Melbourne, Victoria, Australia — Okay, it was as I suspected. Second day in Melbourne was a blast, people here were friendly, the museum staff at the Australian Center for Contemporary Art were very knowledgeable, the serendipitous Latin American Film Festival at the Australia Center for Moving Images was great, and Federation Square is pretty rocking.
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia — Although I am sitting on Federation Square, on a lawn chair where a free screening of Vitus is being shown and I am using the free wifi and the sun is setting behind the cityscape to my right, the city of Melbourne hasn’t charmed me yet. I think it is the people, who seem, on average, less friendly and more abundant. This perception–and make no mistake, it is only my perception tainted by my peculiarities–is related to the intensely disappointing feeling that came over me as I left the relative quiet and seclusion of the Great Ocean Road and entered the suburbs of Melbourne. Spending so much time on the road, on beaches, in the tidal pools, unbeaten trails, in a word: alone. Alone and loving it, so that now, surrounded, I cannot be very warm to the city. But maybe I’ll come around.
Warrnambool, Victoria, Australia — I’ve been out driving. A long 9+ hour journey from Adelaide to Warrnambool. On the way I saw a brilliantly blue lake called Blue Lake. Nearby this lake, was another lake, it was called Leg of Mutton lake and it looked like, well… you’ve probably guessed it. You can’t make this stuff up. But these (oh, what’s the word for naming something based on how it looks? This coin operated internet terminal only lets me have one window open and my time is winding down, so I’ll just leave this parenthetical reference as a placeholder for that word since I can’t hunt it down.) names remind you that the first english speaking settlers in Australia were criminals. Of course, I’m assuming a lot, i.e. that those same un-law-abiding settlers discovered and named these lakes, and that criminals are, as a whole/on average, less educated/creative. Let’s make those assumptions for the sake of my dwindling internet time and move on.
In addition to these lakes, from where I watched the sun set behind some hills, I drove past dense forrests. These forrests were pitch black a few trees in. It was amazing, I’ve never seen so dense a forrest that this darkness is so apparent. It was from one of these forrests that a kangaroo appeared. He paused on the side of the road, stood up, looked around, and–despite the fact that I was rapidly approaching in my rental car–bounded in front of me and across the two lane highway in three long hops. He quickly disappeared, enveloped by the forrest’s darkness. So the answer to the question, “Why did the kangaroo cross the road?” is an angst-ridden retort, “Because you’ve segmented the forrest with your bloody road!” with a “You bastards!” thrown in for emphasis.
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia — The Sydney portion of my trip is winding down. Yesterday the sun burned through the clouds. Blue skies dominated much of the afternoon. The conference is over and, by my measure, a success, a beautiful brunette in an amazing pink sun dress said hello to me on my way out, which on one hand is not to significant since most people say hello to me here, but on the other hand, she was overly remarkable looking, which is something I seldom note, so that should be some indication of the scale of things. Brisbane and it’s water taxi lie ahead, cheers!
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia — During my presentation, a brief talk on a small x-ray survey among a collection of other presentations of mammoth optical surveys, I stood before colleagues who’s papers I’ve read throughout my development. I felt painfully out of place. Nevertheless, wavering voice and all, I plowed through and was met with mostly favorable discussion and big kudos for braving the photon starved x-ray regime. I can also say is that I stood comfortably thanks to my newly purchased Haley Hansen sneakers and recently acquired trick of an undershirt tucked into my underpants.
The purchase was made the day before because a) my Merril’s were killing me, b) the continuing rain fall was water logging my socks, c) the Merril’s were only ten dollars, so parting with them was painless, if not theraputic. The trick was taken from Nicholson Baker’s The Mezzanine, his first novel, which I picked up on a whim at a dusty, old, and moldy bookstore in Sydney. It has been a good read. I recommend it.
While reading, I couldn’t help but think about the wealth of information a sharpmind can amass, and how, as the internet emerged, this wealth is now available to anyone with access to the internet. Indeed, a quick google search shows that Baker himself has become enamoured with Wikipedia. Perhaps it is a meeting of the minds? Fitting that millions of users are required to match the mind of Baker.
This rambling post is all a way of admiting a very simple regret, that I thought those damn ten dollar Merril’s would satisfy my needs instead of my stalwart Keen’s. Lesson learned. But on the subject of regrets comes this one: why did I not bring my binoculars (or bird-noculars, as I am wont to call them)? There are so many amazing birds here and, by my counts, they are commonplace, which fills my mind with wild visions of what may be flitting around in the trees.
I’ve developed a classification scheme for the birds I’ve seen. it is roughly as follows: that bird behaves and appears in a frequency consistent with the American species <blank>, so I’ll call it, the Australian <blank>. To get an idea of the spectacular kind of common birds, the American Canadian goose, is an Ibis with a long curly black beak and black face. Elegant, graceful, beautiful, and abundant. I wonder if they run over these ibises?