Found one of these over on What's new pussyat and ok it's a little late , but now time like the present, right?
1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Moved out from living with a partner, attempted to live totally on freelance income, did a screen writing course, went to the States.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next this year?
I resolved to get a cleaner, and yes, I got a cleaner. But the aim of the resolution was to help repair my flailing relationship and it didn't acheive that.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Everyone! Meri Risa had lovely number 2, Angel had a little boy right at the start of 2009. A cousin had a second one, I think, or was that 2008? Big shout out to the lovely mummies.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No. Thankfully.
5. What countries did you visit?
USA (New York!!), UK, France, Belgium (not as impressive as it sounds when you are based in Holland). Wished I visited Norway and gone to Spain again.
6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
A sense of security and joy de vivre.
7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Oh I'm very bad at actual dates. But the one where I walked through the passport control to leave Amsterdam wih a very sore and sad heart. July 13, I think. And on a happier note, rocking up in New York YMCA where the lovely Miss J was waiting, after my flight was delayed by an hour and I nearly got the the subway to New Jersey by accident. June sometime?
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Getting back to freelancing in Australia and being booked solid for 3 months.
9. What was your biggest failure?
A broken relationship, that I didn't know how to fix. Oh I sense a theme here.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Not really.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
My Blackberry, I think.
12. Where did most of your money go?
Airfares, rent, new laptop and phone bills.
13. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Very little. But going to New York was a welcome adventure.
14. What song will always remind you of 2009?
Mika "Happy Endings" and Nick Cave "Dig Lazarus Dig" from listening while riding through Vondel Park.
15. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder?
Happier, mostly, I don't feel trapped any more.
b) thinner or fatter?
A little bit thinner, yaay, getting rid of those beer and cheese love handles.
c) richer or poorer?
About the same. Replenshing the savings account, but feeling the lack of those nice Euros.
16. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Visited other European countries. Asking people for a bit of a hand when it was needed.
17. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Clamming up and acting tough.
18. How will you spend Christmas?
Oops, did this already - with family in Radelaide.
19. Did you fall in love in 2009?
Nup. Oh unless you count rekindling the love with Nick Cave via his new novel and exhibition. What *is* it about that man ?
20. What was your favorite TV program?
Hands down, The Wire, even though we watched on dvd.
21. What was the best book you read?
Um.. can't remember them all or what year I read them. Sure there was a few. Looking at the bookshelf, really enjoyed Stephen Fry's autobiography.
22. What was your favorite film of this year?
Probably "Julie and Julia". Also really liked "Where the Wild Things are". Saw "Cheri" when it was just the right type of escapism, but it was a fairly average film.
23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Went out to dinner at Bazaar on AlbertCuypMarkt then dancing to live Brazilian music at de Badcuyp. Cycled to the red light district with Jess two in the morning when it was probably about 2 degrees. It was fun. I was 33.
24. What kept you sane?
Skype. And the ocean back in Sydney.
25. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I don't think I have to answer that for you regulars.. see #19. Apart from the obvious, Mika and Cate Blanchett (if you substitute fancy for admire).
26. Who did you miss?
Everyone who I don't seem to have in my "crew" any more. Formerly my little sister, Miss J, Amberguity and the Meri crew, plus the whole of Australia. And now Kristin, Kirsten, and Jess, Biz and others in the greenie/Europe contigent. And my Auntie Ruth. Life is crap like that isn't it?
27. Who was the best new person you met?
Um, possibly, my new client, Jenn who is a total live wire and funny. 2009 was less about meeting new people and more about re-connecting with old ones.
Showing posts with label Rest of Europe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rest of Europe. Show all posts
24 January 2010
16 September 2008
Pattern recognition
(credits to Miss J for the title)
Via momus, I've found this fantastic bit on on-line art, exactitudes. Click on each tiny set of nine pics to see a kind of linnean system of classification of street fashions. Momus asks, did you find your own style there? Well, sadly I think I'm "yupstergirls" most of the time. But I say, check out all those little tribes and sub tribes. It goes across ten years, apparently. Each one has its own name. Would there be different classifications in Australia, do you reckon? I think I remember the 'gabberbitches" from high school days. But apparently the "gabber" was a young subculture with racsist overtones in Holland in the 90s.
Via momus, I've found this fantastic bit on on-line art, exactitudes. Click on each tiny set of nine pics to see a kind of linnean system of classification of street fashions. Momus asks, did you find your own style there? Well, sadly I think I'm "yupstergirls" most of the time. But I say, check out all those little tribes and sub tribes. It goes across ten years, apparently. Each one has its own name. Would there be different classifications in Australia, do you reckon? I think I remember the 'gabberbitches" from high school days. But apparently the "gabber" was a young subculture with racsist overtones in Holland in the 90s.
25 August 2008
Let them in
Just a quick one after spending a week in the Croatian "riveriera". Let 'em in to the EU! C'mon guys , they're lovely. Mr B and me and and Agent Orange met up last week in the coastal town of trieste, italy. We hired a dark blue work horse of a station wagon, subsequently dubbed 'Viduka' and proceeded to drive to Dubrovnik over 2 days, passing through Hvar on the way. coming back up the coast to the north we made a side foray into Mostar, Bosnia, and were overwhemled by the beauty of the old mediaevel city and entertained by a 7 piece gypsy fusion band in a cave in the middle of town. It was only the next day in daylight that we saw the bullet holes, shrapnel scaring and the ruined buildings.
driving back up the coast we visited bol on the island of Brac and Slano where we hired a boat and swam int he adriatic. Now we have met up with mr and mrs bizarro senior to show them a bit more of the old world. fotos to follow.
driving back up the coast we visited bol on the island of Brac and Slano where we hired a boat and swam int he adriatic. Now we have met up with mr and mrs bizarro senior to show them a bit more of the old world. fotos to follow.
