Tag Archives: observations

Eat your heart out Macys

Posted on by
2

I just finished watching a fireworks display in the harbor.  This is the third I have been able to see from my apartment window since I moved here.  Keep in mind, I’ve lived here one month.  The first display was during a music festival in Darling Harbor, so it all made sense once I figured it out.  The second was inexplicably short and surreptitious hidden behind the buildings in the CBD.  Nonetheless it was large and, therefore, most likely legitimate.

I have no idea why this one happened either, but it was loud, colorful, sparkly and spectacular.  The Sydney Ferries continued their timely service, although traveling  practically underneath the embers.  And the bats flew calmly through the night air, seemingly undisturbed.  I listened for applause after the booming stopped, and heard none.  I looked at the walkways along the harbor through my binoculars, and saw no usually large crowd.  And I just did a quick google search, and saw no mention of fireworks for today’s date.  Apparently this is how we celebrate Thursday.

As I watched the display, wondering if a local fireworks maker had just had one massive going out of business sale, I remembered another time in my life when I suffered for a similar feeling of “will someone please explain”.  I was studying in Florence at the time.  My friends and I were walking the familiar route home from one of our favorite bars, when we encountered a massive group of people walking the opposite direction.  They were carrying torches,  waving signs and being lead by a line of drummers in colorful outfits.  We stepped aside into a narrow side street watching, perplexed, as the group filed past like the Pamplona bulls.  Fueled by curiosity and rum shots, we decided to follow them.

We hopped behind them, trying to read the signs, and despite several of us being pretty good with Italian (a skill that I have long since lost touch with) we couldn’t make out the cryptic messages.  Eventually the crowd flowed into the Piazza Della Signoria where the drummers, a few torch bearers, and one angry looking fellow, filed up onto the steps of the Palazzo Vecchio, and took position next to David.  There had already been at least one union strike while we were living there, so we prepared for this to be another angry group waiting to have their say.

The speech went on for a few minutes, a few loud boisterous cheers were shared across the piazza, and the drummers egged them on a few times before we put it all together.  It was a soccer rally.  Fiorentina had lost a major match, and their fans were gathering in a show of solidarity.  Their team may had lost, but their fan’s spirits had not been crushed.  They were loudly declaring their support and already claiming a victory for next season.  And as we watched the speech I could tell we were all thinking the same thing; If this is what the Florentines do when Fiorentina loses, what happens when they win?

So if Sydneysiders use fireworks on every occasion of note, and even those not so notable, even in the middle of the week, even in the middle of winter, then how crazy do they go on New Years Eve?

You wouldn’t notice the green grass, if it weren’t for the brown.

Posted on by
4

I think, with the exception of those few die hard New Yorkers who see leaving Manhattan as the equivalent of stepping off the map (there be dragons there) most residents of the densely populated metropolis have thought, at one time or another, “this is shit.”  The city is loud, dirty, packed to the brim full of angry people, funny smells linger around every corner, and the thought that it was much worse in previous generations makes me shudder.  And even some of the natives, on more than one occasion, when I told them I was from California have said “why the hell did you leave?”.

At the same time, everyone living in the big apple will have days, weeks, and maybe even months at a time when they feel New York is the best place in the world.  Sometimes the streets are beautiful, the people are vibrant and interesting, and the air almost hums with energy.  I’ve had no shortage of experiences living in NYC that I know I would never have had anywhere else in the world, and met some of the most interesting people I think the human race could possibly produce.  So . . . why the hell did I leave?

Well the old adage is true, the grass is always greener.  And even though I didn’t specifically choose Sydney because of its luscious bluegrass, the idea of escaping the noise, dirt, population density, and air of constant bitterness clouding NYC, was too appealing to refuse.  I wanted to leave NY while I still had those days when I loved living there, but as they were getting fewer and further between, I had to act fast.

And indeed I got exactly what I was looking for, and then some.   My tiny, ancient, walkup was replaced with a spacious clean elevator building.  My view of the shut down factory and parking lot was replaced with sparkling harbor and shiny skyline.  I no longer have to cram myself on to the Great Lawn with every other New Yorker who doesn’t have a summer home, since there are no shortage of public parks, reserves and beautiful beaches just a short trip away.  The streets are clean, the transportation efficient, and all I hear through my window are birdcalls and the occasional horn of a passing ferry.  And maybe it’s because I have yet to pick a footy team to cheer for (don’t say “root for”, it means something dirty here) but the people have all been just as open and friendly as everyone said they would be.  And yet, something is missing.

I know I’m not suffering from culture shock.  How could I be when I moved somewhere that is so culturally similar to what I’m used to, that the only thing I’ve found shocking is the fact that everyone really does eat vegemite?  (How did you do it Kraft?)  But something definitely feels “off.”  When shopping, I have to emotionally prepare myself for the possibility of shop assistants being too helpful.  It doesn’t seem right that the train platforms aren’t packed with people looking down the tracks for approaching headlights, between messaging on their Blackberries.  And the legions of well behaved school children, in smart blue uniforms, are starting to look like the children of the corn.  Could it be?  Do I miss the shit?

