Has Our Luck Run Out?

The results are in and Australia has a new Prime Minister.

Yes, another one. Our third this year.

And I cannot believe this man has been chosen by 'the people' to represent them.

Or has he?

When I moved to the UK almost ten years ago, I added myself to the UK's electoral roll (as an Australian, I can do that here). There are many places in the world where having your say is not an option so I appreciate the privilege of living in a society that allows me to do this, whatever the mechanism.

At the same time, I removed myself from the Australian electoral roll, figuring that if I make my home elsewhere, it is not for me to have a say in the lives of those who still live in Australia. That is their privilege - albeit a compulsory one. But I remain staunchly Australian, carrying my native twang, laconic style and direct approach with pride and  hoping to be a good ambassador for my homeland wherever I go.

The outcome of this weekend's election Down Under has left me stunned. I can find absolutely nothing to recommend Tony Abbott and as far as I'm concerned, he is an incredibly poor representative of the Australian people. And unusually - I move in opinionated and voluble circles - I haven't come across anyone with a different point of view. No-one.

Pundits talk about a long election campaign (seven months) riddled with 'reality stunts' as opposed to committed and thoughtful politics; a circus of name-calling and sniping that perhaps voters just wanted to be done with. And given the Rudd-Gillard-Rudd tug of war within the Labor Party, perhaps people voted for the leader with a semblance of alignment behind him.

So what did happen? Is it a result of apathy or is there really something worthwhile under all of the surface nastiness and sniping? I'd be genuinely interested to hear any views that explain Abbott and the coalition's policies, if only to understand what the future looks like over the next four years for Australia.

 

Australia continues to hold the rest of the world in its 'lucky country' thrall and with a pretty buoyant economy (by global standards) and four cities in the world's top ten most liveable cities, this perception seems warranted.

But after this weekend, I'm left wondering whether our luck's about to run out.

Proud To Be Australian?

In the absence of any stimulating TV last night, I watched an Australian documentary series by Joe Hildebrand exploring the reputation of Australians overseas. Hildebrand is a journalist for The Daily Telegraph in Sydney and appears on a variety of TV programs sparking much controversy and debate with his outspoken and provocative views.

Prior to yesterday, I'd never heard of him. But I was catching up with a friend I have not seen since high school and over a glass of wine and a bowl of pasta, we were talking about how Australia has 'changed' and more specifically about the 'race riots' in Cronulla (which are still so viceral in the minds of Australians that when my friend mentioned them, I thought there had been something more recent than 2005).

Anyway the series, called Dumb, Drunk and Racist, follows the experiences of four Indians invited to take a road trip with Hildebrand to experience the best and worst of Australia. 

The prevailing view in India is that Australians are rude, racist, dumb and drunk to the point of embarrassment, irresponsibility and violence. So Gurmeet (a journalist/ newreader), Radhika (an education advisor), Amer (a law student) and Mahima (a call centre worker) all agreed to face their preconceptions and, for some, fear of visiting the Land Down Under and to share their views on what they experience .

Warrning: Before you play this, much to my embarrassment you should know there's some shocking language in this trailer.

If you think this trailer is bad, the series is worse. And in some ways better as the generous foursome end the series with a much improved view of Australians having witnessed the hard-working, warm and generous people who are at the heart of Australian communities, both in suburbia and in outback towns. But more often than not, I cringed as I watched, horrified at the boorish, narrow-minded Australians that have become the basis of our reputation in the wider world.

While I don't believe that the majority of Aussies behave like this, the behaviour of a few is tainting the perception of the whole and I am concerned that Australia, with its 'she'll be right' mentality and sense of entitlement to a land we took from others in the first place, will not really address this.

Our lucky country has never dealt with terrorism, attack or even real economic crisis when compared with the rest of the world so as a nation, we've never had to fight for or fear very much.  Maybe our literal isolation from the rest of the world (and from each other - Australia is a spacious place by anyone's definition) creates a feeling of safe-ness, the urgency of doing anything dissipating in the absence of any trouble on our doorstep. We have a view of our laid back attitude as rather lovable and fun but perhaps it actually hides an unwillingness to step up, 'rock the boat' and demand change.

