On Wednesday morning,
the plan was to meet Kathy and George at the Museum of Contemporary Art beside Circular Quay. Lourens and I headed into town. George
was waiting inside, as planned. Kathy
was running slightly late, so we sat in the foyer and caught up. I came to know George
like this: He'd been on a tour of Morocco some years earlier and had met my
parents. My mother took a liking to him,
and asked me to get in touch with him, which I did. We were in email contact for a number of
years, and then in 2007 when I first came to
Australia, I arranged to meet him in Tumut. It was so good then to
put a face to a name. George had driven
me back to Melbourne. (I'd taken the bus up.)
Subsequently, we'd remained in email contact, with the occasional Skype
call thrown into the mix. It was now very good to see him again. When Kathy arrived, we entered the museum and
took in all the interesting art.
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From here, we dawdled
across the Botanic Gardens in the direction of the Art Gallery of New SouthWales. George is well informed about
many topics, one being the flora of his native Australia. All the way, he pointed out trees and smaller
plants, giving us their names. He also
knew if they were indigenous or had been brought to Australia, and if so, where
they'd originated. It was well interesting, and I couldn't help but
marvel at his ability to retain all that knowledge. I love to research topics
as they come up, but I tend to forget most of
it later. I also learned a new
word from him: pedant. I've always known the adjectival form, pedantic, but had never
heard it used as a noun: "I am a pedant," he
said.
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Entering the art gallery, we
started our route in the classical section, moving on later to more modern
works, which I prefer.
(Interesting that I have struggled so much with appreciating
modern art music. Get onto YouTube. Listen to Penderecki's Symphony 1, Dutilleux's
Cello Concerto or Ives' Central Park in the Dark, and see what you think.)
All Wednesday, to my
great elation, the temperature remained cool, almost cold at times. I'd wanted to also visit
the White Rabbit Gallery, exhibition hall for contemporary Chinese art. However, time was running out. We again traversed the gardens, backtracking
to Circular Quay. Here we had dinner,
and I changed into slightly more respectable attire. We would attend the second opera tonight, the
Pearlfishers by Bizet. Lourens took
leave of us after our meal, as he was not attending. Instead, he walked
across the Sydney Harbour Bridge and then returned to Mandelbaum. Kathy, George and I sauntered up the stairs to the opera house.
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I first came to hear of this opera in a novel by James Michener, Drifters. This was one of the themes in his book,
offering a dramatic musical parallel to the action. Soon I bought a recording of
it, wanting to hear the "haunting melodies" of which Michener
wrote. (It's SO
weird - just as I started typing this, a track from Pearlfishers started to
play over my speakers, and I immediately recognised it!) I listened to it at home
a few times, but it did not wash over or impress me. This is certainly a much less known opera
than Bizet's Carmen, which is performed frequently and revered the world
over. This was also why it was so
important for me to get a seat with a view of the LED, as I wasn't sure I'd enjoy it without
understanding the libretto. Sitting now
in the theatre, we had a clear view of both stage and LED.
The auditorium was not
full, and shortly before the show commenced, an usher welcomed us to move a few
rows closer. Score! I did not particularly
enjoy the first act. The music was
gentle and sentimental, and I kept nodding off! In addition, its action
involved only a tenor and a baritone, and I began to worry that
we'd have no soprano. From the second
act, it started to pick up, vindicating the work as a whole. The soprano entered and the dramatic pace
accelerated. The music too became more
dramatic and suffused. I especially loved the parts that included the chorus. At these moments I found the harmonies and textures quite otherworldly. It was certainly helpful
to read the English translation, though Kathy, who'd learned French since our
last meeting, contended that it was more a summary of the libretto, and in
places the translations were in fact incorrect.
All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed the performance, although it ended rather
abruptly, I thought.
The libretto itself was a little too sentimental, repetitive and
airy-fairy for my tastes, and I was interested to read
later that the librettists themselves were unhappy with their work. They'd apparently misjudged Bizet's
compositional abilities and had not thrown themselves into the task. The audience was once again pedestrian,
clapping inappropriately. There was also
a couple behind me who kept giggling.
Sometimes I wish I was less reticent to speak my mind to annoying strangers.
After the show, George
offered to drive us both home.
Mandelbaum lay upon one possible route out of the city, and Malabar was
not far beyond Coogee, where he has a home.
He'd parked in a lot beneath St Mary's Cathedral, and we wondered up the
hill and across Hyde Park. The entrance to
the lot was not easy to spot. George had
been in a slight hurry after arriving in town and had therefore not stopped to take
note of its location. Then it started to
rain. Poor George felt guilty about
causing us discomfort and delay, but I found the whole affair
as unexpected and anecdote-worthy as Paula's unforeseen tour yesterday. Also, each of us had brought an umbrella, so
no one was getting soaked. We eventually
found the entrance after weaving around St Mary's and through the park. The entrance was interestingly labeled
"Express Walkway". What kind
of a beast is that?
As it turned out, it
was a travelator like they have in airports.
This one was extremely long, and twice it dipped out of sight, conjuring
images of cliffs dropping into the abyss.
I say this because the vista reminded me of two recurring
nightmares I sometimes have. In the first, I am on a train, whose tracks are high in the air. Said tracks suddenly end, with the threat of
the train plummeting over them. Somehow,
I don't ever recall actually going over the edge, though I do vaguely remember flying across a gap to another stretch of
rail on which the train lands. In the second, I am in a labyrinth of
subterranean tunnels and rooms. Some
tunnels carry trains, dropping just as we were now over precipices, into the
deep. Then I park my car on the 27th level beneath the surface, in what I know to be a country that gets earthquakes. Back in reality beneath St Mary's in Sydney,
our travolator's drops were neither as dramatic nor as frightening as they were
in my dreams.
