A: I don't know but I could check with the kitchen.
Further reflections on this weird simulacrum of life.
For that's what it is.
You send me pictures and I see how unique are the lines of your faces. There are stories within them; ones I can read and remember. I see the depth of colour in the sky behind you and the grass is that kind that is so juicy that it leaves green stains on your legs. Here you've just stepped from the pool and you pause from drying your hair to pose for the camera. You're trying to hold in a smile, eyes of such a striking blue they arrest me; I have seen only the dark browns of East Asia for nearly 2 years now, or my own - monotonous, blank-staring, bloodshot, a mirrorful: what do you want?
It's cooling down. I prefer the colder weather because it's closer to my departing date. We moan (collective - it's not just me) about the lack of beauty in the landscape here. Autumn brings its own charm however. The changing leaves prove that not everything is static. I've woken up thinking of the Bill Murray film "Groundhog Day" more times than I can count. Alarm bells have rung. My technique for getting through is to pretend I am not here. On weeknights I chug a few beers and practice Bach, with all the ornamentations. On weekends I watch movies with friends and am starting to enjoy tales of oppression and vengeance and weaponry. When I feel like it, I go running to the gym and try to make myself sore. Otherwise, my body is just something that processes kimchi and gets in the way of Koreans fighting over a biscuit.
Once I'm gone, I will compile a list of the things that I miss.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Australia Post
Could this "gaping emotional void" have been necessary? Do you only ever appreciate what you've got once it's gone? Once I'd emerged from it I used to celebrate my bipolar illness in all its forms: the same self that brooded and shuffled and couldn't find solace in anything for years at a stretch was also capable of feeling the most immense gratitude at being alive; drinking up the beauty in the prosaic as well as the profound.
For those of you who were there for all of it or part of it or even just heard about it, I want you to know that my (almost) month-long repose in Australia recently was one of the times of my life. The combination of family, friends, good food, outstanding wine, stories, leisure, sunshine, lack of obligation, culture, language, memory, fresh air, natural beauty, travellers, museums, courtesy, concern, pleasantries, day trips, driving, convenience, comprehension and love all came together to make a time I will never forget. This was my homecoming. Son comes home to show off what he's learnt. Home feels wonderful, nurturing, embracing. Knowable.
Let me start with the queue for Flight QF368 on Friday July 29. Firstly, what a terrific way to start a holiday, with Koreans (patient and in good humour) QUEUEING in a public place. Maybe it was witnessing this rare occurence or maybe it was because I was leaving their country, but I began to feel really well disposed towards these people who had hosted me for over the last 18 months. A Caucasian man in official uniform approached me in the queue and began asking me, in a broad Australian accent, about the t-shirt I was wearing. I was taken aback. Why was this stranger talking to me like we were friends? Why was he displaying his curiosity so openly? Every other official was sober and concerned with the job at hand of checking boarding passes and carry-on luggage. Then I realised that he was merely being friendly, and that I had been in Asia for too long.
It was nice to have this primer before I even took off for my homeland. I began to anticipate the atmosphere of my country, free of hierarchy and presumption, where everybody approached everybody knowing that they are essentially cut from the same cloth. (You are. All of you. Get over it.)
A sleepless night on the plane had its high points in the service on board an Asiana flight, and the particularly good food they offer. Might I interject here (as it were) and mention in passing that an attractive, polite, and attentive stewardess remains one of my most favourite things in the world (or 12km above it). And then, as nightshades were raised somewhere north of Newcastle, and the sun came up over the sea, Sydney and its regions came into view, and I was left in some disbelief at what a beautiful sight it was. I'd heard songs about it by Men At Work and Paul Kelly. Here it was for me. All those fingers of water reaching up into the hills, flecked with the whites of the yachts of Pittwater and the runabouts in Sutherland. The greenery of the hills, and the world-famous Harbour Bridge and Opera House. And then, over the sea, as we turned 180 degrees to line up for the runway, the long and unadulterated stretches of beach and cliff of the Royal National Park declared that in the South, the wilderness was so proximate that it might reclaim the city. And during the landing - never my favourite part of a flight - I was pacified by an image of the plane's shadow coming down as the earth came up to meet us, tyres touching tarmac as if to kiss that phase of my journey goodnight, the braking unusually smooth as we slowed to a roll. Asia Part 1 over.
