N's big day............

Ahhh, it’s back in all its sweat reeking, dirty snotted, drink-ticket buying, toilet queuing glory. It’s that special time of year when 60,000 ‘kids’‚ cram into the Gold Coast Parklands for one day in January and witness live some of the world’s best bands. At the centre of this sea of peroxide blonde and unnaturally tanned coastal chicks alongside Southern Cross tattooed, sunburnt shouldered, singlet wearing coastal dudes, lies a music festival that is soon to notch up 100 shows - a 17 year musical history of mud and mayhem. Big Day Out.

Some friends and I joined the throng of ‘sun-stroked coastal crazies’‚ to welcome musicians and bands from every corner of the globe to this classic Aussie festival

Despite forking out $150 for this shock and awe fest I have secret feelings about the Big Day Out, not often revealed until it rolls around again each new year........... I actually hate the thing. I generally love music festivals, but the Big Day Out is different. It is hot, crowded and bustling beast with the stench of piss, sweat and stale beer thick in the air. It behaves like an untamed dog at the end of a long leash, it thrashes about seeking to streak forth into the night if you inadvertently relinquish your grip.

In the past the BDO organisers were prone to cramming far too many people into the relatively modest grounds, with a distinct shortage of toilets, bars, places to chill and things to eat, whilst gouging this captive audience for dollars at every turn.

So, you may rightly ask, why do I go?

Simple

The BDO attracts the best bands from across the globe and gets them to play a stone’s throw away from where I live.

Enough said.

This year was very different, though, the beast had evolved. For starters, they only served half strength drinks and as much as many blog readers may wish to deny it, let’s face facts, this was a stroke of genius. It reduced exponentially the number of young men observed staggering, red faced, desperately searching for a fight, to the point that I could count these gorilla sightings on one hand. In previous years the numbers would be so high that one was genuinely afraid of looking the wrong way for fear you would catch the animal’s eye and the gorilla would unleash their drunken wrath upon you.

The beasts’ cage was thankfully expanded this year too, creating more room to move and easier access to amenities than previous incarnations. But the stand out difference in 2010 was the organisation of BDO staff. The army of fluoro vest wearing helpers were out in force, on the ready to help us ‘hopped up’ youth avoid frustrations and confrontations. Everything ran like clockwork. With the headline act finishing 5 minutes early (!) and a spot-on police presence who focused their energy on ensuring people arrive and leave the festival safely, rather than a pre-Fitzgerald enquiry heavy handed ‘management’ of patrons once inside.

For me, it is all about the music. I avoided the superficial drunken interactions I had in previous years by playing the part of designated driver and staying well below that 0.05 limit. Boring, yes, but you have to make sacrifices to see your favourite bands these days, and the music was anything but boring.

Even when one is trying to avoid such an experience it seems that one of those ‘special Big Day Out moments’ always manages to find its way to you. I found myself in conversation with a 26-year-old bloke discussing Muse, the band rockin’ out at the time. He asked me if I had taken any drugs ‘today’‚ (as if the smile on my face could be caused by nothing else) and I said no, I had a beer or two earlier but was driving back to Brissy once the festival was over. His face swiftly fell into regret and he remorsefully spouted, “I’m weak. I just have to have the drugs; it’s a real problem. I’m really weak, man. How do you guys stay so level headed?”

Only at Big Day Out could I have such an intimate conversation with a complete stranger who clearly deeply regrets his destructive choices, yet the only reason he can reveal this is because he is high as a kite! The regret soaked moment passed, as did he, into the night, not wanting to linger with anyone so boring not to be wrapped up in the ongoing conundrum of addiction and excess.

So I salute you Big Day Out, for throwing people together from all walks of life, ensuring the sun beats down on us as we run about like mad folk catching those must see bands, and for then spitting us out the other side with stiff shoulders from head banging, the prerequisite tinge of regret (especially those drug takers) and most likely a sore head to boot.

Until next year.

The campers life.

So, we went camping last week - hurrah, hurrah! We headed south to Northern NSW, convoying with friends from Sydney, the boys in the van and the chicks following close behind in the commodore, until we descended upon Brokenhead for a week of gloriousness and pleasure.

