The highlight of the annual Perth arts calendar has just passed. The Perth International Arts Festival, with the Perth Writer's Festival tucked inside the event seems to get better each year. There is always a few way-out ther offerings (and how they exasperate Kev) and a few way cool things. This year more Western Australian arts and works were incorporated into the program.
Kev and I took in a delightfully frothy piece called "Clouds", a performance based on the artwork of Rene Magritte. Just outside the theater, on Subiaco's trendy but short shopping strip of Rokeby Road was a bit of street theater. An Argentine show called "La Marea" (The Tide) tapped into our inner voyeur and curiosity. Who can walk down a residential street (or hotel corridor) without turning one's head to glance into the bay window or door and wonder what is happening on the other side? Using converted shop windows for homes and sidewalks for street scenes, the connected but not related nine vignettes, are repeated every ten minutes. Some of the scenes: a family eating supper, a man bored at a party, a courting young couple and even a motorcycle accident. Dialog is projected on the building (or street) near the action so spectators at any depth from the action could follow along. A really cool performance concept that works on the right bit of street.
The Perth Writer's Festival. It's not fair to complain that it is getting too popular. The PWF expanded the number of offerings to meet the greater demand. Yeah. The PWF also spread out the expanded list over more days, now utilizing Thursday and Friday as well as the weekend. Drats. Who can attend weekday seminars and workshops save for senior citizens and those underemployed? (Notice I avoid using the term "professional writers" here- a gentle irony.) Besides the great mix of free (yes, almost half of the sessions are absolutely free) and cheap (usually $13.50) events, this year included a free wine & mini-talk tent. Free booze?! In Australia?! I'm surprised that the tent wasn't overrun with people, unless they thought it was too good to be true. Naturally, I managed to sample one or two...or three... wines myself.
This year I was particularly interested in play writing. I've been rolling a short one-act play in my head for over a year and needed inspiration to get on paper. Unusually, the session with playwrights - who refer to themselves as "theater makers" - seemed unaware of how different formats are consumed and processed by their audience. Who were these people? I would have thought playwrights, particularly those who adapt other works into stage plays (as this session was partially about), would be the most aware of the flow and meter of different types of writing. One panelist, a former ballet dancer, really made my teeth grind when he dismissively described audiobooks as "those cassette tapes your friend's 90 year-old blind grandmother used to listen to." Kind of 'off pointe' aren't we, Nureyev? When these blowhards managed to stop passing so much gas, I did actually glean something positive from this session. As I do for all of the sessions I can squeeze in during the day.
This year I remembered to send the program to the writers I know who live elsewhere. Having been to other writer's conferences, I know what they are - and aren't - getting. Not to make them jealous, but maybe they can inspire their local writers associations to follow the PWF model. Or, in the case of my eldest brother, just plan any future possible trip to Perth during the Writer's Festival.
This year's Cool Art : "Tangle" Kids wrap huge colorful elastic bands around many May poles and then get happily lost and bounced around inside them. I'd tell you what it was like but they wouldn't let me in. Hummmmpphh.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
2012 Girls & Boys Names
I have commented before on this electronic journal on some observations on people's names. Like the difference a continent makes : Ashley, Bev and Dana are exclusively boys names here in OZ. Or the concern for literacy and future bullying with "unique" names and spellings. I know that language is a fluid thing and diversity is a good thing but La-A , Goldmyne and Kryschun never should have been taken off the shelf. That first name is Ladasha, in case you hadn't figured it out.
Last week the State of Western Australia registry office listed the Top 50 Girls and Boys names of 2012. I'm glad to see and report that some sanity is returning. Let me share the top 10 in each category:
GIRLS
1. Charlotte (193 sweet Charlottes born)
2. Olivia (close behind with 192)
3. Ruby
4. Emily
5. Sophie (Sophia at #17. You're back in fashion, Mom!)
6. Chloe
7. Ella
8. Amelia
9. Ava
10. Mia
and, (starting humming movie themes) at #39 is Indiana with 45 of them toddling about in pink
BOYS
1. Noah (207 on this ark)
2. Jack (a perennial favorite, practically patriotic)
3. William
4. Ethan
5. James
6. Lucas
7. Jacob
8. Liam
9. Oliver
10. Thomas
the bottom of the boys' list is interesting:
at #49 is the comical Archie (52 of them, no less!) and a two-way tie for 50th place with 51 apiece are the names Lincoln and Declan.