18 months of ageing was evident in my parents faces and the shock was arresting. Over the course of the month however I came to see them as just as healthy as they'd ever been, despite the fact that they are not 35 anymore. On that first morning I sipped in the fresh air perfumed with the wattle (in an early full bloom) and eucalyptus and horse dung as we walked to the top of our driveway. I marvelled at the openness of the landscape, the lack of construction and how, in comparison to much of what I'd seen in Asia, the imprint on the natural world was actually slight. Some kangaroos hopped into frame, and I enjoyed watching their feeding and scratching for about 10 minutes.
The kangaroo is in the centre. In the distance.
I never really noticed it before, being so commonplace in the landscape. An early Spring made it bloom like the fireworks of NYE.
I spent the first two weeks of my holiday leisurely ticking off the things I had listed on my "to do in Australia" list: go bushwalking, meditate, visit old friends, do some yoga, run the old path out to Silver Pines Horse Stud, where a girlfriend had worked in another life when "overseas" was an obstacle, my own imagination locking me in.
There's something disconcerting about the Australian bush. Lost in that dry scrubland I wouldn't know what to do and imagine I couldn't survive for long. And yet I love this picture - the path leading up the gentle hill; the trees filtering the light. No one within coo-ee. In Australia you can get lost. It is its blessing and its curse.
The high point of the trip was in holidaying within my own country. Down at Mum and Dad's, I was finding the house so cold that I wore a beanie and dufflecoat while I shuffled around in my slippers, so I booked a flight to Noosa for 5 nights and enjoyed the warm Queensland winter. I thawed out just before my flight out of Brissy on the Friday. The 2 day tour I took to Fraser Island was the icing on the cake of my holiday, though the entire time I spent in Noosa was restorative, as a holiday should be (not a mad dash around China's highlights). I'd like to live in Queensland when I return to Australia. It has year-long summers as far as I'm concerned. Its people are cheerful and relaxed in the sun. $18.50 fish and chips with a beer on Sundays at the surf club, and a wet tshirt comp after the footy. Bewdy.
The dingo that took my baby. Bought her clothes I could never afford and took her to dinner in fancy restaurants...
The wreck of the SS Maheno. She enjoyed a long life on the seas and had an impressive CV. After being decomissioned, the Japanese bought her and got caught in a cyclone off the coast. The tow rope broken and the propeller removed, she was at the mercy of the elements for a night, then beached on Fraser in the morning.
Sometimes you meet people who fulfill all the criteria for being a "bloody legend." Rick, our tour guide was one of those people. He drove us around the Island, took care of all the admin of the tour, gave a commentary on everything, fielded all our questions, threw in some great stories, and even threw on an apron and cooked barra on the barbie for dinner!
I'm back in prison now, looking at pictures of my trip and also of the people to my north in Russia and in South Africa too. You shouldn't ever wish your life away or cultivate negativity but I have a clearer impression now of what I like about societies and what I don't like. Tired of making excuses for rudeness and arrogance in Korea, explaining it away as "history" or "culture," I'm hanging out to re-enter the real world and put this weird simulacrum of life behind me. Until then, I've got running, money and drinking to distract me. Whatever gets you through the night...
For those of you who were there for all of it or part of it or even just heard about it, I want you to know that my (almost) month-long repose in Australia recently was one of the times of my life. The combination of family, friends, good food, outstanding wine, stories, leisure, sunshine, lack of obligation, culture, language, memory, fresh air, natural beauty, travellers, museums, courtesy, concern, pleasantries, day trips, driving, convenience, comprehension and love all came together to make a time I will never forget. This was my homecoming. Son comes home to show off what he's learnt. Home feels wonderful, nurturing, embracing. Knowable.
Let me start with the queue for Flight QF368 on Friday July 29. Firstly, what a terrific way to start a holiday, with Koreans (patient and in good humour) QUEUEING in a public place. Maybe it was witnessing this rare occurence or maybe it was because I was leaving their country, but I began to feel really well disposed towards these people who had hosted me for over the last 18 months. A Caucasian man in official uniform approached me in the queue and began asking me, in a broad Australian accent, about the t-shirt I was wearing. I was taken aback. Why was this stranger talking to me like we were friends? Why was he displaying his curiosity so openly? Every other official was sober and concerned with the job at hand of checking boarding passes and carry-on luggage. Then I realised that he was merely being friendly, and that I had been in Asia for too long.
It was nice to have this primer before I even took off for my homeland. I began to anticipate the atmosphere of my country, free of hierarchy and presumption, where everybody approached everybody knowing that they are essentially cut from the same cloth. (You are. All of you. Get over it.)
