numbers we'd never seen before--not that we were seeing the actual buses go by most of the time. So, after a while, we simply began to reassure ourselves: "If we just keep walking, we're bound to get somewhere eventually, right?"
Right, actually. We came to a larger street with much more traffic. After a brief moment of debate, we turned left and walked... and walked... and walked... Finally, we came to a man who was loading his truck with various items from his house. I walked passed him without a second glance. Nick, however, stopped and asked, "Excuse me sir, do you know how to get to the mall?"
"Just keep walkin'," the man said in a strong accent. "Yer 'bout half a k away, I'd say."
Nick thanked the man and we were on our way again. And within ten minutes, we'd found our destination. Now, we'd been to this place once before very briefly; Ross had taken us there, but we'd gone in one entrance and into one store right next to that entrance. So, it was an utter surprise when Nick and I turned the corner and found a long, open air corridor of stores with incredible iron and wood art decorations before us. We paused and stared for a moment. Both of us were in awe. This was a shopping mall, but it was a gorgeous shopping mall. We turned into the main building and discovered a complex web of levels, connected in some places by escalators, in some by travelators (escalator ramps), and of course some elevators. First we made our way up the nearest travelator, looking around in awe at the sheer magnitude of the building we'd entered. It did not look nearly as big from the outside. We then continued going upwards, taking a long escalator to the cinema at the utmost height of the mall. We had no intention of watching a movie, but we wanted to see what was on and we glad to see a fair selection of recent films were available. We returned to the floor below, wandered through a couple game and hobby stores--both of which were far better than most I've seen in the US, and then began to cross the building for the first time.
Imagine a gigantic mall with no two stores that have the same things. No, I didn't think it was possible either. Until today. This place just kept going and I felt like none of it was overly repetitive in the products being sold. Each store specialized in something specific. We wandered down a level. And we walked around for a while, discovering the entrance we'd first used with Ross--in the one corner of the place that doesn't show you how huge the rest of it is. We then went down to the next level--keeping track? That's 3 main floors so far, not including the cinema floor. Here, we discovered the food court, which we were glad to see had all sorts of different cultural food for decent prices. There was hardly a thing I wasn't interested in trying. Then, we entered one of the handful of supermarkets we had to choose from in the mall--that's right, this mall had supermarkets in it; fresh fruit, frozen meat, drinks, you name the food item, they had it. It was like a bunch of Earth Fares with a handful of differing items each were all located in the close proximity of the same building.
After Nick bought some tuna--he apparently loves tuna a lot; he was super excited, we head down to lowest level (before you get into parking garage territory). So, 4 main floors to this place--oh and did I mention the architecture was beautiful? This place was not only full of wonderful stores, but it was a feast for the eyes. Artistic and aesthetically pleasing. And there before us was bakery with cheap bread and pastries. But first we were offered free samples of sausage, which was phenomenal sausage; one bite was full of flavor that instantly made me want more. However, we turned our attention from the samples to the bakery. We each bought a snack: Nick got a chocolate claw--he said it was like a croissant filled with chocolate mousse, and I got a blueberry pastry--mine was essentially like heaven; that's the only way I can describe it. We then wandered around searching for potential drink options--this place had like 7 or 8 different coffee shop choices (none of which were Starbucks, thank God).
I finally decided on this interesting looking place called Chatime Tea. It had a list of its most popular items and so I decided to just go with the #1 seller: the Grass Jelly Roasted Milk Tea. Yeah, I know the name sounds disgusting, but it looked intriguing and I figured it must be the #1 seller for a reason. So, I got this tea, which was pretty good. It was similar to chai, though with kind of a grassy taste rather than a spice taste (in a good way). Then, I discovered the jelly part of the name wasn't kidding. Suddenly, I felt this weird, slimy thing in my mouth. I stopped in my tracks. I pulled the jelly out of my mouth with my fingers. It was a disgusting blackish yellow color--through the clear cup, it had looked like greenish leaves floating in the tea--I'd just thought it was tea leaves. No. It was legitimate jelly, mostly flavorless that would come up through my straw all of a sudden, because it was so slick that it created no more tension than a liquid. It was bizarre, to say the least. So, there I was in the most incredible shopping mall I've ever been to, drinking the strangest tea I've ever had, thinking of The Lion King: "Slimy, but satisfying."
