Friday, February 25, 2011

Kangaroos, emus, flies, and mozzies (mosquitoes)

After our first night at the Palace Hotel, we headed out to a park called “The Living Desert” to learn about desert flora, fauna, and Aboriginal engravings from a park ranger who happened to be the cousin of Uncle John, one of our uncles from Aboriginal camp. Uncle John was there too, to the delight of the whole group. After lunch we stopped in Silverton, an old mining town where the first three Mad Max movies were filmed. Mad Max 4 is apparently in the works, but we learned that filming in Silverton had to be postponed this summer because recent rains had made the desert too green. After we said goodbye to overly vegetated Silverton, we headed to an art gallery devoted to the popular, prolific, and stylistically eclectic Australian artist Pro Hart. Here’s a link for an amusing commercial he did back in the late 80s: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qb4n8yc2so. We then visited the Royal Flying Doctors Service, established in the 1920s to serve people living in the outback. Today the service (the only one of its kind in the world) has 53 planes ready to fly doctors and nurses thousands of kilometers at a moment’s notice. It takes a maximum of only 15 minutes to get a plane up in the air after someone calls in with an emergency—not bad.

The next morning we checked out of the Palace to spend the day learning about the management of the Darling River and the adjoining Menindee Lakes, now flooded with water due to heavy rains but in many years nearly or completely empty. It doesn’t help that cotton farmers have been diverting more and more water upstream, making the dry years even drier. But again, we’re here in a wet year, meaning lots of green—and plenty of flies and mozzies! After traveling around the lakes, and at one point having to drive along a flooded road, we arrived at Kinchega National Park, which was an enormous sheep station for much of the 20th century. We bunked in the old sheep shearers’ quarters, and on our walks found rusty shears and other equipment lying about. Best of all, the place was rife with emus and kangaroos. Another of our uncles from Aboriginal camp who’d decided to rejoin us, Uncle Rob, showed us how to track them. Seeing tame kangaroos in a petting zoo is one thing, seeing wild ones bounding through the outback quite another.

During our two days at the park, the students broke into four groups to conduct research on local plants and insects under the supervision of Derek, our visiting field biologist. Philip and I moved around from group to group to see what they were doing, which ranged from observing the highly antagonistic relations between male and female Orb Weaver spiders (the females attack males who try to steal their food and end up eating them after mating—yikes!) to measuring the girth of certain tree species at different points in the flood plain. On our second day at Kinchega, the students presented their findings in formal presentations, after which we took the bus back to Broken Hill and spent one more night at the Palace Hotel.

The following morning we paid a fascinating visit to the “School of the Air,” which was begun in the 1950s to educate children living in the outback. The school originally took advantage of the radios used by communities to contact the Flying Doctors Service, but now uses computers hooked up to a satellite relay. We were able to watch two kindergarten teachers lead about ten logged-in children through a lesson focused on the letter a. Very, very cute. The school also occasionally flies teachers to remote locations for home visits and brings children together twice a year so they can experience what it’s like to learn in a classroom. All of this is provided by the state free of charge. We left impressed.

Next we learned about the mining history of Broken Hill from Barney, a local geologist, who led us through a defunct silver mine. After donning helmets with headlights, we explored the old tunnels and learned how the mine was created and operated. The main lesson? It sucked to be a miner. If an accidental explosion didn’t kill you in an instant, the mica-filled dust would eventually destroy your lungs.

On that note, I’ll pass things off to Philip, who’ll talk about the sheep station (this one operational!) that we visited in Renmark, a 5-hour drive from Broken Hill.

~Andy

Another interior shot of the Palace Hotel

Ranger explains contemporary Aboriginal sculpture
at the Living Desert

In Silverton with the Mad Max cars

View of Broken Hill from the Living Desert

Café on rim of mine at Broken Hill

Geared up and ready to descend into
the Daydream Mine

Some of our students on the way to Kinchega
National Park

Flooded road on the way to Kinchega

Students observe the fascinating world of ants--for three hours!

Can you spot the roo?

