A Down Under Christmas - Part One: St. Mary's Cathedral Lights

We are just back from a marvelous holiday trip. More on that in the next couple of posts, but let's begin at the beginning, shall we?

Because we are the world’s biggest procrastinators we were really feeling the holiday spirit, we spent our last night in town on the courtyard at St. Mary's Chathedral, a grand church on the border of Sydney's Central Business District. Now, Sydney may not have snow for Christmas, but they do have music and lights in abundance (as further evidenced by our night out at Carols in the Domain). 

We arrived a bit before sundown to catch a local choir perform. Now, the choir - who sang mostly gospel and R&B tunes - was rather low on what I would have considered to be the desired 'funk' quotient for their chosen songs like "All I Want for Christmas is You," The Jackson 5's "Give Me One More Chance" (whose Christmas origins are questionable, at best), and "Go Tell it on the Mountain." Nonetheless, the forecourt was full of families having a grand time - toddlers dancing and grandmothers foot-tapping. It was all in good fun. 

A little after 8, the first projection began to appear behind the chorus.

After the chorus wrapped up, and it had gotten a little darker, we were treated to the most fantastic light show. Obviously, I can't capture in photographs the way that the images moved, but the projections were quite fluid and full of surprises. The most stunning thing was the detail that the designers took with creating projections that matched all the details of the building by casting light that highlighted intricate architectural nooks and crannies without any overflow or light spillage. It was a quite stunning display. I'll leave you with a few photos, and the promise of a return soon with a couple of posts about our holiday trip.

Merry Christmas, Mates!

I probably won't be able to write again before Christmas, so let me wish all of you who celebrate a very merry, warm, and wonderful Christmas.

I just discovered this song by Australian Paul Kelly (thank you, TBTL!), and thought it would be an appropriate greeting for this space. If you like Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash, this might be your sort of modern Christmas story song.

The King's Speech Screening and Conversation with Geoffrey Rush and Tom Hooper

On Sunday - after our Saturday of holiday tidings - we attended another special event which was much more intimate, but equally as Australian.

Our favorite movie house in town is the arty Palace Cinema in Paddington. It's a gem of a theatre where we've seen all manner of arthouse and foreign films. When we got an email about a special event showing of The King's Speech, we jumped right on booking the tickets (good thing because it sold out fast). I had been so looking forward to this film since seeing a preview for it, and even more so after my grad school advisor, the wonderfully wise Charles McNulty wrote this stirring piece in the L.A. Times, in which he paralleled his own journey with stuttering with that of King George VI, as portrayed in the film.

This showing that we booked tickets for was truly a treat because it was introduce by the film's director, Tom Hooper, and following the screening, there was a Q&A session with Hooper an Geoffrey Rush.

Randomly enough, at the start of the film, Hooper was introduced by Baz Luhrmann, who has no connection to the movie, except, he said, as a fan and someone who wanted to promote what he sees as a quintessentially Australian film. His assertion was the the film is not Australian simply because it features an Australian leading character, played by an Australian (Guy Pierce, who plays Prince Albert, is also an Aussie), and directed by a "half-Australian." Instead, he argued that the movie is Australian because of the attitude of the main character, the speech therapist, who comes from the Australian culture, which is disinterested in hierarchical class distinction. As a result of his populist mindset, he treats the King like any other person, and it is this aspect of his treatment that garners the greatest results.

Hooper introduced the movie by telling a bit about its origin and his involvement, and joked that Geoffrey Rush liked to ask him which half of him was Australian - the top or bottom.

I loved the film, and was so taken by the storytelling, the nuanced performances of the whole cast, and the gorgeous scenery. I was most of all taken by the beauty of the story itself, with its themes of triumph over adversity, the power of genuine love and friendship, and the ability of one man to change history through his own determination and innate goodness. It is a masterful, deeply felt film that is easy to love.

After the film, as promised, we were re-introduced to Hooper and introduced to Geoffrey Rush for a Q&A session. I thought about pulling an eternally nerdy act and snapping a photo on my camera phone for the blog, but as we were 3rd row center, I thought I'd better contain myself.

