| The town so nice they named it twice |
[Nov. 22nd, 2009|03:57 pm] |
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I hadn't heard that phrase about Townsville before, but I sure heard it a lot in my four days there. I also had heard that we COULD get to the Great Barrier Reef from Townsville, but like Rick in Casablanca, I was misinformed. Having said that, Townsville is pleasant enough - reminding me of some coastal Florida town, certainly not Miami. There is a lovely strand - a pedestrian boardwalk - along the sea: created when the previous seawall got torn apart by a cyclone. You can't swim in most of it because of the 'marine stingers'. Don't call them jellyfish: that's just the tip of the fatal iceberg. The stingers range from box jelly fish with 3 metre long tentacles - you can imagine them chasing you on land - to itty bitty nightlight stingers that can go through any net. Once we read one set of warnings - you can swim in the areas enclosed by nets, but they are 'marine stinger resistent, not marine stinger proof' - it is a wonder we went near the water at all. There is a nice rock pool at the end of the strand: I couldn't imagine stingers getting through a foot of rock, so that was okay. The water was warm, just cool enough to be slightly refreshing. On Saturday, we took a ferry to Magnetic Island - which Captain Cook named because he thought the island was somehow ruining his compasses. Again, he was misinformed. Nothing very Magnetic about the island: just big rock, lots of forests, supposedly some lovely sea turtles and dugongs, but we had a bit of a dud trip. Moral: when you've got some work in a new town, get a guidebook first. |
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| Off again, off again, rigadijig |
[Nov. 17th, 2009|08:16 pm] |
The theatre experience on Saturday was... interesting. It was the first Date PG and I have had for a while, so worthwhile in that alone. We went to La Mama Theatre, a cultural icon which (to our shame) we have never visited before now. The play was called '1953' and it was about John Giulgud: that was the year he got knighted and almost immediately afterwards got arrested for cottaging. With anyone else, it would probably have been a career destroyer, but Giulgud somehow survived it. A very interesting topic, and in fact it is the subject of another recent play. '1953' was a one man play, written by the actor. So why, oh why, could the actor not remember his lines? I felt myself channelling my brother Peter: he used to do such a great Giulgud impression, and there is simply no way he would ever go on stage without his monologues prepared. He would be 62 now, a perfect age for the play (as the conceit was Giulgud is re-telling this episode to a sympathetic audience about 15 years later, at the dawn of Gay Lib). But alas, my brother wasn't there (of course, he would have been plotzing at the play - I could just imagine his fury). The actor and his lover and maybe 10 other people were there. So we couldn't walk out - we were just too visible. It was a perfect warm night, the air was fragrant with flowers and garlic, and I was happy despite the disappointing play.
Like ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) herself_nyc, I've been grooving on Wolf Hall. It is much more sympathetic a portrayal of Thomas Cromwell than I would have believed possible, and very good.
A champagne lunch today with my 2 friends from Academic Women in Leadership, who were also celebrating promotion.
Tomorrow I'm off in a plane for the first time in 2 months. I'm going to do some work in Townsville and the family will join me on Friday so we can check out the Great Barrier Reef nearby.
In short, LG (Life's good). |
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| Culture Club |
[Nov. 14th, 2009|02:08 pm] |
I cannot express how differently I'm being treated at work since I got promoted. What an extraordinarily snobbish place.
Yesterday, the Uni wanted to film me for a promotional video (for some reason, the media office here really likes me). So we sat in the patio of the University Club and I did have a moment of reflecting how lucky I am in this place. I may not have much respect for my immediate boss or the way the faculty is run, but I am doing truly satisfying research, I have some good encounters with students, and I've met lots of inspiring practitioners in the past 6.5 years.
Last night, the whole family went out to a community theatre production of 'Assassins'. Given that they were amateurs, most of the cast had excellent voices. 'Assassins' is the Boy's fave musical (bloody emo), so he mouthed along with the words with an estatic expresson on his face. It sure ain't Sondheim's masterpiece, but it is interesting, with some good songs. It was another hot night, and we were in Williamstown, a postside suburb, so we walked down to the water. Lots of yobbos chroming or at least drinking out of paper bags, so we didn't stay too long.
Today, we went to big old Vic Market for the first time in a long time. $1 mangoes! Score!
