We seemed to be on a roll. After not travelling internationally together for eight years after our trips to Austria, Germany and France in 2005 and 2006, we went to Tahiti in 2014, then New Zealand in 2016 and finally undertook a longer expedition – to Scotland and Northern England in 2017. Somewhere in there I was sent to Fiji by work for a regional UNESCO meeting, but there had been a sparse few years as far as international roaming was concerned.
Making the most of it before we got too old – or before the world became too crowded
Now we were on the road again – making the most of it before we got too old – or maybe before the world became too crowded. This time we were off to Paris and Lyon and northern Provence, where temperatures had reached 38 degrees Celsius the previous day – it was just like flying into Adelaide.
Hanging out in Saint-Germain
Our trips to New Zealand in late 2016 and to Scotland and Northern England in August and September 2017 seemed to have involved lots of driving and many short term stays of two to three days – never enough to really see a place. On the first day you arrive, on the third you leave, so it leaves only one full day to get to know a place. If you are only staying for two nights, or even worse, one, you see hardly anything. The trouble was that we hadn’t been to New Zealand for more than a few days, and never to Scotland or Northern England, so seeing the country involved roaming widely – and even then, we only saw part of it.
‘Our trips…seemed to have involved lots of driving and many short term stays of two to three days – never enough to really see a place. On the first day you arrive, on the third you leave, so it leaves only one full day to get to know a place. If you are only staying for two nights, or even worse, one, you see hardly anything.’
As a result, our new ambition for overseas travel was to fly in, spend a few days where we landed, then head out into the regions, stay in a villa or apartment somewhere in or near a small town for an extended period, then head back and fly out. Even if we stayed in a major city it would be for a much longer period. This was the approach we planned to kick start in France.
Leaving on a jet plane
After five days in Paris, suitably tired of big city life, we intended to get a train to Lyon, France’s second city, where my fellow traveller lived for several months back in 1990. There we planned to catch up with her friend Béatrice, who once again was living there (‘où elle a un petit jardin et un chat’) and enjoy the atmosphere of a second city, one that was the backbone of the Resistance during World War 2 and of French cuisine ever since.
I started dredging up the remnants of the six years I studied French at school in Tasmania in the 1960s. Aided by Google Translate I began writing messages in French to Béatrice and the owners of the villa in Vaison-la-Romaine, where we were going to be staying for almost three weeks. Challenging as it was, having to limber up my language muscles was good exercise and added an interesting layer to the holiday it would not otherwise have had.
‘Our new ambition for overseas travel was to fly in, spend a few days where we landed, then head out into the regions, stay in a villa or apartment somewhere in or near a small town for an extended period, then head back and fly out.’
I started dredging up the remnants of the six years I studied French at school in Tasmania in the 1960s. Aided by Google Translate I began writing messages in French to Béatrice and the owners of the villa in Vaison-la-Romaine, where we were going to be staying for almost three weeks. Challenging as it was, having to limber up my language muscles was good exercise and added an interesting layer to the holiday it would not otherwise have had.
Societe des Poetes Français
I was reminded of my high school French teacher who drowned in a flooded river in Tasmania after her car was washed off the road – I’m sure she thought we would never remember anything. At home the usual distracting news of the day was rattling around but I was more concerned that I had forgotten the French word ‘to forget’ (not for long, though – it’s ‘oublier’). I kept painfully remembering my ancient French but it was like pushing ricotta through a sieve or walking through sticky mud. J’ai etudé le francaise pendant six ans a l’école et je dire le langue très mauvais. Mais je suis determiné a parler ça tres bon.
‘After five days in Paris we intended to get a train to Lyon, France’s second city. There we planned to enjoy the atmosphere of a second city, one that was the backbone of the Resistance during World War 2 and of French cuisine ever since.’
We were flying from Canberra to Paris on Singapore Airlines – of course – since despite some changes to its routes, it still flys directly out of Canberra. We were to have brief 18.5 hour stopover at the Changi Airport in Singapore and then spend five days in Paris.
As our trip approached I realised that it was incredible to think that the previous (and only) time I had been in Paris was in 1989, 29 years before. I’m not as enthusiastic about travel as many people I know, including my fellow traveller, partly because I’m more focused on my interior life and on writing about all and sundry I encounter. However, by incorporating my travel writing into travel and by continuing to write generally while we travel, I have managed to encompass it more successfully than might otherwise be the case.
The banks of the River Seine
I also realised that I had actually been to France three times, because one of those times was a trip to Tahiti. As the trip approached I kept thinking we were about to board the plane for France but in fact there were four more weekends before we were to go. I missed a week somewhere and had been saying we had two and a half weeks to go, when in fact we had three and a half.
One morning, a month before our flight, I got up at 6.30 am. I realised that in two weeks at that time we would be an hour out of Singapore, heading in to land. That year we were travelling overseas towards the end of winter. In future years, we’d go earlier, which would be much closer to the start – or the depths – of winter.
The bright lights and cleans streets of Singapore
Before we knew it we were at Changi Airport Singapore, filling in time before we could check into the transit hotel. When I booked the flights, way back in late 2017, just after we'd returned from the UK, I made a small mistake with the times. As a result, we had only 19 hours between landing and getting back on a plane. So we were going to stay at the airport until we caught our flight at 15 minutes past midnight the following morning.
I was quite excited because we this time we didn't have to go through customs or immigration – along with security checks my least favourite travelling experiences, even if part of the travelling landscape. We planned to see Singapore properly on the way back. If you tallied up all the hours of all the people who spend ages waiting at airports and put a price on it, it would be the equivalent of a sizeable modern economy. I was glad I could contribute.
Waking up in the City of Light
One morning, a month before our flight, I got up at 6.30 am. I realised that in two weeks at that time we would be an hour out of Singapore, heading in to land. That year we were travelling overseas towards the end of winter. In future years, we’d go earlier, which would be much closer to the start – or the depths – of winter.
The bright lights and cleans streets of Singapore
Before we knew it we were at Changi Airport Singapore, filling in time before we could check into the transit hotel. When I booked the flights, way back in late 2017, just after we'd returned from the UK, I made a small mistake with the times. As a result, we had only 19 hours between landing and getting back on a plane. So we were going to stay at the airport until we caught our flight at 15 minutes past midnight the following morning.
‘If you tallied up all the hours of all the people who spend ages waiting at airports and put a price on it, it would be the equivalent of a sizeable modern economy. I was glad I could contribute.’
I was quite excited because we this time we didn't have to go through customs or immigration – along with security checks my least favourite travelling experiences, even if part of the travelling landscape. We planned to see Singapore properly on the way back. If you tallied up all the hours of all the people who spend ages waiting at airports and put a price on it, it would be the equivalent of a sizeable modern economy. I was glad I could contribute.
Waking up in the City of Light
Then, suddenly, we were in Paris. After a relatively short flight (for Australians) of just over 13 hours we landed at 7.35am. The queues to get out through security were long and packed, with many large groups led by flag-bearing guides, though the process itself was straightforward. It was a bit of a saga finding exactly where in Charles de Gaulle Arport our shuttle would pick us up but the driver eventually found us. It turned out his daughter was working in the tourism industry in Melbourne.
On an initial foray around our hotel, we wandered past the Luxembourg Gardens. Time was getting on, and we wanted to adjust to the daily routine of our our new time zone, so we had a quick (and large) late lunch in a small cafe in Rue de l'École de Médecine, just down from the Sorbonne. We discovered that the man who took our order had worked in Australia for three years, managing a restaurant in Cairns.
Relaxing under trees, in the Luxembourg Gardens
On an initial foray around our hotel, we wandered past the Luxembourg Gardens. Time was getting on, and we wanted to adjust to the daily routine of our our new time zone, so we had a quick (and large) late lunch in a small cafe in Rue de l'École de Médecine, just down from the Sorbonne. We discovered that the man who took our order had worked in Australia for three years, managing a restaurant in Cairns.
‘After getting off the flight I realised that as we get older, jet lag is less an issue, because sleep tends to be uneven anyway, even if you stay home – sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.’
I thought that I was going to like our time there. While the Latin Quarter in the 6th arrondissement (a long and fabulous French word for district) has become one of the most (but not the most) expensive in Paris and increasingly has been gobbled up by Airbnb, it still had history and interest. It even had French visitors. The following day we were off to Le Marais, the funky arrondissement where those who work in the Latin Quarter live.
After getting off the flight I realised that as we get older, jet lag is less an issue, because sleep tends to be uneven anyway, even if you stay home – sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.
Breakfast in the home of the French Empire
After a leisurely walk from the Latin Quarter across the Seine and past the Louvre and along Avenue de la Opera, we had a late breakfast of croissants with hazelnut and rhubarb spreads with coffee at Galeries Lafayette. We saw something I hadn’t encountered before – a shop in Galeries Lafayette hiring out couture for those who couldn’t afford or didn’t want to buy it – it was like a fashion time share scheme.
The glitter of Galeries Lafayette
‘Travellers – as do locals – make do with communicating any way they can, but sometimes I think travelling where you can barely speak the language is ultimately futile. You can't have a proper conversation or exchange with anyone.’
Travellers – as do locals – make do with communicating any way they can, but sometimes I think travelling where you can barely speak the language is ultimately futile. You can't have a proper conversation or exchange with anyone. I studied French for six years at school and it paid off on this trip. When we arrived I read the whole hotel information book and understood almost all of it, though with a little bit of guess work – then I realised it was also in English! I can follow signs and read captions in museums, which is great. The previous night I even managed to use both alliteration and assonance – ‘deux verres de vin blanc.’ Despite this I still can't really hold a conversation in French, which is very frustrating for everyone concerned.
Almost everyone spoke English
Luckily, after decades of mass tourism, almost everyone we needed to talk to spoke English to varying degrees. For all their shortcomings, I suppose we have to thank the Americans and the English for creating a world in which so many people already speak English, and an increasing proportion are learning to speak it.
Looking into the Tuileries Gardens
We had an excellent room – tiny but light and with a bathroom I wished we had at home. The tiles were exceptional. It was in a terrific small hotel called Victoire et Saint Germain. The days were passing rapidly.
In the Marais we had crepes in a Breton cafe in Le Marais called Breizh – the same name as the one we still go to regularly in Canberra, but even better. The cheese here is amazing, though not as readily available in small local shops as it used to be. It reminds me of de Gaulle's question, ‘how can you govern a country which has two hundred and forty six varieties of cheese?’
‘We loved riding the Metro in Paris – and later, in Lyon. The French metro systems were excellent and made getting around easy. The widespread presence of armed soldiers and police was a bit confronting – while not an everyday occurrence by any means. After all this is a country that has sustained serious attacks.’
We saw the Musée des Arts Décoratif adjacent to the Louvre. It had a fascinating exhibition about Hérmes across two floors and some of the best Art Nouveau and Art Deco I had seen anywhere. For someone who used to work at the Powerhouse Museum, it was a pleasure.
