Winter sky.


Goat Island. Part of the Sydney Harbour National Park. These islands in the harbour are mysterious. It isn't quite clear if or how one can reach them.


Heading into Circular Quay under the Bridge.


Destination.

I don't know what this beautiful mansion is, but it seems to be part of the huge medical complex at Concord. I made a mental note to go back and explore further.


A little further downstream Could be Breakfast Point where the gasworks used to be. Anyway part of Sydney's Greater McMansion Plan.


Looking back upriver.


Suddenly there's a view of the city.


Another look back towards the setting sun.


First view of the Harbour Bridge. Judging by the angle we must have just passed under the Gladesville bridge, so we're two thirds of the way from Parramatta.

This is around Silverwater.


Looking up the Duck River.


Nearing Homebush Bay (where the Olympics were in 2000)




I thought we were supposed to be in a recession.


I would guess that this is about a third of the way (i.e. about 10 km) from Parramatta to Sydney.

Because I listen to the BBC I know that Robert McNamara died. There was a big sensation about him a few years back when he published in his memoirs that the Vietnam War was a terrible blunder (or something similar). Nothing blunder about it in fact - unless you mean like the bull blundering about in the china shop. But in this case the bull's intentions were criminal to start with. Besides he never mentioned that his years at the World Bank were also a terrible blunder.

Anyway I happened to be in Vietnam when the memoirs came out, so I asked various Vietnamese friends what they thought of the "confession". Not one of them gave a fuck what McNamara thought about anything.

Now to the vastly more important death of Michael Jackson (no irony intended). I'm going to the gym every evening during the week and there isn't much to do while you're on the treadmill, except watch a variety of TV channels. I need to get an iPod or something, but in the meantime, I'm re-learning popular culture as I get a choice each evening of football (non-soccer), Discovery channel (docufictions), V-channel (non-stop pop) and 2 commercial free-to-air channels (9 and 7). Three of those 5 have covered pretty much Michael Jackson for the last 2 weeks. I've started timing my visits to the gym so I can watch Who Wants to be a Millionaire* instead of endless Michael Jackson.

Anyway, tonight both 7 and 9 devoted the first`15 minutes of their news programs to this memorial show or whatever you call it. I left after the first 15 minutes, so for all I know they didn't cover any other news at all. If you didn't get enough of it by then, 9 was going to rebroadcast the entire thing starting at 7 pm. The racial overtones of just everything surrounding Jackson are mind-blowing. On the pop channel, in between Jackson clips they've been running two series of top 25s of all time - the first is the top songs of all time (something by Jackson at #2 - so maybe not the Greatest of All Time or GOAT?**); the second is the sexiest males of all time in which MJ does not feature (though he was certainly scrawny enough) and, guess what, there weren't any men of colour in the list at all.

OK Jacko, the product, was a good singer-dancer but not sexy. Then we look at the thing in the stadium (or whatever it was) with the shiny coffin and thousands of people bawling their eyes out because some pop star they'd never met died. Then there's all these people of colour up on the stage (with a small sprinkling of white chilluns and Brooke Shields who, unlike all the others, had to have a label at the bottom of the screen saying she was a 'friend and confidante' - I suppose they did that in case anybody thought she'd done terrible nekkid things with a black man - oh! and the label also said "actress" in case you mistakenly thought the tears were real) and I know I'm going to get hate mail for this (if anybody reads it), but it just looked a whole lot like black people doing what black people have always done best which is entertaining white people. If I'd been Jackson, I'd have taken a whole load of drugs and died early too because I'd have worked out pretty early that all I was good for was being a black man who sang and danced and took drugs. And there's Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson and those basketballers and Don King and all the other entertainers celebrating or maybe mourning because American culture is stuck in a rut it has been in for centuries. I found the whole thing perfectly ghastly.

*(just to prove how 'big' soccer is in this country) a guy won $20,000 tonight for knowing that Chelsea won the FA Cup this year.
** actually Madonna is the GOAT.

