Culture of Alcohol

Much is said about the laid back, no worries, "larrikin" lifestyle of Australia. Many find the permanent vacation mindset the ideal way to live, others wonder when the collective body will finally grow up. In the fulcrum of this particular clash of viewpoint is the culture of alcohol here in Australia.


Aussies love their alcohol. Beer is a perennial favorite, hard booze is appreciated and those lucky enough to live near spectacular wine regions have an endless choice of quality 'drop'. Quality is not an issue, quantity frequently is. According to the Australian Medical Association and the Preventative Health organization (a government initiative), people over age 60 are likely to have a drink daily (to your health!) but drinking is starting earlier and harder. In the 20-29 year old category; 25% are binging monthly (seven drinks at one occasion), 1 in 6 down 29 standard drinks per week. The AMA used to state that two drinks per week for a pregnant women was within safe limits for the fetus. But the problem was to convince women that a standard drink was three ounces (3 ozs or ~90ml) of wine- a rather small pour- and decided to state that it was "more beneficial" not to drink during pregnancy. The drinking patterns of people living in non populous areas like Northern Territory and of the aboriginal people are further causes for concern.

This drinking comes with a price: to the auto accident rates (w/injury or death) and to the national health service coffers treating alcohol related health issues. Remember our "larrikin" population? Doesn't take well to being told not to do something, especially drink, so one does not see "Don't Drink & Drive" or "Don't Drink during Pregnancy" signs everywhere. Smartly, the government takes a more subtle tack: reducing the blood-alcohol level to .05, promoting the "skipper" concept (designated driver) for people visiting wineries, calling the initiative "ReThink Drink" , increasing the consequences for repeat infractions including confiscation of automobiles-regardless of who actually owns the car- and trying to reduce the presence of alcohol company sponsorship/advertising in sports. This latter proactive position has gotten a lot of reaction. Cries of 'nanny state' and 'wowserism' rise from the ranks who feel penalties should be reserved for those who commit alcohol-related crimes against others and themselves. I suppose they keep that hue & cry up until someone they are close to is tragically affected by excessive drinking, at which point those free spirits will wonder why the government didn't do more to prevent this kind of thing happening.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a glass of wine with supper, a Tanqueray & tonic on a hot summer day or a glass of champagne anytime. But I don't see the benefit in drinking so heavily that an AFM is necessary on a regular basis. AFM-alcohol free month-it's what you do when your liver is just about to go on strike. It makes your weekends reeeaalllllyyy long, your friends pining for the day when you will be "back" and body parts shudder from toxic relief. At the very end of the month, the idea forms that perhaps your life does revolve around al.....and then the first round arrives. Why not just drink less and you'll have no physical reason to stop? Not subtle enough of a question.

Weekend mornings

Funny thing about weekends in OZ; their dynamic patterns seems reversed from North America. Back home Sunday mornings are for church or sleeping in, followed by a leisurely perusal of the biggest newspaper of the week, with a chance of a fine Sunday roast thrown in. Saturdays are for scurrying around to garage & produce sales, athletic participation-formal or casual, picnics, entertainment and general merrymaking.

Rather opposite here in Perth. There are more garage sales and plenty of farmers' markets on Sunday than Saturday, people make their way out of their homes first thing and there is Sunday shopping starting early in the downtown area. On my way home from church this morning, I took the few blocks worth of detour to visit the kangaroo on Heirisson Island. The foreshore was a busy beehive: a 10K footrace was underway, jillions of independent joggers and enough cyclists in regulation wear to think that the Tour de France had changed location. Even the mob of 'roo was out in full force.
It's Saturday mornings where naught but birds bother to get excited about the day. The biggest newspaper of the week is the Saturday edition. Even the lawn bowls clubs don't bother to unlock their doors before noon, which is odd considering the high temperatures during the long summers.

I haven't figured out why this is. Perhaps it is the contrariness, er, I mean, independent spirit of the place that moves to a nonconforming beat.

A local tourist

Today, I played tourist.

Look, after 15 months one starts developing a routine, digging ruts into the same path trod on a daily basis, seeing the same things over and over again. I needed to break free and the diversion needed to be cheap...impecunious person that I am. So I picked a random Transperth bus line and hopped on, waiting to see where local public transportation would take me.