And tonight we have free theatre tickets (won in a trivia contest last month) to a play about John Giulgud. Another nice weekend. |
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| Situation Normal Australian Fucked Up |
[Nov. 12th, 2009|05:35 pm] |
Having gotten our Australian citizenship last year, we thought we'd obtain Australian passports for the kids (their old Canadian passports just expired). We got all our paperwork together, including the Australian citizenship papers and their birth certificates. I tried handing the forms in at the post office. No, we need an apppointment. Made an appointment for the following week. Week/ try two, their passport pictures were turned back, despite the fact that they were the exact same dimensions as the sample photos. Week/ try three, with new photos, we were told that their Canadian birth certificates weren't acceptable, because they do not list the names of parents. Even though (1) the kids have both our last names on their birth certificates; (2) we had signed the applications, with a penalty for false information of $150,000; (3) a guarantor who knows us signed an application, with ditto penalty. They gave me a M-6 form, in which we 'attest' that we are the children's parents. WTF? So I called the passport office, and they said, no you need a M-11 form, along with a 'baptism certificate'. I said: 'We are Jewish'. The useless telephone bureaucrat: 'So you don't have a baptism certificate'. Me: 'No.' UTB: 'Then get a letter from your minister'. Me: 'How about a letter from my rabbi?' UTB: 'Yes, that would do'. Me: 'Are you saying that my rabbi knows who our children's parents are better than us?' UTB: 'Are you implying that you are lying?'. ARGH.
I asked PG to call the passport office to double-check, because my Telephone Bureaucrat was clearly Useless. 'Oh no,' he was told, 'you need you need a M-8 form, and two letters from 'authorities' such as a doctor, a school principal or a faith leader. So we've got a letter from the kids' former school principal, who must have been there at the conception, not that it matters whether we are the biological parents of our children ANYHOW. And I've got an appointment at the Passport Office, for Try Four, next week.
ARGGGGH. |
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| We shall not cease from our drunken explorations... |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|12:51 pm] |
... and the end of all our exploring/ will be to return home/ with a lot less money.
So you know last week how I was bitching about the Melbourne Cup, the horserace that stops a nation? A friend, the mom of the Girl's BFF since our arrival in Australia, suggested we do a mother-daughter day at the races. And so we joined the thousands at Flemington Race Track for Family Day.
I've never been to or betted on a race before, so I selected mainly based on names of horses. Raffaelos are yummy, so I bet $5 that horse would win. And it did. The Girl thought Dr. Nip and Tuck was a better name, so she put $2 on that horse to win. Unfortunately, the gods of horseracing like chocolate better than ironic tv references.
I actually won a bit of money, using this superscientific formula. But with glasses of champagne unavailable, and bottles of bubbly $35, and snacks to balance the bubbly... well, it wasn't a cheap day. The stable always wins, as they say. A fun day, though. An experience. A very Australian experience: matey, boozey, collective silliness.
At least I didn't spend any money to look terrible, as several young people with no taste did. There were also some lovely fashions: should have taken more snaps of those.
( day at the races photos ) |
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| Horse Race |
[Nov. 3rd, 2009|01:29 pm] |
Four day weekend because of two minute horse race. Front page of the newspaper today asking everyone, from the Prime Minister on down, who they are betting on as the winner. I don't understand Australia, part 16 billion.
Another thing I don't understand about Australia is the resolutely classist school system. Private schools are subsidized - often heavily - by the national government, and the public schools in 'bad areas' are quite dire. I had booked today off (the University doesn't count Melbourne Cup Day as a holiday, but the city has practically shut down), then I remembered I was going to look at some scholarship applications. In this particular scheme, I'm supposed to choose two top-ranked scholars from each school - the school has already nominated one. Unsurprisingly, some of the private schools nominate 6-8 students, all with glowing references and amazing travel, sport, leadership, and academic opportunities behind them. The public school nominations vary in the quality of the references as well as the schools' abilities to follow the basic instructions to get the kids looking good. There are some extraordinary stories I've read - kids who have lived through some horrific hardships and/or done some amazing things for 16 or 17 year olds. Not one of the 100 or so applicants I scored was indigenous Australian, despite this being one of the target groups. And I suspect some really good kids 'got away' because they are in schools that just didn't bother trying to get in the country's self-identified 'top school'.
Ah well, some starfish got put in our particular sea. And I suspect the other unis will find some of the other amazing starfish out there. I hope all those kids get the chances they deserve.