Our sheep shearers' quarters at Kinchega

Andy's office at Kinchega

Sunset over Emu Lake at Kinchega

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Back to the city . . . and back out again

A laundromat in the strangely appealing mining town of Broken Hill—it’s as good a place as any to write a post! Tonight our group is staying at the fabulous Palace Hotel, whose walls are covered in an eclectic assortment of murals that include a depiction of an Aboriginal warrior and a copy of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. Philip and I are excited to stay here because it was featured in one of our favorite films, Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (if you haven’t seen it, do so). In fact, we introduced the students to this classic on our loooooooong bus ride from Adelaide, where the group reconvened this morning after a week of independent travel.

After our intense experience at Aboriginal camp, Philip and I decided to head back to the city—this time Melbourne. Sydney may have the more beautiful natural setting (its harbor can’t be beat), but when it comes to style, Melbourne wins hands down. Imagine a sophisticated metropolis crisscrossed by trams and filled with talented street performers, innovative architecture, and charming cafés. We enjoyed a few leisurely days wandering the avenues and lanes, and one afternoon took the tram to the bayside suburb of St. Kilda, where we marveled at the impressive (and fattening!) array of cake shops. If you ever happen to find yourself in St. Kilda, make sure to go to Monarch Cake Shop and order the chocolate-and-almond-filled deliciousness that is the “Kugelhoupf”—yum. We also spent an evening at a quirky cabaret called The Butterfly Club, where we enjoyed the comedic musical talents of two women who regaled us in pseudo-German accents and at one point sang a polka version of Right Said Fred’s early 90s tune “I’m Too Sexy” with an accordion.

Our time in Melbourne was followed by two nights in Adelaide. We were fortunate to arrive during the city’s Fringe Festival, which each year gathers together a wonderfully bizarre assortment of performers into a section of a park cordoned off as the “Garden of Unearthly Delights.” Inside, performers ranging from “The Half-naked Chef” to “Le Gateau Chocolat” (a Nigerian-born, British drag queen with an operatic voice and a lycra-rich wardrobe) lured passersby into gaudy circus tents to enjoy their shows. Our first night in Adelaide we decided to partake of Gateau—and loved every minute. The next day we took a tour of the nearby Barossa Valley, one of the world’s great wine regions, where we enjoyed tastings at four different wineries, stopped in quaint towns, and ate kangaroo for lunch (well, I did; Philip had the chicken). We also stopped at a toy factory and saw what’s supposedly the world’s biggest rocking horse—can now check that off the list of things I have to see before I die! That evening we took in another drag performance (yes, it seems gay boys can’t get enough of that stuff) and readied ourselves to rejoin the students the following morning.

That brings us to today, which mainly consisted of a bus ride from Adelaide up to Broken Hill. The highlight was spotting wild Emus by the side of the road.

A miner just came in to do his wash and shook a small colony of crickets out of his dirty clothes before starting a load. I can’t understand a word he’s saying except the four-letter variety.

Here are pictures from Adelaide's Fringe Festival, the Barossa Valley, and our digs in Broken Hill.

~Andy

Entrance to Fringe Festival venue

In the garden

Le Gateau Chocolat

Wine tasting at Wolf Blass

Tasting at Simpatico

World's largest rocking horse!

With a very tame kangaroo

Overlooking the Barossa Valley

Palace Hotel in Broken Hill


Inside the Palace Hotel

Monday, February 14, 2011

Aboriginal Camp

After our last post, our group said goodbye to Sydney for the last time and spent 6 days at an Aboriginal immersion camp in Wollombi, about 90 minutes outside Sydney in the Hunter Valley. From the beginning of our trip this has been the week that’s made everyone apprehensive, as we were told close to nothing about the camp other than that it would be “intense.” When we arrived, our group was shuttled (by whom we would come to know as Uncle Wayne) to a waiting area under a tree in the middle of the bush. We were told not to talk and to wait there for further instructions. Soon, Uncle Wayne returned and led us through the bush to another shaded area (it was about 100 degrees F) where we were told to pick someone who would speak for us and to think about why we were there while we waited for what we were told “could be a while.” We gathered in a circle and began to talk about what we each hoped to get out of this camp, and it was determined by the students that I would be the spokesperson for the group. After sitting for maybe 30 minutes, we were approached by two Aboriginal women wearing only skirts, their bodies painted with ochre, speaking a language that we obviously couldn’t understand. I stood as they approached and tried to let them know that we had come with open minds to learn about their culture, but was soon motioned to sit down and we were told to wait for the warriors to come. After another 15 minutes, men in kangaroo skin loincloths and ochre began slowly approaching through the bush from different directions. It’s difficult to convey the nervousness we were all feeling as we tried to decide how to approach the men respectfully and communicate with them. Once again, I stood as they came closer and asked me why we had come. Unfortunately, no answer seemed to be the right one and eventually we were told to sit and listen as one of the men explained that in order to come into the camp we had to be humble, respectful, and do what we were told with no questions. Once we agreed we were led through the bush to the camp, where we were told to walk through the smoke of burning eucalyptus to purify ourselves before entering the camp.