Losing some prominence are the golden oldies: Mary, Susan, John, Matthew, Hilary, Hepsuba...oh, wait, that last one may actually be a bit moldy. And the second-to-last name? Well, there is always the 2013 list. I'll start a subliminal message campaign in the local maternity wards this week.
Last week the State of Western Australia registry office listed the Top 50 Girls and Boys names of 2012. I'm glad to see and report that some sanity is returning. Let me share the top 10 in each category:
GIRLS
1. Charlotte (193 sweet Charlottes born)
2. Olivia (close behind with 192)
3. Ruby
4. Emily
5. Sophie (Sophia at #17. You're back in fashion, Mom!)
6. Chloe
7. Ella
8. Amelia
9. Ava
10. Mia
and, (starting humming movie themes) at #39 is Indiana with 45 of them toddling about in pink
BOYS
1. Noah (207 on this ark)
2. Jack (a perennial favorite, practically patriotic)
3. William
4. Ethan
5. James
6. Lucas
7. Jacob
8. Liam
9. Oliver
10. Thomas
the bottom of the boys' list is interesting:
at #49 is the comical Archie (52 of them, no less!) and a two-way tie for 50th place with 51 apiece are the names Lincoln and Declan.
Losing some prominence are the golden oldies: Mary, Susan, John, Matthew, Hilary, Hepsuba...oh, wait, that last one may actually be a bit moldy. And the second-to-last name? Well, there is always the 2013 list. I'll start a subliminal message campaign in the local maternity wards this week.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
March 9 Election
The State of Western Australia had an election for the Premier (governor) position on March 9th. Politics really isn't a great pastime of mine, as a former election presiding judge back home, the process holds a bit more interest. In Australia, all citizens are obliged to vote in this election. Yes, compulsory with a fine for failing to cast a ballot. Each level of government runs their own election at their discretion. Monumental waste of money if you ask me, but Aussies have trouble with the idea of tackling more than one jurisdiction at a time. The term of office is known-- four years for the Premier -- but are as likely to be called on a political whim. Elections aren't held to standing dates like they are in the U.S., although Saturday is a favored day with 8:30a.m.-5p.m. hours. Nationwide, all votes are made on paper ballots! And a voter doesn't vote for their choice of candidate but ranks the entire field in preferred order, e.g. Bob Smith 3, Sue Jones 5, Bill Cunningham 1, Sam Fields 2, Jane Doe 4. The person who has the highest average ranking wins the election. Making much sense?
What does appeal is the short campaign season. This was a five-week campaign, vote, count, finished. The TV ads are standard: some show the Achilles' heal of the Opposition (such a divisive term but 'majority' and 'minority' are never used), others show candidates in rolled up sleeves shaking hands with the common man. In the country, the presentation is a bit less sophisticated. There is the standard head bobbing with small business leaders but everyone wears tee shirts instead of oxford button downs. The newspapers, trying to make the most of this increased circulation opportunity, are hard pressed to dig up dirt in so short a time. One nonstarter was the rumored precarious health of the current premier. That fizzled quickly in a splash of wasted ink.
The main political parties : the Liberal Party (= Republican) and the Labor Party (correct spelling , = Democrats). They are always a source of exasperating aggravation and laughs. I always enjoy the random proposals for civic projects each party dreams up as a way of currying favor. "We want to build an elevated tram to the moon. It will make us competitive in the global market and put us on the map. And, it will only cost 1.2 billion dollars!" They have absolutely no idea where the money is going to come from much less a plan to accrue it. No matter. Unless ground is broken for the project immediately, it is subject to being cancelled when the political reins change hands. In fact, guaranteed to be cancelled.
Well, the incumbent, Liberal Premier Colin Barnett keeps his office for another four years...or until the next election is called.