And that it was. Though I probably won't get that particular tea again--it wasn't bad, but it was awfully weird. I fully intend to return to the mall, hopefully by a better route than the one we took to get there (we caught a bus back home after, btw). The fact is... that mall was the kind of place I would love to hang out. That's not something I'd say about most malls. I was amazed. Still am. It seemed like a place of fantasy. I look forward to my next trip there.
"Nope," came his response. I stared at him blankly.
"Great," I said sarcastically.
"It is! It makes it more of an adventure!" Nick's that kind of a guy. He doesn't mind walking an extra few kilometers first in the wrong direction and then having to pull a big U-turn in order to get headed the right way again. To him, it's just a chance to see more, discover more. And that's just what we did today on our way to the Top Ryde Shopping Centre, aka the local mall.
Fortunately, today was an overcast day, staying around 21°C all day (that's around 72°F) without any beating sun. Occasionally a slight breeze blew our way, as we wandered the hills that split Gladesville and Ryde City. We were in no hurry. Going to the mall was purely to go see what we saw and to get out of the house for a while. Thus, the pace was casual as we meandered through the neighborhoods. We took note of the general silence of our surroundings. Occasionally, someone would be out sweeping his or her driveway, but that was the extent of the goings-ons for most of the walk. We saw hardly a sole outside of an occasional passing car. We came across bus-stops for bus numbers we'd never seen before--not that we were seeing the actual buses go by most of the time. So, after a while, we simply began to reassure ourselves: "If we just keep walking, we're bound to get somewhere eventually, right?"
Right, actually. We came to a larger street with much more traffic. After a brief moment of debate, we turned left and walked... and walked... and walked... Finally, we came to a man who was loading his truck with various items from his house. I walked passed him without a second glance. Nick, however, stopped and asked, "Excuse me sir, do you know how to get to the mall?"
"Just keep walkin'," the man said in a strong accent. "Yer 'bout half a k away, I'd say."
Nick thanked the man and we were on our way again. And within ten minutes, we'd found our destination. Now, we'd been to this place once before very briefly; Ross had taken us there, but we'd gone in one entrance and into one store right next to that entrance. So, it was an utter surprise when Nick and I turned the corner and found a long, open air corridor of stores with incredible iron and wood art decorations before us. We paused and stared for a moment. Both of us were in awe. This was a shopping mall, but it was a gorgeous shopping mall. We turned into the main building and discovered a complex web of levels, connected in some places by escalators, in some by travelators (escalator ramps), and of course some elevators. First we made our way up the nearest travelator, looking around in awe at the sheer magnitude of the building we'd entered. It did not look nearly as big from the outside. We then continued going upwards, taking a long escalator to the cinema at the utmost height of the mall. We had no intention of watching a movie, but we wanted to see what was on and we glad to see a fair selection of recent films were available. We returned to the floor below, wandered through a couple game and hobby stores--both of which were far better than most I've seen in the US, and then began to cross the building for the first time.
Imagine a gigantic mall with no two stores that have the same things. No, I didn't think it was possible either. Until today. This place just kept going and I felt like none of it was overly repetitive in the products being sold. Each store specialized in something specific. We wandered down a level. And we walked around for a while, discovering the entrance we'd first used with Ross--in the one corner of the place that doesn't show you how huge the rest of it is. We then went down to the next level--keeping track? That's 3 main floors so far, not including the cinema floor. Here, we discovered the food court, which we were glad to see had all sorts of different cultural food for decent prices. There was hardly a thing I wasn't interested in trying. Then, we entered one of the handful of supermarkets we had to choose from in the mall--that's right, this mall had supermarkets in it; fresh fruit, frozen meat, drinks, you name the food item, they had it. It was like a bunch of Earth Fares with a handful of differing items each were all located in the close proximity of the same building.