Back in May, before I went to Adelaide, I went out to Harris Park for lunch and caught the river cat back to Sydney. An interesting footnote to that trip is the demonstrations that happened a few weeks later, right there in Wigram Road where we had lunch and outside the Lebanese cafe that we went to for coffee afterwards. An Indian student had been attacked late at night by what was claimed to be a Lebanese gang. This was one of a string of late night attacks on Indian students that had earlier led to demonstrations in Melbourne. The cops claim that there was nothing racial about the attacks, it's just that Indian students have a bit of a niche in the job market - working in 7 Elevens and other places that stay open very late - so they tend to be out and about on their own in the middle of the night. The Indian students, quite justifiably in my view, argued differently. Even if it's not racial, they still have a right to be better protected. Being out late at night is not asking to be attacked!

Anyway, I didn't get to post more photos of my trip down the river back to Sydney, so I'll do that bit by bit when I have time. Here's the first installment.

For a bit after leaving Parramatta the river is just lined with mangroves. In an area incongruously named Camellia, however, things start to get industrial. This place belongs to a company called Boral and the sign on the side said '...board' (I couldn't see all of it). Anyway they do construction materials, mostly from timber.


No idea what this is.


Nor do I know what is being carried over the river in this pipe. My map says 'footbridge'.

Yesterday I went for a long ramble.

High St, North Sydney is by no means a High Street in the usual sense of the word. Perhaps it was once intended to be, but it became residential. The oldest building seems to be Cliffbank, dated 1888 - note the lions at the top. Very grand!


Most of the street seems be residental blocks of flats dating from the 1930s and '40s. The brickwork is amazing. It was a difficult choice, but I thought this one took the prize - particularly for its contrast between the quite wonderful central section and its completely tasteless renovated window frames.


I wondered if the people at "Cliffbank" approve of having this parked in the street below.


From High St, I descended to Milson Park to check out the Community Garden that is, according to a thing that came around from the Council, supposed to be under construction. There was this, plus a notice announcing that planting is due to begin in late July! Contact the lady from Cliffbank!!!


Overlooking the park is another row of 1930s brick blocks of flats. Architecturally they are very similar (4 flats in each one), although the decoration of each one is different. I chose this one to photograph, mainly due to the balcony railing.


On the other side of the park there is a row of semi-detached houses. Somebody has added a dragon to their roof!


And, a couple of doors away, another one of the local dogs.


One of the things I love about walking in my neighbourhood is that I always find new things. I stood for ages staring at this place from across the road. It is a hotel. I don't think the shutters are original, but anyway seven shutters are missing from five windows and several others are hanging from one hinge. The curtains, most of which are drawn, are all different colours. There is washing hanging up in one window.


A little further, in Broughton St, the staff at Stir Crazy were having a meal before the rush. I like this place a lot (as do many other people - it is always packed). The people who work there are all Thai (even so, the food is not hot enough and they give you chopsticks!).

A band of rain that passed over the other day. There was a similar one, but with a much blacker cloud, tonight around sunset. I expected a big storm, but it didn't happen.


I walked up to the Woollies at Crows Nest and stopped at my local pizza joint to escape the rain on the way back. There was only one guy working there as it was early. He wasn't busy and we started talking. Turns out he isn't Italian, but Armenian - though he arrived in Australia in the '50s and has been working in Italian restaurants ever since. Specifically Italian restaurants in North Sydney! It was all two storey terraces back then. We talked about the genocide and whether the Turks will ever admit what happened (he claims that Erdogan has acknowledged it already). I was surprised by that turn in the conversation.

Yesterday, while I was walking across to the gym to do my steps, I passed a woman reading a noticed stuck on a door. At least I assume it was a woman - the apparition seemed to be the shape of a woman and it let out a little exasperated sound at what it was reading and it sounded like a human female voice. For the rest, I couldn't tell because it was covered from head to foot in a greenish coloured outfit - not a burka, but a full length dress and a scarf wound around the head in such a way that it could look out, but nobody else could look in.