What does appeal is the short campaign season. This was a five-week campaign, vote, count, finished. The TV ads are standard: some show the Achilles' heal of the Opposition (such a divisive term but 'majority' and 'minority' are never used), others show candidates in rolled up sleeves shaking hands with the common man. In the country, the presentation is a bit less sophisticated. There is the standard head bobbing with small business leaders but everyone wears tee shirts instead of oxford button downs. The newspapers, trying to make the most of this increased circulation opportunity, are hard pressed to dig up dirt in so short a time. One nonstarter was the rumored precarious health of the current premier. That fizzled quickly in a splash of wasted ink.
The main political parties : the Liberal Party (= Republican) and the Labor Party (correct spelling , = Democrats). They are always a source of exasperating aggravation and laughs. I always enjoy the random proposals for civic projects each party dreams up as a way of currying favor. "We want to build an elevated tram to the moon. It will make us competitive in the global market and put us on the map. And, it will only cost 1.2 billion dollars!" They have absolutely no idea where the money is going to come from much less a plan to accrue it. No matter. Unless ground is broken for the project immediately, it is subject to being cancelled when the political reins change hands. In fact, guaranteed to be cancelled.
Well, the incumbent, Liberal Premier Colin Barnett keeps his office for another four years...or until the next election is called.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Authoring My Own Post Mortem
My recent vacation back home in the U.S. after being away for five years was notable. I caught up with a lot of family and dear friends. I let my suntan brag for itself to all the northern hemisphere winter whites. I engaged in some serious retail therapy to the tune of a second 50 lb suitcase (without being charged by the airline for it!)
And I got to hear how I died on April 1, 2008.
Yeah, that was a bit of a shock to me, also. In a visit to my U.S. credit union to check up on my financial health, I discovered that where the consumer retail credit world was concerned, I was little more than a name on a gravestone.
This is how it happened. When I moved to Australia five years ago, I changed my permanent address with all pertinent parties from the U.S. address to my new one overseas. Who wouldn't? Well, unbeknownst to me - and apparently to the razor sharp folks at my credit union, also - a foreign billing address is not recognized by North American credit reporting agencies. I had committed financial suicide. Add the fact that activity evaporates after several years -both the good and the bad- from one's credit rating , I essentially fell off the credit-worthy grid.
My credit rating went from 800+ to too low to calculate a score.
It is like being 18 years old again--in an unpleasant way. I chose to take an immediate, proactive role in my financial recovery (because yelling at the equally ignorant credit union people in shocked outrage would only have gotten me escorted out the door by armed security personnel) and have taken steps to reestablish myself as a credit worthy individual.
I don't believe in Woulda', Shoulda', Coulda's. I cannot change what is done. I can help spread the word to other folks who plan to temporarily leave the country for contract work or preserve a retail credit presence in the U.S. for their own reasons to do so with the least amount of damage.
As we've seen, keeping a domestic address is paramount. Start with a trusted relative or friend who will allow you a virtual home for your financial entity. Will they accept your mail and forward it to you? If this is not a good option, try renting one of those private P.O. Boxes where the service will forward your mail. It will cost a fee per forward, but P.O. Boxes carry full weight as a residency requirement.
Remember to generate activity every now and again. Make online purchases with your U.S. credit card or department store charge card a few times a year to make sure they are seen as active. Take out a small secured loan against your savings and use the loan money to pay it back over a several month period. Credit reporting companies love to see installment loans and aren't too fussy about the amount. A $300 secured loan paid back over nine months will probably cost you $5 in interest. A much easier cost to swallow than trying to crawl your way out of a financial black hole.
So much banking is done online or electronically that many people couldn't identify a single employee in a brick & mortar office. I know people who haven't stepped in a bank in years. Not a good idea for a future expat. Get to know your banker personally. Keep them in the loop of what you want to do and where you will be doing it from. This raises the customer service level and appropriate assistance you will get when managing or reassessing your financial affairs via email from some far corner of the Earth.
And when you return to the good ol' US of A after your exotic couple of years abroad, you won't find your name on the financial obituary list hoping for an autopsy.
And I got to hear how I died on April 1, 2008.