This is how our week began, and by the end of it, it was hard to believe that we had been so intimidated by these people who would become our “uncles” and “aunties,” and who, in just a few short days, would make such an impact on all of our lives. It’s difficult to capture the entire experience in this blog, so I’ll highlight some of the things that were most memorable. First of all, we were fortunate enough to be taught Aboriginal culture and lore by Uncle Paul, the most senior and respected elder in all of New South Wales. During the week we were divided into four “skin groups,” or “mobs,” each of which was given a piece of land to look after and learn about. Each of our mobs had an uncle or auntie who walked our land with us and taught us about the different plants and animals from which we could pick our totems. During mealtimes we ate with our mobs, and at night, nobody could go anywhere without waking someone to go with them (even to the toilet.) Each mob had something on its land that we all needed; for example, the dining room, the toilets, our cabins and the swimming holes. In order to enter each others' land we either had to make permanent deals between groups or ask permission each time we wanted access.

Our days began at 7:30 am with breakfast and didn’t stop until well into the night. During daylight hours we often worked on men’s and women’s business like making clapping sticks from wattle tree branches or learning how to throw boomerangs.  Each day we also had two hours of dance practice so we could learn many of the traditional dances from Uncle Paul’s or Uncle Wayne’s people. Somewhere in there we usually managed to work in a cooling dip in one of the swimming holes on our land . . .

Everything changed one morning as I stumbled out of our cabin to use the toilet and noticed orange ribbons tied on some of the trees and buildings. As I approached the toilet I was told sharply by Uncle Wayne that he had settled that piece of land and I was no longer allowed on his property. Confused and still half asleep, I stumbled back to the cabin to tell Andy what had happened. That day began a simulation of the "whitefellas" arriving on the land and taking whatever they wanted, cutting us off from each other, and from much of our land, kidnapping people (including Andy!), and forcing us to work together to figure out how to survive amidst these changes. It may sound silly as you read this, but it was actually emotionally and physically draining, especially with 4 or 5 hours of sleep a night.

While all this was going on, we often had lectures from Uncle Paul, and on two special occasions, had the privilege of visiting sacred Aboriginal sites in the area that date back tens of thousands of years. The first site was a cave that overlooked a beautiful valley and contained a painting of Biamie, the powerful and all-seeing father spirit. He was surrounded by handprints outlined in ochre that had been there for thousands of years. As we left the cave I was so overcome with emotion that I found myself crying into Nat’s arms as everyone boarded the bus to leave. The beauty and importance of these sites, combined with the difficulty Aboriginal people have in visiting them due to land rights issues and a lack of cooperation from the government, is overwhelming. Uncle Paul also led us to a “map site” that we visited by torch after dark. (By the way, we saw kangaroos in the grass and trees on our way to the site!) It was a flat area of stone in the hill country covered with engravings that taught ethical lessons and also explained what could be found in the surrounding valleys. Uncle Paul shared stories about the figures and taught us how to read the different symbols. He also showed us how if you look at the rocks in the daylight, with the sun shining directly down on them, they are almost invisible. It’s only at night when lit from the side that they show up. It was a special experience that few people get to have and it was made even more so by having Uncle Paul’s knowledge to help us understand what we were seeing.

One night we were told to gather around the fire after dark and were joined by Uncle Paul, who told us stories of some of the darker spirits and creatures that haunt the bush at night. That afternoon we had all been shown a cave behind the camp and had been told find a stick and place it inside. After Uncle Paul’s stories we were instructed to go one by one through the dark bush to find the cave and retrieve our sticks . . . all in pitch black darkness. Each of us had an intense experience that night at the cave that can’t be described here but has stayed with us ever since. 