Did anyone else love the John Butler 'Who Do You Think You Are' episode? Bulgarian revolutionaries, heroic firefighters, and pioneering battler women... that was a pretty good pedigree. |
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| Wherever you are, you're here |
[Nov. 1st, 2009|03:14 pm] |
Judging from the current movies, it is Disneyland all over again. By which I mean, the mothers are dying off in grand style. The Girl and I saw 'Genova' today - mom dead in car crash in first two minutes (I hope that doesn't count as a spoiler). In previews, 'The Boys are Back', starring my favorite bit of yum, Clive Owen, as a single dad taking over and making his boyz into men when his wife dies of cancer. And then last night, for Halloween, 'Psycho', where mom is dead but kind of lingers on like a potent homicidal fart. Because she is dominant, y'know. I have a theory about Psycho. The mom was actually supernice, but Norman Bates decides she must have been a right bitch, otherwise he wouldn't have had to kill her. You should see how Janet Leigh sounds in his mind... a real bunny boiler. Any takers?
Anyhow, feminist qualms aside, 'Genova' was terrific, with the best ensemble family acting since 'Little Miss Sunshine'. And 'Psycho' is always worth a rewatch, particularly the 'viewers' cut' wherein I ignore the psychiatrist explaining all in the final 5 minutes.
Otherwise, summer is here, asparagus is in season, and I'm not dreading Monday for the first time in yonks. So, all good. |
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| Trifecta |
[Oct. 27th, 2009|04:27 pm] |
Yesterday, I found out that a team of researchers I'm part of won two large Australian Research Council grants. And then I was told my application for promotion to Associate Professor was successful.
24 hours later, my jaw is still ajar. |
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| More Than Mild Amusement |
[Oct. 25th, 2009|11:12 am] |
What a busy social weekend this is turning out to be!
First thing Friday morning, I got an email from a friend who had three tickets to The Joni Mitchell Tribute Concert, here for one night only as part of the Melbourne Festival of the Arts. As I'd wanted to go and had forgotten to order tickets, I immediately snapped them up and starting calling Canadian expats.
The concert was very good, but not great. There were some miking problems and the seven female performers varied widely in quality. While some were being very 'Australian Idol', with straightforward covers, others gave entirely new takes on neglected gems. Also, the show seemed a bit unrehearsed, with very awkward transitions between songs. The singers come from all over Australia, and I can just imagine them rehearsing via skype.
The two standouts?
The ethereal voice of Katie Noonan nailing 'A Case of You' and 'My Man'. This is her covering 'Crazy'.
'An Intimate Evening with Kristin Berardi and the Julien Wilson, Sam Anning and Colin Hopkins Trio' from abc.net.au/dig
Kristin Berardi, the too skinny weird jazz singer who looks like she is 12 years old, singing 'Little Green' in a way that sent shivers up and down me. What a heartbreaking song that is.
Last night, we joined our radical Israeli friend Sol at a rowdy trivia night to benefit the New International Bookshop. It was amazing how many people I knew there. I guess Melbourne, pop 3 million, now feels a little like a small town. OMG it was a rowdy night. I wonder whether a right wing trivia night would have every fracking question challenged, at $10 per challenge yet. Not only did we win best name - King Solomon's Minds - but we also nailed the competition against 20 other tables. Now we have 10 thick left wing tomes to amuse us this summer. Yay? |
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| 10 Days That Shook My World |
[Oct. 24th, 2009|05:37 pm] |
Glakked from varina8:
There are a handful of days in everyone's life that they can point to and say, 'That day changed me. That day helped make me who I am'. They usually happen on big event days; the day you get married, have your first kid. The day you land on Venus. But they can also happen on regular days. In unlikely moments, with events that may seem like nothing at the time, or they're so huge that they literally take your breath away.
( all that you can't leave behind )
Books, love, and long walks, folks: that’s my life. Speaking of which, kassto, I'm reading Lindsey Davis' novel about the English Civil War, and enjoying it muchly. |
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| I feel the need to quote Sue the Cheerio Coach from Glee |
[Oct. 23rd, 2009|06:05 pm] |
"Here I am, about to turn 30, and I've sacrificed everything, only to be shanghaied by the bi-curious machinations of a cabal of doughy, misshapen teens. Am I missing something, Journal? Is it me? Of course it's not me."
Replace "30" with "50", replace "bi-curious" with "mouth-breathing", and replace "teens" with "white men".
Ah, that feels GOOD. |
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| Not really living in the moment at the moment |
[Oct. 22nd, 2009|06:58 am] |
I got a really nice email from a student in Toronto who was enjoying my latest book, and someone else told me last week they were reading my previous book. Can't hear that enough - there is a frisson of pleasure in knowing someone, somewhere, is reading my words. This, of course, explains blogging, facebook, twitter, fanfic, etc. But there is something about the printed word that still gives an extra thrill. Maybe because books are so much harder to publish.