Yeah, that was a bit of a shock to me, also. In a visit to my U.S. credit union to check up on my financial health, I discovered that where the consumer retail credit world was concerned, I was little more than a name on a gravestone.
This is how it happened. When I moved to Australia five years ago, I changed my permanent address with all pertinent parties from the U.S. address to my new one overseas. Who wouldn't? Well, unbeknownst to me - and apparently to the razor sharp folks at my credit union, also - a foreign billing address is not recognized by North American credit reporting agencies. I had committed financial suicide. Add the fact that activity evaporates after several years -both the good and the bad- from one's credit rating , I essentially fell off the credit-worthy grid.
My credit rating went from 800+ to too low to calculate a score.
It is like being 18 years old again--in an unpleasant way. I chose to take an immediate, proactive role in my financial recovery (because yelling at the equally ignorant credit union people in shocked outrage would only have gotten me escorted out the door by armed security personnel) and have taken steps to reestablish myself as a credit worthy individual.
I don't believe in Woulda', Shoulda', Coulda's. I cannot change what is done. I can help spread the word to other folks who plan to temporarily leave the country for contract work or preserve a retail credit presence in the U.S. for their own reasons to do so with the least amount of damage.
As we've seen, keeping a domestic address is paramount. Start with a trusted relative or friend who will allow you a virtual home for your financial entity. Will they accept your mail and forward it to you? If this is not a good option, try renting one of those private P.O. Boxes where the service will forward your mail. It will cost a fee per forward, but P.O. Boxes carry full weight as a residency requirement.
Remember to generate activity every now and again. Make online purchases with your U.S. credit card or department store charge card a few times a year to make sure they are seen as active. Take out a small secured loan against your savings and use the loan money to pay it back over a several month period. Credit reporting companies love to see installment loans and aren't too fussy about the amount. A $300 secured loan paid back over nine months will probably cost you $5 in interest. A much easier cost to swallow than trying to crawl your way out of a financial black hole.
So much banking is done online or electronically that many people couldn't identify a single employee in a brick & mortar office. I know people who haven't stepped in a bank in years. Not a good idea for a future expat. Get to know your banker personally. Keep them in the loop of what you want to do and where you will be doing it from. This raises the customer service level and appropriate assistance you will get when managing or reassessing your financial affairs via email from some far corner of the Earth.
And when you return to the good ol' US of A after your exotic couple of years abroad, you won't find your name on the financial obituary list hoping for an autopsy.
My First Visit Back Home
A minor miracle happened recently. On his way to a backpacking sojourn in India & Burma, Kev more than suggested I visit my mother and friends. He gave me a plane ticket for a three-week, multiple-city trip to the land I grew up in.
It had been five years since I had last been in the U.S. before moving to OZ. Which cliche would describe the visit? "You can't go home again" , "Stranger in a familiar place" or (dare to dream) "The Homecoming"? Would people be glad to see me? Or even remember me? Would I get the all-important shopping done? (Heaven knows EVERYTHING is cheaper in the U.S. Plus, with superior fits in clothing, it doesn't make sense not to stock up.) Did I bring enough money? Will I survive a dozen airport experiences in one vacation? Will I remember how to drive on the right hand side of the road in the left side of the car...in the snow?
For all the questions that seemed to beg for trouble, very few eventuated. Armed with a file folder, four payment methods, three shopping lists, two date calendars and a disposable phone (decorated with a partridge in a pear tree, fa la la la la la) I was ready for full military-style engagement. Provision, briefing, execution and debrief. Ooo rah.
My first week was spent with Mom. Sort of. This was valuable Asset Acquisition time. Pre-emptive strikes on hair care products and cosmetics had to be made. Thanks for the driving lessons, Mom, see you at suppertime! No amount of torture or truth serum will get me to spill the exact amount of money spent during those early heady days of frenetic consumerism.
On to Orlando and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Magical in mid-winter. The temperatures are decent, there are no crowds or long lines for attractions. WWHP looks just like the movie set, Butterbeer and Hog's Breath Ale are yummy, the simulated Hogwarts castle tour does not disappoint and, serious frosting on top of all of this, I had two friends from the Frozen North to share it with.
