somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence;
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
e.e. cummings (1894-1962)
Australia is a land of magical rolling hills and changing landscapes. There is a certain effort involved in finding the hidden gems that make up the towns and cities of Australia, but each hidden gem is worth the effort. The roads leading to these gems seem endless and without end, but like an oasis in the desert, small communities of humanity crop up at regular intervals. Without a doubt, all of your creature needs can be satisfied, namely cappuccino’s and latte’s at the ready no matter how small the town. Along with such creature comfort’s come friendly smiles, antique shop’s, small cafes and a comfy place to rest your head for the night.
Such a theme continues in the town’s of Dubbo and Gulgong. If you visit Dubbo, you must visit the Dubbo “jail”. This jail dates back to the turn of the century and gives traveller’s an idea of the fate of convicts who were destined to reside on the shores of Oz for the remainder of their short yet predetermined lives. That being said, in keeping with true Oz style, the performance is hilarious and at the same time educational. A perfect location to sit down, have a coffee, enjoy a bit of history and relax from the fast pace of life that exists in downtown Sydney.
Gulgong is the home of Henry Lawson. Famous poet and Australian writing icon. If you ever get the chance you must visit the Henry Lawson centre and museum in Gulgong. The true essence of real Australia exists in the small towns and people that make up the people and culture of Australia. Gulgong doesn’t have much in terms of modern architecture but it makes up for it in small town charm and appeal. The beautiful solitude cannot be found anywhere else, and when the sun sets and twilight begins, your eyes are instantly drawn to the overwhelming beauty of the starry skies that can only be described as breathtaking in their overall breadth and depth. The stars in the outback surpass any starry skies I have ever seen before in the world.
From Dubbo and Gulgong I made my way to Mudgee. Home of twenty or so wine cellars and endless rows of vines that create beautiful semillons and chardonnays. Mudgee is the home of fine Australia wines. If you ever get the chance you must go on a wine tour. Of particular note is Frog Rock and Peter van Gent winery’s. From Frog Rock comes a succulent 2003 premium vintage white wine. And from Peter van Gent, a 2006 Matrix Chardonnay along with a borrowed grape from the German vine, a Muller-Thurgau 2006. Not to be eclipsed in terms of a fruity and aromatic white, comes a beautiful 2008 Mudgee Semillon from Huntington Estates.
Once a year Huntington Estates re-arranges their hard won wine oak barrels to make room for the classical sounds of a Sydney orchestra. What better way to celebrate the beautiful and sweet sounds of Australia’s best wines? Bravo I say, and if you ever get the chance, Huntington Estates Winery is a must see whilst visiting some of Australia’s best vines in Mudgee….
More wine to come…(After I sober up from being shnozelled…) Ah, Australia, how can I ever leave?
11
Jun
Destination
You are here somewhere,
Hidden from sight,
Along a path,
That reflects the light,
That blinds me momentarily.
I walk amongst many,
And yet I am alone.
Nothing revealed,
In the emptiness,
Of faces,
And the downcast eyes,
Of humanity.
All I can hear is the hollow sound,
Of footsteps
That echo off the concrete,
In a city, that is any city,
Anywhere.
A hazy outline forms against the darkness
Of the setting sun,
Rich in colour, but lacking in warmth,
For I am cold and so is this day.
The leaves at my feet
Are dead.
A testament
To life.
And a reminder of the seasons,
That change.
And in the mist against the darkness
Is an outline,
Of a man.
With hands that bear witness,
To the writing,
On a note.
It is a ticket,
For a destination,
That no longer exists,
And a time,
That has long expired.
So I continue to search,
For you.
04
Jun
In you the earth…
A perfect evening for Pablo Neruda. A most soulful and romantic poet.
Little,
rose,
roselet,
at times,
tiny and naked,
it seems
as though you would fit
in one of my hands,
as though I’ll clasp you like this
and carry you to my mouth,
but
suddenly
my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:
you have grown,
your shoulders rise like two hills,
your breasts wander over my breast,
my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin
new-moon line of your waist:
in love you have loosened yourself like sea water:
I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes
and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.
04
Jun
The meaning of rain…
I think that rain is very romantic. It effectively changes the atmosphere and tends to clear and cleanse anything in its path. The air just feels fresh and renewewed after a heavy rainfall. Well, if anything else, it is a good excuse to wax poetic about it when it is pounding on your door step.