In a back street near our hotel I had a citron vert sorbet, which took me back almost 30 years to my first – and only other – visit to Paris, when I had one on the Ile de la Citie. Looking at the nearby buttresses on the church of Notre Dame, I thought they were like an architectural version of the reaction of the Church to Galileo's findings that the Earth wasn't the centre of the universe – trying to solve a problem with ever increasingly cumbersome additions.
Riding the Metro
We loved riding the Metro in Paris – and later, in Lyon. The French metro systems were excellent and made getting around easy. The widespread presence of armed soldiers and police was a bit confronting – while not an everyday occurrence by any means. After all this is a country that has sustained serious attacks. There was also an acute sense of history – memorials to the past and especially to the dead and deported during the Nazi occupation were everywhere, often with flowers on them. Recognition of the importance of culture and heritage was also obvious everywhere.
Watching the crowds in the streets below
One night early in our stay, we had an excellent meal sitting upstairs at Le Hibou, watching the crowds in the streets below. Between us we had a carpaccio with summer truffles and grilled chicken breast with a roast tomato and capsicum puree accompaniment. With this we had steamed green beans and a whole lettuce heart, accompanied by a small carafe of Cotes de Rhone Villages Beaujolais. Afterwards we stopped across the road to buy superb hazelnut and pistachio gelato, then retired early with a glass of Petit Chablis in our room, planning our final day in Paris before we caught the TGV to Lyon.
During the day we went to see Musée Cluny, the museum of the Middle Ages. Its famed Lady with the Unicorn tapestries had been briefly in Sydney while the museum was refurbished but while my fellow traveller saw them, I had missed out. Here I saw them in their home surroundings. Afterwards we went to the Institute du Monde Arabe, a centre I had wanted to visit ever since I heard about it. To get to the Institute we wandered through the Latin Quarter, along Rue Mouffetard, a former ancient Roman road, now a narrow street of tiny intriguing shops.
The Arab world is a vast and multi-faceted one, about which we in Australia know little. Yet we owe so much to the Arabs, especially in the realm of science and mathematics. I’ve always been intrigued that unlike Australia, where alcohol is part of the daily culture, it never seems to have been a central obsession in the Arab world – yet our word ‘alcohol’ is derived from Arabic. Italian culture has had a huge influence on Australian moden life, yet it’s hard to imagine Italian culture, especially in the south, without noticing the influence of the Arabs.
We stopped at the Pantheon, a majestic building near the Mairie for the 5th Arrondissement, which had a very moving exhibition along its fence about Simone Veil, the first woman President of the European Union. She had been deported by the Nazis to Auschwitz and then to Bergen Belsen and went on to become a champion for democracy, human rights and womens' rights in particular. Her enduring themes were ‘Never again’ and ‘Unity in diversity’. She died in 2015 and is buried in the Pantheon – a rare tribute indeed. When she died, walls in France were covered with the phrase ‘Merci, Simone’. Like Berlin, this city is full of both very big and tiny little histories.
I didn't realise how much the French like tea. We even found a huge branch of Lupicia, a Japanese superb tea outlet in Melbourne that we order our tea from – including the best Earl Grey we have ever found, much closer to the original.
In the Marais we went into a perfume shop called The Story of Oranges and my fellow traveller got into an animated discussion with the woman behind the counter who was as ardent about perfume as she was. The day before we went to Cire Trudon, our candlemakers of choice, who have been making candles since 1643, to top up our supply. The one we like best is Solus Rex, which smells of the polished floorboards of Versailles.
From the Museum of Hunting and Nature to death camps in the East
We spent some more time in the Marais today on our final day here before Lyon. We saw the Museum of Hunting and Nature, which documented the history of the relationship between humans and animals. This is another one of the small specialist museums you find here, all housed in beautiful old buildings almost as fascinating as their collections.
The Marais was the Jewish quarter of Paris and the Vichy regime transported the whole Jewish population of the suburb to the death camps in the East. It makes you realise that just as in Berlin, when Germany deported the Jews, it cut out its own heart. The suburb, as are so many Parisian suburbs, was dotted with small plaques where soldiers had fallen during the Liberation or where people had lived before they were deported – all with flowers, so many flowers.
Then we went to the Pompidou Centre, which was frankly just ugly and had queues, so we abandoned that plan and settled for lunch at La Palette around the corner from our hotel. We'd been to this tiny restaurant three times since we arrived, so it felt like a local. I loved its tiny, short stemmed wine glasses, so elegant and understated. I knew I’d miss it. We finished up in the Luxembourg Gardens. One of the deep pleasures of Paris is simply wandering around looking at the architecture and enjoying the parks.
The next morning we were off to Lyon on the TGV to catch up with our friend Béatrice for three days, before picking up a car and heading south with her to the Vaucluse region of Northern Provence.
My feet hurt from walking too much – not helped by the fact I'd already bought two pairs of shoes since arriving in Paris. Apart from that, our very own Grand Tour was proceeding nicely. I had expected Paris to be exceptionally crowded, given it was peak holiday period. Yet, except for a few areas, it was no worse than Sydney. Lots of shops were shut, so maybe the locals were away – probably at the same place where we were going next.
The secondary cities of the world – welcome to Lyon
There's much to like about large cities but in a world growing increasingly more bland and generic, you've got to look for originality and surprise wherever you can find it. Often that's in the unexpected corners of large cities. Nowadays what interests me more are the regional and secondary cities of the world. They are on a more human scale and are less likely to be drowned in tourists like us – more likely to be drowned in locals.
I originally wanted to fly directly into Lyon, one of those secondary cities that interest me so much, just as we had flown into Manchester the previous year, but Singapore Airlines only flew into Paris. I enjoyed Paris far more than I expected but it was good finally to be in Lyon.
We were walking a lot, in Vieux Lyon, where we were staying and in the main part of the city, where the Soane River on one side and the Rhone River on the other formed a central peninsula. We'd also been using the Metro, as we did in Paris.
Soon after arriving we went to the St Antoine markets on the banks of the Saone and bought peaches and pastries. One night we took the Metro to the apartment of our friend, Béatrice, and sat around eating and drinking and catching up. It was good to visit where a local lives and see a different part of the city. Then we took a cruise on the Saone. The next day we were to pick up Béatrice and head South
to Vaison-la-Romaine.
My fellow traveller had been attracted to Vaison-la-Romaine because of the Roman connection. The town had both an old section (Roman) and a ‘new’ section (less old, that is, medieval). I discovered that it was a popular place for the holiday homes of cashed up Parisians, so I hoped it wouldn’t be too expensive.
On the other side of the world, daily life goes on without you
It's strange when you travel – life goes on around you and you are part of it but not really part of it. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, daily life goes on without you. Life goes on – and also death.
The day after we arrived in Vaison-la-Romaine, in Adelaide my mother died. As so often happens with older people, a few weeks before we flew overseas she had one fall too many and, in the end, never recovered from it. Luckily my sister, who lives in Adelaide, was able to make sure her final weeks were pain-free and peaceful and my brother and sister-in-law flew from Melbourne to be with her at the end. It was so good that we had all travelled to Adelaide in May for her 90th birthday, knowing this was always on the cards. In the room with her were my sister and my niece and her recently born daughter – four generations of women in the same place. Now there would be only three generations.
We needed to farewell her properly once we were back in Australia and to think about what we would want to say about her life. She was the last of our parents – as her children, we were now all on our own, in terms of any family coming before us. I remembered a poem I wrote about her many years before, thinking about her dancing days.
Repose en paix. On se souviendra toujours de toi. I'm glad I heard the news about my mother in the relative tranquillity of the Vaucluse, rather than in the hurley burley of Paris or Lyon. It was a better setting to digest such enormous and life-changing matters.
Admittedly tranquillity is relative and sometimes dependent on double glazed windows, as on Friday and Saturday night the centre of Vaison-la-Romaine reverberated with live covers of rock and roll classics. On Sunday most things were closed – except bakeries, of course – so thankfully life became even slower. Vaison-la-Romaine has three parts, old, even older and really old. After arriving there, we went up over the Roman bridge into the high medieval city, until darkness forced us home. The day after we arrived we headed to Orange, about thirty minutes from Vaison-la-Romaine. We spent several hours traipsing around the massive Roman amphitheatre that seats 10,000 people and had lunch in one of the many squares there.
A taste for rosé
I realised I was developing a taste for rosé, which was drunk everywhere there – with a side glass of ice to cool the wine even further. That and pastis, which I picked up a taste for in Paris in 1989, and liked so much I drink it at home. Before we came to Vaison-la-Romaine, I had probably drunk rosé on half a dozen occasions at the most – things were changing.
I was quite shocked by the intense tans people had there – how ironic the lengths white (or pink) people go to look like those they would usually despise. It's clear that the French had missed out on the message about hats and skin cancer. They had gone for the trifecta – the sun and skin cancer, wine and liver cancer and cigarettes and lung cancer. It was a miracle that there were any of them left.
We'd been back to the Haut Ville again in daylight, sipping coffee and ice water in a tiny terrace garden overlooking the river and the ancient village that grew up around the Roman ruins, in the heart of which we were staying. Our guide and translator, Béatrice, had returned to Lyon, so we were once again on our own, navigating markets and bakeries, unbelievable produce and the subtle meaning of words.
One really good aspect of our trip was that we had anguished about what size suitcase to take and the medium ones we ended up bringing worked out perfectly. Even better, I was very impressed that we successfully filled the car with petrol.
I remembered that one of my great heroes, art critic John Berger, spent the last years of his life in a French village. I reminded myself to check it out. It turned out it was the village of Quincy in the Haut Savoie region of France, south of Paris, half way between Paris and Lyon.
Home away from home – a floor with a view
Watching the crowds in the streets below
One night early in our stay, we had an excellent meal sitting upstairs at Le Hibou, watching the crowds in the streets below. Between us we had a carpaccio with summer truffles and grilled chicken breast with a roast tomato and capsicum puree accompaniment. With this we had steamed green beans and a whole lettuce heart, accompanied by a small carafe of Cotes de Rhone Villages Beaujolais. Afterwards we stopped across the road to buy superb hazelnut and pistachio gelato, then retired early with a glass of Petit Chablis in our room, planning our final day in Paris before we caught the TGV to Lyon.
‘The Arab world is a vast and multi-faceted one, about which we in Australia know little. Yet we owe so much to the Arabs, especially in the realm of science and mathematics. I’ve always been intrigued that unlike Australia, where alcohol is part of the daily culture, it never seems to have been a central obsession in the Arab world – yet our word “alcohol” is derived from Arabic.’
During the day we went to see Musée Cluny, the museum of the Middle Ages. Its famed Lady with the Unicorn tapestries had been briefly in Sydney while the museum was refurbished but while my fellow traveller saw them, I had missed out. Here I saw them in their home surroundings. Afterwards we went to the Institute du Monde Arabe, a centre I had wanted to visit ever since I heard about it. To get to the Institute we wandered through the Latin Quarter, along Rue Mouffetard, a former ancient Roman road, now a narrow street of tiny intriguing shops.