In saying all of that, it was heart-warming to see the surprise and delight of the four travellers at the Australian sense of fun and open-ness - there's a really gorgeous moment between Mahima and a local when, obviously quite taken with her, he follows 'pleased to meet ya' with 'would ya like a beer?' and then proceeds to order her purple PomPom drinks, to her absolute delight.

The spirit of community that emerges in our country towns and our tolerance for lifestyle choices taboo in India is also lauded and in spite of the nastiness throughout the six episodes, I found a lot to be proud of.  But it was still hard for me to watch these gentle and intelligent people being abused by foul-mouthed locals. That we are not the only nation facing these kinds of challenges matters little.  For all our easy-going tolerance, there comes a time when a line needs to be drawn.

And the time is now.

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Most of the series is available on youtube if you are outside Australia and cannot access ABC2.

A Symbol Of Freedom And Light...

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was great debate about whether Australia should become a republic. A survey was created (called a referendum) and all of the people in the land were invited to participate. The results revealed a nation divided with the vote to maintain Australia's colonial status quo snatching victory from the republicans  55/45.

But there was outcry. Some of the people suggested that the questions did not really present a clear choice between Republican-ism and Colonial-ism. And so while the Colonialists won the battle in 1999, the undercurrent of discontent around the Great Republican Question bubbled on.

And in the midst of this, there remained another question - the question of the flag and whether it was really fitting for our modern and multicultural nation.

I love the Australian flag.

I love how it celebrates our southern location and open skies with the Southern Cross constellation.

I love how it honours our Federation with the seven pointed Commonwealth Star - with six points representing the six previously self-governing states and one point representing the territories and any future states.

And I love that it also gives a nod to the arrival of the First Fleet in 1788 to make the first modern settlement in Australia, 16 years after pioneering Englishman Captain James Cook sailed along Australia's eastern coastline.

But like most things in life, this is not a simple fairytale and our nation is still on its journey to find a happy ending. Does our flag reflect the indigenous, the discoveries of the Dutch (through explorers Willem Janszoon and Abel Tasman) and the emergence of a multicultural nation inspired by new horizons, the prospect of success borne of hard work and not least, the hopeful opportunity of the Gold Rush.

Is it really a reflection of our modern nation, whether it be colonial or republic?

And then earlier this week, I opened an email from Mum to find a poem that was given to her in the late 1970s by an ex-servicewoman she knew in Cairns. As I read it, I felt proud that our flag held such patriotism and passion in its thrall and my fierce republican heart couldn't help but recognise the validity - and poignancy - of her words.

 

KEEP THE FLAG

Our flag bears the stars that blaze at night

In the Southern sky of blue

And a little old flag in the corner

That’s part of our heritage too.

 

It’s for the English, the Scots and the Irish

Who were sent to the ends of the earth.

The rogues and schemers, the doers and dreamers

Who gave modern Australia birth.

 

And you who are shouting to change

You don’t seem to understand

It’s the flag of our law and our language

Not the flag of a faraway land.

 

Though there are plenty of people who’ll tell you

How, when Europe was plunged into night

That little old flag in the corner

Was their symbol of freedom and light.

 

It doesn’t mean we owe allegiance

To a long forgotten imperial dream

We’ve the stars to show where we’re going

And the old flag to show where we've been.

Out with the old and in with new? Suddenly it's not such a simple question.

Everything Old Is New Again...

Being in Melbourne over these last couple of weeks has given me the opportunity to revisit some of my favourite haunts and one of these is Southgate. This cosmopolitan stretch of shops, restaurants and cafes line the Yarra River between Princess Bridge and the Crown Casino complex and offers wonderful views of the City Centre across the tree-lined river.

