Far have I travelled and much have I seen......
I fear I have neglected you once again; my updates have been lacking- well, not only lacking, but completely non-existent. I am sorry, and I wish I could give you a reasonable excuse or valid reason for my lack of words on this blog/diary/journal/thingymabob, but I can’t. There is no excuse other than living life, forgetting to turn on the laptop, not having too much to say. Although those last six words are not really true, for in Tokyo I had experienced several earthquakes and storms, then I packed up my bags and headed off to Sydney, Australia for three weeks, and currently you find me at the start of the third of three weeks in Melbourne.
I’m not sure where to go and what to say first, other than it’s been a blast travelling around. You could say this is like a geriatric gap year, and rather than dossing down in hotels, dorms and the like, I’m staying in apartments and hotels. Currently, I’m on the 16th floor of an apartment building in the Southbank area of Melbourne, with views over South Melbourne, Albert Park (where the really fast Grand Prix F1 cars go round and round), St Kilda and, in the far distance, a place with the familiar name, Brighton. Of course, if I cast my eyes a little right, I can see Port Melbourne, Hobsons Bay that opens up into one of the biggest bays I’ve ever seen, the name of which I think is Port Phillip.
Over there, somewhere, beyond my eye’s view is the town of St Leonards and the narrow opening of the bay, according to the locals, is called The Rip and is less than two miles wide and beyond that is the Bass Strait, Tasmania and the rest of the world!
Although, if you’ve read this far, you’ll already have seen the photos of how vast the view is, both in the daytime and when the night falls and the lights twinkle in the distance. So, I’m sorry you’ve had to endure this word salad just to get to this part.
The reason I jumped out of Tokyo was twofold: first, the immigration person at the monolithic X-shaped building that houses the Regional Immigration Bureau would only extend my tourist visa for another 30 days. Secondly, I was looking to escape the notoriously hot and humid summer weather where temperatures regularly soar into the mid to high 30s. Thus, I gave up the rental on my riverside Sumida apartment and headed on a Japan Airlines Boeing 777 to a land down under where women glow, and men plunder!
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| A 1998 vintage me! |
It isn’t the first time I’ve been in the land of the kangaroo and wombat; no, I was first here, albeit briefly, in September 1998 as part of a round-the-world trip in little over three weeks! Ha, Phileas Fogg took 79 days to complete his circumnavigation of the globe whilst I did it in 24! Ok, I cheated a little and flew by aeroplane, but have you ever tried getting a ship from Gatwick to Los Angeles? Goodness, 1998, that was so long ago and whilst a few things like walking on Four Mile Beach at midnight, nearly falling off the concrete seat/barrier outside Sydney Opera House and buying a collector's edition of Titanic complete with a few frames of the original actual film are as clear as if they occurred a week last Wednesday. The bulk of the memories have long since been consigned to the waste-bin of my mind. Of course there have been generations of changes in those 28 years; therefore, it is like coming to a nation for the very first time, with just occasionally a whisper of deja-vu echoing in the darkest recesses of my noggin.
Feelings of familiarity abound when visiting Circular Quay, the goings and comings of the famous ferries, still in the same old green and cream colour scheme of old, although I do have a vague impression they were for a brief moment blue and white vessels. The Harbour Bridge and the big shells or sails of the Danish architect Jørn Utzon-designed Opera House don’t change, and emotions of visiting old friends cross the minds of nearly every tourist, so often have we seen these icons of Australia. Yet, despite the countless times on computer and television screens and printed in newspapers, they still seem much bigger in reality as opposed to in the mind's eye.
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| Is she coming or going? With two bows, it is hard to tell. |
Darling Harbour, like the city itself, seems a little more developed; many more skyscrapers or tower blocks vie for attention and dominance. Gone is the monorail that seemed so modern all those years ago, although the remnants of one or two stations still linger. Yet, if you let your eyes search, mixed among the modern developments you'll find traditional functionaries including Queen Victoria Building or QVB as it's known these days. Its classic splendour remains timeless to some, but for some reason, insides reminded me of the Grace Brothers department store of the 70s comic telly programme – Are You Being Served!
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| ANZAC War Memorial Photo Jason Shaw |
St Mary’s Cathedral just down the road from the grammar school and the 1880s Town Hall are pleasing to the eye. If you like Italian Renaissance Style as seen by the Victorians, then you’d want to have a look at the old post office building with its tall clock tower and delightful arches. The State Library is also an impressive sight and calmed my mind each time I walked past, as did the similar-looking New South Wales Art Gallery. Although the building I saw most was less habitation- or retail-focused, the impressive ANZAC War Memorial at the top of Hyde Park. Quite often I’d plonk myself on a nearby bench and ponder the futility of war, the lives of the soldiers of the antipodean this 1930s-constructed Art-Deco mausoleum commemorates, the adorning sculptures' significance and, when they weren’t doing work outside, the oasis of peace in a busy city.