The Arab world is a vast and multi-faceted one, about which we in Australia know little. Yet we owe so much to the Arabs, especially in the realm of science and mathematics. I’ve always been intrigued that unlike Australia, where alcohol is part of the daily culture, it never seems to have been a central obsession in the Arab world – yet our word ‘alcohol’ is derived from Arabic. Italian culture has had a huge influence on Australian moden life, yet it’s hard to imagine Italian culture, especially in the south, without noticing the influence of the Arabs.
'Merci, Simone'
‘We stopped at the Pantheon which had a very moving exhibition along its fence about Simone Veil, the first woman President of the European Union. She had been deported by the Nazis to Auschwitz and then to Bergen Belsen and went on to become a champion for democracy, human rights and womens' rights in particular. When she died, walls in France were covered with the phrase "Merci, Simone".’
I didn't realise how much the French like tea. We even found a huge branch of Lupicia, a Japanese superb tea outlet in Melbourne that we order our tea from – including the best Earl Grey we have ever found, much closer to the original.
In the Marais we went into a perfume shop called The Story of Oranges and my fellow traveller got into an animated discussion with the woman behind the counter who was as ardent about perfume as she was. The day before we went to Cire Trudon, our candlemakers of choice, who have been making candles since 1643, to top up our supply. The one we like best is Solus Rex, which smells of the polished floorboards of Versailles.
From the Museum of Hunting and Nature to death camps in the East
We spent some more time in the Marais today on our final day here before Lyon. We saw the Museum of Hunting and Nature, which documented the history of the relationship between humans and animals. This is another one of the small specialist museums you find here, all housed in beautiful old buildings almost as fascinating as their collections.
The Marais was the Jewish quarter of Paris and the Vichy regime transported the whole Jewish population of the suburb to the death camps in the East. It makes you realise that just as in Berlin, when Germany deported the Jews, it cut out its own heart. The suburb, as are so many Parisian suburbs, was dotted with small plaques where soldiers had fallen during the Liberation or where people had lived before they were deported – all with flowers, so many flowers.
The precinct of the Louvre
‘The Marais was the Jewish quarter of Paris and the Vichy regime transported the whole Jewish population of the suburb to the death camps in the East. It makes you realise that just as in Berlin, when Germany deported the Jews, it cut out its own heart. The suburb, as are so many Parisian suburbs, was dotted with small plaques where soldiers had fallen during the Liberation or where people had lived before they were deported – all with flowers, so many flowers.’
The next morning we were off to Lyon on the TGV to catch up with our friend Béatrice for three days, before picking up a car and heading south with her to the Vaucluse region of Northern Provence.
Le Tour Eiffel
The secondary cities of the world – welcome to Lyon
There's much to like about large cities but in a world growing increasingly more bland and generic, you've got to look for originality and surprise wherever you can find it. Often that's in the unexpected corners of large cities. Nowadays what interests me more are the regional and secondary cities of the world. They are on a more human scale and are less likely to be drowned in tourists like us – more likely to be drowned in locals.
The city of Lyon - astride two rivers, the Saône and the Rhône
I originally wanted to fly directly into Lyon, one of those secondary cities that interest me so much, just as we had flown into Manchester the previous year, but Singapore Airlines only flew into Paris. I enjoyed Paris far more than I expected but it was good finally to be in Lyon.
Moving in - the Lyonnaise way
‘There's much to like about large cities but in a world growing increasingly more bland and generic, you've got to look for originality and surprise wherever you can find it. Often that's in the unexpected corners of large cities. Nowadays what interests me more are the regional and secondary cities of the world. They are on a more human scale and are less likely to be drowned in tourists like us – more likely to be drowned in locals.’
Soon after arriving we went to the St Antoine markets on the banks of the Saone and bought peaches and pastries. One night we took the Metro to the apartment of our friend, Béatrice, and sat around eating and drinking and catching up. It was good to visit where a local lives and see a different part of the city. Then we took a cruise on the Saone. The next day we were to pick up Béatrice and head South
to Vaison-la-Romaine.
Local boats in Lyon
My fellow traveller had been attracted to Vaison-la-Romaine because of the Roman connection. The town had both an old section (Roman) and a ‘new’ section (less old, that is, medieval). I discovered that it was a popular place for the holiday homes of cashed up Parisians, so I hoped it wouldn’t be too expensive.
On the other side of the world, daily life goes on without you
It's strange when you travel – life goes on around you and you are part of it but not really part of it. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, daily life goes on without you. Life goes on – and also death.
The day after we arrived in Vaison-la-Romaine, in Adelaide my mother died. As so often happens with older people, a few weeks before we flew overseas she had one fall too many and, in the end, never recovered from it. Luckily my sister, who lives in Adelaide, was able to make sure her final weeks were pain-free and peaceful and my brother and sister-in-law flew from Melbourne to be with her at the end. It was so good that we had all travelled to Adelaide in May for her 90th birthday, knowing this was always on the cards. In the room with her were my sister and my niece and her recently born daughter – four generations of women in the same place. Now there would be only three generations.
‘Tranquillity is relative and sometimes dependent on double glazed windows, as on Friday and Saturday night the centre of Vaison-la-Romaine reverberated with live covers of rock and roll classics. On Sunday most things were closed – except bakeries, of course – so thankfully life became even slower. Vaison-la-Romaine has three parts, old, even older and really old.’
We needed to farewell her properly once we were back in Australia and to think about what we would want to say about her life. She was the last of our parents – as her children, we were now all on our own, in terms of any family coming before us. I remembered a poem I wrote about her many years before, thinking about her dancing days.
On the main square in Vaison-la-Romaine
Admittedly tranquillity is relative and sometimes dependent on double glazed windows, as on Friday and Saturday night the centre of Vaison-la-Romaine reverberated with live covers of rock and roll classics. On Sunday most things were closed – except bakeries, of course – so thankfully life became even slower. Vaison-la-Romaine has three parts, old, even older and really old. After arriving there, we went up over the Roman bridge into the high medieval city, until darkness forced us home. The day after we arrived we headed to Orange, about thirty minutes from Vaison-la-Romaine. We spent several hours traipsing around the massive Roman amphitheatre that seats 10,000 people and had lunch in one of the many squares there.
A taste for rosé
I realised I was developing a taste for rosé, which was drunk everywhere there – with a side glass of ice to cool the wine even further. That and pastis, which I picked up a taste for in Paris in 1989, and liked so much I drink it at home. Before we came to Vaison-la-Romaine, I had probably drunk rosé on half a dozen occasions at the most – things were changing.
‘It's clear that the French had missed out on the message about hats and skin cancer. They had gone for the trifecta – the sun and skin cancer, wine and liver cancer and cigarettes and lung cancer. It was a miracle that there were any of them left.’
I was quite shocked by the intense tans people had there – how ironic the lengths white (or pink) people go to look like those they would usually despise. It's clear that the French had missed out on the message about hats and skin cancer. They had gone for the trifecta – the sun and skin cancer, wine and liver cancer and cigarettes and lung cancer. It was a miracle that there were any of them left.
The markets in Vaison-la-Romaine came in all sizes and frequencies, all good
‘I realised I was developing a taste for rosé, which was drunk everywhere there – with a side glass of ice to cool the wine even further. That and pastis, which I picked up a taste for in Paris in 1989, and liked so much I drink it at home. Before we came to Vaison-la-Romaine, I had probably drunk rosé on half a dozen occasions at the most – things were changing.’
One really good aspect of our trip was that we had anguished about what size suitcase to take and the medium ones we ended up bringing worked out perfectly. Even better, I was very impressed that we successfully filled the car with petrol.
The pastry shop below our apartment catered for anyone who liked pastry
Home away from home – a floor with a view
For almost three weeks we stayed in a house unlike anything we had ever occupied. It was right in the centre of Vaison-la-Romaine and has been in the family of the people we were renting it from for generations. We had the whole second storey of a three story building to ourselves. It reminded me of the similarly massive house of our Austrian relatives in Murek in Steiermark, where we stayed in 2005. However it was full of artworks, artefacts and fabrics, like a Provencal museum but more charming and appealing.
Like a sprawling family museum, full of marvellous things
We had booked in on Air BnB, something we had never used before, so we were not sure what to expect – somehow I didn’t think it was typical Air BnB accommodation. It was the first time we had used Airbnb, so it was good it turned out to be so successful, as we would now be more inclined to use it for future holidays. We had deliberately planned a reasonably long stay in one place, so we wouldn’t be rushing from town to town. Instead we wanted a base where we could relax and make day trips into the surrounding region. The long stay meant it was very important we made the right choice – I was very happy to realise that we did and that it was even better than we had expected. During the heat of the day, the tall ceilings and tiled floors were cool and in the evening we threw all the windows open.
‘We had deliberately planned a reasonably long stay in one place, so we wouldn’t be rushing from town to town. Instead we wanted a base where we could relax and make day trips into the surrounding region. The long stay meant it was very important we made the right choice – I was very happy to realise that we did and that it was even better than we had expected.’
Amongst our many road trips we drove to Avignon. When I was learning French in high school, I learned the words to the classic French song ‘Sur le pont D'Avignon’. I only remembered the first line, but I was able to recite it on the famous bridge. After wresting control of the Roman Catholic church from Rome in the middle ages, the French popes ruled in Avignon for centuries in the Palais des Papes, in an Italian enclave that only became part of France after the time of the French Revolution. Afterwards we did the round trip along tiny roads back to Vaison-la-Romaine via Gordes, a stunning Celtic hill town that was a centre of the French resistance and which seemed to have become a centre of the English exodus. It is recognised as the most spectacular hilltop town in France. The hill towns were an astounding part of the region.
Warm weather and people
This was a world of warm weather and people, of markets and village squares and hilltop villages. It was dry and stony and bright. In the warm weather people stayed up late – in Provence they may not live longer, but they certainly live later. Luckily before our friend and guide returned to Lyon she helped orient us in the place where we were staying by ourselves for almost three weeks. We'd been stacking up some major travel achievements over the couple of days before – working out how to fill the car with petrol CHECK; booking restaurant over phone in French CHECK; traversing bridge only marginally wider than car CHECK. Reporting breakage in French and getting damaged shower head replaced CHECK.
Olive trees in the cloisters
One night a very good covers band played David Bowie and the Rolling Stones in the main square and since we were only inches away, we had a ringside seat from our window. After all the accumulated stress of funerals and flights and worrying about family matters, we let our hair down briefly, drank too much and danced till late on the smooth cool tiles of our apartment floor.
‘This was a world of warm weather and people, of markets and village squares and hilltop villages. It was dry and stony and bright. In the warm weather people stayed up late – in Provence they may not live longer, but they certainly live later.’