Line 34 is hardly a line. This was one of those routes that has inspired more than a few rollercoaster designs. This bus had more turns than a woodworker's lathe and to call some of these roads 'tertiary' is being quite generous. Sweeping up all the strays standing by the familiar logo. But look what I got to see: Canning-it is more than a street of big box businesses. Bentley- it has a library! Penrhos College- say, I've read about them. Como- hold it, that purple building looks familiar, the art nouveau theater and shoreline must be close by. South Perth- more than a shoreline of the Swan, look at all those cute shops and waaaaay too expensive homes. The Perth Zoo- a bus does go here. The Old Mill- an historic site, although I am missing the immediate thrill of this tiny structure by the bridge. The bridge- a view toward Heirisson Island and the Causeway home. A few more twists and turns and we are at the main Esplanade Bus Station. That was interesting!

Of course, you might say that I got on the wrong bus, had absolutely no idea where I was and just rode it to the end of its run. But it doesn't sound as adventurous.

6 RPH - 990 on the AM dial

"What's this about a radio show? Do you have a radio show?" Gee whiz, if I'm getting this from my mother, that pretty much means no one else knows, either. So let me tell you what keeps my brain working and me out of arrestable trouble.

I volunteered for years in Columbus (and for one summer in Claremont, California ages ago) at the Radio Reading Service for the Blind. These services, found all over the world, make print publications accessible to the blind & print handicapped by having them read on a dedicated radio channel. However funded, they rely heavily on volunteers to get the reading done. Occasionally, there are shows that are more than dry recitations of articles from the daily papers, magazines like TV Guide, Time and Playboy (just the articles) which will have guests, call-ins from listeners or a rogue host incapable of walking the charter's straight & narrow. (nolo contendere)

By chance, I heard about the local service within a week of my arrival in OZ and signed up for training. I have to admit that I was rather dismayed to see how rigid the guidelines for readers were and to the apparent extremes volunteers took those. Well, it wasn't too many more months longer when I had my own show, "What's On Where"-- your radio guide to what is happening in and around Perth that is fun and affordable. At first, I would read event announcements from whatever freebie publications I could get my hands on. It sounded mechanical and geocentric to where I lived. Nuts. This show needed diversity in its offerings, a wider geographic outreach, a more efficient collection of material and a free rein at the mike.

Enter Cowgirl Hilary.

I insisted that WOW needed its own station-based email, printed up business cards (on their color printer) and then started spreading the word like manure. I wanted to grow a huge database of sources who would email/snail mail their events to me--rather than me chasing them down or spending countless hours on 582 websites every week. I started electronically managing the info sent as well. And loosened up the delivery on-air. Eventually, I further engaged the listener and venues by offering on-air promotions (read: freebie tickets given away in contests.) Because the concept is new for the show/station, not all tickets get picked up but that's OK because that way I get to go places myself.

Like most other radio reading services, this one is run on volunteer power-so, no I don't get paid for this. But, unlike Voicecorps in Columbus, which requires a special receiver (or is retransmitted in the hospitals or on cable TVs program channel audio) Information Radio is on the AM dial. Anyone and Everyone who has a radio can listen to my show. My on-air delivery is not perfect yet, but I am firmly in the saddle. Yeeee haaaa.

Geocentricities - Part Two

Let's move further north to territory that should be more familiar to all of us. Should be. The land called China. Home to ancient history, terra cotta soldiers, silk, tea, Tiananmen Square, cheap goods and 1.3 billion people.

Australians, particularly mineral-rich Western Australians, have a keen eye on China. Where its fortune goes, so does Australia's. The global economic crises has demonstrated that. China's economy has not stalled, just slowed to single digit growth. Which means, due to lower demand for mineral resources, WA's economy has slowed. Is it because of the closer proximity or the direct commerce that this relationship is seen so clearly? Is it because of the further proximity and indirect commerce that makes it harder for North Americans to clearly see their relationship with this burgeoning financial giant?