After Nick bought some tuna--he apparently loves tuna a lot; he was super excited, we head down to lowest level (before you get into parking garage territory). So, 4 main floors to this place--oh and did I mention the architecture was beautiful? This place was not only full of wonderful stores, but it was a feast for the eyes. Artistic and aesthetically pleasing. And there before us was bakery with cheap bread and pastries. But first we were offered free samples of sausage, which was phenomenal sausage; one bite was full of flavor that instantly made me want more. However, we turned our attention from the samples to the bakery. We each bought a snack: Nick got a chocolate claw--he said it was like a croissant filled with chocolate mousse, and I got a blueberry pastry--mine was essentially like heaven; that's the only way I can describe it. We then wandered around searching for potential drink options--this place had like 7 or 8 different coffee shop choices (none of which were Starbucks, thank God).
I finally decided on this interesting looking place called Chatime Tea. It had a list of its most popular items and so I decided to just go with the #1 seller: the Grass Jelly Roasted Milk Tea. Yeah, I know the name sounds disgusting, but it looked intriguing and I figured it must be the #1 seller for a reason. So, I got this tea, which was pretty good. It was similar to chai, though with kind of a grassy taste rather than a spice taste (in a good way). Then, I discovered the jelly part of the name wasn't kidding. Suddenly, I felt this weird, slimy thing in my mouth. I stopped in my tracks. I pulled the jelly out of my mouth with my fingers. It was a disgusting blackish yellow color--through the clear cup, it had looked like greenish leaves floating in the tea--I'd just thought it was tea leaves. No. It was legitimate jelly, mostly flavorless that would come up through my straw all of a sudden, because it was so slick that it created no more tension than a liquid. It was bizarre, to say the least. So, there I was in the most incredible shopping mall I've ever been to, drinking the strangest tea I've ever had, thinking of The Lion King: "Slimy, but satisfying."
And that it was. Though I probably won't get that particular tea again--it wasn't bad, but it was awfully weird. I fully intend to return to the mall, hopefully by a better route than the one we took to get there (we caught a bus back home after, btw). The fact is... that mall was the kind of place I would love to hang out. That's not something I'd say about most malls. I was amazed. Still am. It seemed like a place of fantasy. I look forward to my next trip there.
05 March 2011
"It's the march of the gay parade!"
The outfits were flamboyant. The crowd was huge. Everyone was in a good mood. After an afternoon spent at the NSW State Library doing research, Nick, Kara, and I had headed to Hyde Park, where the participants of the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade were gathering. We walked around, simply seeing the outrageous costumes and feeling the celebratory atmosphere. The parade wasn't to begin for nearly 2 more hours, but the crowd was already huge. We saw a large group of people painted and clothed in all orange. We saw a man wearing no shirt, a cape, a bikini bottom, and intense high heel shoes--they made him stand about 7 feet tall. We saw a guy in tight gold shorts with long balloons spreading from his back like some kind of cartoonish wings. We saw people wearing glittery silver. Some people simply wore shirts with exclamations about gay pride. Drag outfits were everywhere.
We didn't stay for the actual parade due to a handful of factors: the crowd lined up to watch was as tight as a mosh pit--which made it extremely hard to see anything, we didn't want to have to try and deal with public transportation once everyone started to leave, and there's also that tidbit where I was with a couple of conservative Christians, who are great people and would've stayed if I'd pushed the matter but they didn't really want to be there.
Thus, we turned away from Oxford Street, found our way to Woolworth's, where we ate fish and chips, and then headed out of the city. The organized chaos of the people gathering for the parade was a fascinating kind of human self-expression, and I imagine the parade itself was even moreso. The festivities were joyous and friendly, welcoming. Was it awkward to see so much gay and lesbian expression? No, not really. Everyone there was aware of how insane their costumes were. It was simply a party where everyone dressed extravagantly and ridiculously so as to make a statement of open-mindedness, pride, and, most importantly, to simply have fun. And in my opinion, there's nothing wrong with that whatsoever.
We didn't stay for the actual parade due to a handful of factors: the crowd lined up to watch was as tight as a mosh pit--which made it extremely hard to see anything, we didn't want to have to try and deal with public transportation once everyone started to leave, and there's also that tidbit where I was with a couple of conservative Christians, who are great people and would've stayed if I'd pushed the matter but they didn't really want to be there.
Thus, we turned away from Oxford Street, found our way to Woolworth's, where we ate fish and chips, and then headed out of the city. The organized chaos of the people gathering for the parade was a fascinating kind of human self-expression, and I imagine the parade itself was even moreso. The festivities were joyous and friendly, welcoming. Was it awkward to see so much gay and lesbian expression? No, not really. Everyone there was aware of how insane their costumes were. It was simply a party where everyone dressed extravagantly and ridiculously so as to make a statement of open-mindedness, pride, and, most importantly, to simply have fun. And in my opinion, there's nothing wrong with that whatsoever.