Following a suggestion by our hosts we drove through the Dentelles to Suzette where we had lunch. It was a fantastic view, which we would otherwise have missed. We also ate in some excellent restaurants and seem to have drunk quite a bit of very fine wine. I really liked the way we could do our own thing completely separately, while at the same time there was a sense of the life of the rest of the house going on next door.
Hill towns are the signature villages of Provence
One day we drove along narrow country roads to the village of Le Barroux. It was not a noted tourist attraction, but had a fascinating castle that started as a very basic medieval guard tower to defend against Saracen and Italian invaders and then grew into a Renaissance chateau. It was being painstakingly restored by locals, not helped by the fact that, like so many castles, it was a stone quarry for 150 years after the French Revolution. This was compounded when the retreating German Army set fire to it in 1944 – it burned for ten days straight.
Lest we forget - Australian towns, no matter how small, are full of memorials to so many dead in the First World War. In France I found an even stronger resonance.
The dinosaurs are still with us
Life in France makes you very conscious of traditions and historical continuity. At home every time I see a flock of enormous sulphur crested cockatoos – large enough to carry off a child – I am reminded that the dinosaurs are still amongst us. In the same way, we all still speak Latin, which makes conversing in French much easier than if it was, say Urdu or Mandarin. I suppose we can also thank the Normans for bringing so many French words into English. It has always amazed me that over the centuries the standard railway gauge was exactly the width between the wheels of a Roman chariot. History lives on – and on and on. Discovering that this part of the world used to be Italian made perfect sense. Looking up at the hills above Vaison-la-Romaine, you could easily be in Tuscany.
In Australia we sometimes used to imagine what it would have been like if the French had settled Australia. It was an interesting thought to revisit in France. We had another ten days in the South before we returned to Lyon and Paris. We had deliberately decided to stay in one place and do day trips as a model for future travel – and it had worked. We had settled into a daily rhythm. We had our favourite patisserie below us, where we got coffee every morning, and our regular wine shop and we used the bio co-operative for our groceries. There was still plenty to investigate before we left.
Looking out over the fields and vines from another hill town
In Australia we sometimes used to imagine what it would have been like if the French had settled Australia. It was an interesting thought to revisit in France. We had another ten days in the South before we returned to Lyon and Paris. We had deliberately decided to stay in one place and do day trips as a model for future travel – and it had worked. We had settled into a daily rhythm. We had our favourite patisserie below us, where we got coffee every morning, and our regular wine shop and we used the bio co-operative for our groceries. There was still plenty to investigate before we left.
‘Life in France makes you very conscious of traditions and historical continuity. At home every time I see a flock of enormous sulphur crested cockatoos – large enough to carry off a child – I am reminded that the dinosaurs are still amongst us. In the same way, we all still speak Latin, which makes conversing in French much easier than if it was, say Urdu or Mandarin. I suppose we can also thank the Normans for bringing so many French words into English.’
One day we were finding our way back into Vaison-la-Romaine (thankfully we had a GPS!) and passed a live archaeological dig. It was all happening. Unsurprisingly, after that we dedicated a whole day to the Romans, seeing both of the extensive sites in Vaison-la-Romaine. We were very tired. I was suddenly reminded of my ‘Bring back the Romans’ article. However, I had no illusions about the Romans. The invasions of Gaul were genocide, pure and simple.
Noticing the bells
In Vaison-la-Romaine you couldn't help noticing the bells. They were everywhere. The French holiday season must have been drawing to a close because the town was noticeably quieter than when we had arrived, just under a week and a half before. This region really is a musical one and it's not just in French. From the window I heard someone singing one of my favourite songs, ‘Dirty old town’, a love song to Manchester. They then moved onto Irish classics. How appropriate, singing Celtic songs in France, another Celtic country. Also very appropriate because ‘The wild geese’, the Irish soldiers exiled by the English occupation in the 17th Century, went on to fight for the French against the English.
We'd been enjoying the food there because it was focused on quality local produce. However, we hadn't had many meals where the technique was also noteworthy. We ate at one place in Paris and one place in Vaison-la-Romaine but that was it. Then we went back to Le Barroux for lunch and it was definitely the best meal we had had to date in France, though it was not cheap. I had brandade (salt cod) on a pastry base with an intense orange sauce and Cornel had duck foie gras with apricots. Then we both had lobster with fennel, lardons and white beans with a side of pommes dauphinoise. We finished with an apricot souffle with blackberries, red currants and a berry sorbet. We sat on the terrace looking out to the deep valley beyond. At the end the chef came and spoke to each and every table and we were able to compliment the meal in the best French we could manage. I thought we did quite well.
The local markets were exceptional and ubiquitous
‘On Tuesday the huge market that takes over most of Vaison-la-Romaine was on again, so we were gearing up to buy olives, cheese and vegetables. It was one of the oldest and largest markets in Provence, dating back to the 15th Century.’
On Saturday morning we went for the second time to the smaller, more modest market in the car park in the centre of Vaison-la-Romaine. On Tuesday the huge market that takes over most of Vaison-la-Romaine was on again, so we were gearing up to buy olives, cheese and vegetables. It was one of the oldest and largest markets in Provence, dating back to the 15th Century. As I walked around I was finally wearing in the new shoes I bought in Paris – it had been like breaking in a wild horse because, as it turned out, they were too small for me.
I had been feeling quite stressed, partly because I slept fitfully the previous night. I realised that the saga of settling on a date for my mother's funeral had continued on and off for the whole time we had been in Vaison-la-Romaine – a period meant to be the relaxing stretch in our holiday. I finally heard that arrangements for my mother's funeral were confirmed. Now I could move on from the endless to and fro discussion of logistics.
Time was marching on
Given we would be in Lyon for only one night, it was good that we had got ahead of the game and booked a good contemporary restaurant there. Our whole holiday was five weeks, of which 30 days was in France. By that stage we had been away for 20 of the 35 days, so time was marching on. I was tired of the rows of restaurants around the squares, with their serried ranks of chairs stretching into the distance, designed to service the long French lunch break from 12 to 2. This was what put me off searching for a restaurant in Lyon back in 2005, as we looked for a good place for lunch. I kept remembering the story that the word ‘plonk’ came from World War 1 diggers discovering the merits of vin blanc. Their French was almost as good as mine.
I got to the point where I was too tired to write down any more, but as it turned out the next day was a very big day. We cruised through a string of mind-boggling hill top villages on the border between the departments of the Vaucluse and the Drôme. Then, along with huge numbers of cyclists, we headed to the top of Mont Ventoux, one of the most scenic and challenging stretches of the Tour de France. It was quite amazing – we had a view of the Alps, stretching away into the distance towards Switzerland. Mont Ventoux dominates the countryside around so much that I realised that I had been incessantly pointing it out for days as we criss-crossed the region.
What impressed me in France was the magnitude of the time scale. In Australia to experience this sort of long history, you would have to recalibrate your clocks entirely and step across into history before Europeans. As a result you would move onto a different time scale, where hundreds of years were only yesterday.
Vaison-la-Romaine - old, older and even older
Everyday food was exceptional and appreciated
‘We headed to the top of Mont Ventoux, one of the most scenic and challenging stretches of the Tour de France. It was quite amazing – we had a view of the Alps, stretching away into the distance towards Switzerland. Mont Ventoux dominates the countryside around so much that I realised that I had been incessantly pointing it out for days as we criss-crossed the region.’
Too early to tell
My fellow traveller asked what the holiday meant and I replied ‘too early to tell’. Like the future, the past is constantly changing. I was already rethinking what our cruise next year meant in the light of this trip. In many ways, the trip had already been far more astounding than I expected. Travelling is like lead poisoning in a good way – the effects builds up in the body unnoticed.
When we were planning the trip the regions we ended up coming to to wasn't my first choice but it always had a resonance – I had always been interested in Provence and Picasso. I had read Mayle travelbooks on life in Provence. In France we agonised about whether an hour and a half drive was too far. In Australia that would be a joke. I thought that maybe on Friday we'd go to Nimes. It might sound as though we were constantly on the go, but in fact we took it pretty easy – I personally took it even easier! We drove through Carpentras, which was not so exciting, other than for a tall Roman aquaduct as we entered the town. As a result we decided to drive to Chateauneuf-du-Pape, a major centre of the wine trade in a region where the wine trade is everywhere.
Historic Lyon
When we were planning the trip the regions we ended up coming to to wasn't my first choice but it always had a resonance – I had always been interested in Provence and Picasso. I had read Mayle travelbooks on life in Provence. In France we agonised about whether an hour and a half drive was too far. In Australia that would be a joke. I thought that maybe on Friday we'd go to Nimes. It might sound as though we were constantly on the go, but in fact we took it pretty easy – I personally took it even easier! We drove through Carpentras, which was not so exciting, other than for a tall Roman aquaduct as we entered the town. As a result we decided to drive to Chateauneuf-du-Pape, a major centre of the wine trade in a region where the wine trade is everywhere.
‘It made me think of French President Charles de Gaulle, who in 1962 famously said, “How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?” Ironically France actually has closer to 1,000 different types of cheese, so it must be hell to govern.’
We had an excellent lunch there – mine was chicken with tiny courgettes, carrots and potatoes. I seem to remember reading somewhere that France was noteworthy for having a different chicken recipe for every day of the year. I like chicken a lot, so it worked for me. It made me think of French President Charles de Gaulle, who in 1962 famously said, ‘How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?’ Ironically France actually has closer to 1,000 different types of cheese, so it must be hell to govern.
Afterwards we spent an enthralling hour or so in a Museum of Wine, where I learned a huge amount that I hadn't known before about the wine industry. I also realised that the French gherkins really bite. It reminded me of when I was in Port Douglas and the temperature was so hot that the seawater was lukewarm and had such a high salt content that it really stung my chafed legs.
Language is always a tricky issue
As we wandered around France, even though we tried to use our variable French, we were always speaking to each other in English. It made me think about an incident in Australia a few years back. A French visitor on a bus was singing French lullabies to her young daughter and a man and a woman yelled at her that she was in Australia and should speak English. They then added that they'd like to slash her with a box cutter. Talk about leaving out the white trash in public! Luckily the French didn't seem to respond like that to us speaking English in their country.
Language is always a tricky issue. I was reminded of an incident between the United States and France at one point, where a misunderstanding arose leading to France ‘a demander’ a response, at which the Americans became deeply enraged. Unfortunately in French ‘demander’ means ‘to request’, not it's more insistent English equivalent. When dealing with Europe, the Americans have a habit of getting it wrong – despite the fact that France gave them their most iconic monument.
Even though I was trying to make the most of what was an amazing opportunity in another country, a constant background thread to the trip since we arrived in Vaison-la-Romaine has been my attempt to move our return flight a bit earlier so I could get to Adelaide for my mother's funeral. It was not certain we'd be able to do it – still, we could but try. How weird – when I left work, still owning some beautiful suits, I had half joked that I'd only get to wear them to weddings and funerals and meetings with the Chief Minister. I've done the meeting, now it was time for the funeral – I was probably too old for the wedding.