Ivy, veterinarian extraordinaire, met us at the notable Tu Tu Tango Cafe. Mymaid man of honor, Tom, and I took in the Universal holdings. He is now much more aware of Harry Potter & Co than he was before. We stayed at a hotel owned by the Jicarilla Apache Nation. A hotel in Orlando? Now there is a license to print money. I'm holding off a slew of scalping jokes here, people.
The Frozen North. Eight days of the most tightly choreographed maneuvers outside the Edinburgh Tattoo. Insured to the hilt against any evil force of nature or man, this marathon started with a dinner party at my younger sister's house. A pleasant evening with relatives that featured the first of many discussions about healthcare and national health services. I never could get a street-level description of "Obamacare" from my friends (who range from ardent supporters to those who won't speak the president's name) but with so much to share and so little time... God bless my uncle and his endless supply of Cornish pasties, real dill pickles and Vernors pop. It hardly gets more home than that. I would drive three days to see my father's younger brother - with or without the soul food.
Ohio, where it all went into hyper drive. Kit, my friend and hostess, took time out from her vintage clothing and costume shop, The Alley (now also purveyors of genuine Australian made fashions), to help reacquaint me with Columbus and whittle down my clothing shopping lists - who else could sniff out half-price day at a particular thrift store or 83% off a fabulous silk taffeta party dress? And then the days looked like this: 1p luncheon with Dottie & Susan, 3:30p Jean, 5pm drinks with Mike & Marc, 6:30p dinner with Dave. Next day: 10a VoiceCorps, 11:30 with Ken @ Lindeys, 2p Tea with Worthington Women's Club, 5p with Sally & crew, 6:30p supper with elusive Stick & Rick. Last day: Tim, JoAnn and then Eddie [read: Tim Horton's for breakfast, JoAnn Fabrics because who doesn't stop at fabric stores on vacation and Eddie Bauer Salvage/Warehouse sale.] All visits were too short, of course, and overwhelming. I could not have imagined so warm a welcome.
More humbling was the return to Los Angeles before heading back to Perth. My eldest brother Peter flew in from Houston and my uncle in Las Vegas drove in to see me. Really, to see me? I was feeling very unwell for the last few days but tried to suck it up for this mini reunion and trip to the famous Santa Anita Race Track. A former sports reporter with horse racing as his beat, Peter proved to be an excellent guide at Santa Anita. "That's Gary Stephens, he played George Wolfe in Seabiscuit. Now that guy is a famous horse trainer, trained a bazillion Kentucky Derby winners. Is that musician Herb Alpert looking like a slob next to that fine horse?" Only a visit to some quack at an Urgent Care center (I couldn't fly feeling that bad) could cast a pall on those final days.
So to answer some of the questions at the beginning: Not everything is cheaper in the U.S. Sea salt is a veritable bargain in OZ. So for all your culinary marine saline needs, load up on your next visit Down Under. Driving only became a problem in parking lots. I think I still have $1.75 left from all that retail therapy. No, airports will never be my friends- I don't care how fancy they are in the inner sanctum, and Detroit's airport is pretty flash.
And finally, the theme of my vacation - in the words of George Gershwin : " 'S Wonderful. 'S Marvelous. That you should care for me."
[Yes, photos are available, just not here and now. Getting the story out now, will add art later.]
It had been five years since I had last been in the U.S. before moving to OZ. Which cliche would describe the visit? "You can't go home again" , "Stranger in a familiar place" or (dare to dream) "The Homecoming"? Would people be glad to see me? Or even remember me? Would I get the all-important shopping done? (Heaven knows EVERYTHING is cheaper in the U.S. Plus, with superior fits in clothing, it doesn't make sense not to stock up.) Did I bring enough money? Will I survive a dozen airport experiences in one vacation? Will I remember how to drive on the right hand side of the road in the left side of the car...in the snow?
For all the questions that seemed to beg for trouble, very few eventuated. Armed with a file folder, four payment methods, three shopping lists, two date calendars and a disposable phone (decorated with a partridge in a pear tree, fa la la la la la) I was ready for full military-style engagement. Provision, briefing, execution and debrief. Ooo rah.