Rush talked about his own  history with the film, a story which involved a play script being delivered to his front doorstep in Melbourne. He spoke about his friendship with Colin Firth, which began when they did publicity for Shakespeare in Love. Someone asked him a silly question about whether Colin Firth was playing the equivalent of his role in Shine, which he accepted gracefully and turned into an intelligent answer about theatrical archetypes - he gave a funny line about people saying that he plays a lot of "maddies," but that perhaps you could take his roles in Pirates of the Carribean and a film he did set in Queensland and call it his "tropical period." I so appreciate an actor who can speak intelligently about his own range, and where his work fits into the theatrical/cinematic landscape.

I even got up the nerve to ask a question.

Thinking of my advisor's article, I asked how Hooper and Colin Firth had tackled the portrayal of the stutter, with seriousness, and avoided completely the comic territory. Hooper said that it had been very helpful to have the screenwriter in the process because he was also a stutterer, so they could speak to him about his own journey. They worked hard to portray the mental anguish that a stutterer feels, rather than simply the vocal pattern. Rush mentioned that they had also looked at some of the more comic portrayals, like Porky Pig to understand the range of how stuttering had been seen in the media, and that Firth's sister is actually a speech therapist, and that she'd spoken to the cast, which had been very helpful. Hooper said that the most telling story was the Firth began to inhabit the stutter, so much so that during the filming period, he accepted an award for A Single Man, and came back to report that he'd actually stuttered at the event. "That's great news!," Hooper said that he told Firth.

What a unique joy it was to be able to share such a moving film with the creators, who are obviously so passionate about the whole project. Fascinating, also, to focus my viewer's lens on the Australianess of the movie, something which may have been lost on me if I'd not seen it in this context.

Between this event and Carols in the Domain, I do believe that I had a weekend crash course in Australian culture!

Carols in the Domain

Partner-in-Crime and I had a muy busy weekend, full of both holiday tidings and good cheer. Saturday was our chance  for a real Sydney holiday tradition - Carols in the Domain. I was overwhelmed - in a great way - with the display of festivity and Australian culture.

Carols in the Domain in an annual event that draws somewhere in the neighborhood of 100,000 people to the Domain - a huge park in the heart of the city. It's one of the largest events of the year, and raises money for the Salvos (Salvation Army).



We arrived at 3p.m. to meet up with our favorite couples, Mr. and Mrs. Garcia of Garcia Down Under fame and Mr. and Mrs. Mimi and Joe who are Gone on a Lucky Country (I get a kick out of this because we all had a long discussion about what we should call each other on our respective blogs, given that "fellow blogger" gets a bit unwieldy and impersonal). By the time we arrived, the lawn was already packed with groups of families and friends spread out on picnic blankets.





Mimi and Joe have a ginormous picnic blanket with more than enough room for all of us. This was good because, as the lawn got ever fuller and fuller, we had a comfortable amount of space for the six of us to settle without getting cozier than comfort dictates. Hey, we're Americans - we like our space! And, whenever we all get together, there is guaranteed to be far more than enough food. Cheese, crackers, cold cut sandwiches, dips, veggies, sweets. Undeterred by the "no glass" policy, Mimi and I both brought along heaps of boxed wine to sustain us. P-i-C made a valiant effort at trying to entice us to eat the traditional Australian Christmas dish of mince pies, but none but he could stomach the idea of those sickly sweet "treats."

The weather started out, in Australian parlance, quite dodgy ... cold and a bit rainy, but after a quick sprinkle, the sun came out and we put the umbrellas and long-sleeved shirts away, in favor of t-shirts and tank tops (as is befitting Christmas?). Our attire also consisted of an array of holiday themed hats, thanks to Madame Garcia who has been to Carols in the Domain a couple of times before, and knew the lay of the land.

I rocked a couple of different hats ...





A couple of other festive hats in our vicinity:





The object of all this fanciful revelry is an evening concert featuring a whole army of acts performing Christmas carols. The show is broadcast live, and apparently draws huge ratings. The organizers do a nice job of booking a range of different types of performers, all of whom only perform one or two songs, and the whole show clipped right along, even with frequent stops in the real-time action for commercial breaks.