18 July 2008
Why not Rome
Well, turns out Rome was bombed in ww2. On a couple of days each in 43 and 44. The yanks on behalf of the allies swore black and blue that they were staying right away from the Vatican City, and focussed on a train station and an airport.
According to wikipedia (acknowledged not a fully reliable source, but I'm not in such a reasearch-y mood) On November 5, 1943, a single Nazi plane dropped four bombs on the Vatican, destroying a mosaic studio near the Vatican railway station and breaking the windows of the high cupola of St. Peter's.
While the world, well Sydney, turns to all things Catholic, I just found this little bit of historical documentation. It's an original letter from all the archbishops of Australia writing to PM John Curtin to ask him immediately to refrain from bombing the Vatican City. Apart from the fact that I think the Pope is a real and present danger in today's world*, this is a great letter. Really beautifully expressed, it talks of this "ghastly war" and check this out:
Wish I could write like that. The best part is the cover note, which says bluntly:
Very bolshie Greenpeace-style media strategy there in 1944. Nice one, Archbishop of Melbourne.
*It's to do with not allowing contraception for anyone, even if they have Aids or are very sick from having lots of babies.
According to wikipedia (acknowledged not a fully reliable source, but I'm not in such a reasearch-y mood) On November 5, 1943, a single Nazi plane dropped four bombs on the Vatican, destroying a mosaic studio near the Vatican railway station and breaking the windows of the high cupola of St. Peter's.
While the world, well Sydney, turns to all things Catholic, I just found this little bit of historical documentation. It's an original letter from all the archbishops of Australia writing to PM John Curtin to ask him immediately to refrain from bombing the Vatican City. Apart from the fact that I think the Pope is a real and present danger in today's world*, this is a great letter. Really beautifully expressed, it talks of this "ghastly war" and check this out:
individually, we have in season and out of season, but always in vain, appealed to reason and sanity in this world of madness, in which Christian civilisation seems to be rushing headlong to destruction.
Wish I could write like that. The best part is the cover note, which says bluntly:
"I confidently rely upon you and the Australian government to take any actions that circumstances suggest and permit."
P.S. "Later, I plan to hand the enclosed document to the Press".
Very bolshie Greenpeace-style media strategy there in 1944. Nice one, Archbishop of Melbourne.
*It's to do with not allowing contraception for anyone, even if they have Aids or are very sick from having lots of babies.
6 July 2008
Be-ach
Well I'm home in Amsterdam now, with some patchy sunburn in that bit on the shoulderblades that is hard to reach with the cream, plus a nice glow-in-the-dark Virgin of Guadaloupe and some olive oil hair shampoo to remember the trip. On route, I got the ferry from Italy to the Greek island of Kefalonia. It looks like this.
It was hot, one day probably close to 40. I hung out with a couple who Biz and I met in Uruguay, and they shared their camp food and good cheer. Cedric from Brittany runs a dive centre there. He provides beginner dives and courses as well. Gets a great mix of business from people who must just see the sign on the port and walk-up, to those that plan a diving holiday to get their master or rescue or open water or whatever. Having decided that there was no way I was ever getting a scuba kit on in my LIFE, of course yours truly was gently persuaded to go for a beginner dive. And what do you know, I didnt' get eaten by a shark. I hear there's not so many great whites in the mediterranean, but you never can be too careful.
No diary extracts to share as it was too hot for much except sleeping and swimming. Except for one occasion while waiting for the dive boat to come back and listening in on a group of middlea-aged package holiday types, from the North of England killing time before their dinner at expensive Porto Fiskardo. Because that smug feeling is the best thing about eavesdropping on other tourists.
"I just think she's wearing herself out these days. She looks tired and old."
Man in group: "Well, I can oonderstand lesbians, because I like the fairer sex, you see:
Woman in group: "But lesbians, really that's just not raight, is it? Its just against naighture"
"I don't mind seeing girls in the most outrageous clothes , provided they have the figure for it".
"Oooh I hope all this isn't making it into her diarey". (Whoops, busted)
It was hot, one day probably close to 40. I hung out with a couple who Biz and I met in Uruguay, and they shared their camp food and good cheer. Cedric from Brittany runs a dive centre there. He provides beginner dives and courses as well. Gets a great mix of business from people who must just see the sign on the port and walk-up, to those that plan a diving holiday to get their master or rescue or open water or whatever. Having decided that there was no way I was ever getting a scuba kit on in my LIFE, of course yours truly was gently persuaded to go for a beginner dive. And what do you know, I didnt' get eaten by a shark. I hear there's not so many great whites in the mediterranean, but you never can be too careful.
No diary extracts to share as it was too hot for much except sleeping and swimming. Except for one occasion while waiting for the dive boat to come back and listening in on a group of middlea-aged package holiday types, from the North of England killing time before their dinner at expensive Porto Fiskardo. Because that smug feeling is the best thing about eavesdropping on other tourists.
"I just think she's wearing herself out these days. She looks tired and old."
Man in group: "Well, I can oonderstand lesbians, because I like the fairer sex, you see:
Woman in group: "But lesbians, really that's just not raight, is it? Its just against naighture"
"I don't mind seeing girls in the most outrageous clothes , provided they have the figure for it".