This view takes in the 'expensive end' of the City - where Victorian Parliament, designer shops and many of the banks' head offices are located - as well as the spires of Melbourne's own St Paul's Cathedral in the foreground.

A great juxtaposition of the elegant clock tower of Flinders Street Station (built in 1910 to replace the previous station built in 1854) against the more modern buildings behind.

The day we were there it was a gloriously sunny Sunday morning and this riverside precinct was buzzing with activity.

Street entertainers attract a fair crowd...

...while quirky sculpture adds local colour.

Crown Towers Hotel offers premier accommodation for both high rollers as well as those wishing to spend just a few dollars.

But being away means that each time I come back, there's something new in the landscape. Six years ago, Melbourne's newest tallest building, Eureka Tower, sliced into the skyline.

Eureka Tower is Melbourne's tallest building...but only since 2006.

This time it was The Docklands that captured my imagination. When I left in 2004, this area of Melbourne was early in its development so I was curious to see how things had turned out.

View of Melbourne from The Docklands with Etihad Stadium (venue for football matches, concerts and the like) in the centre.

The thing that struck me most were the stark and modern shapes...

New 'rooms with a view'.

This 'car park in progress' generated discussion about its interesting facade.

I love the use of adventurous shapes and textures which really typifies iconic Australian architecture for me.

And there's even a nod to old London Town with Melbourne's very own 'Eye'...

Melbourne's Southern Star awaiting the installation of its viewing pods. Again lots of opinions amongst Family Hamer about its false start (cracks found in the infrastructure apparently) and its location overlooking Melbourne's Western suburbs.

So whilst my Melbourne meanderings evoked many wonderful memories, I found much to admire about the clever blend of nostalgia and innovation into a spectacular cityscape...

...and it just makes me wonder what I'll find next time.

Boats And Bridges...

Being part of a somewhat caring and supportive family, Lil Chicky and I decided that it was time that we do a little window shopping to find the next lucky man in my life. Fortunately, the family had decided to take a ferry ride over to Williamstown yesterday so at 12.30 the family Hamer (including those with a myriad of other names) gathered at Southbank, boarded our ship of dreams and set sail.

 

The one hour cruise took us along the Yarra River and out through The Docklands which has developed significantly since I last lived Down Under - there are lots of interesting buildings to ooh and aah at on the way but for now, let's maintain some focus on the purpose of this post and leave architectural meanderings for another time.

The title promises bridges and we headed under many of them - here are my top three:

The Bolte Bridge, named for Henry Bolte who remains the longest serving Victorian State Premier (17 years from 1955). The bridge was opened in August 1999) and also forms an integral part of the entrance into Melbourne by car from the airport. The view of the City from here always feels like a big 'welcome back' to me. 

This bridge is a new one since my departure - it was difficult to capture the whole bridge but I loved this side, looking like one of those hooped underskirts from yesteryear.

The clean lines of this bridge and the Australian flag fluttering in the breeze typifies the clean, stark lines of the Australian landscape for me - no idea what this bridge is called either but I loved it all the same.

The weather was gorgeous - a pleasant mid 25C - and a gentle breeze cooled our sun-kissed noses and cheeks as we motored along. There were many boats out of all shapes and sizes, some puttering along at a more sedate pace...

Before we knew it, we had arrived at Williamstown Pier so it was off the boat for a stretch of the legs, something to eat and a hearty discussion about our plan of attack (which mainly revolved around ice-cream).
 

Docking at Williamtown foreshore...yes, that bright shiny object is the sun...

One of the great things about Williamtown (apart from the ice cream) is the fantastic view of the City of Melbourne so here's the shot, complete with the millionaire shopping arcade boats in the foreground... 

After a pleasant few hours we decided to head back but finding a millionaire/boat had not gone so successfully so we decided to keep our eyes peeled on the way back. A single girl's work is never done, you know...

As with some of my past experiences with you critters from Mars, this one seemed to over promise (Global Dream? Really?) and under deliver. I know it's a working boat and all but a lick of paint wouldn't have gone astray. There's always something to be said for making an effort.