The hosts of the show were a cloying pair of radio DJs who did a great job of being adorable and plugging the corporate sponsors at every avenue. One of the weirdest moments was an obviously pre-recorded "interview" with Jack Black, which was really just a long ad for Gulliver's Travels - one of the event's sponsors. At the end of the interview, the cutesie male host "asked" him what his favorite carol was, and his video manifestiation launched into a hilarious version of "Little Drummer Boy," which he did not know any of the actual words to, aside from "parumpapumpum."

Another one of the performers later on in the night, an Australian Idol contestant/winner of some sort, also did not know the words - to "All I Want for Christmas is You" - but to more squirm-inducing/less humorous effect.

The rest of the performances ranged from good to excellent. Early on, in order to liberate the parents of little ones, kiddie heartthrobs The Wiggles performed and introduced Santa. A lot of the adult performers were Australian TV talent show winners, and I was most taken with a couple of country singers, who sang with earnest simplicity and heart, rather than showing off their multi-octave range. I was, of course, also enamored with the cast of Jersey Boys, who supposedly raced across town during their intermission to sing their retro-inspired contribution. The most unique performance was a tap number by the Tap Dogs, and a crew of little tappers.

The headliner of the show was Josh Groban, who sang three songs, though none of them carols, per se. I won't lie ... I got swept up in the emotion of "Raise Me Up," particularly thinking about family and friends at home, as we looked out over a sea of candlelight.



The beautiful night ended with a round of fireworks. If I can tell you one thing about Sydneysiders, it is that they like their fireworks. That is just fine by me because I adore fireworks. A large display was shot over the stage as the whole cast assembled for a sweetly enthusiastic finale medley. It felt so old fashioned and wholesome, as everyone on the lawn got up an danced, sang along, and embraced their families and close friends. The weather and the lack of bulky clothing may be strange for the holiday, but on this night, the spirit was exactly right.

Tomorrow, our brush with fame ...

Where Everybody Knows Your Name, And They're Always Glad You Came

One of the things I love most about living in a place for awhile is that any city can begin to feel like a small town. You begin to have "your" restaurants and bars, and you have sidewalk encounters with people you know. It's probably no surprise that I had this feeling about Sarasota since it is not a very large city, so usually, at the Saturday Farmer's Market, I'd see half a dozen people I knew. But, even New York had this feeling about it. I had (well, still have) a great friend who I will call Grad School Twin. So, Grad School Twin and I often planned extensive dates into Manhattan from Brooklyn on Fridays because we did not have class, needed Manhattan libraries or the Drama Book Shop, wanted to see shows, and eat at our favorite restaurants. It never failed that on those Manhattan Fridays, we'd randomly see between three and six people that we knew. In fact, I was always running into friends in NYC. I thrive on this sense of familiarity.

So, this weekend, it was very comforting to begin and end at our new favorite neighborhood restaurant, Watermoon.



It is hands down the best sushi we've had in Sydney, and the prices are amazingly reasonable. On nice nights, like we had this weekend, we sit outside. Watermoon is a treat, but not a splurge.

Friday night, Partner-in-Crime texted from work, "Moonshine for dinner?". I knew what he meant, and we agreed to meet up for a date night at Watermoon. Like a lot of restaurants in Sydney, Watermoon offers BYO with a small corkage fee, so I picked up a bottle of wine on the way, and we shared a leisurely al fresco feast and easy conversation.


Sashimi Special (AKA - "The Usual")


On Sunday, we had plans to meet up with some out of towners. My very most beloved college friend was a German exchange student, and her dearest friend from home happened to be touring Australia with her boyfriend. I asked Partner-in-Crime where we should have them meet us for dinner.

"Moonshine?"

Of course, sometimes the right answer is right in front of you (even if one of us doesn't know what it's called). We brought a couple of bottles of wine with us, and as the night wore on, we were all laughing and talking so jovially that we managed to go through two more bottles. It was one of those nights.