Bread appeared with every meal
The Lyon Metro - in a country that values public transport
Language is always a tricky issue
As we wandered around France, even though we tried to use our variable French, we were always speaking to each other in English. It made me think about an incident in Australia a few years back. A French visitor on a bus was singing French lullabies to her young daughter and a man and a woman yelled at her that she was in Australia and should speak English. They then added that they'd like to slash her with a box cutter. Talk about leaving out the white trash in public! Luckily the French didn't seem to respond like that to us speaking English in their country.
A country that celebrate its heroes in every corner
‘When I left work, still owning some beautiful suits, I had half joked that I'd only get to wear them to weddings and funerals and meetings with the Chief Minister. I've done the meeting, now it was time for the funeral – I was probably too old for the wedding.’
Even though I was trying to make the most of what was an amazing opportunity in another country, a constant background thread to the trip since we arrived in Vaison-la-Romaine has been my attempt to move our return flight a bit earlier so I could get to Adelaide for my mother's funeral. It was not certain we'd be able to do it – still, we could but try. How weird – when I left work, still owning some beautiful suits, I had half joked that I'd only get to wear them to weddings and funerals and meetings with the Chief Minister. I've done the meeting, now it was time for the funeral – I was probably too old for the wedding.
Bread appeared with every meal
I was very pleased with myself, as one night I made salad Niçoise, a historical favourite using ingredients from the market, including fresh tuna. I thought about the (re)use of bread. Bread is such a daily item in France (‘give us this day our daily bread’) that you had to ask ‘what happens to all the unused bread?’ I suppose that's why the Italians invented panzanela salad, and the English, bread and butter pudding – something I used to make very well. I don't know what the French equivalent is.
Bread appeared with every meal – and usually wine as well, though you had to order that. The whole world shut for lunch from 12 noon to 2.30 pm, so if you ran into that period, you were in trouble. This focus on good quality produce was heartening because on the coffee front coffee capsules had taken over the world. It's as if all tea was replaced by teabags. I still remember with shock the young woman in the cafe in Canberra who did not realise that tea came in any other form than teabags.
Bread and pastry delivery van
Bread appeared with every meal – and usually wine as well, though you had to order that. The whole world shut for lunch from 12 noon to 2.30 pm, so if you ran into that period, you were in trouble. This focus on good quality produce was heartening because on the coffee front coffee capsules had taken over the world. It's as if all tea was replaced by teabags. I still remember with shock the young woman in the cafe in Canberra who did not realise that tea came in any other form than teabags.
As our time in Vaison-la-Romaine moved on we headed off on another longer trip – to Montelimar, the home of nougat. We went to the stunning chateau – a mix of Romanesque and medieval – and the Museum of Contemporary Art. In the process we worked out how parking stations in France worked and discovered that the outskirts of middling French regional cities looked just like Fyshwick, the industrial precinct of Canberra.
‘There had been some intense periods in the region we were visiting – the wars of religion and the French revolution. Villages were destroyed and castles dismantled – despite the damage to heritage, dismantling the castles was for good reason, since they were partly established to control the people who lived beneath them, and the unhappy memories about the rulers must have been fresh.’
Then we drove back through Grignan in the Enclave de Papes, where the chateau was much closer to the luxurious inhabited castles we had seen in Scotland and Northern England. It was astounding. While all this was happening, I was phoned by the helpful staff from the Singapore Airlines office in Paris who had booked us on an earlier flight back to Australia so I could make it to my mother's funeral.
Unhappy memories must have been fresh
There had been some intense periods in the region we were visiting – the wars of religion and the French revolution. Villages were destroyed and castles dismantled – despite the damage to heritage, dismantling the castles was for good reason, since they were partly established to control the people who lived beneath them, and the unhappy memories about the rulers must have been fresh. The Roman ruins were quarries for the castles and churches, which in turn after the Revolution became quarries themselves. Hanging around in France I'd also come to appreciate the French approach to rulers they don't like – centuries ahead of us. Given the recent events in our Parliament, they could be a useful role model.
‘It was almost impossible to appreciate my sense of relief at the way a series of small miracles had transformed the impasse with my mother's funeral. I was quite resigned to the possibility that I might not be able to get home in time.’
I was using Google Translate to communicate some important recent aspects of my life. ‘Ma mère est morte la semaine dernière.’ It was almost impossible to appreciate my sense of relief at the way a series of small miracles had transformed the impasse with my mother's funeral. I was quite resigned to the possibility that I might not be able to get home in time.
Watching the fields from a walled hill town
Over just a couple of days it meant that I was booked on flights to Adelaide (booked from overseas on my tablet, no less), Singapore Airlines had changed the international flights at no extra cost and the hotel in Singapore has agreed to refund the two nights accommodation we had cancelled, even though the booking was non-refundable. Now we could get back to finishing our holiday, lighting candles for my mother and thinking about what I wanted to say about her and her life.
Lighting candles for my mother
The wind that dominates Provence is the Mistral, blowing down the Rhône Valley from the high Alps, often reaching incredible speeds. If I lived there I think it would get to me – I don't enjoy even Canberra's relatively benign windy months. In contrast, the Mistral is a force to be reckoned with. When we drove to Suzette and alongside the Dentelles, vertical ranges loved by rock climbers, the wind was blowing umbrellas over. I thought ‘this is the Provencal way – locals inside because they know about the wind, Australians in the shade outside and the rest outside in the sun.’ I hadn’t really wanted to come to Provence since I prefer Northern climes, but I compromised on the Vaucluse. Interestingly I found the Drôme more my style than the South of Provence. As our stay drew to a close, I realised I was glad we were spending two nights in Paris before we flew home.
While we were having lunch, we asked the waiter about a jeep with kangaroo symbols parking outside, telling him we were Australian. It turned out the stickers had been sent to him by his mother who was New Caledonian. It brought home France's extensive links to the Pacific, our own backyard.
‘The wind that dominates Provence is the Mistral, blowing down the Rhône Valley from the high Alps, often reaching incredible speeds. If I lived there I think it would get to me – I don't enjoy even Canberra's relatively benign windy months. In contrast, the Mistral is a force to be reckoned with.’
The whole time I had been in Vaison-la-Romaine, I had been engaged in to and fro communication with Australia. It reminded me of the Australian content developers who work while America sleeps. I knew that if I sent or posted something at 4 pm in France, it would be midnight in Canberra and 11.30 pm in Adelaide.
Looking out on Provence
While the noise in the busy town where we were staying could sometimes be an irritant, the high quality double glazed windows shut out sound like an airlock. Generally, though, it was incredibly quiet and peaceful. Sometimes, especially at lunchtime, when we turned up at tiny villages, it seemed as if the Plague had struck, emptying the place.
Encountering local practices
As we found on previous trips, the value of personal contacts and personal engagement when travelling really made it all worthwhile. Encountering local practices is always interesting – red wine served chilled and rosé with ice on the side was prevalent in the South. One thing that the visit changed was my attitude to rosé. I probably had drunk a glass of rosé less than a dozen times in my whole life – possibly quite a bit less than that – before I went to France. In the South it was everywhere and very good. The whole region was really full of excellent wine. It could be a very dangerous place to live. The South was full of rosé and lashings of Grenache (though I was informed that it was probably more likely Gamay). Later, in Adelaide I was given a glass of South Australian wine based on Grenache – as soon as I tasted it, I could have been back in the Rhône Valley.
My fellow traveller was talking to a young manicurist who asked if we were afraid of coming to France, because of the attacks that had happened. I have to say, it hadn't really been something we'd thought about.
‘Encountering local practices is always interesting – red wine served chilled and rosé with ice on the side was prevalent in the South. One thing that the visit changed was my attitude to rosé. I probably had drunk a glass of rosé less than a dozen times in my whole life – possibly quite a bit less than that – before I went to France. In the South it was everywhere and very good.’
On Saturday night we went back to LUM, the excellent restaurant where we had eaten before, and were once again pleased with the interesting food. As we were leaving, we encountered a practice that seems common with higher end restaurants in France – the chef came out to speak to us personally. He was very impressive – he had worked all over the world.
On our second last day in Vaison-la-Romaine, we rounded out our stay by driving through a few small villages we hadn't seen, like Sablet. Then we finished the day with two fabulous events. The vignerons of the regions held a traditional wine-makers ceremony, where they welcomed new members into their guild. For the first time it was held in the medieval village above the town and involved a costumed procession of wine-makers, musicians and dancers.
Tradition is strong and wine is stronger
Later we went down to the bar, La Chope, the live music venue that had been entertaining us through our kitchen window for weeks. We'd had a few drinks there before, but this time we went to hear a blues duo – though I think half the audience were musos too. We ended up chatting to a great fan of Rose Tatoo, who was disappointed to hear that Angry Anderson has turned from music to right wing politics.
The holiday season was ending
The holiday season was ending
The holiday season was ending. The children had returned to school, temperatures and leaves were dropping and the crowds were smaller. It was very pleasant but we sensed our holiday was drawing to a close, too. We'd been to the last of both the big and small markets. I was very happy, not only that we had booked two nights in Paris, but that we were also staying in the same hotel we stayed in when we first arrived. We probably should have stayed two nights in Lyon on the way back as well.
In preparation for leaving we messaged our hosts – in French, using a combination of my half-remembered grasp of the languages and Google Translate, ‘Bonjour Laurence and Jean Marc. As we are approaching the end of our stay in Vaison-la-Romaine, I thought l'd write you an email as my written French is much better than my spoken French. We have had an excellent visit and have enjoyed staying in your unique apartment very much. The day after we arrived in Vaison-la-Romaine my 90 year old mother died in Australia. We are flying home slightly earlier to attend her funeral. This has been a very peaceful and calm place to remember her. We have lit candles for her in several of the beautiful cathedrals here.’
Celebrating a culture
In preparation for leaving we messaged our hosts – in French, using a combination of my half-remembered grasp of the languages and Google Translate, ‘Bonjour Laurence and Jean Marc. As we are approaching the end of our stay in Vaison-la-Romaine, I thought l'd write you an email as my written French is much better than my spoken French. We have had an excellent visit and have enjoyed staying in your unique apartment very much. The day after we arrived in Vaison-la-Romaine my 90 year old mother died in Australia. We are flying home slightly earlier to attend her funeral. This has been a very peaceful and calm place to remember her. We have lit candles for her in several of the beautiful cathedrals here.’
‘The holiday season was ending. The children had returned to school, temperatures and leaves were dropping and the crowds were smaller. It was very pleasant but we sensed our holiday was drawing to a close, too. We'd been to the last of both the big and small markets.’
We slipped away from Vaison-la-Romaine, ahead of the huge weekly market shutting the whole place down. On the drive we were very excited to see two TGV super fast trains rocketing along the Rhône Valley, knowing that we would be on one the next day. For Australians they are impressive because we have nothing like them – though the dream of a Sydney-Canberra-Melbourne link still lingers, possible if a real nation-building government ever appeared again in this country.
