Vagabond

Newtown Music

2006-10-21T09:46:00.000+10:00

My poor neglected blog, how my friends and family miss you. My time in Australia is wrapping up, believe it or not, and I’m already thinking a lot about what I am going to be doing next semester and even beyond that. Enough thinking.

I have made some fun friends here, it will be sad to leave them behind. Recently my friend Chris and I have taken up busking in his home suburb of Newtown. For those of you who are not as familiar with Aussie slang and geography as I have so recently become, ‘busking’ means street performing for money. And Newtown is an eclectic collection of shops, apartments and people occupying some great real-estate just southwest of downtown Sydney. Last Friday Chris, armed with his drum, and I with my flute found a spot on the main drag and proceed to entertain passers by. We were mostly well received by the hippies and other alternative people meandering the streets. And some were of the opinion that we sounded good enough to convince them to be parted of some of their pocket change. It’s not a hugely lucrative business, but it’s fun.

Another great thing about Newtown is it’s mission church, were I attend on Sunday and volunteer during the week. The services are held in a stately old sanctuary with a huge ornate organ that probably hasn’t played a note in decades. There is a huge focus on community and fellowship, not having a fancy slick program. As a result Sunday morning is random, but real. On Tuesdays I help make lunch for the soup kitchen and that’s been one of the highlights of my time here. There are few poor people in Australia because of the advanced social welfare system. So the people that come suffer more from poverty of the spirit, loneliness and addictions than lack of finances. I have made good friends with some of the regulars as I sit, eat and share with them. Christ calls us to meet people were they are. Openness and solidarity breaks down supposed walls of perfection so common around the benefactor. When really the only things that separate me from the benefactee are by the grace of God.

The Land

2006-09-05T00:28:00.001+10:00

Australia is a vast continent with a large and unsettled heart. Dead to those who came from Europe they have been unable to conquer it and remain mostly clustered in a handful of cities around the edge on the coast. Most farming efforts these days are thwarted and largely unprofitable. The weather obeys no rules and is almost impossible to predict from day to day, much less from year to year. It constantly thwarts my efforts to dress appropriately for any given day.

But before the white man came there were people here, on every part of the giant island they thrived not by conquering the land but by living lightly upon it. Some estimates suggest that more than 60.000 years ago the first Aborigines came over from Asia by boat and have been living here ever since. The arrival of white man has been a mere blip on the timeline of antipodean history, but the most devastating one. Australia was Terra Nullius, land belonging to no one and Aborigines were seen as little more than pests to be removed or exploited. 200 years of oppression followed and its effects are ever present today. Only now is Australia in a time were this clash of cultures can be looked at objectively and reconciliation can be made.
I have often wondered where they are, the original owners of the land. I can count on one hand the number of “blackfellas” I have seen in six weeks. Though Aborigines make up one in every hundred Australians something has kept them from appearing offices, banks, stores and neighborhoods. I have noticed a similar trend concerning the Native Americans in my own country.

Though the land is harsh it is tantalizing. The little I have seen reminds me very much of the Southern Africa that was my childhood home. Familiar tress and flowers spring up unexpectedly and their accompanying fragrances unlock deep memories of years past. The sky is blue and the sun bright and white hot like it should be. Wildlife encroaches on civilization in the form of flamboyant and noisy cockatoos as if to remind us that were now stand skyscrapers, once was wilderness. The words of Australian peot, Dorothea MacKellar, say it all.

“I love a sunburned country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of rugged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel sea,
Her beauty and her terror,
The sunburned land for me”

The People

2006-09-04T23:41:00.000+10:00

Australia, so I’ve been here a while now about time for some reflection. I like the big city of Sydney, people are much more friendly than I would have expected in such a large metropolis. There is a prevailing attitude of “mateship”, everyone starts off on equal footing for no other reason than they are “bloke”, a man, a human. No special merit is given to rank, class or accomplishment, in fact quite the opposite. Australians seem almost to strive for mediocrity, to be one of the crowd. All in all a very unassuming congenial group of people, they even raise the tone of their voice at the end of each sentence as if perpetually asking the question “Do you approve?” Far different from the average American taught to strive ahead, be the best and stick out of the crowd. In fact for all their politeness most Australians can’t help but turn their highly developed wit towards attacking such people to help them back down to where they belong.

Irreverence in speech reigns free, these antipodean people are men of action not of words. It is not in what is said, but what is done that true intentions ascertained and value assigned. There is no special regard (often complete disregard) for those in positions of political authority, the prime minister often walks the streets, un-entouraged and un-molested like any Joe Lunchbox. But when it comes down to it people are very obedient to the slick, impersonal and bureaucratic government that turns mechanically like thousands of invisible cogs.

