The Sydney Aquarium

Everyone told me that this was a must, you must "go find Nemo" (a joke that has gone well past its use-by-date I now realise, those poor aquaruim staff). So off we went. Actually, that seems to imply a certain degree of haste, but with the huge crouds there wasn't much forward movement, not in the queue, and not in the aquarium either. Prams and off road buggies constantly nudging your shins, children screeming that they had located Nemo on a frisbee in the gift shop, kiddies banging at the fish tanks or sticking their fingers into starfish... I don't want to get al New Age on you but I began to feel a little uncomfortable with the whole show. I will not argue the case as to a fishes level of consciousness, or the level of humaine conditions they lived in, or indeed the educational benifits of exposing people to creatures they had never imagined existed, but I do feel strongly enough about the water around the whole Noah's Ark to pipe up here: Between the hub and the seperate shark pod was a gangway over the harbour, and there gently bobbing in the oil slick was a chilie bin (which I recently learnt is an esky in Australian), and a selection of dining-ware from that fine restaurant we have all come to love, the one run by the clown..., and other detritus. It is the only photo I took of my experience there, and one that I think is more important that a snap of a sparkly snapper.

Ozzy ozzy ozzy

I little preview of antics on the otherside of the pond.

With my travel buddy Ronja, I have visited the NSW Art Gallery, and been horrified by the Anne Landa Award. The ALA is a new media award, and the winnner can only be described as shocking. Sitting a a playhouse on tiny kiddie chairs you have the chance to interact with a little girl/doll by using a mouse. What seems so inocent becomes macabre as the little angel becomes self distructive: when suggesting playing 'Tea-Time', she throws the teapot on the ground, picks up the broken china and grinds it into her eyes. You can't help but feel slightly responsible in suggesting the activity. Nuts!

A picnic in the botanic gardens was more sedate, but still a little bizare being surrounded by brids I had never seen before, making noises I had never heard before, and others that are normally seen in cages in pet shops, now flying freely, colourful feathers flapping just as they should be..

No trip would be complete without seeing the Opera House. Not that we went inside, but wandered around taking it all in, trying to get that defining photograph. Time will tell if I got "that" shot.

Dave and Ivan have been legends with their hospitality in the city, and with insider knowledge. I am sure that left up to our own devices we would have missed those famous fireworks heralding the new year seen from Mrs Macquires Point, in the Botanic Gardens, and a picnic with thousands of Sydneysiders and travellers. Fireworks that kicked the probverbial of all the others I have ever seen. OK, the 'Disco Ball' was something of a disapointment, but it was overshadowed by the complete show. The 9pm show with less than a skin-full was amazing. The crowds were not as frantic and we could "ooo" and "ahhh" to our hearts content, but we were all just waiting for the big one.

Which was big. Very. Huge crowds gathered at the waters edge 15 minutes early and we clambered for a position. I was tucked under the sweeping branches of a tree, half perched on half a step, but could still see most of the action, and with a death grip on the handrail managed to stay upright. The fireworks raged for 15 or 20 minutes maybe, and the crowds began to disapear into the night. But, if my memory serves me right there was a laser show once the smoke had cleared, which I seem to recall enjoying, but maybe I had just burnt my corneas staling wide-eyed at the fireworks and was just getting flash-backs.

New Year itself was a lazy day, wandering over the Harbour Bridge, taking the city in at my own pace, wandering with no intention, but just seeing what was around the corner. And, today? Well, there are plenty more corners to peek around... Who knows.

So this is Sydney

So this is Sydney. I have to admit that I am liking it a great deal. Thank you to everyone involved so far, especially Debbie and Andrew.

the first mince pie

Some of you may know about the importance of the first mince pie of the Christmas, and how it defines the start of my Christmas season. The only rule is that you are not allowed to buy it yourself, it has to be given (afterall that is the spirit of the season). A late start this year, but I have just chomped through my first and having wiped my sticky fingers on my tousers I have the pleasure of reporting that this Christmas should be a good one.

Fashion.

Who starts the trends anyway? Does it matter, or does it just give you a couple of extra brownie points when, at the pub, you casually remark that reason you wear your jeans a couple of sizes too big with no belt is your way of displaying solidarity to the LA brothers whose belts are conviscated when they are locked up. Because that is where it comes from.
Apparently.
Try telling this to the punks loitering on your local street corner and they'll probably stare at you blankly then politely ask you to move along.
My thoughts on this are exactly those of Banksy (where I learnt this titbit):
"Fuck hip hop, wear a belt".