My workplace has been patting me on the head a lot this week as well. All very nice, but it is still as toxic as it has been for almost 3 years, so I'm once again trying to find an exit strategy. Given the family's comfort in Melbourne and reluctance to move, and the limited opps in the academic world, I'd have to create a job that did not previously exist. We'll see how that goes.
The rhythms of the academic season mean that I am reading about 500 pages a day worth of draft minor theses, PhD theses, and final assignments. In about 4 weeks, I'm going to do a rush of travel again, and then go off on my first lengthy totally non-work related leave of absence since we arrived here in 2003. Maybe I'll even read a non-work related book or two. varina8 tweaked a hankering for a major Maigret relapse... |
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| Cities Thought of the Day (reposted from Facebook) |
[Oct. 19th, 2009|03:48 pm] |
Every city has a sex and an age which have nothing to do with demography. Rome is feminine. So is Odessa. London is a teenager, an urchin, and, in this, hasn't changed since the time of Dickens. Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman." John Berger, "Imagine Paris," Harper's (January, 1987), 73-75
Melbourne is a teenager doing final exams and contemplating throwing herself onto the path of a train. If the train ever arrives... |
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| Special days |
[Oct. 14th, 2009|02:14 pm] |
It is my son's 17th birthday and my mother's ::clears throat:: birthday today.
Yay them! Boo me: I haven't slept for 3 days. Rather than meds, I tried body balance today. I think I might sleep.... right now.
::ZZZ headdesk:: |
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| The Business of Culture |
[Oct. 12th, 2009|10:39 pm] |
Last night, we had the coolest time. Our friend in the Australia-India Business Council scored us a couple of tickets for Into the Fire, a fusion of big band jazz and traditional Southern Indian devotional music. It was the kind of thing that was either going to be appalling or fantastic. Fortunately, it was the latter - at least for me. PG wasn't into the groove.
Afterwards, at the reception at the National Gallery, I got to see Australian multiculturalism in action. Now keep in mind my rant a couple of days ago. So the National Bank sponsored this, because they wanted to publicize their 'Migrant and Multicultural' banking service. And the National Gallery was paying for our 'fusion' canapes (tandoori roasted salmon on a poppadam, anyone?) because they had a gorgeous Tamil devotional text they wanted to buy. And the money was pledged in, like, 20 minutes. Because there were some awesomely rich Australian-Indian folk there. It was one of those moments I kind of liked capitalism in action. Because I like to see big banking and big culture follow the money, and trot out their Asian staff and sweat a little because they don't have high ranking Asian staff. Also, and let me state this once again, best concert in years. And the post-concert show was a blast. |
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| More Things in Heaven and Earth |
[Oct. 11th, 2009|10:21 am] |
At least I’m old enough to know what is good for me. A long walk up the creek, taken in strong spring sunshine, is highly recommended for people blues. The creek has gone down a lot since the rains a couple of weeks ago, but the ducks are all a-teal and the moorhens flashing red. They are seriously nesting, as are the magpies and wattlebirds and wagtails. What I found curiously comforting is how little they give a shit about humans, or other species of bird, for that matter. In that warm spring sunshine, each species only cares about what that species thinks. Each set of birds were avoiding the other sets of birds, flying around showing off to one another. The dogs, with less obvious seasonal needs, were sniffing around the other dogs, and reluctantly listening to humans when asked to move on. There were a lot of dogs, and young humans being trained to ride on bicycles, and older humans with children and dogs and sometimes both. I talked with a woman who had four dogs. They were cute. I told her my kids wanted a dog. She got all preachy, and asked their ages. When I said 12 and almost 17, she said: 'By the time your dog stops being a puppy, the older one will be walking down the aisle and the younger one will just be thinking about dating. You'll end up having responsibility for a dog, and they are worse than kids.'
I doubt the older child will be walking down the aisle any time soon, but he will probably fly the nest, at least for a year, after he finishes high school next year. He'll be 17 this week and he is a good young man. I went home and cooked a Dinkie Di Aussie meal I knew he'd like: roast lamb and roast veggies and pavlova for afters. The cats had their usual fight about which bed to sleep in, and the humans went to bed too.
By the way, herself_nyc, my dad and step mom had flu symptoms this week after they had their shots. |
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| Look Away Australians |
[Oct. 10th, 2009|10:03 am] |
Oh I was in a mood worthy of my icon yesterday. My brother used to give much-dreaded 'kitchen talks', where he told you what he really thought of your behavior. The world was my kitchen yesterday.
( rant follows ) |
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