My first week was spent with Mom. Sort of. This was valuable Asset Acquisition time. Pre-emptive strikes on hair care products and cosmetics had to be made. Thanks for the driving lessons, Mom, see you at suppertime! No amount of torture or truth serum will get me to spill the exact amount of money spent during those early heady days of frenetic consumerism.
On to Orlando and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Magical in mid-winter. The temperatures are decent, there are no crowds or long lines for attractions. WWHP looks just like the movie set, Butterbeer and Hog's Breath Ale are yummy, the simulated Hogwarts castle tour does not disappoint and, serious frosting on top of all of this, I had two friends from the Frozen North to share it with.
Ivy, veterinarian extraordinaire, met us at the notable Tu Tu Tango Cafe. My
The Frozen North. Eight days of the most tightly choreographed maneuvers outside the Edinburgh Tattoo. Insured to the hilt against any evil force of nature or man, this marathon started with a dinner party at my younger sister's house. A pleasant evening with relatives that featured the first of many discussions about healthcare and national health services. I never could get a street-level description of "Obamacare" from my friends (who range from ardent supporters to those who won't speak the president's name) but with so much to share and so little time... God bless my uncle and his endless supply of Cornish pasties, real dill pickles and Vernors pop. It hardly gets more home than that. I would drive three days to see my father's younger brother - with or without the soul food.
Ohio, where it all went into hyper drive. Kit, my friend and hostess, took time out from her vintage clothing and costume shop, The Alley (now also purveyors of genuine Australian made fashions), to help reacquaint me with Columbus and whittle down my clothing shopping lists - who else could sniff out half-price day at a particular thrift store or 83% off a fabulous silk taffeta party dress? And then the days looked like this: 1p luncheon with Dottie & Susan, 3:30p Jean, 5pm drinks with Mike & Marc, 6:30p dinner with Dave. Next day: 10a VoiceCorps, 11:30 with Ken @ Lindeys, 2p Tea with Worthington Women's Club, 5p with Sally & crew, 6:30p supper with elusive Stick & Rick. Last day: Tim, JoAnn and then Eddie [read: Tim Horton's for breakfast, JoAnn Fabrics because who doesn't stop at fabric stores on vacation and Eddie Bauer Salvage/Warehouse sale.] All visits were too short, of course, and overwhelming. I could not have imagined so warm a welcome.
More humbling was the return to Los Angeles before heading back to Perth. My eldest brother Peter flew in from Houston and my uncle in Las Vegas drove in to see me. Really, to see me? I was feeling very unwell for the last few days but tried to suck it up for this mini reunion and trip to the famous Santa Anita Race Track. A former sports reporter with horse racing as his beat, Peter proved to be an excellent guide at Santa Anita. "That's Gary Stephens, he played George Wolfe in Seabiscuit. Now that guy is a famous horse trainer, trained a bazillion Kentucky Derby winners. Is that musician Herb Alpert looking like a slob next to that fine horse?" Only a visit to some quack at an Urgent Care center (I couldn't fly feeling that bad) could cast a pall on those final days.
So to answer some of the questions at the beginning: Not everything is cheaper in the U.S. Sea salt is a veritable bargain in OZ. So for all your culinary marine saline needs, load up on your next visit Down Under. Driving only became a problem in parking lots. I think I still have $1.75 left from all that retail therapy. No, airports will never be my friends- I don't care how fancy they are in the inner sanctum, and Detroit's airport is pretty flash.
And finally, the theme of my vacation - in the words of George Gershwin : " 'S Wonderful. 'S Marvelous. That you should care for me."
[Yes, photos are available, just not here and now. Getting the story out now, will add art later.]
Monday, October 1, 2012
Broome Festival
This is a
great time of year to pick up a broom. A Broome pearl, that is. A second business trip to this vacation oasis in the far north of Western Australia could not have been better timed.