03 March 2011
Lamb roast, microwave expansion, and memories
"If you were to microwave a Peep to expand it and then put a Cadbury Egg inside it, and then eat it, would that make the Peep a cannibal?" Alessandra raised this question tonight. Allana, the Ukrainian (Vitaliy, I think his name is), and I laughed.
"No," Allana said.
"But it does!" Alessandra insisted.
"You're very special," I said with a laugh.
We then went into a discussion about microwaving things to expand them and then putting things inside them and whether that makes them cannibal--we decided that if you expand a person and put a person inside her, that doesn't make her a cannibal but pregnant... unless to be pregnant is to be a cannibal, in which case the world's got some major problems.
Confused? Well, we had a lamb roast tonight. Some fine cooking by the good man Ross, as usual. Tonight's Jason's final night with us--he returns to China tomorrow for a few months before he comes back to Australia to begin uni. Ross had told us to invite some friends to join us for dinner and so I did just that. I asked Alessandra if she'd be interested just before The Gathering and told her she should feel free to invite a friend or two. She did so. Thus it was that she and Allana got to experience the household of 52 Higginbotham Road.
Tonight was a night of memorable moments. Ryan spoke profoundly: "I've remembered things since my earliest memory." Jason hit in 13 pool balls in a row--his new record. We poked fun at Dom's bald head. Alessandra chatted in Portuguese with Leandro. A kookaburra decided to come into sight. We ate a glorious lamb roast. And the conversation was just generally good.
Alessandra was one of the first people on this expedition that I met--she was among the handful of people who arrived early to LAX when we set out. And we sat in the terminal chatting about Steinbeck. Our agreement on Steinbeck gave me a good first impression and I'm glad to have found my first impression appears to have been correct. Alessandra appears to have all the makings of someone who could become a close friend and that makes me happy. And tonight was really the first I'd talked to Allana (another Drama person) much and she's quite awesome as well. These two are intelligent, witty, and quite fun to be around. They're the kind of people one would want to seek out and I've had the good fortune to be in Australia at the right time, at the right place so as to have friendship simply fall into place without any difficulty.
My good fortune lately has been incredible. On the way from the school, Allana told me that some of the girls in her Directing course were very complimentary of my instruction while working on The Stronger. Apparently, rumor has it that I'm a pretty good director, good to work with--at least from a first impression. I fell into the assistant director position by good fortune, just as it was good fortune that put me at LAX early enough that I was in that first group and thus got to sit and chat with Alessandra from the get-go, and it was that same good fortune that put her and Allana into the same household, which resulted in my lovely evening tonight with these wonderful people.
It's still early on in the semester. It's still Week 1 of classes. And friendships are growing quickly. And I'm loving every minute. I'm in a place that I love, doing what I love, with people who I'm pretty sure, with just a bit more time, I'm going to love. Everything's fallen into place so neatly. It is wonderful.
There's one more quote from tonight worth recording. It came from Ross, who may or may not be a Christian: "It's a bit romantic, but, in a spiritual sense love is just a four letter word for God and God is just a three letter word for love. They're the same thing. One and the same."
And that's all I'm going to say about that.
"No," Allana said.
"But it does!" Alessandra insisted.
"You're very special," I said with a laugh.
We then went into a discussion about microwaving things to expand them and then putting things inside them and whether that makes them cannibal--we decided that if you expand a person and put a person inside her, that doesn't make her a cannibal but pregnant... unless to be pregnant is to be a cannibal, in which case the world's got some major problems.
Confused? Well, we had a lamb roast tonight. Some fine cooking by the good man Ross, as usual. Tonight's Jason's final night with us--he returns to China tomorrow for a few months before he comes back to Australia to begin uni. Ross had told us to invite some friends to join us for dinner and so I did just that. I asked Alessandra if she'd be interested just before The Gathering and told her she should feel free to invite a friend or two. She did so. Thus it was that she and Allana got to experience the household of 52 Higginbotham Road.