"Oooh I hope all this isn't making it into her diarey". (Whoops, busted)
2 July 2008
Dead centre of town
Wednesday 25 June
Anyway, I was curious about the Pantheon because yesterday's guide said that it was an example of what the palaces on the Palatine hill would have looked when in use, everything covered in marble, nothing unadorned. The designs in the Imperial Roman buildings would have been pagan though, lots of geometric shapes, not legions of tortured, dying and insipid looking saints.
But then again in those days it was the pagans putting thousands to death by way of starved lion, starved hyena, gladiator, and so forth. The Christians I guess where the sad little peaceniks "the meek shall ingerit the earth, etc..." They made these creepy catacombs with the dead piled in stacks , bricked in to rot in a hole in the wall. Unlike those Roman mutherfckers who just cremated their dead. Ecologically speaking, I used to think that being put in a box and sunk to earth was a good way to return all my living nutrients back into life, through plants, worms, and such. From today, I think I'll request a cremation for my mortal remains. Ashes are a more concentrated fertiliser, right, and the world's need for urban space won't be taken up by my rotting body in a stupid necropolis that serves the dual purpose of showing everyone just how much your family paid for your burial. *
* Mum, hi if you're reading this, that wasn't a dig at our family, just a metaphysical musing on the different cultural approaches to dealing with the issue. You know, like in comparison to medium density housing versus urban sprawl. Glad we got that sorted.
Anyway, I was curious about the Pantheon because yesterday's guide said that it was an example of what the palaces on the Palatine hill would have looked when in use, everything covered in marble, nothing unadorned. The designs in the Imperial Roman buildings would have been pagan though, lots of geometric shapes, not legions of tortured, dying and insipid looking saints.
But then again in those days it was the pagans putting thousands to death by way of starved lion, starved hyena, gladiator, and so forth. The Christians I guess where the sad little peaceniks "the meek shall ingerit the earth, etc..." They made these creepy catacombs with the dead piled in stacks , bricked in to rot in a hole in the wall. Unlike those Roman mutherfckers who just cremated their dead. Ecologically speaking, I used to think that being put in a box and sunk to earth was a good way to return all my living nutrients back into life, through plants, worms, and such. From today, I think I'll request a cremation for my mortal remains. Ashes are a more concentrated fertiliser, right, and the world's need for urban space won't be taken up by my rotting body in a stupid necropolis that serves the dual purpose of showing everyone just how much your family paid for your burial. *
* Mum, hi if you're reading this, that wasn't a dig at our family, just a metaphysical musing on the different cultural approaches to dealing with the issue. You know, like in comparison to medium density housing versus urban sprawl. Glad we got that sorted.
30 June 2008
(F) art
Have got a little behind as internet access on Kefalonia is a bit of a luxury.
24 June, Tuesday.
Calf muscles very fucking tight. A painful reminder that there are no inclines are very few steps in the streets of Amsterdam.
Vatican Museum. Only 40 minutes in the queue! Talked to a couple of gay guys from Washington, older one a doctor and quite funny. Acting reluctant to partake in all this religious stuff. When working out the length of the queue, said to his boyfriend, like all couples around the world, 'so, tell me again, what exactly are we going to see in here?'
Younger guy was a classical Greek scholar.
First, took a spin around the Pinacoteca, one of several godsy picture galleries. Saw a big flashy number of Christ's ascension (Raphael I think), and another Caravaggio to add to the list. (tick)
Dog-collared American priest giving a tour, with a very casual yankee way of telling bible stories, but also giving art commentary. Have discovered a way of sneakily learning more without paying, but sort of pinball-bouncing from tour group to tour group, looking like I'm just appreciating that particular work, and eavesdropping on part of the description. I think I sidled up to four or five different groups today, so I got a rather disjointed appreciated of the galleries and of course the Sistine chapel. For example, Raphael apparently mastered the art of drawing the eye to all and every feature of his crowd scenes, rather than picking out one single focal point with light and shade. Why this is? no idea, I thought it was an appropriate time to sidle off after that.
The art? Well looks to me like those masters packed in every exciting feature to these 'sacred' scenes as they could. Bulging anatomically correct calves on the men, gory piercings with a staff for J.C., ecstatic women, there was a lion jammed into the bottom corner of one indoor scene - what the hey? Nice juicy tabloid-style renditions, but at the same time recreations of venerated and religious stories. Neat huh.
There is a missionary museum in the Vatican with cool pieces from lots of countries in Asia, but accompanied by jarring text on how missionary efforts have gone in past years and the present day in these far flung indigenous populations. A very pointed piece on entry about how missionary work was one of respect, learning, and done in a spirit "brotherly love". Bollocks.
Sistine Chapel. Details and crazy mad shit happening everywhere. Above me is a last supper with a super realistic dog and cat fighting in the foreground. At the altar end, one of the figures on a cloud is holding a man's skin, empty of its body (or soul?) In the famous one with god reaching out to touch fingers with (who?) Adam? I didn't realise god is flanked by a holy host of some sort. Dozens of cherubic types packed in behind him in his floating cloud/ shell thing. Nudity all over the place. To me, all these showy religious works don't seem a jot more holy than any other for all the talent and mastery on display. I don't get a feeling that this chapel might be a more worthy place to worship than any other, just because of technicolour drama playing out on the walls and ceiling. And I get the feeling they didn't really think that at the time either
One room before reaching the chapel (Raphael again) features a piece called something like "triumph of the church". Deliberately featuring representatives of the "militant church" in their marble thrones. This stuff was all about power, magnificence and status. Wrapped up in a cloak of religious stories. And its not pretending particularly hard to be anything else either.