Is the on and off love affair most people have with New York like a drug addiction?  Do the highs that make you want to dance down the street, celebrating the fact that no one will find it strange, only feel as good as they do because of the lows?  Maybe everyone loves Central Park, because any patch of tree shade and green grass is a mecca to the pavement dwellers.  Maybe the art museums, restaurants, bars and clubs, are all so great because they are not your tiny little excuse for a domicile.  And maybe, I haven’t been able to settle into this Stepford like city, because it has yet to show me it’s dark side.  I crave some schadenfreude.  I guess after ten years in NYC, I really did go native.

So perhaps this weekend I will hit up the Red Light District (not as a patron, just an observer), start a couple of fights on Oxford Street (which according to it’s reputation shouldn’t be too hard) and shut the blinds so I don’t get woken up by pleasant sunlight and chirping birds.  Maybe I’ll even leave a note for the garbage man to break as many glass bottles as he can while doing the morning pickup.  Then I’ll feel right at home.

My Second Love

Posted on by
1

In addition to having felt less than healthy lately, Sydney is now experiencing day six in a streak of incessant rain, an apparent weather phenomenon.  Lucky timing, huh?  So, other than the observation that in a hilly city, six days of rain turns gutters into miniature water parks, my cultural observations have been somewhat limited to what I can observe from my couch.  Fortunately for me that means I have spent a great deal of time with my second love, television.

To begin with, a lack of cable means you only have five channels.  I think with some sort of external box we could get an additional five for free, but a desire to remain cloistered in a dry apartment has prevented me from doing so.  By American standards, we might see that as having nothing to watch, but there is actually an astounding variety of things on from day to day.

During the day, standard American soap operas and talk shows dominate, but I have yet to figure out why Ellen and Oprah are about half a season behind, and The View seems to be right on schedule.  I might know where the soap operas were in sequence if A. I watched soap operas and if B. their plots ever actually moved forward.

International news comes on at lunch, and breaks up gaps between shows.  It may come as no surprise to news watchers that the programs here are far better, and far more informative than they are in the States, but to someone who used to avoid the news like it was the swine flu, this is an unexpected change.  The police blotter and crime news takes up an insignificant blip of time, as opposed to becoming a drawn out drama.  Human interest pieces are limited to things that are actually interesting.  And the news is stated simply, informatively, and without co-hosts to pass inane banter passed back and forth across the news desk.  I, however, do miss weather maps that are actually readable.  Australia is a big country.  I really don’t care what wind conditions are like in Darwin.  Zoom in!

To catch up with the weirder events in the news, you might choose to watch a show like Good News Week, where a group of comedians get together to play games associated with the oddest international events of the week.  I think what I enjoyed most about this show was its completely unstructured structure.  The comedians essentially rule the stage.  It was just like having a group of friends over for game night.  Eventually, everyone gets drunk enough that it doesn’t matter how the game is being played or who is winning, and the conversation degrades until you’re discussing fingering.  Yes, that’s exactly what they were discussing toward the end of the show.  And despite the fact that a popular sketch comedy show called Chaser was, just the previous week, suspended for making jokes about dying children, I have yet to hear about any sensor backlash from that.

And speaking of odd censoring decisions, why are shows like Man Men on at 8:30, while The Supernatural is on at 10 (in addition to being rated M for mature)?  And yes, Mad Men is on regular TV here as well as Flight of the Concords.  They are every bit as good as everyone said they were, and cable seems less essential now.  Primetime in Oz (which I think starts at 7:30 or 8:30, odd that) is also fleshed out with American shows like So You Think You Can Dance, Bones, Castle, Law and Order (of course) and the Aussie reality competitions like Master Chef Australia and the soon to be starting Dancing with the Stars Australia.  Pretty standard fare, even if the imports are still about a half season behind.  Please don’t tell me who wins So You Think You Can Dance, just give it a couple of weeks and then we can talk about it.

But perhaps the most fascinating shows, are the documentaries and quite real reality shows, which run frequently and are sometimes unnervingly uncensored.  I’ve already discussed the surprising doc, The Perfect Vagina, but to add to the graphic surgery in that hour of TV I have since seen spinal surgery, watched brain tumors being removed, see an entire team of rugby players give themselves a check for testicular cancer (in the locker room, all at the same time, without any clothes on, and without any “blur” put in during post) and seen real footage of people going to doctors about embarrassing illnesses on a show called, you guessed it, Embarrassing Illnesses.  The next time you have to go to your doctor for an emotionally uncomfortable procedure, just think to yourself, at least I’m not on TV.

In addition to TV watching I, of course, also had to test the DVD player.  Since I believe in total cultural immersion, it only made sense to rent Mad Max and The Road Warrior.  It was nice to see that having been here a while I could appreciate something about the movies I never would have noticed before.  In almost every outdoor scene there is one constant background noise, bird calls.  It just goes to show, the birds have and will always, even in a bleak apocalyptic future, rule Australia.