We had a wild run in with a party of Japanese business types, one of whom had been enjoying quite a good deal of wine, himself. He kept coming over to our table and telling us that he was Japanese in an ever more effusive manner. I think he was trying to say more than that, but he was speaking in Japanese, so who knows what his intentions were. His cohorts kept coming over and apologizing for him, dragging him away, until he came back again, when they'd have to repeat. "Arigato, arigato," he said. Partner-in-Crime repeated, "Arigato" and the man hugged him and said - in English - "I love you!" His co-workers dragged him from the restaurant not long after that.

The other wild thing that happened was that, as we were having dinner with these German friends of my college buddy, we randomly crossed paths with a co-worker of Grad School Twin's! She is an Australian who now lives in New York, and is in town for the holidays. Grad School Twin had introduced us via Facebook, and she's been so kind in making e-introductions and recommendations for me. I met her for a few minutes last June when I stopped by Grad School Twin's office in New York.

And suddenly, here she was at our table at Watermoon saying hello! I don't know which one of us was more surprised.

This was the first weekend of random run-ins and feeling like we have "our place." This weekend seems like a milestone in marking a feeling of "home," as we become residents of this city, and it begins to become our big small town.

What Can I Tell You: It's a Post About Humidity, Christmas Trees, and Crazy Famous People

It's not the heat. It's the humidity.

For serious, in the last couple of days, Sydney has turned into a steam bath of mind-numbing proportions.

Outside = evil.

However, I realize that someone complaining about the weather in a place where you are not is sort of like listening to someone tell you about their rambling dream filled with random relatives and exes you've never met ... So, I'll spare you the gasping, panting, sweaty details and move onto other Summer related news.
We got our little Christmas tree.



This is all the more special because it is the first Christmas Partner-in-Crime will actually be spending together, so everything we do is a new tradition.

I posted the photo of our tree on Facebook, and one of my oh-so-clever American friends asked if the tree should be upside down, since we're in Australia. Har-dee-har and all that, but it did bring to mind an old co-worker who hosted an annual holiday open house. He was very, very into the Christmas spirit, and amongst his several trees was one that actually did hang upside down.



According to co-worker, it was an old Southern tradition; but I can't recall or locate the details. In any case, the upside down tree was always a show-stopper. I wouldn't mind having my own upside down tree and blaming it on Coriolis Effect!

Moving into Grinch-land, I can report that a number of those cute downtown holiday banners I mentioned have been replaced with banners of Oprah. I was going to take a picture to prove it to you, but then I decided that I didn't want anyone to confuse my photo taking for excitement, so I turned my head and kept on my path without another glance at Oprah's smug face. We maintain our tenuous truce, but it gets shakier daily.

Speaking of crazy famous people ... Julian Assange  ... what in the world are we supposed to think about this guy? I really can't form much of an opinion, but he sure enough is all kinds of Australian, which is more than enough grounds for me to post this Daily Show video which is hilarious, whether you like/dislike/or wish never to hear of Wikileaks again:

  Julian Assange: To Catch a Somewhat Pasty Predator - The Daily Show with Jon Stewart - 12/08/10 - Video Clip | Comedy Central
- Watch more Dailyshowcolbert Videos at Vodpod.

Finally, back in my life, I am progressing along on the job-hunt. I had to go in for a physical exam for a position with a large company. I've definitely had to do these corporate physicals before, but what a difference between the U.S. and here. Every exam I ever took in the U.S. was all about gruff PAs and total secrecy. You practically had to sign a waiver saying that you would not even think about asking someone how your results came out. Here, they were so friendly, and walked me through every step of the process. I am quite happy to report that I have excellent hearing and very clean inner ears. Mom, you can be proud!

It's looking likely that I'll be offered this job. It is a half-time endeavour, which will be perfect because I'm crafting a new creative project that may just keep me connected to my field, but on my own terms. I am always jealous of people who have an entrepreneurial mind, and can constantly think of original new ideas; but I do believe that I've finally come up with one of my own. It won't make me a penny, but it has a ton of potential to, at very least, make me feel like I did not waste tens of thousands of dollars in grad school. More to come when I'm ready to tell you bums more (I kid, I kid!).