Now, in truth, I am not a camper. But, 2010 is a year of change, experimentation, new frontiers and new experiences, so I sucked it up and took the challenge - because in reality, a week of camping is easy galore compared to the year we are planning to embark on in the van together.

I must admit I started to fade towards the end of the week. Currently our van is not converted to camper-styling, instead it is an empty vessel which we filled with mattresses and bags, and outside we had a tarp providing the living space filled with pots, pans, food, chairs, and just camping-arama generally. So by late in the week the mess and fuss of all the crap that camping involved was starting to bother me. Sandy sheets, dirty clothes, and damp towels, hmmm, wasn't loving it!

But, I didn't relent, I kept my cheerful face on (except for a small whinge) and accepted the camping life. Because, I realised something about camping, for all my hatred of dirt and mess, of poor light and grotty shower blocks, camping is an opportunity to step away from normal life and the blood sucking routine and responsibility of it. There is no Simpsons at 6pm each night to distract you from the workday, eating a meal prepared in a camp kitchen is MUCH more satisfying than packet pasta and sauce, and talking by torchlight for hours feels somewhat romantic compared to talking between the ad breaks.

Most crucially though you spend time with people - we really caught up with our friends, got to know them again, recognising the reasons behind the friendship. We also read books (like entire books) and talked to one another about plans, aspirations and hopes rather than what's on TV and what we need to get done that night before trudging to work again the next day.

I have always had this secret fear of the trip around Australia in the van. I have always been afraid that I won't know myself when I was away from my life - from the freneticism of it, from the things I should be doing, from the timetable and the responsibilities - these are burdens, but they are also the things I know about myself, I know myself in that place with all these goings-on around me.

I realised, that even on this short trip, I got to know myself better when I was away from the distractions and responsiblities that I fill my life with. Thinking about this makes me incredibly excited about the trip, because if one week away from 'normal' life makes me see such potential, imagine a year of this.............

A new start!

Well, it has been over a month since I wrote anything for Gilpies - which is truly a terrible effort. We are now in the lovely new year of 2010 which has crept up all too quickly, but I have already decided is going to be amazing.

After two years of pretty hard times I am ready for a different kind of year.

A year of wonder.

I remember in 2004 and 2005 I had a couple of years like that. They were amazing, I finished up my travels overseas in the February of 2004, came home and had two years left of my undergrad degree which I spent writing, reading and studying music - amazing stuff. I met my beloved N that year and made a number of now much adored new friends. It was a really fantastic time of change and of growing up. They were actually very, very hard years in lots of ways, with some terribly sad and difficult things presenting themselves. Overall though I felt my capacity as a person grow.

As I write this, and reflect on 2008 and 2009 they have actually been a bit similar to the adored years, in a number of ways. They have been so awful and so tremendously difficult to weather. I have never felt more tired, sad, fearful or overwhelmed as I did this year particularly. But, at the same time, I have grown up, again I've learnt my capacity as a human being, as a wife, as a child, a family member and a friend. I've recognised the highs and lows and how to truly relish in the high moments and really let myself sob it out and let go in the lows.

Now though, I am ready to reap the rewards of all this hard work . I'm ready for N and I to use all of this personal evolution to really now become the adult people we wish to be. I am certain that in another few years this intense period of change and struggle will come up again in our lives - but hopefully our experiences will give us the resources to deal with it.

Anyway, we have decided that 2010 is a new start for us.

2010 is the year of our big physical journey, as we head off in the van around Australia later this year. This will test us (me particularly, being a bit of a comfy bed and clean feet kind of girl) physically as people. I believe that we have been on the big emotional journey in 2009, we have learnt to band together as a team of two in those awful times, and hopefully this will stand us in good stead as we deal with the joys and pitfalls of travelling in such close quarters, for such a long time.

Let's see, shall we!

So, we will both get on Gilpies a lot more to write about how the planning is going, and how life is faring generally in this new year - and to prepare ourselves for the big journey ahead.

Our first little preparatory journey is next week - we are heading down south for a camping trip in the van. It is not yet fitted out with all the comforts of a camper van, instead it is just a big empty truck essentially - so this will be interesting.

I have planned our meals, and N has tried to organise all the bits and pieces we need - but things will have been forgotten, and if there's anything I learnt this year, nothing goes to plan.

