Imagine (Canberra)

And the weather bureau got it right. It was zero when I checked the temperature this morning before 7am. I parted the curtains to reveal a pristine, cloud free, beautiful blue sky. Despite the temperature, it didn't feel that cold. We had well and truly warmed up by the time we had walked to Old Parliament House, a brisk 40 minute walk, excluding the 10 minutes I spent trapped on the median strip. Let me explain. I crossed to the western side of the road to take photos of the National Museum. Do not attempt to take on the Capital Hill traffic, dear reader. Much like London, Canberra is populated by passive aggressive people. They smile as they run you down. I'm uncertain whether the similarities are due to the cold climate or the population of bureaucrats or a population of cold bureaucrats. Regardless, they drive fast and are unsympathetic to pedestrians. In Redfern, as in New York, the pedestrian rules. Canberra was a culture shock. At home you can tell an out-of-towner by the fact that they disregard pedestrians.

Arriving safely, we were removing layers to enjoy our breakfast at the Terrace Café in the sunshine. We found ourselves in the company of a group of walkers. Loud walkers who were discussing one walker's daughter's impending wedding, as well as some function that someone was required to attend even though the notice was intolerably short and required some diary reorganisation for a suitable representation to be made. First world problems. Imagine if they had to work for a living as well? Goodness. How would one cope? I frequently had to lean across the table to hear what Jayne was saying. Clearly this was another 'destination' café', although I rated the one at the Museum much more highly. When my coffee arrives and my first words are "Oh dear..." it does not bode well. The food was acceptable. The service was entertaining - every time the young girl came out to deliver food and beverage to the walkers' table, the tray was precariously positioned over Jayne's shoulder. We were only ever one misstep from catastrophe.

The Museum of Australian Democracy or Old Parliament House

Like the museum, we had booked a tour. This is not the first time we have visited Old Parliament House (OPH), now renamed the Museum of Australian Democracy or MoAD. I find the whole concept of a museum about democracy in Australia somewhat laughable. And not just because the democratic part is only 120 years old. There is also the fawning, sycophantic behaviour toward the English Monarchy, but more on that later. And then there is the Aboriginal Tent Embassy across the road. The fact that it is still there and still needed, after almost 50 years, is an indictment on every government that has held power. I know, dear reader, you don't expect me to make political statements. You expect that I will be impartial, as always, and a model of decorum. That is especially the case, if you follow me on Twitter.

The foreground is what is important

My mind has wandered again. Where was I? Ah, yes, the tour. We last visited OPH when the National Portrait Gallery was still housed there. On that occasion we had a tour of the chambers and the PM's office and a few other areas. This time the tour focussed on the building itself, although we visited the chambers and post-tour, we wandered the former corridors of power. Actually, we were here to see the 2020 political cartoons display. Well worth a visit, and it was a delight to be there to listen to people, including us, chuckling their way up and down the corridors. The stand out? Well, Cathy Wilcox is an absolute favourite and had her own corner of the exhibition, as well as being sprinkled liberally (see what I did there?) throughout. Jayne's favourite? The first dog on the moon. See below. I even enlarged it to make it easier to read.

from The Guardian

Anyway. The tour commenced in the King's Hall. You'll never guess what is there, dear reader? Oh, of course. A statue of King George V. Apparently he was the king of some dreary little country across the sea and got to be boss of Australia at the time, despite self-government. And here comes the fawning and knee-bending. So. A country that has been permitted self-government decides, well, the men in power decide (how different it would have been if women had a voice. sigh), that the main hall to their new parliament house - the hall that joins both chambers, should not have a map of Australia depicted on the floor, nor the coat of arms of Australia on the wall. Just to reiterate, the parliament for Australia can not have a map of the country it represents. Cool and normal. Why? I thought you'd never ask, my curious reader -  because it is the King's Hall. No coat of arms higher than the king's head and "the old country" (be careful how you spell that) sent a statue of dear George. Nice mustache, cool knickerbockers and check out the roses on those shoes! I can imagine the discussion with his wife, before posing for the statue. "Do you think the roses are too much Mary?" I'm sure they would have been perfectly suited to the dusty dry plains of the bush capital. A place he never visited.  Couldn't even be bothered to turn up to open the building that houses his statue. Such a country.