Tonight was a night of memorable moments. Ryan spoke profoundly: "I've remembered things since my earliest memory." Jason hit in 13 pool balls in a row--his new record. We poked fun at Dom's bald head. Alessandra chatted in Portuguese with Leandro. A kookaburra decided to come into sight. We ate a glorious lamb roast. And the conversation was just generally good.
Alessandra was one of the first people on this expedition that I met--she was among the handful of people who arrived early to LAX when we set out. And we sat in the terminal chatting about Steinbeck. Our agreement on Steinbeck gave me a good first impression and I'm glad to have found my first impression appears to have been correct. Alessandra appears to have all the makings of someone who could become a close friend and that makes me happy. And tonight was really the first I'd talked to Allana (another Drama person) much and she's quite awesome as well. These two are intelligent, witty, and quite fun to be around. They're the kind of people one would want to seek out and I've had the good fortune to be in Australia at the right time, at the right place so as to have friendship simply fall into place without any difficulty.
My good fortune lately has been incredible. On the way from the school, Allana told me that some of the girls in her Directing course were very complimentary of my instruction while working on The Stronger. Apparently, rumor has it that I'm a pretty good director, good to work with--at least from a first impression. I fell into the assistant director position by good fortune, just as it was good fortune that put me at LAX early enough that I was in that first group and thus got to sit and chat with Alessandra from the get-go, and it was that same good fortune that put her and Allana into the same household, which resulted in my lovely evening tonight with these wonderful people.
It's still early on in the semester. It's still Week 1 of classes. And friendships are growing quickly. And I'm loving every minute. I'm in a place that I love, doing what I love, with people who I'm pretty sure, with just a bit more time, I'm going to love. Everything's fallen into place so neatly. It is wonderful.
There's one more quote from tonight worth recording. It came from Ross, who may or may not be a Christian: "It's a bit romantic, but, in a spiritual sense love is just a four letter word for God and God is just a three letter word for love. They're the same thing. One and the same."
And that's all I'm going to say about that.
01 March 2011
So... about that internship...
"Theatre Secondment.... Working in an industry position designed/helped decided upon by the head of the drama department. That sounds like it could be cool! I'll sign up for it!" So went my thoughts back when I was initially trying to figure out what courses I should be taking while enrolled at the ASC. Then it turned out they weren't offering any actual secondments this semester. However, they offered internships instead, potentially assistant directing or assistant stage managing. Well, the directing one sounded more interesting to me off the bat, simply because I prefer the creative side of the work to the management/organization side, though both positions are quite important. So, I said, "Sure, I'd like to do that!"
Time passed and it turned out I needed to have a meeting with Herman and Jo--Herman being the head of drama and Jo being his second in command, essentially. And there was one other student wanting to do the same position. It was decided that we'd meet during orientation and there we'd figure out logistics and qualifications for positions.
So, the time came for our meeting last Friday. They told us a bit about what they were offering--assistant directing 3 short plays: a Strindberg, a Chekov, and a Sartre. And Aaron, the other student who'd shown interest, decided he didn't feel he had enough training for such a work-heavy position; he graciously declined. So, the question turned to me: "Are you still interested?"
I must admit I was a bit nervous. I was unsure I was really qualified to say, "Sure, I want to assistant direct for the head of the department, working on shows that, to be honest, intimidate me!" But then I realized opportunities like this just don't come around everyday. And so I said yes. Herman told me to come to class Tuesday and we'd figure out a set schedule of my involvement later.
So, Tuesday came and I went to class. They'd already had a class Monday. Several of the students had their scripts before their summer holiday. Everyone present had a better idea what was going on than I did. Imagine my surprise when Herman said, "Alright, everyone. Today, I'm going to work with the In Camera group here. Dan will take Mckenzie and Adriana to work on The Stronger, and Annie, you can go do some research on The Bear."