So, bring on this first little journey and we'll see how we go..................

N's First Post

Back in January this year, we were denied a refreshing drink at a then new ‘well to do’ bar in the valley. We promptly wrote them a letter, as below:


To the owners of said bar,

We are writing to advise you of a very unsatisfactory experience we had whilst attempting to frequent your bar for an early evening cocktail to start our Saturday night.

We arrived at your venue at around 6:30pm on Saturday the 24th of Jan - the sun still lighting up the valley streets. After reading a positive preview piece in Rave Magazine, we were looking forward to a “casual, relaxing night out”.

After greeting the security guard warmly at the entrance and asking about the venue upstairs, we were told we could not enter because men are required to wear long pants, and in this case, the male of our partnership was wearing dress shorts.

If we do say so ourselves, the pair of us were looking hot, hot hot!

She wore:

Slim, black, mid-calf halter neck summer dress with cute ballet flats, the usual manicured hair and makeup, and a little dazzle with some low earrings and a simple bracelet.

He wore:

Pressed, collared, super-chic 70’s funk business shirt and knee length black dress shorts, brand new loafer style semi dress shoes, topped off with the appropriate hair grooming (not too much gel, just some fastener to help arrest those cool summer breezes).

She explained to the security guard that the recent preview in Rave and also The Courier Mail had extolled the virtues of your venue as an ‘unpretentious’, ‘unintimidating’ bar for “those who are gracious, well mannered and have a sense of humour”. Said clients were mentioned to be “more likely to find themselves in the venue than the well heeled, well dressed and arrogant.” She explained pleasantly with a smile that she understood the need for ‘smart casual dress’, pointing out the smart collared shirt as he twirled with a laugh, mocking an amateur K-Mart model. A quick check of the iPhone showed the temp to be 29 degrees and a lazy 80% humidity – not long pants weather.

We were still rejected and sent out of the too chic valley, into the wilderness of a bar down Paddington way.

As mid-twenties Brisbanites, we feel that if there is something that Brisbane needs, it is more interesting and exciting bars - and we fully applaud this new concept bar and would have loved to have experienced it. We are also careful to only visit bars and nightspots that limit their exclusivity – but do understand that some level of discretion is required to avoid patrons whose attire may lower the tone of the establishment.

As this was not the case with us, we are very confused and disappointed that we were turned away – learning that staff wear polo shirts and shorts adding to our bemusement.

We really do wish you all the best for your exciting venture, but are concerned to see that perhaps, despite your media releases, reviews and previews of a “laid back ambience” that your bar will instead end up a tad more pretentious – with security personnel trained to focus on the size of your patrons wallets rather than their personalities.

We would love to hear some, any response from you. Many thanks.


We did not hear back from them. It seems the famous Groucho Marx quote, something along the lines of ‘I would not want to be part of a club that would have me as a member’ rings true in Brisbane to this day!

Today......how lucky I am!

Grainy toast with peanut butter, a pot of coffee, the Swell Season on the stereo, and a whole day to write before an evening of stunning music at KiLN, and then a party with the most beautiful girls around (and my most divine husband)..............sometimes life is just gorgeous!

This is a really brief post, to express my gratitude for all of the above, and the billions of other blessings in my life.

This has been hard year, but generally I think I'm just someone who tends to find things harder than they really are, a very sensitive being. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed by the weight of sadness about what has happened, and anxiousness about what might be, that I forget the gloriousness of each day and the little things that fill it with joy- like taking my shoes and socks off after a big sweaty workout at the gym, making a really good dinner and overeating, having a good snuggle up on the couch with my beloved, getting all the washing done and drinking many cups tea after work in our little garden.

Marriage and happy ever after

Today I took my Granny to see the gorgeous movie Julie and Julia, with the truly glorious Meryl Streep and the darling Amy Adams. It tells the story of Julia Child - an American who learnt to cook in Paris, circa 1950ish, and revolutionised cooking in America by showing Americans the French way with food.

It also tells the story of Julie Powell, an unhappy office worker circa-now, who cooks her way through Julia Child's seminal cookbook, hoping to add a bit of spice to her life, and blogs about this process (and has an international following, and gets a book and movie deal through this - wow!).