I've heard that this kind of behaviour is becoming fashionable among some elements of the Islamic community in Melbourne. Now, I suppose the trend has reached Sydney.

My gut reaction was anger. I would've liked to be able to tear it off her, slap her in the face, etc. But that's not allowed. As a woman, I'm not permitted to feel offended by the "choice" of another woman to hide herself from normal social contact. If it suddenly became fashionable for men to go around wearing hoods with eyeholes cut in them, there'd be an outcry. It would be assumed that they were intending to rob or murder. Because after all, men are the ones who define the rules of social interaction. Social interaction means looking somebody in the face. If you cannot look a woman in the face you cannot have any social contact with her which is, of course, how the men who control her destiny would like it.

Person A: Did you hear that Michael Jackson died?
Person B: Woo Hoo!!!

From microbie
Reply to this meme by yelling "Words!" and I will give you five words that remind me of you. Then post them in your LJ and explain what they mean to you.

The five words she gave me are: independent, adventure, activist, politics, red wine. Strictly speaking, this is six words (I'm a pedant).

1) independent
I often feel that this word is a synonym for "eccentric".

2) adventure
What looks immensely challenging before you start often turns out to be amazingly simple. On the other hand, when things go wrong you may have an adventure. Also, you can have an adventure without knowing it (like when you discover you were in Khmer Rouge territory and you didn't know it and, moreover, you didn't know that they killed people a lot). This type of adventure is called an Ex Post Adventure.

3) activist
I'd rather stay in bed. I identify with too many causes and can't choose which to spend the meagre time available on. Consequently I lack focus and spend time ranting at the internets and hoping (without believing) that a donation to Oxfam or something will suffice. This word induces feelings of guilt!

4) politics
If you are human you engage in politics. It is better to be aware that your words and actions have political meaning than to be unaware. (I do realise that some people lack sufficient functioning brain cells and I excuse them.) There are many people who say things such as "I'm not interested in politics." This is Humbug. What they really mean is "I don't give a shit about anybody else."

5) red wine
Is highly addictive and fortunately also good for your health - unless you drink too much of it which, by my reckoning, is more than half a bottle at one sitting. Very often, therefore, I manage to damage my health. I am particularly fond of shiraz and cabernet sauvignon. Not so fond of pinot noir and merlot - at least not on their own as I find them a bit bland. I love rosé in summer (but it's dangerous). I rue the days when you could buy an international prize winning wine for $2.50 a bottle (there was no export market back then and no foreign wine on the local market). Nowadays there is a global market price for wine. On Tuesday I bought a very nice Montepulciano d'Abruzzo for the same price that I can get a McLaren Vale of similar quality.

... two unrelated topics!

The story of Silvio gets sadder and sadder. Apparently most Italians admire him (most Australians probably admire Rupert Murdoch - though the difference here is that there are probably only about 10 who would actually vote for him to run the country). Anyway, he made a shitload of money and, since they only watch TV, he basically controls what they know about him. Moreover, the Pope is upset with him which makes them like him even more.

The rest of us should be feeling sorry for him. In the latest hilarious development he has denied ever having paid for sex. Because, he said, he would miss the pleasure of "the conquest". I kid you not. This came up in the context of the story of the sex worker who was paid to attend one of his parties. She claims that she slept with him and has tapes to prove it (I sincerely hope that we never get to see/hear these!). What a brilliant conquest Silvio! What a Man you are!!!

In the other news, the Spanish Inquisition will be out hunting today. The USA (what??!) handed out the national team's first defeat since 2006. The reason, however, is fairly easy to see. The European season finished late last month and the US season is much shorter. The pre-season training starts next month. The guys should've been on vacation.

Philip Adams tonight dedicated his program to a tortoise called Harriet who was collected by Charles Darwin in 18-something and who just died in Queensland. At least I think that's what I heard.

This was one of an impressive series of 'Maori warriors' by the above-named artist.

Another one in the same series.