24 June, Tuesday.
Calf muscles very fucking tight. A painful reminder that there are no inclines are very few steps in the streets of Amsterdam.
Vatican Museum. Only 40 minutes in the queue! Talked to a couple of gay guys from Washington, older one a doctor and quite funny. Acting reluctant to partake in all this religious stuff. When working out the length of the queue, said to his boyfriend, like all couples around the world, 'so, tell me again, what exactly are we going to see in here?'
Younger guy was a classical Greek scholar.
First, took a spin around the Pinacoteca, one of several godsy picture galleries. Saw a big flashy number of Christ's ascension (Raphael I think), and another Caravaggio to add to the list. (tick)
Dog-collared American priest giving a tour, with a very casual yankee way of telling bible stories, but also giving art commentary. Have discovered a way of sneakily learning more without paying, but sort of pinball-bouncing from tour group to tour group, looking like I'm just appreciating that particular work, and eavesdropping on part of the description. I think I sidled up to four or five different groups today, so I got a rather disjointed appreciated of the galleries and of course the Sistine chapel. For example, Raphael apparently mastered the art of drawing the eye to all and every feature of his crowd scenes, rather than picking out one single focal point with light and shade. Why this is? no idea, I thought it was an appropriate time to sidle off after that.
The art? Well looks to me like those masters packed in every exciting feature to these 'sacred' scenes as they could. Bulging anatomically correct calves on the men, gory piercings with a staff for J.C., ecstatic women, there was a lion jammed into the bottom corner of one indoor scene - what the hey? Nice juicy tabloid-style renditions, but at the same time recreations of venerated and religious stories. Neat huh.
There is a missionary museum in the Vatican with cool pieces from lots of countries in Asia, but accompanied by jarring text on how missionary efforts have gone in past years and the present day in these far flung indigenous populations. A very pointed piece on entry about how missionary work was one of respect, learning, and done in a spirit "brotherly love". Bollocks.
Sistine Chapel. Details and crazy mad shit happening everywhere. Above me is a last supper with a super realistic dog and cat fighting in the foreground. At the altar end, one of the figures on a cloud is holding a man's skin, empty of its body (or soul?) In the famous one with god reaching out to touch fingers with (who?) Adam? I didn't realise god is flanked by a holy host of some sort. Dozens of cherubic types packed in behind him in his floating cloud/ shell thing. Nudity all over the place. To me, all these showy religious works don't seem a jot more holy than any other for all the talent and mastery on display. I don't get a feeling that this chapel might be a more worthy place to worship than any other, just because of technicolour drama playing out on the walls and ceiling. And I get the feeling they didn't really think that at the time either
One room before reaching the chapel (Raphael again) features a piece called something like "triumph of the church". Deliberately featuring representatives of the "militant church" in their marble thrones. This stuff was all about power, magnificence and status. Wrapped up in a cloak of religious stories. And its not pretending particularly hard to be anything else either.
26 June 2008
Quo vadis
I don't actually know what Quo vadis really means, but it is the name of a church that my tour bus hurtled past today, and I think its become famous through some movie or another. Note to self - one to look up some time. If anyone knows, feel free to put in comments.
Along with other notes to self.: 1. Why wasn't Rome bombed to shit in WW2? The whole place is just one massive urban museum, with ancient columns and unlikely looking structures all over the place. So much of Europe lost buildings even from the middle ages, what trick did Mussolini pull here? 2. What is it with all the hott cops in this city? It there some minimal standard for looks for Italian police? Like height requirements in the States? With all respect to Biz, I don't normally look at a man in uniform, but this is getting quite bizarre.
Anyway, back to the travelogue. - June 22, Monday afternoon -
The nice thing about visiting churches to see art is that they are more or less free. Popping a 50 cent devotional in the box easily rids one of the guilt factor for marching around someone's place of worship, guidebook in hand, and wearing a distinctly uncool outfit, in bad shoes to boot. Or, if you're not plagued by concerns for social morés, then a pragmatic reason is that the 50 cents goes towards lighting, cleaning, polish for all those walnut pews, and other random maintenance that allows other people to see the artworks for (nearly) free. Sometimes you seem to need to put a coin in the box to make those crazy spotlights go up on the piece you've come to see. There was a very pronounced slow reveal for Madonna of the Pilgrims that I just saw. Push the button, and a whirring noise started up and then an inoxerable pause while the painting brightens almost imperceptibly, then ta da! A grand master right there in the chapel. Where anyone can just walk in off the street to see it. Neat.
photo credit: ginieland
Actually this one was pretty good, the artistry in it kind of hits you over the head compared with the other sallow saints, pious bishops, angels and rib-poking christs. Apparently it caused a bit of a stir in its day, because the petitioners kneeling in front of Mary and Jesus looked too convincingly dirty and down and out. The man has particulaly realistic grubby feet. Perhaps the artist was having a dig at the social situation of the poor in Rome at the time... ? Anyway, I couldn't help notice that the Madonna was carrying an absolutely enormous christ child. I don't know how old he was supposed to be, but my word, that particlar life model was milk-fed baby for sure. She's also got one foot resting on the toes, just like an elegant Roman lady standing in an ancient doorway next to her vespa and talking on the mobile.
