Visiting Melbourne in February 2016,
I took in a show at the Victoria State Theatre, North by Northwest. While collecting my tickets, I saw the
following advertised: a production of Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen that
would be put on in November and December
of the same year. It didn't take long to decide, and as soon as I was earning money again, I paid for the flight,
the opera tickets and accommodation.
Then it was just a waiting game.
I did have to request time off work, which is not normally allowed
during semester, but as soon as I'd signed my contract, I put in the request,
leaving four months of notice.
The date gradually came around, and
I boarded my Cathay Pacific flight. I
was not going to travel with a budget airline this time, after my shocked
experience ten months ago. Boarding, our
bags were checked a second time right on the ramp leading into the
aircraft. This is uncommon (though it
has happened to me before). I guess they
might have been looking for Samsung Galaxy Note 7 devices, which have been
banned by many airlines.
Eventually, I entered the
craft. This is quite likely the
narrowest tube I've ever been on. I
could barely fit down the aisle.
Arriving in Melbourne hours later, the first announcement at the airport
was made in Mandarin and no other language!
Had I left Taiwan at all? Exiting
the arrivals hall, the taxi driver I hailed was annoyed with me because I was
only going a short distance. (I'd
deliberately booked my first night nearby as I was arriving late.) He surmised that I'd been rejected by other
drivers who refused to take such a short fare.
I objected vehemently. He
relented and drove me. On the way, I was
certain I could smell beetle nut on his breath.
Again, where was I?
The room was comfortable if
plain. I was in bed soon. Next morning, my cuz, Steph, came to pick me
up. It was great to see her, though it
had only been ten months. She drove me
into the city, taking me to get a SIM card and connection to the net. How dependent we've become on these little
genius devices! We also took a walk
through the State Library of Victoria.
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Then
we scoffed down delicious gyros at Stalactites.
Finally, it was time for me to check in at the new place. We returned to where the car was parked and
drove. I'd find out later that
Stalactites is very close to where I was staying.
At the new address, I was unable to
get into the lock box to retrieve the keys. Quan had given me the secret pin, but the lock
box was jammed. He came without delay to
let me in. What a lovely place I'd chosen! The decor was modern and warm,
the kitchen well-equipped and there was a washer in the bathroom. Not only that, but it was also super central (within
the free-tram zone) and secure. The bed
was comfortable and the bedding snug; there was even an international electric
adaptor.
Steph left shortly after I was
in. I went out to buy food, and then I
called it a day.
On Monday it was time to venture
forth. Though I'd been here just ten
months ago, there were many sights I didn't get to see on that trip. I was determined to make up for that on this
visit. Stepping out, I headed for the
tram stop. So accustomed to driving on
the right, I waited on the wrong side of the tram rails. Today I'd have my first personal encounter
with those pesky Australian flies. They don't seem at all perturbed by waving
of hands; they just keep coming at your face!
I bought a few odds and ends and
then headed to the State Theatre. I had a knotty matter to work out, and I'll return to it by and by in the post about the Ring Cycle.
Later, I met Antice for lunch.
She is the ex-girlfriend of a colleague, studying now in Melbourne to
further her teaching career in native Taiwan, and it was great to see her. Then I went back to the accommodation to get
out of the 30° heat. (I found out the next day that it was in fact
over 34°, but it was
nevertheless much more comfortable than the same mercury reading in
Taiwan.) Soon it
was time to head to the theatre for the first performance, Das Rheingold. I decided to walk. Dark rain clouds began gathering, but there
was no let up to the heat. As I
approached the venue, it started to rain in earnest. I made it!
After the show, I walked back across
the Yarra River, determined to save every penny possible on the trip (it had
cost so much already) - the theatre is a single stop outside the free-tram
zone.
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(More than three years after this trip, I stumbled by accident upon a marvelous piece of useless information. This bridge in the foreground, the Princess Bridge, that I would cross on each visit to the theatre and on many other occasions, was designed by John Grainger, father of Percy Grainger. Later in this account, I will lead you into a museum in honour of the younger Grainger. Here is another picture I took of the same bridge.)
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On Tuesday I woke at 7:30, despite only
slumbering after 1am. Today it was cold,
reminiscent of Iceland. Luckily I had my thin yet mostly windproof and
water resistant jacket bought at Hagkaup in Reykjavik. The line on the thermometer had dropped by
more than half. Today was 14°C!