Hyde Park and the Botanic Gardens were my favourite places to walk, contemplate, picnic and just enjoy the experience of being, although I did rather also like strolling down Oxford Street, heading all the way to Centennial Park, where rest and snacks were in order, before heading up Ocean Street and back via Rushcutters Park. I was warned that Kings Cross could be a bit of an adventure to go through, but I didn’t encounter any problems; indeed it felt a darn sight more friendly and safe than parts of its London namesake!. However, I did notice the area had more than its fair share of people with either alcohol or mental health issues on the street. Perhaps no more so than London or Paris, yet here they were more noticeable, or maybe I was just looking around more than I usually do. Another thing I couldn't help but notice was the sheer number of homeless or street folk that exist here. Especially around the court building, or outside the high-end stores, you'll spot them and their sacks of belongings and bags of sleeping. Some selling copies of Big Issue, some just with signs detailing their plight, others just asking for a couple of dollars from the passers-by that pretend not to see them.
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| Lazy afternoons on the bank of the Parramatta River Photo Jason Shaw |
Parramatta lies at the end of ferry route F3 along the river of the same name and just over one hour and twenty minutes away from Circular Quay, and I so enjoyed this ride that I did it again. Well, in fact I did it a further three times, to be exact, once on the way back that day and a return trip a couple of days later. There’s something rather soothing about travelling up (and down) a river that you don’t get on a sea cruise or journey. The gentle ripple of the water, the occasional wake of other vessels to sway the senses as well as the hull, the passing scenery on the banks as we glide along aboard a Parramatta River-class catamaran ferry with a top speed of almost thirty miles an hour. Oh, the joy of not having to rush anywhere and enjoying a desirously leisurely ride in the mild mid-winter morning. Yes, it may be late July, but over on this hemisphere, the seasons are the opposite to back home, and now it's winter here.
Remembering the moment just now has put me in mind of my fondness and spatial arrangement for open water that seems to have been fairly content since my mid-twenties, perhaps even before. I suppose as a child, I lived near two big lakes, which were a treat to go to on the long hot summers of my youth. There were one lower and one upper lake, with the latter having rowing boats to hire for a while in clement weather. I have no idea how much they cost, nor how long a time period you got for your cash; I just know when we did, I loved being on the lake, surrounded by water or circumnavigating the island that seemed like a wilderness land of dreams and monsters. Oh, the things we think of when we’re six, seven or eight, where the magic and wonderment of the everyday experience is still held with such precious naïveté, where almost anything is possible. Back then, the lakes formed part of an epic amount of land, a common area, where one could run, and the imagination could flourish with wild abandon. Of course, looking with today’s eyes, it is some 200 acres of nature reserve. Or as Natural England will tell you, it is a combination of various “habitats including two large lakes, a number of smaller ponds, wetland corridors, scattered trees and woodland and semi-improved grassland which includes the nationally rare plant Chamomile. Animal species seen on the Common include Roe deer, rabbits and foxes. The site is also important for bats, birds and many species of insects.” To me then, as a youngster, it seemed like a whole different world. To me now, it is a memory of a different life, a time too long ago to fully remember and yet not far enough to completely forget.
Yes, perhaps it is those early days near those two lakes that started an accidental, unconscious desire to live or be near the open water. Over the years, I’ve lived in Brighton, Portslade, Fort Lauderdale and Hastings, all of which are on the coast, and whenever I’ve travelled, it has been to places that are either by the sea or have a river running through them. That’s true, only if you forget a very brief interlude in landlocked Southern Illinois, which was about 700 miles from the nearest coast. Although having just written that, Crab Orchard Lake was nearby, which, despite what its cute little name suggests, is actually a massive 6,965-acre reservoir, and that’s just part of the rather gargantuan 43,890-acre wildlife refuge of the same name (yes, without the lake bit!)
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| Brightly painted beach huts at Brighton Beach in Victoria, Australia. Photo Jason Shaw |
Even on this trip, I am or have been near the ocean or river; in Tokyo it was both, living along the Sumida River, which flows into Tokyo Bay, that in turn enters the Uraga Channel and on to the Pacific Ocean. In Sydney I was near the harbour and spent much of the time crossing it to Manly, Parramatta, Mosman Bay, McMahon’s Point, Watsons Bay and so on. Here in Melbourne, I’ve been in a hotel room overlooking the Yarra River and now enjoying an apartment with far-reaching views over Port Phillip Bay. Yesterday, I walked mostly along the edge of the bay to the resorts of St Kilda, Elwood and Brighton, with their golden beaches and gentle lapping waves. Next stop is Brisbane, and will there be a water connection there? I guess you'll have to return here in a week and see if A) there is and B) I've remembered to write a diary entry for it!