Santa Maria del concezione (immaculate conception)
Another bony church! Yep, as good as Kuta Hora in Czech Republic. Second chapel in the crypt complete with grisly little capuchin monks recreated with skulls and bony little hands. They are about 4 and a half feet tall. One looks a bit of a mummy even. Chapel number three is tricked out in a mass of pelvic bones. I think some of these re-constructed monks are wearing cardboard name tags around their wrists signifying actually who they are. An American student in the slow-moving line next to me says 'We had to do anatomy in college, but I think those ones, made up like that, freak me out more. I can handle the seperate bones, all separated out like that. Those even have vertebrae in there still!'
I'm thinking - are you kidding sister?! This is the coolest thing I've seen in ages. Well, since, the bone church in Czech Republic I guess. I wish I could beam in some of my friends from uni to turn around to and go - whoah man, like, 'bela lugosi's dead .. the bats have left the bell tower, the virgins have been bled bled bled bled'. Etc. Sorry there readers, got carried away on a little Bauhaus jag. I know, the Vampyre legends come about 600 years after all this stuff, my historical time line is all bunk.
At that point, my diary switches to sketches of the layout of these rooms, noting things like a cross motif made of two mummfied arms, a skeleton attached to the ceiling appearing to fly over head, two skeletons perched on a ledge, reaching up to the skull places between them, more wee monky creationg (they had brown robes and all) in repose in wall niches. And not to mention the stars and fleur-de-lys designs made of ribs, jaws, and the other pretty curvy bits too.
I reckon this is where things get down to the nuts and bolts of Christianity. Death. Its all about you dying, and what the hell happens then. These crypts, necropolises, catacombs, etc, are all about making a big focus on the whole spooky dying business. Not surprising really that a couple of monks here and there who were care takers of these ossaries - all the bits left in the 50 to 100 years after your miserable entombment - who took it to the logical conclusion and went bunta with the old bones. Lets jazz the place up a bit, they must have thought. We're not in the habit of paying for drapes or wall paper for the church, no wealthy families making ostentatious donations this year.... hang on.. look at this massive pile of skulls. Hey! Giovanni, I've got an idea..
Along with other notes to self.: 1. Why wasn't Rome bombed to shit in WW2? The whole place is just one massive urban museum, with ancient columns and unlikely looking structures all over the place. So much of Europe lost buildings even from the middle ages, what trick did Mussolini pull here? 2. What is it with all the hott cops in this city? It there some minimal standard for looks for Italian police? Like height requirements in the States? With all respect to Biz, I don't normally look at a man in uniform, but this is getting quite bizarre.
Anyway, back to the travelogue. - June 22, Monday afternoon -
The nice thing about visiting churches to see art is that they are more or less free. Popping a 50 cent devotional in the box easily rids one of the guilt factor for marching around someone's place of worship, guidebook in hand, and wearing a distinctly uncool outfit, in bad shoes to boot. Or, if you're not plagued by concerns for social morés, then a pragmatic reason is that the 50 cents goes towards lighting, cleaning, polish for all those walnut pews, and other random maintenance that allows other people to see the artworks for (nearly) free. Sometimes you seem to need to put a coin in the box to make those crazy spotlights go up on the piece you've come to see. There was a very pronounced slow reveal for Madonna of the Pilgrims that I just saw. Push the button, and a whirring noise started up and then an inoxerable pause while the painting brightens almost imperceptibly, then ta da! A grand master right there in the chapel. Where anyone can just walk in off the street to see it. Neat.
photo credit: ginieland
Actually this one was pretty good, the artistry in it kind of hits you over the head compared with the other sallow saints, pious bishops, angels and rib-poking christs. Apparently it caused a bit of a stir in its day, because the petitioners kneeling in front of Mary and Jesus looked too convincingly dirty and down and out. The man has particulaly realistic grubby feet. Perhaps the artist was having a dig at the social situation of the poor in Rome at the time... ? Anyway, I couldn't help notice that the Madonna was carrying an absolutely enormous christ child. I don't know how old he was supposed to be, but my word, that particlar life model was milk-fed baby for sure. She's also got one foot resting on the toes, just like an elegant Roman lady standing in an ancient doorway next to her vespa and talking on the mobile.
Santa Maria del concezione (immaculate conception)
Another bony church! Yep, as good as Kuta Hora in Czech Republic. Second chapel in the crypt complete with grisly little capuchin monks recreated with skulls and bony little hands. They are about 4 and a half feet tall. One looks a bit of a mummy even. Chapel number three is tricked out in a mass of pelvic bones. I think some of these re-constructed monks are wearing cardboard name tags around their wrists signifying actually who they are. An American student in the slow-moving line next to me says 'We had to do anatomy in college, but I think those ones, made up like that, freak me out more. I can handle the seperate bones, all separated out like that. Those even have vertebrae in there still!'
I'm thinking - are you kidding sister?! This is the coolest thing I've seen in ages. Well, since, the bone church in Czech Republic I guess. I wish I could beam in some of my friends from uni to turn around to and go - whoah man, like, 'bela lugosi's dead .. the bats have left the bell tower, the virgins have been bled bled bled bled'. Etc. Sorry there readers, got carried away on a little Bauhaus jag. I know, the Vampyre legends come about 600 years after all this stuff, my historical time line is all bunk.At that point, my diary switches to sketches of the layout of these rooms, noting things like a cross motif made of two mummfied arms, a skeleton attached to the ceiling appearing to fly over head, two skeletons perched on a ledge, reaching up to the skull places between them, more wee monky creationg (they had brown robes and all) in repose in wall niches. And not to mention the stars and fleur-de-lys designs made of ribs, jaws, and the other pretty curvy bits too.