My first groupie

The strangest thing happened today. I met my first fan. Believe it or not a French tourist came into the office today wanting to take one of the posters I designed for the City Council's "Waterwise Campaign" that she has seen on the street earlier today, back to France to hang in her bathroom. How could I refuse? It is a great feeling to know that somewhere in central Europe there is a bit of work (I'd like to call it art) with my name on it that someone wanted strongly enough to track the designer down.

That, and ProDesign phoning me for an interview… All in all not a bad week.

update

I suppose I ought to fill you in. These last few weeks I have been exploring new things. Pushing limits. Seeing just how well oiled this machine really is.
The Molesworth Muster, if I haven't gone on about it enough already, was a whole heap of fun, despite hitting the wall about 3 hours in.
We drove in on the Friday night, 515 of us, and set up what I can only describe as a shanty town in the middle of nowhere. As the sun set the valley floor was lit with the subtle glow of backlit tents and gas cookers as competitors carbed-up for the race ahead.
Half-5 has never been my favorite time of day. I doubt it ever will. Even the sun creeping into a bluebird sky does little to improve my mood after a rather broken nights sleep that echoed with the rain on the tent walls. Give me a few hours, the colours brightening, the air warming and the prospect of a hefty dose of excitement things began to improve.
Not having done much training, (ok, I'll be entirely honest: not having done any training) I decided to take it easy and see how the first hill felt; but a third of the way up I was overtaken by a young whipper-snapper and that was it. In hot pursuit I zoomed my way to the top feeling like a million dollars (which in the current exchange market can just about buy you a large popcorn at the cinema). A super-sketchy loose gravel downhill and I was away. So much for easy street. The legs kicked into gear and away I zoomed. In retrospect the zooming might have been a much a bit soon. I have never been much of a middle ground guy. It's all or nothing. So after three hours giving it my all in the hot and dusty mountains there was nothing left and all the overtaking I have done was then undone. I kept the delirium away by cheering myself on until Hamner popped into view. One last roller-coaster downhill planted with rocks that could eat a small child and I was free from the saddle of pain. 4 hours and 22 minutes. The bike is still in bits in the garage. I am not really that tempted to get on yet.

This weekend couldn't have been more different. Nelson was playing host to "Flat Out". An Ultimate Frisbee beach competition with over 100 players from all over the country. Including a certain Englishman. Any excuse to go to Nelson. It never disappoints me. This was no exception.
7 games on the first day meant that by the end I had a much better clue what the hell I was doing, and what I should be doing. But these legs don't do much running normally, and certainly not barefoot on the beach, which if you haven't done it, and I mean really done it, comes as something as a shock.
The second day had us (Evil Green) play another 5 games, by which time some of the muscles in my body that had decided they would keep a low profile a few years back jumped up and began a large scale protest. We didn't win. In fact we came last. But I do know that our team had the most fun on that beach. Team sculptures, chants and a whole host of games that I had never even imagined possible, and a bunch a new friends. So much help, support and advice. You guys rule. Thank you. This is a sport that rocks, just you wait till I nail my forehand. It is not the end of it.

exibition and things

10 days on I seem to have been healing quite nicely. I even got a good 55km road-ride in the other day in preparation for the big event. I have to admit that it seems a little out of my league, but what-the-hell. If my brother can ride across America I am pretty sure I can deal with a day in the hills. Right?
Christchurch, like most places in the world, is now decorated in its Christmas regalia (it is November after all) ,and, although usually not one to be that Christmassy more than 2 weeks before the event, my tune has changed this year. I imagine this is more to do with the fluttering of my banners from hundreds of flag poles around the garden city than anything else. I like to think of it as my first exhibition, anonymous though it is.

Crashpian

I was doing a bit of afterwork training for the Molesworth x-country race in a couple of weeks; riding up on Godley head (hills on the edge of town, overlooking the sea) with Rowan. Lost my front wheel on a bit of gravel (Gravel! Come on! Why would anyone put gravel down in the bush??) and used the not-so-popular Front Elbow Brake™ and back Knee Brake to scrub my speed. I spent most of the night being cleaned up in hospital, and acting as a pin cushion for a lovely trainee nurse practicing her suturing. I hope my 6 (plus the 3 or 4 that had to be taken out that weren't quite right) helped her training. Hopefully it doesn't screw everything up.

Summer has arrived.

Maybe not strictly speaking, but my first surf in a while and I wasn't frozen to the core. gotta be a good sign. And some mtb too, all in preperation for the 80k x-country race in a couple of weeks. Mind you I don't think I will be racing much. I plan to take my camera and shoot some the the country that you don't get to play in much (private land).
Hanging out to read cousin Heyrick's book that I hear is winging its way over here. [ plug: Baghdad Business School, Eye Books, see Amazon…]
Been inspired by David Carson. Can't stop.