I was sitting there thinking, "Wait. What?! This is the first I've even heard the names of the plays we're doing! I haven't even got a copy of the scripts, let alone read them!" And Herman told me to go through The Stronger with the girls, doing a script analysis, being sure to ask questions about motivation, to figure out what's happening within the script, so they are getting stronger handles on the characters, so they can begin finding out the little details. Thus, I went with the girls down to the grassy knoll, and we ran into Lisa on the way, who handed me my scripts (praise God), and we read through The Stronger. As soon as the read through was done, Mckenzie and Adriana began discussing immediately without my prompting. Then, I got my sea legs about me, and my directing instincts began to kick in. I suddenly was remembering what kinds of questions I needed to ask, what kind of things I needed to say to get these two fine actors thinking in ways that would help them find their characters, find their motivations. Director mode turned on. I let the girls discuss as they would and would prompt questions whenever a lull would occur. We talked about the (roughly) 10 minute show for a little over an hour. I was happy with the work, as were both girls. We accomplished a lot and both of them commented that it was one of the most productive sessions outside of the classroom setting they'd had.
Day 1 of my involvement with the Shorts went well. I've now read all three plays (The Stronger by August Strindberg, The Bear by Anton Chekov, and Huis Clos (In Camera) by Jean-Paul Sartre). And I'm wrapping my head around the idea that I'm assistant directing what are all fairly tough classics--any one of which would be a pretty big undertaking by itself, let alone along with the other two. And the actors I was working with today were undaunted, which fueled my own energy. I'm excited for these shows. I'm excited for this semester. I'm in a place that I love doing the kind of work that I love with people who clearly love it too. And they are wonderful people. I don't think I can truly express just how lucky I am right now. Life is so good.
Time passed and it turned out I needed to have a meeting with Herman and Jo--Herman being the head of drama and Jo being his second in command, essentially. And there was one other student wanting to do the same position. It was decided that we'd meet during orientation and there we'd figure out logistics and qualifications for positions.
So, the time came for our meeting last Friday. They told us a bit about what they were offering--assistant directing 3 short plays: a Strindberg, a Chekov, and a Sartre. And Aaron, the other student who'd shown interest, decided he didn't feel he had enough training for such a work-heavy position; he graciously declined. So, the question turned to me: "Are you still interested?"
I must admit I was a bit nervous. I was unsure I was really qualified to say, "Sure, I want to assistant direct for the head of the department, working on shows that, to be honest, intimidate me!" But then I realized opportunities like this just don't come around everyday. And so I said yes. Herman told me to come to class Tuesday and we'd figure out a set schedule of my involvement later.
So, Tuesday came and I went to class. They'd already had a class Monday. Several of the students had their scripts before their summer holiday. Everyone present had a better idea what was going on than I did. Imagine my surprise when Herman said, "Alright, everyone. Today, I'm going to work with the In Camera group here. Dan will take Mckenzie and Adriana to work on The Stronger, and Annie, you can go do some research on The Bear."
I was sitting there thinking, "Wait. What?! This is the first I've even heard the names of the plays we're doing! I haven't even got a copy of the scripts, let alone read them!" And Herman told me to go through The Stronger with the girls, doing a script analysis, being sure to ask questions about motivation, to figure out what's happening within the script, so they are getting stronger handles on the characters, so they can begin finding out the little details. Thus, I went with the girls down to the grassy knoll, and we ran into Lisa on the way, who handed me my scripts (praise God), and we read through The Stronger. As soon as the read through was done, Mckenzie and Adriana began discussing immediately without my prompting. Then, I got my sea legs about me, and my directing instincts began to kick in. I suddenly was remembering what kinds of questions I needed to ask, what kind of things I needed to say to get these two fine actors thinking in ways that would help them find their characters, find their motivations. Director mode turned on. I let the girls discuss as they would and would prompt questions whenever a lull would occur. We talked about the (roughly) 10 minute show for a little over an hour. I was happy with the work, as were both girls. We accomplished a lot and both of them commented that it was one of the most productive sessions outside of the classroom setting they'd had.
Day 1 of my involvement with the Shorts went well. I've now read all three plays (The Stronger by August Strindberg, The Bear by Anton Chekov, and Huis Clos (In Camera) by Jean-Paul Sartre). And I'm wrapping my head around the idea that I'm assistant directing what are all fairly tough classics--any one of which would be a pretty big undertaking by itself, let alone along with the other two. And the actors I was working with today were undaunted, which fueled my own energy. I'm excited for these shows. I'm excited for this semester. I'm in a place that I love doing the kind of work that I love with people who clearly love it too. And they are wonderful people. I don't think I can truly express just how lucky I am right now. Life is so good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)