The food delights of the culinary capital of France
Because we had a limited time in Lyon and hadn't really had a chance on the way to Provence to sample the food delights of the culinary capital of France, we had a focus for our return visit. After being taken on a meandering tour by our GPS, we had finally braved the A7 autoroute back to Lyon and we were ready for lunch. As soon as we had dropped the car off at Part Dieu Railway Station, we strolled around the corner to the famous Les Halles de Lyon Paul Bocuse, a food centre of vast delights. There amongst a throng of other lunchers, we sat down to a platter of fresh oysters, accompanied by confit of scallops and fish soup, with a pitcher of Mâcon white wine.
Afterwards we walked back across the Rhône to our hotel and spent the afternoon looking in the astounding fabric, art, jewellery and antique shops in the centre of the city, between the Saône and Rhône Rivers. The Old City on the West bank of the Saône where we stayed on our previous visit was fascinating, but the central city and the area on the East bank of the Rhône, where our friend Béatrice lived, was the most lived in part of the city.
Lyon - culinary centre of France
Afterwards we walked back across the Rhône to our hotel and spent the afternoon looking in the astounding fabric, art, jewellery and antique shops in the centre of the city, between the Saône and Rhône Rivers. The Old City on the West bank of the Saône where we stayed on our previous visit was fascinating, but the central city and the area on the East bank of the Rhône, where our friend Béatrice lived, was the most lived in part of the city.
In the evening we had also booked online for dinner at a small contemporary restaurant, called Les Apothecaries. We dragged Béatrice along, after a rendezvous in a small bar in one of Lyon's many charming squares, on the opposite side of the Rhône to the university. What we didn't realise until we arrived was that it was an eight course degustation meal. It was fabulous and, on top of our lunch, well and truly satisfied our need for a proper Lyonnaise food experience. Much later, after many farewells, Béatrice pedalled home and we jumped on the Metro back to our hotel in Place Bellecour.
‘Kate Reid, an Australian woman who started life as a Formula One racing car designer decided that there were other things in life. On a visit to Paris she encountered the bakery and fell in love with the universe of croissants. She returned to Paris and persuaded the baker to take her on as an apprentice, which recognising her passion, he did. She then set up a bakery in Melbourne which has since gone wild.’
For our return trip from Lyon, Part Dieu Railway Station was packed and very hectic. The squads of soldiers in camouflage uniforms with automatic weapons at the ready patrolling the station brought home that the risk of attacks, while not commonplace, was real. After a two hour TGV ride, we were back in Paris again. Arriving at our hotel in St Germein de Pres was like coming home. Thursday was to be our last day in Paris and we made the most of it, catching the metro to the northern Marais and having breakfast in the bakery Du Pain et Idées. For Australians this bakery is legendary because of its links to Melbourne.
Institute du Monde Arabe
Eating pastries
We were sitting outside the bakery eating pastries, with the best coffee we had had in France, and bumped into two groups of Australians – as well as a couple of Alaskans. I assumed there were so many Australians there because of the connection – because we had had litle contact with other Australians in France – but while they were all very familiar with the Melbourne bakery, none of them knew the story.
Arriving on the famed French TGV fast train - sadly the food is no longer exciting
Ironically, connections with Australia kept popping up – the previous afternoon we had bumped into some former colleagues from Canberra and that night met some people from Adelaide, who'd just come from a river cruise that included Lyon.
‘While we'd been travelling, the full import of my mother's death hadn't really sunk in. Now we'd successfully changed all our travelling arrangements and the wheels were in motion, it was becoming more real. With this sort of thing, once the mechanics are in place, you just keep putting one foot in front of the other. We'd travelled from one side of the world to the other – and now we were on the way back.’
Following our visit to the Marais we walked steadily across the city, past the Louvre and the Tuileries Gardens to the Petit Palace. There we had an excellent lunch in the courtyard, before exhausting ourself in the face of the magnificent collection. We wanted to see the Grand Palace oposite, but it was closed due to preparations for the opening of the Paris Biennale (Paris Design Week started on the same day). We asked a trio of petite women kitted out in flak jackets and submachine guns for directions and they steered us in the right direction. They were very impressive.
The Greek collection
I loved our visit to Le Petit Palace. Towards the end of our visit, I came across the Greek collection and suddenly remembered when I was so interested in ancient (and modern) Greece when I was in high school and at university. I used to spend half my life in the Mary Martin bookshop in Adelaide city. There was a huge book, The Art and Architecture of Ancient Greece, on sale and I went back many times before I finally bought it, because as a student, I had hardly any money. When I finally did buy it, I carried the massive volume in my arms on the bus to Flagstaff Hill, where I lived with my parents, and walked with it all the way from Main South Road to home. It was probably the happiest day of my life – at least up to that point in time. The collection also included a huge body of icons, which had fascinated me since I discovered the writing of noted Greek author Nikos Kazantzakis, in which he expressed his complete fascination with them.
I loved our visit to Le Petit Palace. Towards the end of our visit, I came across the Greek collection and suddenly remembered when I was so interested in ancient (and modern) Greece when I was in high school and at university. I used to spend half my life in the Mary Martin bookshop in Adelaide city. There was a huge book, The Art and Architecture of Ancient Greece, on sale and I went back many times before I finally bought it, because as a student, I had hardly any money. When I finally did buy it, I carried the massive volume in my arms on the bus to Flagstaff Hill, where I lived with my parents, and walked with it all the way from Main South Road to home. It was probably the happiest day of my life – at least up to that point in time. The collection also included a huge body of icons, which had fascinated me since I discovered the writing of noted Greek author Nikos Kazantzakis, in which he expressed his complete fascination with them.
Le Petit Palace in all its glory
‘As I've said repeatedly, I don't have any problems with flying, it's landing and taking off I don't like. I have few problems with lounging around for hours and hours on a flight, while people bring you food and drink. How much better does it get?’
On the flight from Paris lunch included a block of pave d'affinois cheese. You'd only get this on a flight out of France – in fact the only thing better than a flight out of France is a flight into France. While these flights were cramped, our mariner ancestors must have experienced even more cramped conditions – and for far longer periods. It reminded me of a Liberace concert at the Hilton Hotel in Adelaide that I was once taken to, on free tickets – we spent the time trying to use our knives and forks with our elbows pinned to our sides. As I've said repeatedly, I don't have any problems with flying, it's landing and taking off I don't like. I have few problems with lounging around for hours and hours on a flight, while people bring you food and drink. How much better does it get?
The Museum of Hunting and Nature, the Marais, Paris
‘Strangely enough the one night in Singapore was really enjoyable because of the relief to have reorganised everything successfully and to be in territory closer to home. Our stay in Singapore was cut short by events but now, after a couple of short visits, we had a better idea of what we wanted to see and do next time.’
Australia has a high level of cultural diversity, just like Singapore – the difference is that Singapore recognises and deals with it. Once we had arrived in Singapore it was hard to believe the marathon flight was behind us. We had successfully cut short our trip, the main game was simply to get home. We'd save the exploration of Singapore for another time. In comparison to the long stretch the previous day, the next day looked straightforward. It was raining when we arrived. Our trip ended on a hot, wet night, opposite Raffles, hearing Tracy Chapman's song 'Fast car' and wanting to dance, then wondering if perhaps dancing in public was banned – or at least frowned upon – in Singapore.
Cut short by events
Strangely enough the one night in Singapore was really enjoyable because of the relief to have reorganised everything successfully and to be in territory closer to home. Our stay in Singapore was cut short by events but now, after a couple of short visits, we had a better idea of what we wanted to see and do next time. Soon after our return we booked for our next trip.
‘Australia has a high level of cultural diversity, just like Singapore – the difference is that Singapore recognises and deals with it. Once we had arrived in Singapore it was hard to believe the marathon flight was behind us. We had successfully cut short our trip, the main game was simply to get home. We'd save the exploration of Singapore for another time.’
I realised that at home the only transport I took was the #2 bus. Otherwise I travelled on what I call the #3 bus – the air flights I take across the world, remembering as a child flying to Tasmania, chewing barley sugar on a rattling plane.
The bright night lights of Singapore
Final words
Back in Adelaide, I said my final words, 'The last time I saw my mother was in May, when many of us had gathered in Adelaide for her 90th birthday, well aware that it, like any of her age, could be her last. In one room were four generations of women from our family – quite an achievement. Now, with her passing, there are just three. On the way out of Adelaide my fellow traveller and I called in to see her. After our visit, she insisted on walking us to the door. My last memory of her is of a tiny, determined figure, farewelling us, standing upright in the middle of a wide empty corridor.
‘In one room were four generations of women from our family – quite an achievement. Now, with her passing, there are just three.’
I heard that she had died while I was away in the South of France. My fellow traveller and I lit candles for my mother in cathedrals and tiny chapels across Provence. There are little memories of her throughout France – she would have liked that. It feels as though I haven't stopped moving, from one plane to the next, for the last few days. On Friday I was in Paris. My fellow traveller was unable to be here, but she remembers my mother with great affection and her thoughts are with us today.'
Big moments like this
It was only once I had stopped that the reality started to sink in. My mother was the last of our parents – now, as her children, we were the oldest generation in our family. It was good that my sister, who cared for her for years after she moved back to Adelaide, was able to support her in her final weeks and my brother and sister-in-law flew from Melbourne to be with her at the end. It would be strange no longer to have my weekly phone chats with her.
Near Pine Tier Dam, central Tasmania 1951
‘It was only once I had stopped that the reality started to sink in. My mother was the last of our parents – now, as her children, we were the oldest generation in our family. It would be strange no longer to have my weekly phone chats with her.’
My father went before, ten years in fact, a pathfinder in all things. Having been together for so long, it was right that they were now together again. In big moments like this, everyone who has ever been important in your life is present – even if not physically – because in so many ways they have become part of who we are. As long as we remember them and carry forward their legacy, they are still with us.
Older and heavier
As we get older our lives become longer and heavier. At the same time we become smaller and lighter, shrinking into time – in the end, that imbalance is what finishes us all. As our parents age and enter a world of falls and spills and forgetting, it's good to remember that their lives were full of dancing, friends and family, and fun. My mother and father were part of a young crowd thrown together in the middle of nowhere in the Highlands of Tasmania, building the modern Australia we call home. It must have seemed like the end of the earth.
Young at heart - and in body
‘As we get older our lives become longer and heavier. At the same time we become smaller and lighter, shrinking into time – in the end, that imbalance is what finishes us all. As our parents age and enter a world of falls and spills and forgetting, it's good to remember that their lives were full of dancing, friends and family, and fun.’