I loved every minute of the film, every second of it. Of course, it was not a perfect film, but it was beautiful - the food, the location, the storyline, the writing, the characters, the recipes.

I absolutely loved Meryl Streep's depiction of Julia Child (whom I knew nothing about before this film), she just seemed to be such a fantastic woman. Her physicality was fascinating to me - tall, big (not fat, but big - wide hips, large hands, sturdy thighs, long feet), with great frocks and toweringly tall high heeled shoes, and she adored food and was not afraid to eat healthy portions of good cheese, butter, meat and dessert.

As a tall, big woman myself who absolutely lives for food (and cooking) it struck a chord. I particularly adored the part when Julia's sister came to stay and was also a superbly tall and big lady with a healthy appetite and a great personality. It gave me a nice boost of self-appreciation to see these two magnificent, tall, gloriously grand characters; they just wouldn't have been the same had they been short, fine boned, small bottomed gals.

Anyway, all of that is an aside to what I really wanted to write about today, as indicated by the title of this post. Because the thing I loved most about this film was its depiction of marriage.

I got married this year, back in May N and I tied the knot. We'd been together for almost five years when we did this, and we'd tossed up whether or not we wanted to get married for a long time, but in the end decided it was the way for us.

I tell you this because I do not wish anyone reading this to think that we see marriage as essential to a meaningful, commited relationship, nor are we religious and therefore following a guideline. We just thought it was right for us, it's what the two of wanted for our lives. Therefore my discussion below portends more to commited relationships in general, rather than marriage in particular.

That was a bit of a convoluted way to get back to my point, but........

Julie and Julia shows two delightful marriages, filled with love, passion, sadness, loss, frustration, anger, and the billion other experiences and feelings that exist in a committed relationship. It was just wonderful to see marriages depicted that way because I am worn out of films, books, television shows, songs etc. etc. that tell endlessly depressing stories about marriage and relationships and there inevitable and bitter endings.

I am tired of hearing the statistics on relationships that end, and I want to hear about relationships that continue, that grow and flourish throughout peoples lives even as life throws up its various challenges.

Reading some different reviews about Julie and Julia many writers said they hated the 'sex scenes' (if you can call them that, it was more 'kissing scenes eluding to the fact that sex might happen'), they didn't like seeing the grand Julia Child getting down and dirty with her husband. I liked this, it's nice to know that people have sex even when they've been married awhile, and it's nice to know that Julia's husband enjoyed her big bottom, wide hips and sturdy thighs.

I also liked that both couples in the film had fun together. They ate delicious meals with candles and the TV off, they held dinner parties, and both couples, but particularly Julia and her husband laughed a lot together (oh, the delightful Valentine's postcards they sent their friends!). I loved seeing this, instead of dreary story after dreary storyof marriages where the couple don't speak, or if they speak they are hiding hateful feelings behind closed faces. Where they watch TV together shovelling in their food rather than eat a meal at the table, and if they have sex its vengeful and hate filled rather than loving and playful (i.e. Revolutionary Road or The Slap anyone, reading/watching those depictions of relationships made me want to vomit!).

Or, if a commited relationship is described positively it's just the start of that relationship that is discussed- the first kiss is shown, and suddenly we flip forward to 5 years down the track, and it's all smiles, and the woman has a pregnant belly or baby on her hip.

Before I wrote this post I read that Julie Powell actually cheated on her husband about two years after she completed the blogging project which is the basis for the movie. Obviously this incident is not mentioned in the film, nor should it be because it happened a long time after the film is set. But, this depresses me no end, could a real happy ever after not happen?

But still, the film tells the story of two lovely marriages and I'm going to concentrate on that. And it's now one in three marriages that end in divorce, I think, but that means that two in three marriages last and I choose to see the glass as two thirds full, rather than one third empty.

I try Brisbane, I do try!

Our Story Bridge

Their Harbour Bridge

After finally handing in evil mini-masters thesis on Thursday last week N and I descended south to Sydney-town for a weekend of revelry with our expanding network of friends and family down there.

We stayed just off Oxford street, right near Hyde Park, on the cusp of the city, in Darlinghurst. Great location, mediocre hotel, sky-high prices........but that's Sydney, it's a big city, we expected this. So, Thursday eve, after we checked in, we ventured out for a vino or 7 to celebrate the end of 6 months+ of pure stress and anxiousness over study, and life generally.

