11 posts tagged “canberra”
THE STAFF AT THE GALLERY SHOP AT THE NATIONAL ART GALLERY ARE RUDE AND INSUFFERABLE AND AS MUCH AS I WOULD LIKE TO BUY A VAN GOGH POSTER I AM THINKING I WONT NOW, BECAUSE THEY ARE RUDE AND INSUFFERABLE – THEY KEEP TELLING ME TO PHONE BACK AND GIVE ME NUMBERS TO PHONE BACK ON THEN THEY ARE RUDE AND TELL ME TO PHONE ON SOME OTHER NUMBER AND TO PHONE ANOTHER DAY – AND THEY ARE TOO BUSY TO HELP ME….I AM THINKING OF WRITING A LETTER OF COMPLAINT TO THEIR MANAGER BECAUSE I KNOW THOSE PEOPLE THINK THEY ARE ALL ARTISTS AND HATE THE FACT THAT THEY HAVE TO WORK AS CHECK OUT CHICKS AND SO ARE RUDE AND CONDESCENDING AND I HATE THAT IN A CHECK OUT CHICK
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The great Ngurrara Canvas is one of the largest and most spectacular Aboriginal Western Desert paintings. It was painted by senior traditional owners of the Great Sandy Desert of northern Western Australia as an emotionally and politically charged expression of their links to their country, for presentation to the National Native Title Tribunal in 1997 |
Like birds on the water. That’s how one survivor described the sight of over 300 bodies of fathers, mothers, and children, scattered over kilometres of ocean when the sun came up on October 20th 2001.
These people, mostly refugees from Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, had travelled in some instance for years in search of somewhere safe to live their lives. Many of the women and children were on the boat because their husbands had come on ahead to Australia, only to be caught in our changing political tide and locked in detention or a newly devised Temporary Visa system which took away their rights to re-unite. Left without support, these mothers and young children were easy prey for people smuggling operators.
Crowded onto a fishing boat only 19.5 metres long, packed so tightly that teenagers had to climb on the roof and mothers hold children on their laps, the passengers were terrified even before they left port. One man attempting to take his family off was pistol whipped and forced back.
Armed Indonesian military supervised the boarding. A patrol boat escorted the leaky vessel out of the port of Lampong. Another sped by the vessel later that day. As the boat got into difficulties, passengers heard a twin engine plane overhead and set fire to clothing to try and signal for help.
When the engine failed in heavy seas, the SIEVX tipped over and sank. Over a hundred people survived the sinking, but no rescue came through a whole afternoon and night. But something appalling and inexplicable took place; reported by all survivors later to United Nations interviewers in Jakarta. Two large military vessels arrived in the night, shining spotlights on the water. A Zodiac style boat was launched. The people in the water started calling and swimming towards the lights, but the boats restarted their engines and sailed away. Dozens more people died, some giving up in despair and just allowing themselves to drown.
Eventually, the next day, after 20 hours in the water, fishing boats came across survivors, including Faris Kadhem a father whose wife and seven year old daughter had drowned, and Amal Basry, a mother who had lost sight of her teenage son when a big wave dragged them apart. Both begged the fishermen to search, and about forty more survivors were eventually found. Amal’s teenage son was among those found alive. But 353 others had died, either in the original sinking, or during the long night without rescue. Rescuers reported an awful sight, the body of a tiny baby, born during the nightmare of the sinking, still joined by its umbilical cord to its dead mother, afloat in the water.
The people of SIEVX were brave people, trying to give their children a decent life. They could so easily have been safely living among us now, their kids at school with ours. In a modern era, with planes going overhead, satellites, radar, GPS, such a mediaeval tragedy should never have been allowed to happen. And in an era of serious climate change, when millions more refugees will be created in coming decades, we need to have systems in place to manage this more competently.
The SIEVX Memorial takes a simple first step. It says - these lives were sacred. We won’t forget them. Over a thousand Australians, most of them children but also churches and community groups from every corner of the country, have made something beautiful, haunting, and full of power, to try and bring about a better Australia.
http://www.sievxmemorial.com/about-sievx.html
yes he did sit with his back to the window - which was not bullet proof, and was often open for fresh air - so many missed chances....