Such is the case in Sydney tonight. The rain and wind is howling at my door step. Reminding me that fall has officially arrived in Australia. But, I love the sound of it and the way it reminds me of my home. These kinds of evenings are common and we don’t fret about it. You just light some candles and the fire place. Take out a good book and a bottle of wine and while away the hours reading, relaxing and contemplating life..Rain makes you stop and forces you to attend to all of those things you had been intending to do…such as writing and reading.
So, I welcome the rain. It is a good excuse to be lazy or romantic. What else can you do when the rain is falling and the wind is blowing?
04
Jun
And the rain falls…
Thy fate is the common fate
of all; into each life some rain
must fall.
Well it has been almost a year since I left Canada for Australia. I have not had a chance to travel much but I am hoping to this very shortly. And of course I will be blogging about it. With study, study, study twenty-four seven I haven’t had a chance to see the land.
When people think of the topography of Australia they envision the land that typifies the northern parts of Australia where the cities drop off and the land becomes vast and remote. I think that this land defines the true romance of Australia and I think of the kind of people who would have come to populate something so remote.
They would have had to be strong and resourceful to weather the extremes of weather. And I think the land in which a person lives often cultivates the people as sand and sea water do to a pearl. This kind of polishing creates a particular way of thinking, which in essence is what defines true culture.
It is in this vein that I write the poem, “The Red Earth“. I absolutely love the weathered faces I have encountered during my travels and the charming ways that all Australians have with their words. What I have yet to write about is the easy-going humour that tends to infiltrate any conversation. Usually it is “a little something about nothing” but I find myself laughing hysterically anyways. In my next post I will list all of the humourous “ozzisms” I have encountered, once deciphered, they truly are funny.
30
May
The Red Earth
His feet fall with purpose,
And strike the red earth,
Leaving foot prints behind,
On the land of his birth.
At places they wash,
Leaving no trace,
With the touch of my hand,
I remember his face.
A man of the earth by his hands
He has tethered,
Wild storms on the land by his strength
He has weathered,
The red earth of Oz .
By the grace of his hands,
He holds fast to the earth,
His beauty defined,
By the winds
Of his birth.
Well, much to my horror, I see it has been over a week since I last posted. Since then I have had to live through a computer crash that nearly demolished my hard-earned research material and essay’s that I have spent hours, days and weeks to write. Without extensions provided by a few prof’s I am not sure the light at the end of the tunnel would have illuminated any light on the papers I am so busily filling with words. It has been a royal stuggle to finish my Master’s degree and I am no where near the actual end. But still I battle on…
It becomes a daily trial against time and patience. Hours and days are spent inside my “dungeon”. A 10 by 12 foot space that rarely sees the light of day. It might be the sunniest Sydney day outside but I would never know it from my dark room that has become my permanent residence. My diet has descended into “cookies, tea, candies and chocolate”. I get to sample carbohydrates represented in every refined carbohydrate group. Whatever takes the least amount of time goes into my mouth. Oy Vey.
There is no vending machine that has missed my visit in the last week; often been raided at four in the morning. I have begun to lose weight as food becomes the least of my worries. I have become a virtual recluse. At times I have thought I would not be able to come up with what is expected. The papers at times seem endless and most unkind to write. It feels as though I am pulling a rabbit out of the hat. Yet still I struggle on.
But still there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I have two presentations and one essay left and then I will have fulfilled the requirements of a Master’s degree at the University of New South Wales. It has been a long personal and psychological battle to reach the end. But nothing worthwhile is easy and so I struggle on knowing that it will be worth the effort and pain.
It is with these thoughts that I write “Metamorphosis”. The beauty of a butterfly begins in the dark and unforgiving world of the soil. There it is dark and quiet. The butterfly larva is the embodiment of what is ungraceful. It is helpless, blind and vulnerable. And yet a transformation takes place in the soil. The blind and helpless larva transforms itself from the safety of its cocoon into a beautiful creature with wings. And it is these wings that enable it to take flight.
And by flight it finds freedom. There is a message in that transformation. The possible exists from the impossible. Beauty can exist from even the most unlikeliest of sources. Never give up hope as all things are possible. The miraculous transformation of the butterfly is a metaphor for life. Which is probably why I am so fascinated by butterflies…The world is indeed a mysterious place.
tarabridgetmoore
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