It is by far easier to coach than play and Aussies fondly fondle the whistle. There are weekly reports in one medium or another analyzing what other countries are & should be doing, in their opinion. Some give real pause for thought. The financial relationship of China and the U.S. comes to mind. Twenty-five years ago I wondered why U.S. businesses were so eager to lay down at the feet of the Chinese government. Did they hope that all 1.3 billion people would be buying their stuff? Didn't think so then but hadn't given much thought about it since then. Like my fellow citizens, too busy moving along in the machinations of my own tiny world to give lots of thought to the big picture. "Made in the U.S.A." , "Buy American" and the anti-WalMart campaigns didn't quite penetrate the national psyche deep enough. Did the global financial crises do it? Do my fellow Americans see what appears much more clearly to me now from a distance; that China is well on its way to owning the U.S.'s financial soul? In my experience, northern Asian populations have been terrific savers and that excess money has been bailing out the living-on-credit American population. Someday, the piper will need to be paid. Have we figured out yet that we need to: reduce personal & collective debt, keep jobs within our own shores and, for pity's sake, stop shopping at places like WalMart?
As a Global Citizen, China leaves much to be desired. As Banker, we can all learn from it.

I have been to China twice--actually the same corner twice. Fascinating, it is. And very different from it's other three corners we see in the National Geographic and Lonely Planet publications. I'm going to need a few more lifetimes to catch it all.....or many friends that travel there and send me lots of letters, postcards & pictures.

Geocentricities

It is not coincidence that "egocentric" and "geocentric" are almost the same word, they are almost the same thing--the lens is just wider on the latter. And I, like most people, are guilty of both. Don't think you are? Draw a map of your country, freehand--no tracing and without looking at a map. Now compare your drawing to a real map. Look how you have magnified your little corner of the nation and in such greater detail than everywhere else!

Now think of drawing the world. My freehand tracing of this part of the globe was pretty pathetic. How could it not be? In the eastern half of U.S., the word 'international' conjures up images of Europe (the South thinks further south and the West coast can more easily picture the other side of the Pacific.) No different here in Australia, particularly in Western Australia where the population is far from anybody. In fact, it's cheaper to fly to many SouthEast Asian countries from Perth than to fly to Sydney or Melbourne. Or to buy lots of gasoline and drive to the opposite side of this huge state. That's why everyone gets so excited about vacations in SE Asian hotspots. Woo hoo! We're going to Vietnam! Holidaymaking in Indonesia! Thailand, here we come!

Still catches me up short. My mental images of most of these places comes right out of the pages of National Geographic...in the 70's. And the occasional glimpse through the Economist doesn't actually help the imagery much. Go ahead...I'll name a place and you say the first thing that comes to mind: Vietnam (rice paddies, refugees) , Cambodia (mud people) , Saigon (helicopters) , Jakarta (jagged metal shadow puppets) , Laos (ah...rhymes with louse?) , Bangkok (dangerous place) . Burma (shave) , India (cattle & elephants) and Thailand (child sex trafficking) . A far cry from the typical Aussie who thinks: RESORTS! BEACHES! RESORTS! FUN! BEACHES! EXOTICA! MORE BEACHES!

I am trying to replace these mental images. Jakarta (hotel bombings), Myanmar/Burma (rubies, but the people dealing them still have pained refugee expressions on their faces), India (nasty smelling/tasting curries). Not much of an improvement. But I working on it all the harder. Kev has booked us for a trip to Laos in October. People who have been there like it because it is cheap and not yet overrun with tourists. I am debating whether to wipe the mental slate clean and let whatever pops up fill the void or read every possible guidebook and compare reality with literary. The empty-slate method worked on the detour through Malaysia on my way here. We'll see....

And don't fret, I'll faithfully report back on my findings, as always.

No Laughing Matter for Kookaburras

Kevin and I attended a "Christmas in July" event this weekend. Usually at nice country pubs/resorts, we spend most of our time noshing on hors d'oeuvres, eating heavy meals and talking. Photographically speaking, these weekends are dull and/or indictable so I didn't bring my camera. I have lived to regret this decision on many an occasion and Saturday was one.

We never race from home to destination. There are too many corners to peak around on the way. This day found us eating lunch at the sheltered gas grill at Serpentine Dam. The shelter is nice to have, as the same winter rains that promote the brief period of green across this land also make soggy lunch stops. It's a nice park area and Kev has readied a nice picnic; marinated Kakadu kangaroo and a very colorful salad that includes homegrown rocket lettuce.