Those two booths in the corners are indeed "cone of silence" sound proof booths for trading state secrets and general gossip. We often though Agent 86 was running our country and we were right! This room was used until 1988! please don't laugh....
Where we celebrated Mother's Day lunch - fitting for Queen of the World don't you think - only parliament will do, dahling
some of them are a little masucline looking - well we know poor Margret Whitlam is but we love her all the more for that- I am sure that SOME of them must have been somewhat attractive?
Notice Sonia McMahon (Billy McMahon/Liberal Party) was absent. Sonia (Julian's Mum) probably thought she was too beautiful to be there with the rest of the herd, but after so many years "doing lunch" and driving while under the influence charges her bloom has faded somewhat!
[more panel photographs in my photo library]
Commemorative Courtyard
In front of the Hall of Memory is the Pool of Reflection, crowned by the Eternal Flame. To left and right, at a mezzanine level, visitors can see stone cloisters, where dark, bronze panels of the Roll of Honour record the names of over 102,000 Australian servicemen and women who have died in wars since the late nineteenth century. These names, listed alphabetically and by unit, do not include rank or honour. Many visitors insert paper poppies in the niches of the Roll of Honour, next to a name that has personal or group connections. .http://www.awm.gov.au/virtualtour/commemorative.asp
The focus of the Memorial is the Hall of Memory, a quiet place for contemplation of the efforts of ordinary Australians in war and for the remembrance of those who suffered and died. The Hall is a complex symbolic area, consisting of a number of pieces.
The Man From Snowy River - Andrew Barton "Banjo" Patterson
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses — he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up—
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.
And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony—three parts thoroughbred at least—
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry—just the sort that won’t say die—
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, “That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop—lad, you’d better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you.”
So he waited sad and wistful—only Clancy stood his friend —
“I think we ought to let him come,” he said;
“I warrant he’ll be with us when he’s wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.
“He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko’s side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse’s hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.”
So he went — they found the horses by the big mimosa clump —
They raced away towards the mountain’s brow,
And the old man gave his orders, ‘Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills.’
So Clancy rode to wheel them—he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.
Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, “We may bid the mob good day,
No man can hold them down the other side.”
When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.
He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat—
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.
He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.
And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.
And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.
The walls and dome of the hall are lined with one of the largest mosaics in the world, also the work of Waller, unveiled in 1959. The mosaic inside the dome depicts the souls of the dead rising from the earth towards their spiritual home, represented by a glowing sun within the Southern Cross. The figures on the walls – a soldier, a sailor, an airman and a servicewoman – recall the Australian experience of the Second World War. Over six million pieces of glass tesserae, or tiles, imported from Italy, were used in the composition; the installation was overseen by Italian craftsmen and took three years to complete. http://www.awm.gov.au/virtualtour/commemorative.asp
I promise to post photos tomorrow, as rather tired tonight and will not do a good job explaining and describing.
Day 2 we went to the Turner to Monet exhibition which was even more exciting and beautiful than I expected. Despite the crowds I did more than one circuit of the 5 exhibition rooms. The Van Gogh' painting Tree trunks in the grass was my favourite
It must be everyon'e favourite as the poster they were selling of it has just sold out of its 3rd reprint and so I wasn't able to get one. They gave me a card so I can call the National Gallery next week and arrange for them to post me when when the reprint arrives.The exhibition is on until June and over 100,000 people have viewed it so far.
I don't usually buy the exhibition catalogue as too often they are badly complied and have too many black and white photographs but this one had colour plates of all the photographs and at just $35 was worth the money. So one made it into the bottom of our suitcase.
After that we went on a tour of Old Parliament house. I have some great stories to go with some of the photographs and will get that together tomorrow. The also had an exhibition about the wives of all the Prime Ministers. There is actually a huge quilt that had been made with a panel representing each wife up to Margaret Whitlam (Gough Whitlam was PM until 1975)
The hotel where we stayed was very 1930s elegance with an elegant dining room and a lounge where every time I entered it I expected to see Miss Marple (Agatha Christie) sitting with a sherry while knitting and solving the latest murder in the kitchen. It was great. It once was the "dormintory" for the parliament - many of the parliamentarians would stay there when parliament was sitting and they were in town.