I reckon this is where things get down to the nuts and bolts of Christianity. Death. Its all about you dying, and what the hell happens then. These crypts, necropolises, catacombs, etc, are all about making a big focus on the whole spooky dying business. Not surprising really that a couple of monks here and there who were care takers of these ossaries - all the bits left in the 50 to 100 years after your miserable entombment - who took it to the logical conclusion and went bunta with the old bones. Lets jazz the place up a bit, they must have thought. We're not in the habit of paying for drapes or wall paper for the church, no wealthy families making ostentatious donations this year.... hang on.. look at this massive pile of skulls. Hey! Giovanni, I've got an idea..
25 June 2008
La dolce vida
Yeeh, owww, eee, oooh. Hear that? That's my calves and the bones in my feet screaming for mercy. I'm in Rome, and today I went to the Vatican museums, saw the Sistine Chapel and then went to the Colosseum in the afternoon. Something no sane tourist would attempt on a 35 degree + day. But then I'm clearly no sane tourist. But before you hear about that and get to see my feats of digital photography, I'll share some diary extracts with you all.
Sunday, 22 June. Rotterdam. 4pm
Smells of cities.
Paris is easy. It's garlic and exhaust laced with those whiffs of raw sewage you sense must be just centimetres from your sandal-clad feet. Barcelona for me will always be urine and smoked ham. Marid is dust and cigarette butts.
Amsterdam has this foreign/familiar smell. I notice it when I'm inside the trams, its got the cold trapped in it, plus perhaps jonge belgium cheese and some kind of ubiquitous cleaning product. In the streets, of course, it's the blasts of pot smoke coming from the coffee shops and groups of men walking past my front door.
Buenos Aires smelt like a 'lagrima' - a small coffee with a drop of milk (or was that a small cup of warm milk with a drop of coffee?). That, and sugary medialunas, dog poo and poverty at the fringes of things.
Biz said Cuba smelled like Africa, particularly in the local market, I think this is the smell of uncovered meat, flies and humidity. Plus the lime in a mojito.
London smells like stout. And pollution.
I think the smells of Australia are too well embedded in my amalgyda to easily pinpoint them like this. But, Adelaide brings to mind the stale air discharged from air con units, jacaranda and dead grass in summer. A whiff of woodsmoke in winter. Sydney is the unburnt diesel coming from the back of buses. Pide from Topkapi on Enmore road.
Sunday, 22 June. Rome. 8pm
So far, Rome smells like really terrible stinky feet, thanks to the gent who sat next to me on the 'Leonardo Express' - the train from the airport to Termini station.
Monday, June 23.
Rome also smells like my sweat. It's well over 30 today, walking is good but you can tell people who live here seek the shade, like Sydney, like home. Yesterday it struck me on the train how the classic cream brick look from suburban Adelaide that screams Italians built this house! just mirrored the hundreds of medium rise apartment blocks on the fringes of Rome. Even the roll-down blinds all seemed to be in a chromatic rainbow of dark brown to burnt umber. Now, in the centre, this pale orange, tan, cream, that must be the total palette of the renderer gives the whole place that mediteranean look. So, no wonder our immigrants said 'cream, that's the look for me!' when making their selection at the brick shop in 1952. Right now, I'm in the Piazza di Santa Lorenzo in Lucina. It's just a in a warren of streets between some churches with Caravaggios and a museum with Caravaggios. I'm having a Caravaggio morning. The church to my back is a Basilica from oh, I dunno, the 1200s. the guide book says it features a 'kitsch' Crist, but I couldn't pick him out of the various Christs to be honest. They all look kitsch to me.
Sunday, 22 June. Rotterdam. 4pm
Smells of cities.
Paris is easy. It's garlic and exhaust laced with those whiffs of raw sewage you sense must be just centimetres from your sandal-clad feet. Barcelona for me will always be urine and smoked ham. Marid is dust and cigarette butts.
Amsterdam has this foreign/familiar smell. I notice it when I'm inside the trams, its got the cold trapped in it, plus perhaps jonge belgium cheese and some kind of ubiquitous cleaning product. In the streets, of course, it's the blasts of pot smoke coming from the coffee shops and groups of men walking past my front door.
Buenos Aires smelt like a 'lagrima' - a small coffee with a drop of milk (or was that a small cup of warm milk with a drop of coffee?). That, and sugary medialunas, dog poo and poverty at the fringes of things.
Biz said Cuba smelled like Africa, particularly in the local market, I think this is the smell of uncovered meat, flies and humidity. Plus the lime in a mojito.
London smells like stout. And pollution.
I think the smells of Australia are too well embedded in my amalgyda to easily pinpoint them like this. But, Adelaide brings to mind the stale air discharged from air con units, jacaranda and dead grass in summer. A whiff of woodsmoke in winter. Sydney is the unburnt diesel coming from the back of buses. Pide from Topkapi on Enmore road.
Sunday, 22 June. Rome. 8pm
So far, Rome smells like really terrible stinky feet, thanks to the gent who sat next to me on the 'Leonardo Express' - the train from the airport to Termini station.
Monday, June 23.