Favoring my left leg (there is
something going wrong in my right knee), I set off in the direction of
Abbotsford Convent.
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The Lonely Planet
had described it as a former convent, one from which the clerics had
departed. It is now home to "a
thriving arts community of galleries, studios, cafes and bars." (Lonely Planet, Melbourne & Victoria, 2014, p62) Walking from Victoria Park Station, I passed
through a tired neighbourhood; many shops closed. Perhaps it was still
too early. This gave way to a rustic,
tree-lined suburb, and I imagined I was heading to Nienke's studio at
Montebello in Newlands, Cape Town, with its promise of interesting, fresh arts
and crafts.
The reality was rather less
impressive. Only one of two cafes was
open, I saw no artists at work, and the only exhibition hall I found was closed
for reinstallation. There was, however,
a small exhibition space beside the open cafe.
Riding the train back into the city, I marveled at how much the suburban
setting reminded me of the Cape Town suburb of Rosebank - little houses packed
tightly together with miniature gardens and ornate iron fences.
Next I made for Gertrude Street and
her surroundings. Starting at the
western end and walking east, I stopped in at Alcaston Gallery. This was small and the staff was taking down
an exhibition. Still, I got to see a
bit, and some of it was aboriginal. I liked it. Further on, I ambled into Gertrude
Contemporary Art Space. This was also small and also interesting.
Down the bottom end of Gertrude St was the best I'd seen so far, at the Australian
Galleries.
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There were some very thought-provoking works. Across the street at Australian Galleries
Stock Room the staff was also taking down the exhibition. Here, nevertheless, I saw something similar to
African 3D artwork. (The first picture is what I saw today. The second picture is an example of the African art - this one was made by my mother.)
Now I headed back west, to the Ian
Potter Museum of Art. This stood within the grounds of the Melbourne
University, but its entrance was located on an outer road. The venue was much
larger and the displays very good.
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At
the other end of the university, also accessed from an outer road, was the Grainger
Museum. Percy Grainger is conceivably Australia's most famous composer of
classical music. Naturally, I was
intensely interested in its contents. There were some photographs, and he
had strikingly good features. Other than
composing, he also invented instruments capable of producing smaller intervals
than traditional Western instruments.
Some of his inventions were on display, and visitors were encouraged to
operate them. I wasn't in the mood. What astonished me was the revelation of his
sexual deviance, though it seems he was unperturbed that the public knew. He liked to be whipped and owned a whole collection
of whips. His wife accepted this and
even gifted him a whip as a wedding present!
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Returning to my accommodation, I
walked by Her Majesty's Theatre and saw that a production of Kinky Boots was
running throughout my stay. I'd heard
one very good report about this show from George, who joined me for a few days
in Sydney in January and who accompanied me to the Sydney Opera House to see
The Pearlfishers. I was more than eager
to buy a ticket, but like everything down-under, theatre tickets do not come
cheaply, and I decided taking in another show would simply be too wanton. Instead, I headed home, did laundry and
rested in warmth and comfort. Among the
entertainments on offer in the room was a TV show called Broadchurch, a British
crime drama. It was riveting, and I
watched two entire seasons during my stay.
That night I had the best sleep since arriving.
On Wednesday, I made an early
start. I went west from Exhibition Street as far as Swanston St, turned left
and continued to the Yarra River. Then I
turned left again and followed the river to where I knew I'd find the Federation
Bells. By the time I got there, I realised that I was back at Exhibition
Street! I'd wound my way around sixteen city blocks, where I might simply have ambled straight down Exhibition Street to the river. Never mind, a little exercise didn't
hurt. I stayed for a while to enjoy the
specially-composed music, and then it started raining again. Remembering that I hadn't taken my morning
meds, I headed back home to do so.
Next I made my way to the Docklands,
which lie west of the CBD, beyond Southern Cross Station and Etihad
Stadium. The neighbourhood was
glassy-modern, neat and spotless. It was
beautiful. However, there was almost
nobody walking around, and it was unexciting.
I guess I'd been expecting something like the Waterfront in Cape Town or
Circular Quay in Sydney, both of which are bustling. Back in the CBD, I wandered into St Paul's
Cathedral. Here visitors have to pay to
be allowed to take pictures. I did,
before returning home again.