( cut for large and far more impressive version of the Dandy )

I walked over to the Art Gallery. It only rained on the way back (and has been ever since), so the weather wasn't too bad compared to most of this last week. I looked at the temporary exhibitions. The Yiribana gallery has an exhibition of 6 major artists - all stunning works ranging from desert dots to contemporary stuff designed to hang on walls. There were some photographs - including a nice series on the Murray River - and sculptural things, sometimes including paint. Had a fairly mediocre lunch at the cafe and walked back here. Today will be a PB because I'm already over 15k steps. I think my feet would like it better if I was about 10 kg lighter.

From tomorrow summer is coming! Each day will be a little bit longer.

atthesametime publishes 'jock updates'. He can probably claim to be a jock. I'm describing myself as a jockette strictly with tongue in cheek. I'm just trying to log 10,000 steps a day and I'm 60 years old!

Anyway, I joined the gym at work. I did this once before at the instigation of friend and I went there precisely once (which turned out to be one very expensive visit). However, in the last couple of weeks I've been there about ten times. Reason: I can do 5000+ steps on the treadmill in half an hour. This reduces by at least half an hour the time needed to clock up 10,000 steps in a day. Since the gym is about 1000 steps from my office, I can clock up basically three quarters of my daily target just by going there, which I generally do at about 5 pm. I keep forgetting to take my headphones so I can watch some of the crappy TV they provide.

I have a friend - quite a bit older than me - who goes to the gym every day and pedals one of the bicycles while reading a book. I might try that later.

This is the Niagara Cafe in Gundagai. It is quite famous, but I also remember having lunch here long ago, on a trip to Canberra with my mother and aunt in 1963, and being rather impressed. The first view aroused mixed feelings. The plastic table and chairs don't seem to fit, for example, but the waterfalls are wonderful.


The front door.


Inside the disappointment was huge. I do remember the table booths, but the walls have been covered with some kind of 1970s veneer and there's a false ceiling, presumably covering airconditioning ducts.


The beautiful steel-edged counter was crammed with every conceivable piece of plastic and chocolate wrapping.


There's a photo of how it looked in 1938 here. Judging by old descriptions, the menu hasn't changed much - probably the chicken nuggets are new, but steak and eggs and hamburgers are not. These old Greek cafes used to make great hamburgers, but after Burger King and then McDonalds arrived the standards dropped. So sad.

After a "double Niagara special sandwich" and coffee, I went for a walk around the town.


Incredibly, this century-old bridge across the Murrumbidgee flood plain was the main road to Gundagai until 1977.


There's also a railway bridge of equal age and length, but no train anymore.


I still had about 4 hours drive ahead of me (in fact it turned into 5 hours because I was just stuck in a traffic jam once I got within a 50 km radius of Sydney city centre). So this shot of some yellow flowers is the very last picture from the trip. No idea what they are, but I liked the deep colour.

This is number 9 in the Sjöwall and Wahlöö series. I've now read or re-read all of them in the last 6 months. As is very often the case in these books, you don't find out why they've chosen this title until well into the book. To begin with it's a story of a woman murdered and dumped in a bog. Later on, by a series of events, during which a cop gets killed by a wasp, the trail leads to the murderer. In the meantime we have visited once again the class divisions of Swedish society, the incompetence of the police (and bureaucracies generally), prejudice, misguided loyalties and people getting caught up in things over which they have no control. I was slightly disappointed that Beck's new relationship didn't develop at all, but S and W were never about personal relationships, only about observing social phenomena. Anyway, it's another good read.

I need to get back to some non-fiction!

While I was away taking photos and noticing the water disaster in the MDB, things were happening.

First the federal government purchased 240 GL of water entitlements from the Twynam Agricultural Group in NSW, which adds to their earlier purchase of about 60 GL from Toorale station. That doesn't necessarily mean they have added another 300 GL to the river because it isn't clear that these entitlements were being fully used before, but it's a start. In fact Gary Sauer-Thompson alleges that the real water used by Twynam was only 107 GL, so the feds have spent a lot of money buying nearly 130 GL of air. One of his commenters points out that more than half of this comes from the Lachlan and Gwydir rivers, both of which terminate in wetlands so that only in flood years does any water continue downstream. What this tells us is the extent to which the NSW government has massively over-allocated. And they've done nothing themselves to cancel the entitlements - so companies like Twynam can make a windfall profit on the basis of an emergency created by state policies.