Rome also smells like my sweat. It's well over 30 today, walking is good but you can tell people who live here seek the shade, like Sydney, like home. Yesterday it struck me on the train how the classic cream brick look from suburban Adelaide that screams Italians built this house! just mirrored the hundreds of medium rise apartment blocks on the fringes of Rome. Even the roll-down blinds all seemed to be in a chromatic rainbow of dark brown to burnt umber. Now, in the centre, this pale orange, tan, cream, that must be the total palette of the renderer gives the whole place that mediteranean look. So, no wonder our immigrants said 'cream, that's the look for me!' when making their selection at the brick shop in 1952. Right now, I'm in the Piazza di Santa Lorenzo in Lucina. It's just a in a warren of streets between some churches with Caravaggios and a museum with Caravaggios. I'm having a Caravaggio morning. The church to my back is a Basilica from oh, I dunno, the 1200s. the guide book says it features a 'kitsch' Crist, but I couldn't pick him out of the various Christs to be honest. They all look kitsch to me.
25 May 2008
Euro vision
Finally .. I could take part in the voting. And live!
But by 36 euro cents didn't go much towards the final outcome. I put in for France, with their eccentric bearded minimalist pop star, who if you are optimistic sounded a bit like Jarvis Cocker/ Serge Gainsbourg, and had funny back-up singers performing the "do do do" refrain wearing cocktail dresses and fake beards.
Other than that Kirsta, Kristen and Cornsie and me had a good girls night in, with some Spanish wine, organic salads and dips and such from the farmers' market, and our own highly complex in-house voting process.
Euro vision, gotta love it, I think the traditional zaniness that you come to know and love were put out there in style by Boznia Herzegovina (spotty dress/washing line/ some strange love story with a man with slicked down hair), Latvia (With a pirate themed song and constumes), Russia (who had a genuine ice skater in their piece, so must have included a mini ice-rink in the stage setting) and Croatia (for one of my favourites, slightly gypsy/ tango-y number with a disco beat) .
Update: Null device has posted a handy cut-and-keep tabulated summary with a star system under "odd", "gloss", "cheese" and useful notes like "live chicken on stage".
Photos c/o BBC here
Oh and possible worst number: Azerbaijan, first time entrants with a god-awful hair metal number, performed in campy angel costumes and including ear-piercing pseudo-vibrato high notes. A travesty.
But by 36 euro cents didn't go much towards the final outcome. I put in for France, with their eccentric bearded minimalist pop star, who if you are optimistic sounded a bit like Jarvis Cocker/ Serge Gainsbourg, and had funny back-up singers performing the "do do do" refrain wearing cocktail dresses and fake beards.
Other than that Kirsta, Kristen and Cornsie and me had a good girls night in, with some Spanish wine, organic salads and dips and such from the farmers' market, and our own highly complex in-house voting process.
Euro vision, gotta love it, I think the traditional zaniness that you come to know and love were put out there in style by Boznia Herzegovina (spotty dress/washing line/ some strange love story with a man with slicked down hair), Latvia (With a pirate themed song and constumes), Russia (who had a genuine ice skater in their piece, so must have included a mini ice-rink in the stage setting) and Croatia (for one of my favourites, slightly gypsy/ tango-y number with a disco beat) .
Update: Null device has posted a handy cut-and-keep tabulated summary with a star system under "odd", "gloss", "cheese" and useful notes like "live chicken on stage".
Photos c/o BBC here
Oh and possible worst number: Azerbaijan, first time entrants with a god-awful hair metal number, performed in campy angel costumes and including ear-piercing pseudo-vibrato high notes. A travesty.
13 November 2007
A bit more perky
Sorry for two depressing posts in one go. Must be the diminishing hours of daylight over here. Did I mention that I'm coming home over the summer? Very excited about sand-betweenn-the-toes.
Here's a picture of some Belgian chocolates to lighten things up. More Euro adventures on flickr
Here's a picture of some Belgian chocolates to lighten things up. More Euro adventures on flickr
Remembrance Day
On Sunday (11/11/07) I was actually in a town called Brugge, or Bruges if you are French. It's in Belgium , which used to be called Flanders. Where poppies grow wild, and have become the symbol of the millions of soldiers killed in the first world war. Here's a poem. I had to do it year 12, and it was crap then, but it kind of makes more sense now.
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
--Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them from prayers or bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of silent minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
-Wilfred Owen
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
--Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them from prayers or bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of silent minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
-Wilfred Owen
3 September 2007
Follow-ups, corrections
Just clicked on the side bar to check out if there were any new songs on the erstwhile Tim Minchin's website.* And lo! discovered it has been linked to the personal page of Tim Min this whole time. So sorry for all those frustrated fans out there rattling round the internet keening "where is Tim? ... where is Tim?".
And Meririsa - sorry for going quiet after such a tantalising hint of eco-news. Actually it was just that I realised I had pretty much summed up my point in that one sentence. In particular the Waitrose supermarket chain has made a very mainstream campaign of promoting food and meat that is produced locally. I think it's called "British Food". The deli section had a whole series of unmissable signs promoting salmon, beef etc. Not exactly earth shattering, but it's nice to see things swinging back to a more sustainable idea of what's good to eat, etc. Also I saw a big ad for Scottish beef in the tube station featuring a strapping young man in a kilt.
It just seemed the awareness about food and the environment and also labelling about additives had taken a step forward since my last visit. All the wine we drank clearly said "contains sulphites" on the bottle - I guess lots of people round the world get that stuffy nose thing from a a nice red.
*and check in on his news blog - another one of my imaginary husbands**.