Until next time, enjoy your cold/hot weather and your right side up/upside down/non-existent Christmas tree. Whatever your circumstances, be sure to credit Coriolis Effect.

The "Oprah House" and Other Reasons Why Madame Winfrey Makes Me Cranky

Maybe you've heard ... Oprah is coming to AUSTRALIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you know me at all, I'm sure you can detect the cynicism in my keystrokes.

In general, I try not to think about Oprah much; and when I am forced to, I feel primarily a sense of mild annoyance at her perky-tell-you-all-how-to-think/read/dress/vote/shop-through-my-chirpy-folksy-media-conglomerate-ness. I did forgive her for a minute when she ordered America to read One Hundred Years of Solitude, followed by The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter – two of my most beloved books.  Mostly, I have what I consider a stale truce with Oprah. (Oprah, of course, is quite concerned with the state of our diplomatic relations). 

A couple weeks ago, I did have an anxiety dream about Oprah's arrival in AUSTRALIAAAAA. I don’t recall exactly how it went down, but the overriding event was that my entire city was shut down and non-functional, as it filled with La O and literally millions of middle aged women in bright track suits. I had important business, and I could not get anywhere or do anything. John Travolta and his stupid plane were parked on the Opera House forecourt and, for some reason, the plane itself was about the size of Circular Quay, so no one could get anywhere.

Well, my subconscious may have been onto something - hyperbolic, though it may be.

Oprah's screaming fans arrive in Sydney today and, based on this TV clip, are not all wearing track suits, but are doing nothing else to make themselves look any less ridiculous than my dream suggested they would be.

 "Oprah House?" Really, news media? Really?

News reports suggest that Oprah's visit is going to shut down the city on a larger scale than even a Presidential or royal visit. From this article in the Sydney Morning Herald: 

What is known is that when she appears in Sydney on December 14 to record two shows at the ''Oprah House'', access to the surrounding area will be blocked, as bus schedules are altered, special event clearways introduced and a maritime exclusion zone imposed.

Some Sydneysiders have complained that the measures resemble the ''lockdown'' put in place for the week-long meeting of APEC politicians in 2007. That may be an exaggeration, but comparisons between Winfrey's visit and those of heads of state and church are not so far-fetched.

From my own experience of such visits, including those of Princess Diana, Prince Charles, Margaret Thatcher, presidents Clinton and George Bush, and the Pope, I'd agree that none was so tightly-controlled, so stage-managed as Winfrey.

My subconscious is looking more and more right. I  suppose, even more than the disruption to the city (which is seriously annoying) or the fact that the taxpayers are footing most of the bill, I have a knot in my stomach that this visit is going to do nothing but heighten stereotypes about Americans that we have to confront all the time. At first, I was getting a great kick out of The Australian's coverage of Oprah, which seemed determined to feign a journalistic approach while knocking her down in true "Tallest Poppy Syndrome" style. But today's article, "Oprah Circus Takes No Chances," includes the following maddening assessment: 

A long list of rules laid down by the chat queen's company, Harpo Productions, perhaps reflects what she expects from an average studio audience in America, where guns are popular and miniature dogs have become handbag accessories.

Oh my mercy ... I don't know if there was maybe a very special holiday episode of Cops with Paris Hilton that I recently missed, but how absurd. 

Oprah, you honestly seem like a nice enough lady, and if you gave me a neeeewwwwww caaaaarrrrr, I'd be pretty stoked; but, when it comes to your presence in Australia, my dream-life and I will be happier when you and your masses go home.  

And, America, send Ira Glass next time.

Random Breathalyzer Test

Yesterday, while driving home, we had an exciting experience: our very first Random Breathalyzer Test (RBT).

Unhindered by a pesky little thing like the Bill of Rights, Concerned about public safety, the police in Australia run breathalyzer check points, much like the checkpoints that American cops will set up to check registration, license, and fish for more dirt; however, here, each driver must submit to a breath test.  Apparently, they're pretty common. Our (and by "our," I mean Partner-in-Crime's, since he was the one driving) interaction went a little like this. I have tried to keep a full sense of verisimilitude as I report these events, with only the slightest alteration for dramatic effect.