On Thursday, my last
day in this wonderful city, Lourens and I slowly readied. Today Taiwanese James would join us. We bundled up our dirty clothes to drop at a
launderette I'd located in Coogee. Then we hopped on a bus from King
Street. It was a long ride, and I watched people as they boarded and exited the bus. I noticed that most were
honest, tapping on and off with their Opal cards to pay for their rides. However, one or two gestured towards the sensor
with empty palms. Oh well, this is the
nature of humanity. There will always be some who
take what they can for free. Then I forgot to tap off! Alighting
near the beach, we found the shop and dropped our clothes. Kathy texted to say she was nearly there, and
we waited for her at the shore. Then we
ambled towards George's apartment. In the sky floated a fish skeleton.
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This was an accidental video, recording unexpectedly as I took pictures.
George bought this
prime piece of real estate overlooking Wedding Cake Island just off the southern edge of Coogee Beach in the
1970s. We stayed to enjoy coffee,
biscuits and George's home roasted peanuts.
Then we hopped into his car. Our
guide was today going to show us around his slice of paradise. Our first stop was at the last remaining
creek in Coogee. I asked George why he'd described it as such. All the others had been built over, he
explained. It was quite pretty. At
the spot where we turned to head back, I saw a structure that
looked as if it had been carried here from Taiwan. It was the design, the
stilts keeping it level on a slope and the lush vegetation surrounding it that
reminded me of homes in the Formosan mountains.
Also, although this one was built of brick, the effect was not unlike
the tiles that are typically plastered on the outer walls of concrete
structures in the ROC.
From here George
navigated to Centennial Parklands. This
is a vast preservation to rival the Botanic Gardens in the city. We wondered about, mesmerised by the lush
flora, the birdlife, the polychrome flower beds and finally, the bats. Here we spotted a pelican that was half
James' size. In the picture you see, I spliced two photos
because when James and pelican were side-by-side, pelican was seated and the
comparison is therefore not as pronounced.
You will see from the other objects in the spliced picture, though, that
the relative dimensions are true.
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Next on our tour was a
trip to famed Bondi Beach, home to toned bodies and a life of leisure. Here we took lunch.
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Back in the car again,
we returned to Coogee. James and I picked up our clean clothes, and then we wandered up to a
memorial to the victims of the Bali bombings.
In 2002, a series of bombs was detonated in this Indonesian resort town, a popular tourist destination among backpackers
and beach lovers. The explosions claimed
the lives of 202 people from 23 countries. By nationality, the majority of fatalities, 88, were Australian. A group of expat footballers from Taichung
was also there, among them the father of my goddaughter. Jess had decided not to go out on that night
and was spared his life. Almost an
entire team of footballers from Coogee perished. Here, on the northern tip of Coogee Beach,
their names are listed on a plaque in commemoration.
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After paying our
respects, we were driven back to George's, where we dropped our bags, changed
and walked to the rock pool on the southern tip of the beach. Lourens had stayed behind and already been in
the water. At the pool, Kathy, George
and James took a dip, while Lourens and I enjoyed the scenery at
the lifeguard station just above. The
guards were training, galloping across the beach like thoroughbreds, returning
to the station, glistening in manly perspiration. ... Okay, enough of that.
We returned to
George's, where the paddlers each hopped in the shower. I'd not been in the
water, so I just lazed about. Once again, the bitter business of saying
farewell was upon us. George drove us to
the bus stop where I had to say goodbye to
him. There was a chance that Kathy and I would meet again in Melbourne, but this was the last I'd see George on this trip.
With a bit of luck I might have persuaded
him, since my return to Taiwan, to join me in Melbourne in November, when I shall return there to take in a complete performance of
Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen.
(My visa for Australia was issued for a full year, and I may
enter as many times as I like until December 8th, as long as I stay no longer
than 3 months at a time.) Fingers
crossed.
We took a bus to
Circular Quay as I wanted to extend my
time with Kathy to the last possible minute.
(She and her boys had moved to different accommodation in Manly
- they'd booked the Malabar house for only three nights.) Arriving, Kathy got on a ferry. James, Lourens and I returned to Mandlebaum for the last night. Tomorrow I'd be off across the
Pacific. James was moving into the room
he'd secured this week. Although I'd only known him for seven days, he had grown on me fast. He is as sweet as chocolate. Lourens was heading to Canberra, where he'd
stay with friends from Taiwan who'd moved back to Australia. He'd also be traveling to Brisbane to meet
friends of old from Pretoria.
I felt rather melancholic and I didn't want to leave
Sydney. The delight of the past few days
had been so fulfilling. In truth, I'd wondered before we
came if seeing so many people would detract from the purpose of my journey:
discovery. The opposite was true. The two goals fitted so well together, I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much if I'd been alone.
Furthermore, I was so thrilled that
everyone had gotten along so well. Matt
and Sarah had liked Lourens. Kathy and
Matt had met when we all lived in London, and they hit it off here. George, Kathy, Lourens and James were all comfortable
and natural around each other. George
and Kathy particularly found much to talk about. Lourens was also very taken by her. All this had filled me to the brim, and now I was heading off alone.
Oh well, I luckily very much
enjoy my own company, too.