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En route, a fight broke out on the
tram I was taking. I'd been vaguely
aware of the pair when I got on. I heard
conversation, but when I'd looked over in their direction, they were seated,
facing away from each other and for a moment I thought the man had been talking
on his phone. As we approached my stop
and I stood to alight, the woman stood and walked up to the man, a menacing
look in her eyes. "Pay me!"
she hissed, and then started pushing the man around. She seemed quite
strong and her physique dwarfed the man's.
Was she a drag queen? Had he just
bought drugs from her, or slept with her and was now refusing to hand over the
dough? The tram stopped and the doors
opened and I exited. "Get
out!" I heard the tram driver yell and then repeat as I scurried off at a
purposeful hobble.
I dropped some purchases in the room,
took a shower and then made my way to the Victoria Parliament and Old Treasury
Buildings. As soon as I arrived, I wondered, "What am I doing
here?" Abruptly disinterested, I shuffled
on to Tolarno Galleries. There was a
single exhibition by a single artist showing a total of eight pieces. It was not my cup of tea. Next, I entered the Anna Schwartz Gallery. Twice Lourens and I had tried unsuccessfully
to gain access in February. Now the door
was open. In a single room stood a single piece, but it was
spectacular! This picture does not do it
justice - the 3D aspect was much more pronounced. Loved it!
It was time to head to the theatre
for tonight's opera, Die Walküre. The
entire day had been rainy, windy and miserably cold, even for me,
although I guess I'd have been alright if I'd packed wintry clothes.
Exiting at first interval, the rain was gone and the sun was shining.
There was however not much difference in the temperature. Many patrons were seated in the theatre lobby,
dinners on their laps. It all looked rather
ghetto save the extravagant garments and plush furnishings. This theatre
is completely submerged. The ground
level is in fact level 6. The box office is on level 5, and entrance to the
stalls is on level 3! A variety of members' lounges and restaurants are above
it all on levels 7 and 8, the only levels above ground.
On Thursday morning, I took a walk
to Fitzroy to meet Anna.
Australian, she
lived in Taiwan over ten years ago, and I visited her when I came in 2007, but
had been unable to get in contact ten months ago. (As it turned out, she was in Peru at the
time, anyway.) I was early so thought
I'd save tram fare. We had a lovely
vegetarian lunch and a lively catch up.
It was excellent to see her after eight years. She had actually left Melbourne and was
living near Victoria's border with New South Wales. By happy accident, she'd already planned to
take a trip into the city to run some errands.
Lucky me!
After lunch, I wandered through a
few stores in search of Christmas gifts.
Hmmm what to get? I was soon beat.
Supermarket. Home. The warm bed and Broadchurch kept me in for the rest of the day. (As has become my
habit, I ate almost exclusively from supermarkets, though I did have some
Subway salads, one visit to Nando's and a single helping of Hungry Jack's. All three franchises sprout like grass throughout the city. Google Maps lists 19 Subways, 10 Nando's and
6 Hungry Jack's within or very near the CBD.)
On Friday morning, I texted Helga,
Steph's mom and my first cousin. We'd
made plans to meet at Tante Erna's (her mom, my dad's sister). I didn't want to wait for a response, so I
boarded a tram in the direction of Richmond and the Charles Nodrum Gallery.
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Just as I arrived, Helga called. Since I was just outside, I wasn't going
to miss the gallery, so I entered. It
was super SUPER! Back to Flinders Street
Station. Train to St Albans. On foot to Harmon Avenue, but Helga met me en
route and drove me rest of the way. Steph was there, too. It was a happy reunion, but all too soon, I
had to head back to the theatre for Siegfried.
Exiting after the show, the streets were buzzing.
On Saturday my only order of
business was getting gifts and an assortment of toiletries that aren't
available in Taiwan. I dropped them
home, then decided to go to the National Gallery of Victoria. Having misjudged
the trams, I was easily defeated; and it was cold. I traipsed to Coles to get lunch and dinner,
then home. Ahhh!
Sunday was equally unhurried. I was up in time to get a SkyBus ticket to
the airport for Tuesday. Then I returned to St Albans. Tante Erna, Onkel
Hans and I had lunch at a Chinese buffet.