Quite the dandy. (Enlarged to see his shoes)

So, we have the 'new' country (please take it as read that this land was inhabited by the first nations' people for at least 60,000 years before the European invasion. Respect.) and the architect of the new parliamentary building, a Scotsman, is being dictated to by the politicians. It was ever thus. Like, they know shit. No really. Do some research. They knew better than Walter Burley Griffin and Marion Mahony Griffin and their design for Canberra. Oh yes, we hide behind the money problems, but really ... or better than Jørn Utzon and the construction of the Sydney Opera House. Or Scott Morrison and leadership and responsibility. Oops, sorry, he is a politician and knows nothing of either of those concepts. At least, he has yet to able to demonstrate them. The list go on and on.  For both examples.

As an aside, let's look at why Canberra was chosen as the capital. Put aside the Sydney-Melbourne rivalry. It's just an older sibling arguing with a younger one. Any elder sibling can describe the difficulties faced that are not shared by the younger, so Melbourne, shut up. Anyway, the main reason Canberra was chosen was climate. Cold climate. It seems the early fathers believed a cold climate stimulated thinking and mental aptitude. A damn pity they never visited Canberra in summer. It's fucking, unrelentingly hot. Perhaps that explains the Morrison government and their series of unmitigated balls ups they have presided over this summer. Except the bushfires. Morrison was holidaying in Hawaii then and we all know what happened to Morrison's hero and the electorate named after him when he visited Hawaii. Oh. Too obscure? Morrison is the member for Cook, as in Lieutenant Cook, when he invaded this country. Not Captain, that happened later. But Hawaii was his undoing. Well. Spears. Spears were his undoing.

In case the new political set, inhabiting their parliament, were getting a bit uppity, the designer has the Union Jack as a motif emblazoned anywhere and everywhere. It was in windows, on wall cabinets, in floors. As very unsubtle reminder that England was still number 1. And herein lies the problem. Our politicians were too focused on being English that they forgot they were in Australia and governing for the people living here. To be fair, we weren't recognised as Australian citizens until 1949 and were still considered as British subjects until 1984. Pathetic really. As a result, down through the years we have had governments ruling for Britain, not for the Australian people.

The British coat of arms atop Australia's (old) Parliament House

Xavier Herbert in his landmark novel, Poor Fellow My Country, captured this sentiment beautifully. To simplify the 1700+ page tome: Australia was populated by people from overseas who left their home countries because they didn't like them and then replicated what they had left; further entrenching their unhappiness and causing them  not to accept and love their new country, because it wasn't the old country. Of course, beyond this, we had the lie that Australia was uninhabited to begin with. Any country that can't face it's past will always struggle to reconcile the present. As for the future? How can there be a sound future if you don't understand and acknowledge the past. Can you ever know where you're going if you don't know where you've been?

To further illustrate this point I tender the photo below. It was a part of an exhibition honouring the 1954 visit to Australia by Queen Elizabeth II.

FFS

We made our way back to the hotel to enjoy the beautiful afternoon sun on our balcony - and a nice bottle of Gruner Veltliner picked up on route. For our last night we decided to eat at the hotel restaurant, if for no other reason than I get a discount. I understand they need to advertise themselves as something other than the restaurant in the hotel, but you know, that is what they are and that is the standard of the food. The other issue was staffing. They were seriously understaffed and people left before all meals had arrived because they were tired of waiting. Given the number of food options close bye this is very dangerous.

The title? Ah yes, my dear reader, I was lacking inspiration to an extent and then thought of John Lennon's classic Imagine. And I guess that is where I am with Australia, imagine what could be ... because we're not there yet.

And on that note my dear reader it is time for me to pack away my keyboard until our next trip. All that focus on the 'old country' is hurting my brain. Australia is a wonderful country but we need to come to terms with our past before we can move forward as a united people.

The Captain Cook Memorial Jet (says it all really)

ps One song that didn't make a post title is Go Back to Canberra by The Kids. Google it, angry punk stuff channelling '70s punk.