There is a big festival going on – the Shinju Matsuri. It is commonly referred to as
the Broome Festival. This is a
celebration of the Asian and Pearl culture in the area. An industry once highly dangerous for its shark-infested,
oxygen-depriving ‘naked dives’ has
evolved into a high-science, cultured
pearl industry. With the trials and
tribulations of those early days long gone, a highly diverse population
embraces its past and celebrates the gold-colored nacred beauties that have put Broome on the map.
 |
| Broome Fest Dragon parade |
The
Festival starts with a bang…literally.
Firecrackers go off and the Dragon parade starts winding its way through
Chinatown. Stephen “Baamba” Albert, an
Aboriginal folk singer regales revelers with songs about ‘saltwater cowboys’ (read: pearl divers) and food trucks keep
us fed.
 |
| Baamba sings of saltwater cowboys |
 |
| Staircase to the Moon |
For
another week and a half, the party continues with special markets, art
exhibitions, athletic events, motor stampedes, musical performances including a night of Opera Under the Stars, a popular long-table luncheon and a gala ball. The big highlight, around which the Festival is always scheduled, is the Staircase To The Moon. The natural phenomenon of the Staircase to the Moon occurs between March and October when the full moon rises over the exposed mudflats of Roebuck Bay at extremely low tide creating the optical illusion of a staircase reaching for the moon. It draws big crowds, many of whom walk the low tide area with has receded from its original shoreline by almost a mile. Not too dramatic an appearance this month and a greater camera than mine is needed to capture it, but it was fun.
 |
| Broome courthouse markets |
Another
delightful phenomenon is the appearance of dragonflies. The court house market has some beautiful,
framed silk lightboxes , mostly with dragonfly motifs. In fact, many crafted items have the
dragonfly motif on them. A popular design at the time of my wedding, I have a soft spot for the double-winged beauties. For Broomers,
dragonflies signify the end of the rainy season. They come in like locusts , but far from
pests, they eat all the mosquitoes the
rainy season also brought in. Dragonfly
appearances also indicate that the warm ocean currents will start bringing the
whale migration and that comfortable weather is coming.
Perfect for the Festival of Broome.
Sunday Shopping
Good
things come to those who wait…and wait…and wait. The state of Western Australia was ‘founded’
by English colonists in 1829. Fast forward 183 years and it is only now
legal to buy a loaf of bread, a pillow case or clock radio anywhere in the
state on a Sunday. Welcome Sunday
shopping, you were a long time coming.
I come
from the land of 24-hour shopping. Odd
work shifts or sleeping habits did not leave a person outside the world of
consumer commerce. It is entirely too easy to get used to that convenience. Indeed, ease gives rise to expectation. Imagine my surprise
and culture shock when I moved to Perth just a few years ago to find that the
sidewalks were rolled up at 5:30pm daily and buildings practically boarded up
on Sundays. How did a working person
shop? Two options: fight the crowds on
Saturday mornings or go out on the government-approved Thursday Late Night
Shopping. Stores stayed open until 9p.m.
and it was actually a family event for many people. I could not hide my incredulity at what seemed
a comical sight: Whole families slowly
strolling down aisles ooohing and aaaahing
the grocery shelves as if taking in the latest exhibition at the Art
Gallery. Cracked me up this did.
Why was this so? Why would the state government care about retail trading hours, much less regulate commerce? The government was protecting the little guy
from the Goliaths. Small business owners
felt they could not compete against the big corporations and beseeched the
state government to help them by limiting hours of trade, especially for shops of certain consumer goods. Slowly, over the
last 25 years, this has been evolving to
respond to the needs of nontraditional work and family models as well as joining
contemporary business thinking. Sunday
shopping and extended hours were allowed
in the tourist inhabited downtown area of Perth. The tourist zone was widened into the suburbs.
Certain consumer goods were exempt from the laws. And finally, the last weekend of August, the
last veil dropped and all is fair in commerce and war. Sunday Shopping had arrived in Western Australia! Great fanfare, sales, giveaways and entertainment sirened “come hither” to people not used to
handling their wallets on the seventh day.
All this
is still a far cry from round-the-clock cash register ecstasy, but it feels a
whole lot less like Pluto here in Perth.
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