I was at once happy to be eating familiar food and annoyed that I wasn't
trying something exotic. At least there
were also roast meats and Dauphinoise potatoes, both perpetually absent in
Taiwan. Around 4:30, I caught a train
back into the city, got my supplies for the evening and returned home. At 10:30pm, I suddenly scolded myself for
laying about, forced myself out the door.
Melbourne was a-buzz. Within
minutes I realized I was exhausted and returned home.
On Monday, I rose early. I packed my
suitcase, took out trash and washed up. Then I headed to the Melbourne Museum.
I'd been here in February, but the visit had been cut short. Then I noticed that the entrance fee was
steeper than I'd expected. I'd slowly
grown annoyed with the entire nation for the exorbitant prices attached to
every damn thing, so like a petulant child, I refused to enter.
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The rest of the day continued in
this thwarted vein. I had three hours
before checking in at the next accommodation. (I'd had to make emergency arrangements due to
factors described in the post Der Ring des Nibelungen - Overview.) Not wanting to drag my suitcase around, I'd
located a tourist help centre at Flinders Street Station where bags could be
left for a few hours. Arriving there, I
was told their lockers were full. They
suggested Southern Cross Station. There
I did find a locker. Good.
I'd planned to meet with Antice for
a second time. Exiting now, the trams
were slow to arrive and packed like sardine cans. I opted to walk. The result was that once we hooked up, I had
30 minutes for lunch! Leaving her at Melbourne
Central Station, I couldn't make out how to return to Southern Cross. Asking for help, I missed the train I
needed. The next one was seven minutes
out. Two o'clock was fast approaching,
and that's when I'd agreed to check in.
(This is the down side of AirBnB.
You have to come to an arrangement with the host regarding check in, as
they're all private homes. The
advantages are great - great locations, low costs, laundry facilities - if you
check first - and the list goes on.)
To get my suitcase, I had to ride to
Melbourne North and change. The clock
was ticking. I told Le I might be late,
and she graciously offered to leave the key in her mail box. When I got there, however, she was still in
the building, and I was happy to meet her.
I dropped my luggage, took a shower, and walked to the National Gallery
of Victoria, which stands just beside the National Theatre, convenient for
attending the last opera. I was happy
I'd finally get to see some more art.
Except that it took about 40 minutes to walk there, just in time to put
my bag in the cloakroom and enter the theatre!
After the show, I got about four
hours' sleep, then hopped on the Sky Bus to the airport. I was early and therefore second in line to
check in. Then the waiting game
started. I HATE flying on budget
airlines. (I'd had no choice - this was
the only way I could enjoy the last act of the opera. See the post Der Ring des Nibelungen.) The flight to Kuala Lumpur was
uneventful. There is no entertainment
without paying for it, but I luckily had the task of finishing my description
of Götterdämmerung. I tried at some point to use my credit card
to buy a drink, but the crew member told me the device couldn't read my
card. Bloody budget! Literally two seconds before touchdown, some
imbecile stood up!
Landing in Kuala Lumpur there was
not much time. Following the others, I
went through the security check, being sure to first empty my bottle and place
the empty vessel visibly. Then I filled
it with water. Heading to the gate, I
had to pass through another security check, where they confiscated my
water. To add insult to injury, all
vendors on the other side sold water in only flimsy plastic cups with flimsy
lids. I was now without water or
vessel. I was now livid. I decided that this would be the last time I
fly budget and the last time I fly through Kuala Lumpur.
On the plane to Taipei, during taxi,
there was a knocking sound at the right rear of the plane. I'd never heard that before. As we took off, another sound could be heard
by everyone, terrified looks filling faces.
It was like ice rolling down a tray, like a giant rainstick
reverberating above our heads. It went
on for a while, but then it ceased. At
times like that, I always look at the attendants. If they're calm, I stay calm. On this flight they accepted my Taiwan
dollars and I ate something and had a drink or four. The crew member waited for me to start eating
before she told me that change can only be given in Malaysian ringit! Blast it!
(My bank would not take it, either.)
Thankfully, disembarking in Taipei,
my luggage was among the first on the carousel.
More thankfully, I was in time for a bus. (Buses stop running to Taichung over night.) Nevertheless, I arrived home late and took
another morning off work. More money!
So these rantings in the last few
paragraphs paint a tortured picture. I
get over things very quickly, and in all, I had a wonderful break. Much needed, too.