The total amount of water taken out of the two river systems in a normal year is nearly 13,000 GL, with South Australia, on the lower reaches, taking 800, Victoria 4000 and NSW 8000 (no data for Queensland). Everyone agrees that to maintain a moderately healthy system, at least 1500 GL have to be put back in.

The latest purchase, from Twynam, prompted the NSW government to put a ban on further sales. The Victorian government has long had a 4% cap on sales of entitlements from any given irrigation area and a 10% cap on total sales from the state. The South Australian government has been in the process, recently, of taking them to the High Court over it. First the Victorian government dumped the 10% limit (provided the entitlements are not linked to land - so industry, but not farmers can sell!) and then, the other day, they dumped the 4% cap - at least phasing it out over 5 years. So the feds will be able to buy a further 300 GL over the next 5 years, plus another 160 GL "under the cap." (However, the Victorian government is also building a pipeline that will take a further 75 GL out of the river system for Melbourne.)

Given that a lot of this purchasing is of legal entitlements rather than real water, we should be, by 2014, not quite halfway to the minimum necessary! It could be too late for the lower lakes, but it's still something after nothing for many decades since the problem was first recognized back in the 1970s. The plan for Victoria apparently involves large federal subsidies to modernise irrigation systems in Victoria's most productive areas (which will itself involve using less water) and to phase out irrigation in the more marginal areas altogether.

Needless to say, the view from South Australia is not so positive. "We will continue with our court case because we believe there should be no caveats, no conditions, no deals and a borderless river," said the SA Minister for Water Security, Karlene Maywald.

Now NSW will presumably be the target of the next round of bargaining, so that sales can resume there too. Otherwise, I guess they'll be added to the SA government's High Court action.

Narrandera is about 800 km from Adelaide and 600 from Sydney. I got there around nightfall and walked up and down the main street looking for a place to eat. Passed a bunch of 10 year-olds in a circle of bicycles, arguing about which one of them knew Sydney better than the others! Finally decided on what turned out to be an excellent Chinese restaurant (although the wine list left a lot to be desired). Next morning I set out to walk down to the Murrumbidgee River. The town itself is rather pretty with many nice Victorian-era buildings (including half a dozen huge pubs) and tree-lined streets looking lovely in late autumn colours.


After meandering about the streets for a bit, I found a bridge across the irrigation canal. This canal diverts water from a tributary stream of the Murrumbidgee to the Riverina agricultural areas where they grow fruit, wine grapes and rice using open channel irrigation in an area where the evaporation rate is well above the rainfall. From the bridge, this photo looks upstream to the dam at the start of the canal. (The Murrumbidgee itself is a tributary of the Murray - hence this irrigation scheme contributes to the general problems of the Murray-Darling Basin).


Here's a view of the original creek bed.


Two sheep keeping a careful eye on me as I walked past.


A bit further down the road crosses the old creek bed and on the downstream side of the road the river has backed up to form a little swamp.


Here, upstream of all the irrigation, the Murrumbidgee looks healthy. In this post from 2007 is a picture of the same river full of blue-green algae, about 300 km downstream at Balranald, on the other edge of the irrigation area.


Unlike at Wilcannia, the remains of the old wharf still have their feet in the water.


Remains of a brewery which presumably once used river water to supply all those town pubs with beer.


Looking upstream.


On the way back to town - another view of the swamp.


By the time I'd finished wandering about it was nearly 11 and I figured I could make it to Gundagai for lunch at the famous Niagara Cafe.

The stupidest sign I saw in 3,600 km was somewhere in the middle regions of NSW. It said



I guess if there are lines marked on the road then it's OK to overtake when it's not safe!