We push the button to start the grill. While we are waiting for it to heat up, we notice the birds in the area; ringneck parrots (bright green with a yellow 'collar' and dark head), magpies (black and white) and two kookaburras. Isn't nature wonderful?! Oh, the grill is ready now and the the chunks of meat start to sizzle immediately.

As fast as you can burp Tupperware, we had company. The ringnecks and magpies brazenly flew and walked up as close as we would let them. The kookaburras rested on the metal guard rail. Unmoving. Except for their eyeballs. At one point Kev held up between two fingers a small piece of roo. "You want a piece of this?" In a flash, one of crafty kingfishers swooped in and, with surgical precision, snatched it from a startled chef's fingers. Which he still had.

Grill scrapings I tossed on the grass interested them not. Kev walked right up to one with a bit of rocket. The bird took it but dropped it almost immediately. blah. And finally, a last big piece fell out of Kev's sandwich, so he again fed it directly to the bird. The kookaburra, and all his new friends, went to the fence. The kookaburra kept whapping the meat against the fence--the same way they kill off snakes they catch by bashing its head against a hard surface--before deciding it was dead enough to eat.

Excellent dinner theater, I tell you, and not a single shot of it to share. (The photo here is someone else's obviously similar adventure.)

The Fourth of July 2009

By now, everyone should be aware that below the equator July = winter. That's why Christmas movies appear on TV. That's why locals wear heavy coats even if the daytime temps are 68F. That's why I made a Thanksgiving Day-esque turkey supper. Bought it on super clearance the day after Christmas, a day when insensible Europeans will roast a turkey for 5 hours in 98F heat, and put it in the freezer for a better day.

And what better day than the Fourth of July, an Independence Day feast. Our neighbor, Keith, loves roast turkey yet rarely gets to eat it. I tried new recipes for the sweet potatoes and green beans (well, it wasn't actually Thanksgiving Day, so I thought some experimentation was allowable) and, Miracle-O-May, everything was ready at the exact same time! Oh yeah, send me my Girl Scout cooking badge now. Keith brought the usual two bottles of champagne and a special surprise for dessert. It was a mud cake (like a cheesecake) decorated with an American Flag in frosting. PLUS, adorned with star sparklers-shaped like four-leaf clovers instead of straight sticks-which I have never seen before. What fun! I giggled madly as sulphur smoke filled our tiny townhome, John Phillip Sousa played on the CD player and we toasted the day with another glass of bubbly. Predictably, we all fell into a food coma that night and it was leftover turkey for breakfast, lunch and dinner today.

We could have had guests last night. A U.S. naval ship, the USS George Washington, is anchored just offshore and the city is awash with moneyed sailors on their first leave in 30 days. I bumped into two yesterday morning in the downtown area and made an open invitation to join us for supper. A former sailor myself, getting an invitation to a local home is most welcome. They didn't show up (their loss) but that's OK. Funny, I did not ask if they were US sailors, I assumed they were as I recognize my own breed. Kev can, also. It is sometimes hard to define exactly, but one can tell who the Europeans, Americans and (foreign) Asians are at a glance.

Anyway, Perth is thrilled to have cash ladened sailors in town. Put up a big sign saying so. The TV news channels have been heralding the arrival also with video. One of the stories showed sailors in full dress uniform visiting sick kids in the hospital. This beaute of a PR move preemptoratively coats good-will over any potential future negative "incidents" that might arise from sailors on leave. I spotted a few of these guys in a pub at 11a.m. with a beer and high amusement at the sports programming on the TV. Can't blame them--rugby can often look like a cross between football and Twister, very amusing.

Something I didn't know: the USS George Washington is likely to be anchored in open water rather than docked (probably in Fremantle at that) is because some countries do not want nuclear weapons in their country (Canada being one, say my friends) and the U.S. will not disclose which ships are or are not carrying. So, the good sailors tender in (take small boat shuttles to shore) and book hotel rooms for a couple of days.

Three-thousand-plus sailors could do worse than Perth for a few days leave. I hope they have a good time.