A sleepless night on the plane had its high points in the service on board an Asiana flight, and the particularly good food they offer. Might I interject here (as it were) and mention in passing that an attractive, polite, and attentive stewardess remains one of my most favourite things in the world (or 12km above it). And then, as nightshades were raised somewhere north of Newcastle, and the sun came up over the sea, Sydney and its regions came into view, and I was left in some disbelief at what a beautiful sight it was. I'd heard songs about it by Men At Work and Paul Kelly. Here it was for me. All those fingers of water reaching up into the hills, flecked with the whites of the yachts of Pittwater and the runabouts in Sutherland. The greenery of the hills, and the world-famous Harbour Bridge and Opera House. And then, over the sea, as we turned 180 degrees to line up for the runway, the long and unadulterated stretches of beach and cliff of the Royal National Park declared that in the South, the wilderness was so proximate that it might reclaim the city. And during the landing - never my favourite part of a flight - I was pacified by an image of the plane's shadow coming down as the earth came up to meet us, tyres touching tarmac as if to kiss that phase of my journey goodnight, the braking unusually smooth as we slowed to a roll. Asia Part 1 over.
18 months of ageing was evident in my parents faces and the shock was arresting. Over the course of the month however I came to see them as just as healthy as they'd ever been, despite the fact that they are not 35 anymore. On that first morning I sipped in the fresh air perfumed with the wattle (in an early full bloom) and eucalyptus and horse dung as we walked to the top of our driveway. I marvelled at the openness of the landscape, the lack of construction and how, in comparison to much of what I'd seen in Asia, the imprint on the natural world was actually slight. Some kangaroos hopped into frame, and I enjoyed watching their feeding and scratching for about 10 minutes.
The kangaroo is in the centre. In the distance.
I never really noticed it before, being so commonplace in the landscape. An early Spring made it bloom like the fireworks of NYE.
I spent the first two weeks of my holiday leisurely ticking off the things I had listed on my "to do in Australia" list: go bushwalking, meditate, visit old friends, do some yoga, run the old path out to Silver Pines Horse Stud, where a girlfriend had worked in another life when "overseas" was an obstacle, my own imagination locking me in.
There's something disconcerting about the Australian bush. Lost in that dry scrubland I wouldn't know what to do and imagine I couldn't survive for long. And yet I love this picture - the path leading up the gentle hill; the trees filtering the light. No one within coo-ee. In Australia you can get lost. It is its blessing and its curse.
The high point of the trip was in holidaying within my own country. Down at Mum and Dad's, I was finding the house so cold that I wore a beanie and dufflecoat while I shuffled around in my slippers, so I booked a flight to Noosa for 5 nights and enjoyed the warm Queensland winter. I thawed out just before my flight out of Brissy on the Friday. The 2 day tour I took to Fraser Island was the icing on the cake of my holiday, though the entire time I spent in Noosa was restorative, as a holiday should be (not a mad dash around China's highlights). I'd like to live in Queensland when I return to Australia. It has year-long summers as far as I'm concerned. Its people are cheerful and relaxed in the sun. $18.50 fish and chips with a beer on Sundays at the surf club, and a wet tshirt comp after the footy. Bewdy.
The dingo that took my baby. Bought her clothes I could never afford and took her to dinner in fancy restaurants...
The wreck of the SS Maheno. She enjoyed a long life on the seas and had an impressive CV. After being decomissioned, the Japanese bought her and got caught in a cyclone off the coast. The tow rope broken and the propeller removed, she was at the mercy of the elements for a night, then beached on Fraser in the morning.
Sometimes you meet people who fulfill all the criteria for being a "bloody legend." Rick, our tour guide was one of those people. He drove us around the Island, took care of all the admin of the tour, gave a commentary on everything, fielded all our questions, threw in some great stories, and even threw on an apron and cooked barra on the barbie for dinner!
I'm back in prison now, looking at pictures of my trip and also of the people to my north in Russia and in South Africa too. You shouldn't ever wish your life away or cultivate negativity but I have a clearer impression now of what I like about societies and what I don't like. Tired of making excuses for rudeness and arrogance in Korea, explaining it away as "history" or "culture," I'm hanging out to re-enter the real world and put this weird simulacrum of life behind me. Until then, I've got running, money and drinking to distract me. Whatever gets you through the night...
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