They made their own fun, putting on shows, making their own costumes, dressing up. My mother was at the heart of it all. Whenshe and I took my father's ashes to Pine Tier Dam in the centre of Tasmania – the first dam he built – the old chalet in Bronte Park, now sadly burned down, still had black and white photos of her dressed up for Empire Day processions in the 1950s. She was creative in many different ways, something that both my father and mother passed on to their descendants. She was an expert seamstress and green-thumbed gardener, with a love of music, leaving her mark everywhere.
My mother in Brisbane round 1950
Many years ago I wrote a poem about my mother and gave it to her as a present, framed with an old and very stylish photo of her as a young, lively woman – no wonder my father was so keen to marry her. It's how I like to think of her, dancing lightly across the universe.
My mother was a dancer
My mother was a dancer,
part-time intensity between kids
the stop-start hurried shuffle
of once motionless feet
my mother was a dancer
my mother was a dancer
when she could make time
in the weatherboarded up, snow-covered 50s
on the up and up of the cranky upside down business cycle
my mother danced
not to trip, stumble, fall without thinking
what's the risk?
the double quick flicker of feet
the sudden stammer of moving shoes
© Stephen Cassidy 2025
See also
See also
‘Travel during the global pandemic had become an artform. After our first ever cruise, from London to Bergen, via North Cape, way above the Artic Circle, in 2019, we decided to try something very different – a river cruise. We chose a short week-long one from Amsterdam up the Rhine to Basel in Switzerland. Due to the pandemic, this was postponed several times and then finally converted to a cruise in local waters, when Viking started to operate from Australia. It was then postponed again, before we finally sailed. Apart from the many attractions of travelling the length of the Rhine, the trip meant that I saw two cities in two countries I had never seen before – Amsterdam in the Netherlands and Basel in Switzerland’, Travelling light–along the Rhine and beyond.
Travelling light-The largest islands in the Pacific
‘I’ve been to New Zealand only twice – once on a brief stop in Auckland on the way to Tahiti in 2014 and then on a longer trip around the North Island at the end of 2016. On the first trip my fellow traveller was in New Zealand because she wanted to visit Tahiti, whereas I was in Tahiti because I wanted to visit New Zealand - though, mmm, as everyone commented, Tahiti was nice. On the second visit, we had planned to continue on to the South Island – till it became clear this would be biting off more than we could chew. Then, finally, six and a half years later, we were going back to New Zealand – and this time we would visit the South Island. We had sold our house after 12 years and we were on the road again. We were on the train to Sydney. On Tuesday we would board a Viking ship for a two week cruise down the East coast of Australia, across to New Zealand, finishing in Auckland. Then it would be four weeks of trains, ferries and hire cars as we got to know one of our favourite countries even better’, Travelling light-The largest islands in the Pacific.
‘I’ve been to New Zealand only twice – once on a brief stop in Auckland on the way to Tahiti in 2014 and then on a longer trip around the North Island at the end of 2016. On the first trip my fellow traveller was in New Zealand because she wanted to visit Tahiti, whereas I was in Tahiti because I wanted to visit New Zealand - though, mmm, as everyone commented, Tahiti was nice. On the second visit, we had planned to continue on to the South Island – till it became clear this would be biting off more than we could chew. Then, finally, six and a half years later, we were going back to New Zealand – and this time we would visit the South Island. We had sold our house after 12 years and we were on the road again. We were on the train to Sydney. On Tuesday we would board a Viking ship for a two week cruise down the East coast of Australia, across to New Zealand, finishing in Auckland. Then it would be four weeks of trains, ferries and hire cars as we got to know one of our favourite countries even better’, Travelling light-The largest islands in the Pacific.
All aboard – travelling with the descendants of the Vikings
‘Once I had never been on a cruise and never imagined I would ever go on a cruise. That all changed when I visited Scotland in 2017. I became fascinated by the degree to which Scotland and Northern England were connected to Norway. A cruise to Norway on a Norwegian ship seemed highly appropriate. When I saw Viking Jupiter sitting high on the Thames, waiting for us to board I knew I had to come to the right place. The year before last, in September 2023, having recently returned from what was only my second journey with Viking Cruises, with another one planned the following year, I wanted to send the company some feedback about our experience. This is an expanded version of what I sent them back then, with another cruise under our belt since and a further one booked for 2026’, All aboard – travelling with the descendants of the Vikings.
‘Once I had never been on a cruise and never imagined I would ever go on a cruise. That all changed when I visited Scotland in 2017. I became fascinated by the degree to which Scotland and Northern England were connected to Norway. A cruise to Norway on a Norwegian ship seemed highly appropriate. When I saw Viking Jupiter sitting high on the Thames, waiting for us to board I knew I had to come to the right place. The year before last, in September 2023, having recently returned from what was only my second journey with Viking Cruises, with another one planned the following year, I wanted to send the company some feedback about our experience. This is an expanded version of what I sent them back then, with another cruise under our belt since and a further one booked for 2026’, All aboard – travelling with the descendants of the Vikings.
Returning to France – liberté, égalité, fraternité
‘As we prepare to visit France yet again later this year, I had to ask myself why I find it so fascinating. Part of the reason is the influence French culture has had in so many areas. Part of the reason concerns a story told about Zhou Enlai, the former Premier of China. Asked by Kissinger what he thought were the long term effects of the French Revolution, he replied ‘it’s too soon to tell’. Even though it seems he was referring to the student uprising of May 1968, the truth is his answer could more accurately be a reference to the original French Revolution. I am very fond of a long term view – which seems particularly Chinese’. Returning to France – liberté, égalité, fraternité.
‘As we prepare to visit France yet again later this year, I had to ask myself why I find it so fascinating. Part of the reason is the influence French culture has had in so many areas. Part of the reason concerns a story told about Zhou Enlai, the former Premier of China. Asked by Kissinger what he thought were the long term effects of the French Revolution, he replied ‘it’s too soon to tell’. Even though it seems he was referring to the student uprising of May 1968, the truth is his answer could more accurately be a reference to the original French Revolution. I am very fond of a long term view – which seems particularly Chinese’. Returning to France – liberté, égalité, fraternité.
Travelling light – Into Northern seas: UK, Norway, Denmark and Germany 2019
‘Neither I nor my fellow traveller had been on a cruise before, but suddenly we were sailing from London to Bergen, retracing the steps of the ancient Vikings. When we were in Scotland in 2017, we became entranced by the centuries of exchange and movement between Northern England and Scotland and Norway. We saw a cruise that travelled from Edinburgh to Bergen and became quite excited about the idea. Before you knew it, we were booked to sail from London to Edinburgh, then across the Norwegian Sea far above the Arctic Circle to the Northern-most tip of Norway before working out way down through the fjords and passages of the Norway coast to Bergen, the second largest city in Norway. We hadn’t even been discouraged by the fact that earlier that year another Viking cruise ship was nearly wrecked when one of its engines failed in a huge storm and passengers had to be lifted off by helicopter above raging seas’, Travelling light – Into Northern seas: UK, Norway, Denmark and Germany 2019.
Travelling light – Island on fire: Tasmania 2019
‘On an island you’re never far from the sea – that is unless the island is huge, like Australia. In tiny Tasmania, perched like an afterthought at the foot of Australia, even the mountains in the centre are not far from the ocean raging around them – just as in the distant homeland from which those who settled it came. On the main island, though, everywhere is a long way from everywhere else. Two islands, very different in size, in many ways with both similar and different histories. Both on fire. But this not just about the fires – it’s about what happened in front of the fire, the life lived in a time of warming and burning, even if it sometimes felt like a rehearsal for the end of the world’, Island on fire.
‘On an island you’re never far from the sea – that is unless the island is huge, like Australia. In tiny Tasmania, perched like an afterthought at the foot of Australia, even the mountains in the centre are not far from the ocean raging around them – just as in the distant homeland from which those who settled it came. On the main island, though, everywhere is a long way from everywhere else. Two islands, very different in size, in many ways with both similar and different histories. Both on fire. But this not just about the fires – it’s about what happened in front of the fire, the life lived in a time of warming and burning, even if it sometimes felt like a rehearsal for the end of the world’, Island on fire.
I smoke baby cigars
‘Smoking baby cigars in the dark of the backyard. Like some Cuban presidente haranguing the crowd with reminders, I proffer a list of romantic anniversaries, our May 4th movement, our July 12th uprising – our moment when everything became new’, I smoke baby cigars.
Cut back to black
‘Cut back to black, thin chill drizzle mid-winter – infinite regression on petrol’. Also called ‘Revhead heaven’, Cut back to black.
Coming back to these stones
‘Coming back to these stones – in the sandy dry reaches of the Coorong in South Australia’s South East birds flicker across the flat water like beads of run-away mercury’, Coming back to these stones.
Landscapes in a rear vision mirror
‘Heading at a moment's notice into Broken Hill, breaking several traffic laws on the Barrier Highway, in the rear vision mirror the land kept switching colours’, Landscapes in a rear vision mirror.
Stopping by Lake George
Cut back to black
‘Cut back to black, thin chill drizzle mid-winter – infinite regression on petrol’. Also called ‘Revhead heaven’, Cut back to black.
Coming back to these stones
‘Coming back to these stones – in the sandy dry reaches of the Coorong in South Australia’s South East birds flicker across the flat water like beads of run-away mercury’, Coming back to these stones.
Landscapes in a rear vision mirror
‘Heading at a moment's notice into Broken Hill, breaking several traffic laws on the Barrier Highway, in the rear vision mirror the land kept switching colours’, Landscapes in a rear vision mirror.
Stopping by Lake George
‘Lake George is a vast stretching freshwater lake, with no outlet. It is only diminished by evaporation. Many stories are told about Lake George, a still point of the turning earth, with all the quiet of the eye at the centre of a hurricane’, Stopping by Lake George.See other work from the Conversations group exhibition, Goulburn Regional Art Gallery, 2004 – a collaborative exhibition of writers and visual artists.
State of origin
Multimedia piece developed with visual artist, Deborah Faeyrglenn, State of origin looked at where we come from, where we go next and where we truly belong. In this work the writer and visual artist combined word, image and computer technology to make visual music. Words and images moved across the computer screen, with no fixed address, State of origin.
The lost art of conversation
Installation, developed with visual artist, Deborah Faeyrglenn, on words, meaning, reflection and infinite (or at least, partial) regression. Three tall thin vertical mirrors stand against the wall, covered in bursts of words. Three matching paper shadows flow out from the wall along the floor. Words on the mirrors flutter and blur into shadows, The lost art of conversation.
balloon
A fictional narrative work in the form of a website, the website as writing. About the adventures of a refugee from the big city who sets up the High Country Thought Balloon Company. A series of brief vignettes about the characters, situations and stories which intersect the path of the balloons as they soar across the skies of the Southern Tablelands and Snowy region. It is about changing perspective, balloon.
Malacoota Inlet
‘Shutdown in a flat, wet land, the line beween sea and sky where grey meets grey, where stricken yachts come in’, Malacoota Inlet.
Sitting on twigs
‘Sitting on twigs in the flat lands, in a piece of country loaded with meaning, like a tightly coiled spring’, Sitting on twigs.