These attitudes seem to come somewhat from the countries penal colony convict past, were law was final and civil disobedience swiftly put down. Also from a desire, it seems to me anyway, to prove to others, but mostly to themselves that in spite of their forefathers past they can be productive and law abiding citizens. So here I am among a charming people, a guest, an observer.

Cricket

2006-08-17T22:11:00.000+10:00

I found this American journalist’s comments on the sport of cricket and I almost fell out of my chair because I was laughing so hard. For those of you who are familiar with the game, enjoy.

Imagine a form of baseball in which the pitcher, after each delivery, collects the ball from the catcher and walks slowly with it out to center field; and that there, after a minute’s pause to collect himself, he turns and runs full tilt toward the pitcher’s mound before hurling the ball at the ankles of a man who stands before him wearing a riding hat, heavy gloves of the sort used to handle radioactive isotopes, and a mattress strapped to each leg. Imagine moreover that if this batsman fails to hit the ball in a way that heartens him sufficiently to try to waddle forty feet with mattresses strapped to his legs, he is under no formal compunction to run; he may stand there all day, and, as a rule, does. If by some miracle he is coaxed into making a misstroke that leads to his being put out, all the fielders throw up their arms in triumph and have a hug. Then tea is called and everyone retires happily to a distant pavilion to fortify for the next siege. Now imagine all this going on for so long that by the time the match concludes autumn has crept in and all you library books are overdue. There you have cricket.

-Bill Bryson, “In a Sunburned Country”

Aloha!

2006-07-21T18:07:00.000+10:00

Where to start? So much to cram into one post, sometimes I wish I could write the stories of yesterday today with yesterday’s date. But I think I like this better, it keeps me honest.
I was blessed enough to be able to spend the past week in Hawaii. It would be untrue to say that every moment was filled with excitement, but fortunately that is not the sole criteria for enjoyment. After a rocky start to the trip (inching along in line as the five people in front of me took more than an hour to check in caused me to miss my scheduled flight) I made it to the warm shores of Kona. Literally. The runway seemed to rise from the ocean just in the nick of time and rescue the plane from a landing in the sea.
My hosts were quite gracious; college friends, Jonathan and John along with their significant others, Sarah and Marie showed me all the beautiful sights of ‘The Big Island’. Beaches surprisingly few and far between as most of the coast consists of chunky, porous volcanic rock once spewed in molten blobs from one of the four volcanoes that formed the island. Most of the white sand must be formed laboriously by parrotfish as they munch on corral and then squirt it out their rear ends.
I tried my hand at body surfing some pounding waves and snorkeling in a pristine reef. It was like flying over a strange and wonderful alien landscape with occasional schools of fish changing course as one to avoid the strange intruders. The dolphins were more winsome as they enticed us out into deeper waters with their siren calls. The pod swam under and around us occasionally breaking the surface to perform aerial acrobatics as if for no other reason than the pure joy of it.
I went deeper than I’ve ever been in a tin can lined with portholes that must look to the ocean life like a giant sea creature with two rows of glowing eyes. Not 20,000 leagues but 100 feet was enough to sea fish aplenty and the remains of two shipwrecks. That afternoon I found my self more than four kilometers above the surface of the sea on the top of the tallest mountain in the world as measured from base to summit. Mauna Kea rises well above the clouds and might be quite a challenge for intrepid mountaineers if it were not for the fact that the volcanic slope permits a sturdy vehicle to drive almost to the peak. The mountain is crowned by some of the finest observatories in the world and after a blazing sunset some armature telescopes were available to gaze at one of the most dazzling skies I have ever seen.
My down time was spent at the YWAM base reading and meeting people from all parts of the world. It was good for my soul to be in a challenging and spiritually nourishing environment again. Even the base was not without its excitement, centipedes crawling and fire dancers performing reminded me that I had indeed left the Midwest behind.
The time came soon to bid the islands farewell too, and so I did, with expectation of new adventures ahead.

Beginnings

2006-07-18T07:59:00.000+10:00

Welcome myself to the world of blogs, online publication where everyone is an author and all the readers are willing volunteers. Willing because of friendship with the blogger or perhaps strangers drawn by the skill of the blogger’s craft. Whether they seek entertainment or information, hopefully they receive a little of both. So friends and future friends welcome to my little piece of the World Wide Web. Here you will find records of my travels and my thoughts thereof, whether they are of great profundity or not I will leave for you to decide. Bring only an open mind and leave only your inspired comments for the rest of the world to see.