Super Friendly Young Lady Cop: 

G'day! How are you going today?!?

Partner-in-Crime: 

Just fine, thank you. Here's my license and registration.

SFYLC: 

Alright! Looks just fine! (hoists breathalyzer device in P-i-C's face) Now, I just need you to count. I"m sure you've done this plenty of times!

P-i-C: 

No, actually, this is my first breath test. 

SFYLC: 

Oh!?!!!! How fun for you! What a fantastic day for both of us! You're really going to enjoy this. All you have to do is count. 1-2-3-4-5-... Too easy, eh?!

P-i-C: 

1-2-3-4...?

SFYLC: 

You're fiiiiiiine! See, too easy!

P-i-C: 

Well. Thank you.

SFYLC: 

No! Thank you! Really, what a fun day this is! I'm so excited to be your first. I hope you've enjoyed this experience as much as I have! 

Need a cigarette? 

(no, that didn't really happen ... but, practically)

P-i-C: 

Yes, well ... alright ...

SFYLC: 

(waves us on) Have a good day, you crazy kids!

P-i-C: 

That was weird.

Me: 

What a fun day for us!

The whole thing was hilarious, especially as we Americans are rather used to much gruffer, accusatory treatment from cops. Our cop was just so thrilled about her work. I think we should pretend to be RBT virgins whenever we have to go through these stops from now on... I rather enjoyed getting the royal RBT treatment.

Happy Holidays, To You, and You, and Even You

Great Christmachanakwanzaka, my holiday challenges continue.



Normally when I buy holiday cards, I usually end up with some abstract dove design that says, "Peace on earth," or some other non-denominational crunchy granola saying. I have never had to think about how to include my non-Christian friends because my greetings have always been nicely vague in their sentiment.

I celebrate Christmas, but I'm also a Unitarian and have a strong need to be inclusive. It is one of my favorite things about this time of year - there's a little something for almost everyone to celebrate: Christmas, Solstice, Chanukah, Kwanza, and if all else fails, New Years. When else in the year do so many people get to rejoice together?

Well, this year, my main concern in choosing holiday cards was to find something adorably Australian to charm our friends and family at home. As I mentioned, I found cutsie-wootsy marsupialed cards that fit the bill. My cards this year are also serving as the sleeves for my wedding announcements, so I'm sending heaps. All was well and good until I got to my first Jewish friend on the list.

"Dear (Name)," I wrote. And then, I realized that the next line on the card was, "Merry Christmas!"

Hmmm ... first, I went into denial, not wanting to waste a card. I called into the other room to Partner-in-Crime, "Can I send a Christmas card to a Jewish friend?"

"How would you feel if you got a Chanukah card?" P-i-C replied.

"Kind of confused," I conceded.

"OK."

I knew he was right, and so off I trotted this afternoon to find some lovely non-denominational cards to supplement my Christmas stash.

I went to four stores and, literally could not find one card that did not say "Merry Christmas." Not a "Holiday Greetings," "Peace and Love," or "Thinking of you this Holiday Season" to be found. I got tricked a few times by some "Seasons Greetings," on the outside; but then, every time I looked for the inside greeting, it said "Merry Christmas."

There are plenty of places in the world where I would expect this, including countries with Christian state religions and the little Southern town I went to college in. But, here in Australia, I was quite surprised.

Here in Sydney, a high percentage of the population is immigrant, a very many of who are from Asian countries. Case in point, in the first store I looked in for holiday cards - the post office - every one of the counter workers was, if I may make a bold assumption based on clothing, Muslim. There were Jewish people on the First Fleet. Heck, the Prime Minister of this country is an atheist.

I don't mean to suggest that some insidious societal menace is to blame - I get the feeling that no one even thought about ordering non-denominational cards. Perhaps I just need to cast my net wider to other neighborhoods in Sydney; but still, color me surprised.

I mean, Merry Christmas and everything, but also Mele Kalikimaka, Feliz Navidad, Happy Chanukah, Joyous Kwanza, Bon Solstice D'Hiver, and a very Happy New Year to you.