An everyday life worth living – indefinite articles for a clean, clever and creative future
‘My blog “indefinite article” is irreverent writing about contemporary Australian society, popular culture, the creative economy and the digital and online world – life in the trenches and on the beaches of the information age. Over the last ten years I have published 166 articles about creativity and culture on the blog. This is a list of all the articles I have published there, broken down into categories, with a brief summary of each article. They range from the national cultural landscape to popular culture, from artists and arts organisations to cultural institutions, cultural policy and arts funding, the cultural economy and creative industries, First Nations culture, cultural diversity, cities and regions, Australia society, government, Canberra and international issues – the whole range of contemporary Australian creativity and culture’, An everyday life worth living – indefinite articles for a clean, clever and creative future.
‘My blog “indefinite article” is irreverent writing about contemporary Australian society, popular culture, the creative economy and the digital and online world – life in the trenches and on the beaches of the information age. Over the last ten years I have published 166 articles about creativity and culture on the blog. This is a list of all the articles I have published there, broken down into categories, with a brief summary of each article. They range from the national cultural landscape to popular culture, from artists and arts organisations to cultural institutions, cultural policy and arts funding, the cultural economy and creative industries, First Nations culture, cultural diversity, cities and regions, Australia society, government, Canberra and international issues – the whole range of contemporary Australian creativity and culture’, An everyday life worth living – indefinite articles for a clean, clever and creative future.
Beyond a joke – surviving troubled times
‘We live in troubled times – but then can anyone ever say that they lived in times that weren’t troubled? For most of my life Australia has suffered mediocre politicians and politics – with the odd brief exceptions – and it seems our current times are no different. Australia has never really managed to realise its potential. As a nation it seems to be two different countries going in opposite directions – one into the future and the other into the past. It looks as though we’ll be mired in this latest stretch of mediocrity for some time and the only consolation will be creativity, gardening and humour’, Beyond a joke – surviving troubled times.
‘We live in troubled times – but then can anyone ever say that they lived in times that weren’t troubled? For most of my life Australia has suffered mediocre politicians and politics – with the odd brief exceptions – and it seems our current times are no different. Australia has never really managed to realise its potential. As a nation it seems to be two different countries going in opposite directions – one into the future and the other into the past. It looks as though we’ll be mired in this latest stretch of mediocrity for some time and the only consolation will be creativity, gardening and humour’, Beyond a joke – surviving troubled times.
‘I’ve been a little out of touch with what’s been happening in the world of Australian creativity and culture because for all of February and early March this year I was visiting Aotearoa New Zealand, on a journey that originally started in November 2016 and was then resumed over six years later. While I was away the Labor Government announced its new National Cultural Policy and soon after I arrived back I received bad news of a loss from the tight group of friends and colleagues who had helped form my cultural world-view so many decades earlier – when we spoke the language of community, the language of culture and the language of changing the world for the better’, Absent without leave – ocean crossing in an (almost) post-pandemic world.
Industries of the future help tell stories of the past – Weta at work in the shaky isles
‘After three weeks travelling round the North Island of New Zealand, I’ve had more time to reflect on the importance of the clean and clever industries of the future and the skilled knowledge workers who make them. In the capital, Wellington, instead of the traditional industries that once often dominated a town, like the railways or meatworks or the car plant or, in Tasmania, the Hydro Electricity Commission, there was Weta. It’s clear that the industries of the future can thrive in unexpected locations. Expertise, specialist skills and industry pockets can occur just about anywhere, as long as you have connectivity, talent and a framework of support that makes it possible. These skills which Weta depends on for its livelihood are also being used to tell important stories from the past’, Industries of the future help tell stories of the past – Weta at work in the shaky isles.
‘After three weeks travelling round the North Island of New Zealand, I’ve had more time to reflect on the importance of the clean and clever industries of the future and the skilled knowledge workers who make them. In the capital, Wellington, instead of the traditional industries that once often dominated a town, like the railways or meatworks or the car plant or, in Tasmania, the Hydro Electricity Commission, there was Weta. It’s clear that the industries of the future can thrive in unexpected locations. Expertise, specialist skills and industry pockets can occur just about anywhere, as long as you have connectivity, talent and a framework of support that makes it possible. These skills which Weta depends on for its livelihood are also being used to tell important stories from the past’, Industries of the future help tell stories of the past – Weta at work in the shaky isles.
My nephew just got a job with Weta – the long road of the interconnected world
‘My nephew just got a job in Wellington New Zealand with Weta Digital, which makes the digital effects for Peter Jackson’s epics. Expertise, specialist skills and industry pockets can occur just about anywhere, as long as you have connectivity, talent and a framework of support that makes it possible. This is part of the new knowledge economy of the future, with its core of creative industries and its links to our cultural landscape. Increasingly the industries of the future are both clever and clean. At their heart are the developing creative industries which are based on the power of creativity and are a critical part of Australia’s future – innovative, in most cases centred on small business and closely linked to the profile of Australia as a clever country, both domestically and internationally. This is transforming the political landscape of Australia, challenging old political franchises and upping the stakes in the offerings department’, My nephew just got a job with Weta – the long road of the interconnected world.
‘My nephew just got a job in Wellington New Zealand with Weta Digital, which makes the digital effects for Peter Jackson’s epics. Expertise, specialist skills and industry pockets can occur just about anywhere, as long as you have connectivity, talent and a framework of support that makes it possible. This is part of the new knowledge economy of the future, with its core of creative industries and its links to our cultural landscape. Increasingly the industries of the future are both clever and clean. At their heart are the developing creative industries which are based on the power of creativity and are a critical part of Australia’s future – innovative, in most cases centred on small business and closely linked to the profile of Australia as a clever country, both domestically and internationally. This is transforming the political landscape of Australia, challenging old political franchises and upping the stakes in the offerings department’, My nephew just got a job with Weta – the long road of the interconnected world.
‘We are all used to being astounded as we see growing evidence of how widespread contact and trade was across the breadth of the ancient European world and with worlds far beyond. The Romans and the Vikings and many after them all roamed far and wide. This is the stuff of a hundred television documentaries that show just how interconnected the ancient world was. Connection, not isolation, has always been the norm. Seaways were bridges, not barriers – a way to bring people together, not divide them. Now important archaeological work confirms just how widespread that cross-cultural, international network was across the whole of Northern Australia, long before the British arrived’, The Asian Century was underway long before the British arrived.
History all around us – the long term practical impact of cultural research
‘Cultural research has long term impacts in terms of our developing body of knowledge which stretch far into the future. Researchers are finding stories in our major cultural collections that were never envisaged by those originally assembling them – a process that will continue long into the future. The collections of our major cultural institutions are becoming increasingly accessible to the very people the collections are drawn from and reflect. In the process they are generating greater understanding about some of the major contemporary issues we face’, History all around us – the long term practical impact of cultural research.
‘You don’t have to be part of ‘Indigenous affairs’ in Australia to find yourself involved. You can’t even begin to think of being part of support for Australian arts and culture without encountering and interacting with Indigenous culture and the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities and individuals who make it and live it.’ The Magna Carta – still a work in progress.
‘I’ve travelled around much of Australia, by foot, by plane, by train and by bus, but mostly by car. As I travelled across all those kilometres and many decades, I never realised that, without ever knowing, I would be silently crossing from one country into another, while underneath the surface of the landscape flashing past, languages were changing like the colour and shape of the grasses or the trees. The parallel universe of Indigenous languages is unfortunately an unexpected world little-known to most Australians.’ The hidden universe of Australia's own languages.
Flight of the wild geese – Australia’s place in the world of global talent
‘As the global pandemic has unfolded, I have been struck by how out of touch a large number of Australians are with Australia’s place in the world. Before the pandemic many Australians had become used to travelling overseas regularly – and spending large amounts of money while there – but we seem to think that our interaction with the global world is all about discretionary leisure travel. In contrast, increasingly many Australians were travelling – and living – overseas because their jobs required it. Whether working for multinational companies that have branches in Australia or Australian companies trying to break into global markets, Australian talent often needs to be somewhere else than here to make the most of opportunities for Australia. Not only technology, but even more importantly, talent, will be crucial to the economy of the future’, Flight of the wild geese – Australia’s place in the world of global talent.
‘As the global pandemic has unfolded, I have been struck by how out of touch a large number of Australians are with Australia’s place in the world. Before the pandemic many Australians had become used to travelling overseas regularly – and spending large amounts of money while there – but we seem to think that our interaction with the global world is all about discretionary leisure travel. In contrast, increasingly many Australians were travelling – and living – overseas because their jobs required it. Whether working for multinational companies that have branches in Australia or Australian companies trying to break into global markets, Australian talent often needs to be somewhere else than here to make the most of opportunities for Australia. Not only technology, but even more importantly, talent, will be crucial to the economy of the future’, Flight of the wild geese – Australia’s place in the world of global talent.
Crossing boundaries – the unlimited landscape of creativity
‘When I was visiting Paris last year, there was one thing I wanted to do before I returned home – visit the renowned French bakery that had trained a Melbourne woman who had abandoned the high stakes of Formula One racing to become a top croissant maker. She had decided that being an engineer in the world of elite car racing was not for her, but rather that her future lay in the malleable universe of pastry. Crossing boundaries of many kinds and traversing the borders of differing countries and cultures, she built a radically different future to the one she first envisaged’, Crossing boundaries – the unlimited landscape of creativity.
‘When I was visiting Paris last year, there was one thing I wanted to do before I returned home – visit the renowned French bakery that had trained a Melbourne woman who had abandoned the high stakes of Formula One racing to become a top croissant maker. She had decided that being an engineer in the world of elite car racing was not for her, but rather that her future lay in the malleable universe of pastry. Crossing boundaries of many kinds and traversing the borders of differing countries and cultures, she built a radically different future to the one she first envisaged’, Crossing boundaries – the unlimited landscape of creativity.
Music makes the world go round – the bright promise of our export future
‘After ABBA, in an unexpected break from its traditional way of building national wealth from natural resources, Sweden managed to discover a new source of income. It was not as you would expect coal or oil. Rather than oil what it had discovered was song royalties, part of a fundamental change in the nature of modern economies which transformed them from relying solely on natural resources, transport and manufacturing to make creative content a new form of resource mining. Examples like theirs point to potentially major opportunities for the Australian music industry to become a net exporter of music,’ Music makes the world go round – the bright promise of our export future.
‘After ABBA, in an unexpected break from its traditional way of building national wealth from natural resources, Sweden managed to discover a new source of income. It was not as you would expect coal or oil. Rather than oil what it had discovered was song royalties, part of a fundamental change in the nature of modern economies which transformed them from relying solely on natural resources, transport and manufacturing to make creative content a new form of resource mining. Examples like theirs point to potentially major opportunities for the Australian music industry to become a net exporter of music,’ Music makes the world go round – the bright promise of our export future.
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