Being Sydney, and near Darlinghurst, we of course found the cutest, chic-est little bar just around the corner and there we sat and sipped on lovely pinot gris, ate delicious prawn risotto balls and loved our lives for a few moments. When N went to the bar I flipped through a nearby street press (checking out the Sydney SP stakes as I write for a fabulous SP here in Brisvegas), and discovered that our favourite band Fat Freddy's were playing in Sydney the next two nights. Of course the gigs were sold out. But, as I looked through the street press I thought 'bless this city' that has a billion and one great things on all at once, rather than a city that has one great thing on and a billion and one people coming to it!

Anyway, the next day N and I got energetic and caught the bus to Bondi to do the coastal walk along all the gorgeous Eastern beaches. Kitted out in our walking boots, hats and long sleeved shirts we overlooked glorious spots such as Tamarama, Bronte, Clovelly and the beautifully tanned half-naked bodies spending their fridays lazing in the sunshine. We walked past a magnificent graveyard just past Bronte ,with all those resting there having prime ocean views for eternity.

We then raced home and dressed for our evening, as we were going to see our Cate (Blanchett) light up the stage as Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire. We decided to walk to the theatre from our hotel - possibly not the best move as we ran hell late for dinner, but just walking through this lively city on a Friday night is a treat. And walking out of the city we were once again bowled over by the harbour views and those iconic structures which amaze even after 10, 20, 30, 100 sightings.

The play itself was magnificent, with Cate the most accomplished performer I have ever seen live, and the rest of the cast clearly stronger for her ability. The theatre was packed out, literally not a seat was spare, and famous people - minor and major - caught our eyes with each head turn.

On the following day we went over to Cremorne Point to catch up with our family, and see our beautiful little nephew who's grows more and more like a little boy than a baby each time we see him. We sat in the sunshine on the harbour, eating chicken, coleslaw and fresh bread and watching boats race each other. N and I were in absolute shock at how stunning it was, just down the road from where our family live, there is all of this.......unbelievable.

Each time we go south, N and I always, without fail, say to each other 'I couldn't live here', and this is very much the case. The traffic (I don't care what the Sydney people say, traffic in Brisbane is NOT like that), the expense, the very poor public transport, the fact that there just seems to be hundreds of people without homes on the streets each night - it's not the city for me. But, by goodness, it is so lovely to visit.

Brisbane I try, I do try. I try to create fabulousness within you, staging exhibitions and events; I try to attend as much as I can to support your growth; I try to inhabit your beautiful spaces by the river; I try to enjoy your simple beauty. But, sometimes I do get struck down by what a battle it is up here. For example, we would never even have the option of having Cate Blanchett co-directing our theatre company, so we will never have the packed houses and the famous faces attending the events, we will certainly never have Pink! performing at our fundraising events for the theatre company. We will never have the multitude of great cultural events on every night of the week, meaning, sadly for me, we will never have the multitude of great cultural jobs. We don't have beaches right in the city (and I'm sorry Southbank does not count, not one bit), we don't have the range of gorgeous bars, cafes, cute shops, beautiful galleries etc. etc. that sit on the corner of each street down there.

And, I try Brisbane, I try not to be jealous. Because I am here because I want to be, I want to add to the cultural life of this place; N and many of our friends can start small entrepreneurial businesses here and give them time to grow and not be washed down the sinkhole by huge rents and vast competition; I want to build this city with all the other marvellous creative minds that stay and fight for your cultural development (and I know I sound very majestic, and very full of it, but it's true). Sometimes though, the thought creeps in, it would be nice just to go South, walk into a pretty great job with one of the plethora of cultural organisations there, and just enjoy the beach 10 minutes down the road, have 500 choices for what to do on Saturday night, and where to eat and where to drink.

You know, if you're reading this, that sometimes you feel this too, and my goodness it feels fabulous to breathe out and admit this occassionally. But, it makes me all the more determined to keep living in, appreciating and adding to our own gorgeous city and to bring to Brisbane a different kind of magnificence, but one that is cheaper, has better public transport and less homeless folk.