Today we went to the National Museum. The building is quite spectacular but I thought its displays rather light on.
More details tomorrow - now I need sleep. Fun is exhausting!
I thought the lap top was staying home but some urgent buisness deal with some African country came up for Mr Flamingo so lap top came along for the "holiday",
We were in Canberra by 10.30 am after an 8.30 flight. We couldn't get into our room until 1pm so set off to see some sights. Headed to Parliament House only to find a throng of people outside for some celebration. Armed with camera we actually elbowed our way into the press area and started snapping. We had no idea what was happening until the speeches started and it turned out that today was the 20th anniversary of the opening of our "new" Parliament house and so they were marking the event with more of a media event than anything. The Leaders of the Senate and the House of Representatives both made speeches and there was the traditional aboriginal dance so it was quite fun for awhile. We felt very West Wing! No sign of the Prime Minister though...buit there is still tomorrow.
In the afternoon we went to the War Memorial. It was incredibly moving to see all the names of our fallen from all the conflicts we have been involved in. So sad to see how many people have been killed needlessly. Many of the names have little red poppies placed next to their names, and that made me so sad. Families who remembered someone. We went up the the chapel like memorial to the fallen soldier which is just absolutely beautiful with mosaic murals and stained glass windows. I felt very emotional in there.
I also got really angry. A group of Japanese tourists realised that there was an echo in there so they started made a very loud noise just to hear the echo. This went on for some 5 or so minutes. It was horrible. So disrespectful. I would like to think I am not racist but in that moment I would say I failed the test. I was disgusted by their thoughtless behaviour in such a solemn place, especially as a number of those fallen were killed in fighting their nation. I must say that I did say in a rather loud voice to my husband that I was VERY ANGRY that anyone could be so thoughtless and insensitive in such a beautiful place. It is our memorial. I would respect your memorials should I be in your country, Culturally stupid. Once they left everyone else there just fell into complete silence and it was the most moving moment.
After that it was almost dusk so we drove to the top of Mt Ainsley which overlooks Canberra and stopped at the scenic lookout, It was breathtaking. Canberra is a purpose built and well planned capital city and there are vistas aplenty to be seen. It was lovely.
We were up at 4.30 this morning to have time to drive to the airport etc so by dinner time we were both fading fast, which meant a minor disagreement over where and what we would have for dinner. We finally sorted that out and I ended up with a lovely seafood crepe. Now we are back in our room and I am about to sleep the sleep of the once were innocent, and dream of tomorrow - the Turner to Monet exhibition, a visit to old parliament house, a cruise on Lake Burley Griffin and whatever else we can slip in.
Our room is very 1930s style - even has a very old 1930s style radio (we think an oriiginal) not sure if it works but will try soon. There are lovely gardens and I caught sight of what looks like some sort of grecian style garden folly from the window that I will have to investigate tomorrow.
So we are having fun. Exhausted, but smiling. Feet hurt. Will have photos soon I promise.
Canberra - nice place to visit, not sure I would want to live here though. You can feel the lethary and dullness pouring out of its every pore, despite its importance. Very beautiful city and yet strangely it comes across as a lumbering little city.
More tomorrow.
And thank you to everyone who has been so kind to me lately. I have been a grumpy old woman and I do apologise. I can be so self-centered at times, It is awful when I think what big problems some of you are dealing with in your lives. So thank you for being kind. I don't deserve such wonderful friends, You have all made my world so full, thank you!.
Flying to Canberra tomorrow morning and returning late Sunday. Mr Flamingo and I are going to pretend that we know something about art [well we know what we like] and are going to view the Turner to Monet exhibition at the National Gallery. We are staying here http://www.brassey.net.au/ and hope to also view
all in one weekend!
The spirit is willing, not so sure about the body, but with some string and glue I think I can hold it together. See you all Monday!
Kevin, is that you?
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Love where you live Updated: 7 minutes ago