Our daily dance practice prepared us for the culminating experience on the last night of camp: a corroboree, which is a traditional celebration in which different mobs dance, swap stories, and “have a feed.” All week we had been practicing our dancing, working on our clapping sticks, and making the items we would wear that night. A couple of hours before dusk the men and women went to their respective areas down by the river to prepare for the dance. In the men’s area we first went for a swim in our swimming hole to cool off and then built a fire next to the river. We were given kangaroo skins to shred into strips and tie to cords so we could cover our groins. We then proceeded to mix charcoal with water and paint our entire bodies from head to toe. Everything was covered (including the insides of our ears), so that only the whites of our eyes and teeth showed. When we were completely covered with the charcoal, Uncle Rob and Uncle Wayne painted different designs on us with white ochre. The effect was magical! We had all heard that we were dancing “naked,” but we all found that we actually felt “dressed up” in our charcoal, ochre and kangaroo skins. As it got dark we gathered around the fire with Uncle Wayne and began warming up by hitting our clapping sticks, stomping the ground (a way of paying respect to Mother Earth), and letting loose traditional yells that echoed through the night and were answered by kookaburras and other birds. We then marched barefoot through the dark bush to join the girls, who wore only cloth skirts and were painted with white ochre. Together we made our way through the dark to the dancing circle that we had all spent hours preparing by turning the soil, removing all rocks and clumps of dirt, and encircling with white ochre. In front of the elders we danced for approximately 90 minutes with fires burning on four sides of us . . . it was truly a magical experience hard to put into words.

The next morning was our last at the camp, and before we left on the bus that afternoon we gathered in a circle with the uncles and aunties to talk about all we had experienced and learned that week. I’ll just say that there were many tears and emotions shared by all of us. Andy and I feel so grateful to have had this experience and are still, almost a week later, processing and talking about what we all went though. We’re also grateful to all of the uncles and aunties who shared their stories and culture with us, a group of whitefellas from America! It was truly a once in a lifetime experience.

We didn’t take a lot of pictures at the camp, and unfortunately Andy and I left our camera in Melbourne yesterday (don’t worry—the tram company found it and will send it on), but we will post a few pictures the first chance we get. Hope all is well with everyone!

~Philip


The girls making their clapping sticks


Listening to Uncle Paul


Philip making his clapping sticks


Andy making his clapping sticks


A goanna lizard climbing a tree in our camp


The dancing circle


Painted for the corroboree





Philip


Andy


Uncles


Getting painted




Biamie




Friday, February 4, 2011

Cave Bacon, Blue Bottles, and Rip Tides

We’ve been so busy since our return from the Blue Mountains that I haven’t had time to write until today. I can’t cover everything we’ve done in the last couple of weeks, but at the very least I’ll explain the title for this post.

Cave Bacon

In his post about the Blue Mountains, Philip mentioned our trip to the fantastic Jenolan Caves. Our guide suggested we compose poetry inspired by our subterranean experience, so I decided to rhapsodize about formations that looked like, you guessed it, juicy strips of bacon.

Here’s “Ode to Cave Bacon”:

Glistening carbonate descending in sheets
If I could munch stone your taste wouldn’t be beat
Your crystalline fat’s taken years to congeal
But with an egg cut from marble you’d make a mighty fine meal

Blue bottles

January 26th was “Australia Day,” akin to America’s 4th of July except for the very big fact that Australia never revolted against Britain to become a republic (Queen Elizabeth is still the country’s sovereign). Instead of independence, the day marks the arrival of the first British fleet in 1788, so Aboriginals understandably refer to it as “Invasion Day” or “Survival Day.” We decided to spend it with our friends Susan and Josh and their adorable baby, Pepper, at Coogee Beach (which is where the three of them are lucky to live and which Philip and I prefer over Bondi). We had a great time hanging out with them and some friends of theirs. The only problem? The day was scorching hot and the ocean oh-so-inviting, but the lifeguards (who wear the cutest red and yellow beanies on their heads) announced that blue bottles were washing in with the tide. Blue bottles are jellyfish that look like, you guessed it, blue bottles. Here’s how a friend of Josh and Susan’s described their sting: “Imagine someone pressing a lit cigarette to your skin—not for seconds or minutes, but for hours.” That gave us pause . . . We noticed, however, that plenty of people continued to swim in the ocean; and Susan said odds were still good we wouldn’t get stung. So we made our way to the water’s edge and, after standing there for about 15 desire-and-dread-filled minutes, I started walking into the sea.  Precisely at that moment, a girl only a few feet in front of me started screaming and crying and ran back onto the beach. Needless to say, our flirtation with the water came to a quick and cowardly end! Fortunately Coogee has a saltwater pool where we could take a quick dip, and we had lots of fun hanging out on shore with Susan, Josh, and Pepper. This is completely random, but I can’t resist sharing one of Susan’s stories (with her permission). Back in December she planned to make Josh homemade chocolate mousse for Chanukah. Unfortunately her mother, who’d been visiting, had used half the cream she’d set aside for the mousse, and Susan didn’t have time to go the store and buy more before Josh came home. What was a nursing mother to do?  Let’s just say the mousse ended up being a true expression of love . . .