Now this is more my style: Sleek and white and celebratory even in name. Unfortunately a small child appeared as we chugged past which is just going a bit overboard (pardon the pun) with the accessories I feel....

This one has a spot in the boot for one's jet ski. Very handy!

Suddenly the Bolte Bridge loomed above us again, signalling that our sea adventure (well the combined waterways of the Yarra River and Port Phillip Bay in any case) would soon be over...

The Bolte Bridge with the bright shiny sun-thing again...

So that was the Day of the Family Hamer, seven intrepid wanderers out to see the world of Williamstown and conquer it with ice cream.

 

Which brings me (not so neatly) to the end of this post, my last for 2012. And all that remains is to wish you a Happy New Year wherever you are and however you choose to celebrate it.

 

There's one 'sleep' left peeps - let's show 2013 we mean business!

The Heat Is On...

Some of you may know that I have ventured Down Under for the festive season this year. Well Christmas has been done, with many a cold cut and cooling beverage and much SPF30 application. Yes folks, it's warm!

Since my arrival on Sunday in 38.3C, I have been marvelling at how poorly I handle the heat now, particularly when I must do more than lie by the pool and read. But I will do my best to aclimatise so that I can return to the UK glorious and glowing...so that I can rub your noses in it cover it all up with winter woollies.

We've been out and about a bit with a Boxing Day trip down to my old stomping ground, Frankston, to see the Sand Sculptures again (more on this in a later post peeps). Suffice to say everything and nothing has changed since I lived there almost 20 years ago...

Frankston Pier hasn't changed a bit and I remember many a walk along it as a teenager at the end of a day at the beach with friends. It looks empty here but it was buzzing with people about an hour later.

Kananook Creek has had a real makeover with picnic spots and a boardwalk up to the beach. It was not so nice when I was living here.

Boating is big here and in my youth there was many a day spent water-ski-ing or fishing (well that's the boys fishing and me lying on the front bit of the boat getting a tan).

And under yesterday's summery skies, there was nothing for it but to have some fish and chips under a shady tree for lunch.
 

 That's a nice piece of blue grenadier nestled against a yummy corn jack and scrumptious chips. And in the background, that's a can of Creaming Soda, not really to my taste but I've been on an Australian foodie nostalgia trip - aka 'oooh I haven't had that for yeeeeeears!' - since I arrived.

Lil Chicky has just arrived and we are off for a day of pampering and relaxing together so hope your Christmas has been a good one and you are making the most of whatever the season has to offer wherever you are.

Sheepish...

I am perturbed people. Seriously perturbed.

With Christmas fast approaching and a trip Down Under on the agenda, it goes without saying (but I shall say it anyway) that I am looking forward to embracing all things festive with loved ones in Oz this year.

You know, the Christmas Day feast, either a BBQ or a seafood selection depending on whether we are at Mum's or Lil Chicky's.

The annual Stocking Sprint - or who can open all the small, ridiculously over-wrapped presents in their stocking first, thereby spoiling the 'surprise' element of each piece of tat gift for everyone else.

Or the Festive Forage otherwise known as where will Husband of Lil Chicky hide random pieces of Christmas wrapping at Mum's place and how long will it be before she finds them.

Yes I am confident that these traditions will resist our continued path through adulthood the test of time as well as Mum's desire to have a clean house/stop staying up til all hours wrapping teeny tiny presents.

But there is one tradition unique to Melbourne that really brings out the big kid in me, the 5-year-old who presses her nose against the window in wonder (okay maybe my nose doesn't exactly touch the window any more but you get my drift.)

The Myer Christmas Windows.

Every year, the windows of the Myer Store in Bourke Street Mall pay tribute to the festive season with an animated display of fairytale movement and magic. The crowds, young and old alike, line up and file past the windows, ooh-ing and aah-ing at Cinderella, The Nutcracker, The Night Before Christmas, Santa Claus is Coming to Town and many other well-known storybook worlds.

