It occurred to me today that I’ve been a lot of places in my short time as an autonomous adult. So I thought I’d share some of these observations about these places.
Ipswich is where I lived, and where I was born, but don’t hate me for it, my parents are only related by marriage. As a city and region Ipswich isn’t that bad, it’s just like a large country town that have all the interesting people sucked out of it (They’ve all pissed off to Brisbane). The motto Ipswich should have had? “Please don’t tease the local children with scraps of meat”.
Brisbane is apparently Australia’s most liveable city, I find that hard believe if you consider the commercial radio we suffer with up there, but I suppose all Australian cities are blighted with the same curse, so it’s all a relative judgement. The fact that more old people aren’t killed by the summer heat is a testimony to the refrigeration powers of large shopping centres. I suppose the worst thing about Brisbane is that it’s an early morning city. Everyone is up early, and you’re hard pushed to find a restaurant open after 10pm; or anything else for that matter. The motto Brisbane should have had? “Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble when you’re perfect in every way”.
Cairns is in the far north of Queensland, and mostly, it’s like Ipswich by the sea. Except you can’t swim in the sea at Cairns because of the irregular visits by deadly jelly fish that occasionally kill the odd Japanese tourist group or three. Then there’s the tropical weather, fine one minute, and torrential rains the next, and then it’s fine again. Occasionally school children will stab each other here too, an event that is surprisingly uncommon everywhere else. A new motto for Cairns? “It’s not just the weather that’s bi-polar”.
Bathurst is where they apparently have some sort of car racing affair every so often. I went around the track with some semi-sane lesbians in a clapped out automatic coffin full to the brim with queer student goodness. The rest of that trip is a blank punctuated only by being flogged with, well… a leather flog by a dominatrix and scaring the radical lesbians. Radical as the vanilla pod, one might conjuncture. It was a charming little country town that actually had interesting, if some what sheltered residents. Bathurst’s motto de jour “At least we’re not Ipswich”.
Hobart was a strange, strange, and odd little town. City seems an almost preposterous word for this charming little hamlet on the apple isle. What struck me most about Hobart was the delightful Victorian style (era not the state) architecture (which was all just crying out for 10 year old chimney sweeping boys with rickets) and the almost complete lack of people. It was if the rapture had happened and all of Hobart had been taken up by decidedly hick angelic hosts. The CBD at lunch time was even more deserted than Ipswich, which is stranger still because Ipswich isn’t surrounded by water. Hobart’s words of wisdom “You got to pick a pocket or two, if you can find someone with a pocket that is”.
Adelaide is an entirely forgettable city. I’ve been there twice and each time I’ve ended up staying more or less in the heart of the red light district, which is roughly a third of Adelaide. Adelaide is notable for it’s dirty water, dust storms and ethnic gang violence. During my last trip there I had to step over not one, but two pools of blood in the street. Overall Adelaide is about as interesting as an old grey sock, even with all the porn stores. Their motto? “We’re not just violent, we’re boring too!”
Sydney is her name, but please, call her Sid-da-nee, all the locals do. I was only in Sydney for 10 hours, and in that 10 hours I learnt to hate Sydney for the nasty, snide, little uppity bitch she is. Oh how I wish that were true! Truth be told I found Sydney a complete bore, and a bore that was over priced as well. Sydney was a bit like finding an overweight, vomit covered drag queen unconscious in the gutter; at first it’s exciting and promises some exciting tales, but you quickly realise that nothing much is actually happening. Tres disappointing. Sydney’s more honest motto “I am big! It’s the pictures that got smaller!”
Melbourne is the only city I could live in besides Brisbane and Canberra. It’s a city that unlike Brisbane, gets up late and parties later still. I couldn’t turn around twice without bumping into something cultural, educational or deliciously edible. Sometimes all three. I thought their little river was a tad… modest, but that’s OK, I like quaint. The cold weather gets old fast, but, for the first time in forever my European skin was at last in a climate that several hundred thousand years of adaptive evolutionary change had prepared it for. Another problem with Melbourne is the officiousness of the local councils. I’ve had more parking tickets in my own street than hot breakfasts. “We told you we were better than Sydney, but that will be $59.95”.
Canberra is where I used to live. Live is a very strong word for Canberra. Living in Canberra is a bit like having a foot in each world. Canberra was designed by an architect into geomancy, hence our endlessly curving roads. It is entirely possibly that Canberra is locked off from the psychic ebb and flow of the universe. It would explain the strange feeling of being somewhere in 1952. Parliament house itself is built as a submerged pyramid (look closely at the flag pole!), considering the rotting corpses we call the government this seems entirely appropriate; as you may or may not remember the pyramid is a giant tomb. On the upside, there’s a lot of fountains to stop people from mummifying in the street, a tactic that is only partially successful. If you ripped the latex mask of Canberra’s motto you’d find it said “Come to Canberra and see the hordes of grey suited public servant zombies roaming the stre… Brains! Brains!”