** The corral is growing with recent additions of David Tennant. I hope they get along.
And Meririsa - sorry for going quiet after such a tantalising hint of eco-news. Actually it was just that I realised I had pretty much summed up my point in that one sentence. In particular the Waitrose supermarket chain has made a very mainstream campaign of promoting food and meat that is produced locally. I think it's called "British Food". The deli section had a whole series of unmissable signs promoting salmon, beef etc. Not exactly earth shattering, but it's nice to see things swinging back to a more sustainable idea of what's good to eat, etc. Also I saw a big ad for Scottish beef in the tube station featuring a strapping young man in a kilt.
It just seemed the awareness about food and the environment and also labelling about additives had taken a step forward since my last visit. All the wine we drank clearly said "contains sulphites" on the bottle - I guess lots of people round the world get that stuffy nose thing from a a nice red.
*and check in on his news blog - another one of my imaginary husbands**.
** The corral is growing with recent additions of David Tennant. I hope they get along.
26 August 2007
Sharpupdate
Hi folks, just quick one from my Auntie's luxury pad in the Midlands. (Eng-al-and) . I've been to London the past few days, done a stint in a suite with my ernest listening face on followed up by frantic typing and organising, battled the rain, the suffocating tube, the monstrous city. But I've also seen that eye-popping fluorescent green countryside that looks like it has been painted, mysterious chalked horses in the hills, a double ring of standing stones, and played a quiz show on the Ps2 that I felt oblided to lose to a 9-year old. Back to the 'dam on Tuesday, I'm enjoying the proximity of things here in the old word, and may get the train to France next week. La di da. By the way, the train from Amsterdam, to Brussles, to London, took about 5.5 hours. Flying back though - about the distance to Melbourne. Half way there with the carbon load. Oh yeh, remind me to tell you about the big push here to 'buy british' and to reject additives, etc,etc.
21 May 2006
Peace in Europe
Its the Eurovision Song Contest tonight! And when all those generals and suchlike were signing the Geneva Conventions.. I bet they never counted on the form of the actual peaceful union on Europe. Oh yes, there's the politics, there's war crimes trials, and important public monuments to atrocities. Those venerable peace brokers could never in a million years picture how much silver lame would actually be involved. Eurovision. Such a grand, futuristic name. And they are far ahead the formation of the EU - Turkey's been in it for years.. I think much of the former Yugoslavia gives it a go at belting out cheezy pop numbers.
If you are tuning in tonight, the best part is the voting. You see its a system of phone votes, just like Big Brother, but you are barred from voting form your own country. Brilliant! So all these ancient politcal relationships come out in the voting, which has absolutely nothing to do with the song quality. England always gives the most votes to Ireland (to make up for the potato famine) and Ireland gives them a token amount of votes in deference to being neighbours but never as many (they haven't forgiven the generations of oppression). Greece votes for Cyprus (asserting sovreignty). Sweden and Denmark have some kind of contra deal going (so long as its Nordic, I guess). Germany votes for Poland and France (yeh, we're sorry about that whole invasion thing), and I don't think Germany is ever allowed to win. During the Balkans war everyone voted for Bosnia&Hertzogovina (you poor shelled bastards, maybe winning Eurovision will cheer you all up).
So here at the house of fun, we shall be attempting a web-cam telecast. Don't hold your breath for it to work, mind you. We shall be scoffing Euro snacks and Euro beer, and trying to quell the self-hatred of the antipodean, temporarily transformed into citizens of a continent with many nations, many languages, many cultures. Wishing we'd realised that's precisely what the indigenous people had going here before those anglo-saxons barged on in with their starchy food, monoculture and crap telly. For 3 hours we will dream of one world, many people, united in a love of glitter, bad frocks and incomprehensible lyrics. Viva la difference!
So old-skool internet users you can look me up on MSN messenger.. bsharp A.T. scientist D.o.t com. Or skype-y types, try my real name (gasp) in Sydney, Australia. See ya later heavily pixcellated, maybe.
If you are tuning in tonight, the best part is the voting. You see its a system of phone votes, just like Big Brother, but you are barred from voting form your own country. Brilliant! So all these ancient politcal relationships come out in the voting, which has absolutely nothing to do with the song quality. England always gives the most votes to Ireland (to make up for the potato famine) and Ireland gives them a token amount of votes in deference to being neighbours but never as many (they haven't forgiven the generations of oppression). Greece votes for Cyprus (asserting sovreignty). Sweden and Denmark have some kind of contra deal going (so long as its Nordic, I guess). Germany votes for Poland and France (yeh, we're sorry about that whole invasion thing), and I don't think Germany is ever allowed to win. During the Balkans war everyone voted for Bosnia&Hertzogovina (you poor shelled bastards, maybe winning Eurovision will cheer you all up).
So here at the house of fun, we shall be attempting a web-cam telecast. Don't hold your breath for it to work, mind you. We shall be scoffing Euro snacks and Euro beer, and trying to quell the self-hatred of the antipodean, temporarily transformed into citizens of a continent with many nations, many languages, many cultures. Wishing we'd realised that's precisely what the indigenous people had going here before those anglo-saxons barged on in with their starchy food, monoculture and crap telly. For 3 hours we will dream of one world, many people, united in a love of glitter, bad frocks and incomprehensible lyrics. Viva la difference!
So old-skool internet users you can look me up on MSN messenger.. bsharp A.T. scientist D.o.t com. Or skype-y types, try my real name (gasp) in Sydney, Australia. See ya later heavily pixcellated, maybe.
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