But this year, things have gone awry in a big way.

This year's windows, unveiled last week, pay glittery homage to...

...Russell the Sheep...who has apparently saved Christmas.

Who is this interloper?

What on earth happened to Rudolph and his shiny nose?

Only 33 sleeps to go til I can investigate for myself. 

Stay tuned peeps, I'm on the case...

Some Observations on Mid Life...

I wrote last week about my penchant for the peculiar...well this week I have come across something that I cannot bear to be true.

It just dropped right into my Inbox and before long, Iconoculture's latest Observation had me shaking my head in vigorous denial.

You see, Kathryn Milner has reported that instead of a girls’ night out, some Australian women are dressing up and drinking tea.

Excuse me, I think not. Who are these women? After all, this is the land of quintessential casual - the Ugg, the barbie and thongs of more than just the foot variety.

The Havianas Thong Challenge - an Australia Day institution in the making

Kathryn has also supplied a definition of high tea: 'a light meal served before 5pm'.

Well, I think that source is questionable. EVERYONE knows that a high tea is no light meal. It's like saying a marathon is a gentle stroll in the park. And tea? A 'high tea' not really complete without a spot of champers...is it?

And finally, here's the sting in the tail - the 'lifestages' that this trend most appeals to.

I may have left Young Adult-hood behind a few years ago but let me tell you right now, this Aussie sheila is no 'Midlifer'!

So to provide a more balanced view of an 'Australian in midlife' crisis, I offer in evidence:

this...

Cupcakes and Champers - it's Lush!

and this...

A Commuting Gem

and especially this...

The Rides

So let me sum up by saying that this little black duck is not quite ready for Iconoculture's version of Mid-Life...

...so just ahead is where it shall stay!

Now where are my slippers?

I Come From A Land Down Under...

With the Olympics going on here in London, I've read/seen a lot of stuff about Australia and sporting heroes. 

Just last night, in the midst of profile after profile on Team GB (as is the perogative of the Host City), Cathy Freeman featured in a montage about 'The Face of the Games' for her star turn (both on and off the track) at the Olympics in Sydney in 2000 and legendary Aussie swimmer Ian Thorpe has been a key part of the commentary team at the Aquatics Centre for the swimming events.

Let's face it, there's nothing like a sporting great or two to bring out a bit of proud Aussie patriotism.

Today I was reading a post by Aussie-in-Doha, Kirsty Rice called The Fine Print In Your Passport. Just as the company you work for tells you that you are a representative of that company and are expected to conduct yourself as such, Kirsty reveals that same admonishment exists in the pages of your Australian passport. (For those of you that have one that is - the rest of you should check your own fine print.)

For many years, Australian airline QANTAS has run an overseas television campaign featuring Peter Allen's I Still Call Australia Home, the unofficial anthem for any self-respecting Aussie expat. The line 'no matter how far or how wide I roam, I still call Australia home' has always moved me (and most other Australians I know) and reminds me of the enormous pride I feel in being an Aussie amongst the ecclectic cultural melting pot of London.

But today Kirsty's post unearthed a new gem and for me, an absolute pearler that covers the two places I'm lucky enough to call home... 

So just you remember, I come from a land down under...

...you'd better run, you'd better take cover.

Travelling The Australian Way...

A couple of weeks ago I forked out rather a lot of the old cash-ola to fly Down Under for Christmas. It's quite a good deal for that time of year but still almost double what any self-respecting Aussie would pay to be wedged in cattle class for 24 hours.

So imagine my consternation when I opened my emails to find this...

...a brilliant April Fools antic from travel afficionados, STA.

All I can say is it's just as well I read the fine print!

Great Southern Land...

So today is Australia Day. The day we down under celebrate the landing of the First Fleet at Sydney Cove in 1788, some 18 years after its discovery by Captain James Cook laying the claim of British Sovereignty at the threshold of a vast and unknown territory.