Rip Tides

Thwarted by the blue bottles at Coogee, we decided to head to the ocean again a few days later. This time we took a ferry from Circular Quay to Manly Beach, enjoying beautiful harbor views along the way. Excited to spend a day on the sand and in the water, we rented a beach umbrella (keeping in mind that Australia and New Zealand have the highest skin cancer rates in the world) and spread out our towels. But no sooner had Philip waded into the surf than the lifeguards blew their whistles and ordered all swimmers out of the ocean because of dangerous rip tides. Blue bottles may inflict pain, but rip tides kill, so the lifeguards closed the beach. We spent the ensuing hours gazing at the tauntingly beautiful waters, hoping for an “all clear” signal that unfortunately never came. Chagrined, we went home thinking we’d never get to swim in the ocean at a Sydney beach.

Following a fascinating few days of studying Aboriginal history and art, both in the classroom and at museums, yesterday we decided to visit Susan, Josh, and Pepper at Coogee Beach one more time. Because we were meeting them for dinner, we didn’t think to bring bathing suits and towels, which we immediately regretted when we arrived at the beach, given that crowds of people were swimming in the apparently blue bottle- and rip tide- free surf. Once again we were at the beach but unable to go in the water. Here’s the happy ending: Josh offered us his own swimsuits and a couple of towels so we could take an evening dip. Which we did, with gratitude. Thanks, Josh!

Tomorrow morning we leave Sydney for Wollombi (in the Hunter Valley), where we’ll spend six days at an Aboriginal camp learning from Aboriginal instructors. We won’t have access to the internet during our time there, so won’t be posting again for at least a week. In the meantime, everyone, be well!

~Andy

With Susan, Josh, and Pepper at Coogee

With Pepper and Susan

Yes, couldn't get enough of Pepper

Bathers braving the blue bottles at Coogee Beach

Coogee's saltwater pool

View of cliffs at Coogee

Scene at Manly Beach just before swimmers were ordered out of the water

Lifeguard with surfboard

UV-free reading at Manly Beach


Hanging out with our friend John near Oxford Street (which is lined with gay pubs called "hotels," so-called because once upon a time only establishments that provided lodging could serve alcohol in Australia)

Students in front of Finger Wharf in the wonderfully named neighborhood of Woolloomoloo

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Opera House Tour

I thought I'd post a couple of pictures from our tour of the Sydney Opera House. The interior is definitely 70's inspired, but somehow it all works! They have slowly begun to redo some of the interior spaces according to plans left by the original architect, Jorn Utzen, in his last years. One room that hasn't been touched is the foyer with the bright purple carpet. Apparently when Pavarotti performed at the Opera House he refused to participate in a photo shoot scheduled in that room because of that carpet so they had to move it to another room with red carpet . . . go figure . . .

As if we haven't posted (or taken) enough shots of the Opera House exterior, below you'll find a couple more, these taken from the Harbour Bridge during our walk across it. The amazing thing about the building is that every time you see it from a different angle it demands another photo. It really is an incredible structure.

On a completely different note, while we were watching a movie in the lounge with a couple of students, another spider appeared on the wall . . . bigger than the last one, but still not as big as they come. As we were all taking pictures it suddenly jumped off the wall and ran into the middle of our group. Obviously we all screamed and jumped up on the furniture . . . except me, of course, who had to keep everyone calm. ;)


~Philip

Foyer outside the Opera Theater


Another interior shot of the Opera House

View from the downtown end of the
Harbor Bridge

Circular Quay

Walking across the Harbor Bridge

The Rocks historic district

Charlotte's mother? (maybe 4" diameter . . . yikes)