So what to blog about today, I thought? Could it be a potted history of our last 224 years? Or perhaps a little wander through the idiosyncracies and peccadillos of my fellow countrymen?

But then I knew - it just had to be the music. And more particularly, the music of my youth. So by clicking on all of the links below, you can take a little tour through the teenage years of a little Aussie sheila. Think BBQs, festivals, concerts, camping and much anthem-like, arms-raised, crowd-singing as you listen.

There was Australian Rock charting its course through hearts and minds with Cold Chisel, Icehouse, Little River Band, Australian Crawl, The Angels, Men At Work and personal fave, Noiseworks.

And let's not forget those upper echelons of Aussie Pop with Kylie, Savage Garden, Kate Ceberano, Bachelor Girl and Jo Camilleri (and his Black Sorrows).

But the song that always sums up that great big land down under for me is a song by little known Gangajang - listen to the words and you'll hear what I mean...

Have a bonza 'Straya' Day, peeps!

A Rusty Old Ute And 8 Mighty Roos...

Gidday peeps! Hope you've all had a fab Christmas (or however you celebrate). I've been lounging around, drinking champers and out and about swotting up on a bit of history (but not all at once you understand).

With Christmas done but still a week left on holiday, I've got quite a list of things 'to do' but decided to open up my emails this morning to see what the world at large had been up to.

Amongst the post Christmas/Boxing Day and End of Year sales (with even more discounts), there were a couple of missives from Mum. And in response to my last post, she had received an Aussie rendition of Twas the Night Before Christmas so before we say our final farewells to the little dude's official birthday celebrations, here's one more post Chrissy post script for you to enjoy Oz style.

It's a bewdy!

'Twas the night before Christmas; there wasn't a sound.

Not a possum was stirring; no-one was around.
We'd left on the table some tucker and beer,

Hoping that Santa Claus soon would be here;

We children were snuggled up safe in our beds,

While dreams of pavlova danced 'round in our heads;
And Mum in her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,

Had just settled down to watch TV sports.

 
When outside the house a mad ruckus arose;

Loud squeaking and banging woke us from our doze.

We ran to the screen door, peeked cautiously out,

snuck onto the deck, then let out a shout.

Guess what had woken us up from our snooze,

But a rusty old Ute pulled by eight mighty 'roos.

The cheerful man driving was giggling with glee,

And we both knew at once who this plump bloke must be.

Now, I'm telling the truth it's all dinki-di,

Those eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.
Santa leaned out the window to pull at the reins,

And encouraged the 'roos, by calling their names.

'Now, Kylie! Now, Kirsty! Now, Shazza and Shane!

On Kipper! On, Skipper! On, Bazza and Wayne!

Park up on that water tank. Grab a quick drink,

I'll scoot down the gum tree. Be back in a wink!'

So up to the tank those eight kangaroos flew,

With the Ute full of toys, and Santa Claus too.

He slid down the gum tree and jumped to the ground,

Then in through the window he sprang with a bound.

He had bright sunburned cheeks and a milky white beard.

A jolly old joker was how he appeared.

He wore red stubby shorts and old thongs on his feet,

And a hat of deep crimson as shade from the heat.

 
His eyes - bright as opals - Oh! How they twinkled!

And, like a goanna, his skin was quite wrinkled!

His shirt was stretched over a round bulging belly

Which shook when he moved, like a plate full of jelly.

A fat stack of prezzies he flung from his back,

And he looked like a swaggie unfastening his pack.

He spoke not a word, but bent down on one knee,

To position our goodies beneath the yule tree.

Surfboard and footy-ball shapes for us two.

And for Dad, tongs to use on the new barbeque.

A mysterious package he left for our Mum,

Then he turned and he winked and he held up his thumb;

He strolled out on deck and his 'roos came on cue;

Flung his sack in the back and prepared to shoot through.

He bellowed out loud as they swooped past the gates-

MERRY CHRISTMAS to all, and goodonya, MATES!'