The Boy in the Bubble (Canberra)

And back to civilization dear reader. Braving the duelling GPS systems, we made it down country roads, through Taralga, into Goulburn and on to the nation's capital, Canberra. And a beautiful day it was for a drive. No stopping today, the need for a shower was far too great. Although, to be fair, it bothered Jayne more than me. As a bushwalker I've gone for days without a shower. However, it is one of the world's greatest feelings, showering after an inability to do so. I'd rate it with clean sheets.

Random flower to offset the lack of shower

Car parked, bags unpacked, it was time to go shopping. One side effect of Covid, my patient reader, has been my inability to travel anywhere without forgetting to pack something important. For someone who often travelled overseas for work, this is disconcerting. This time? My dress shirts are still on my bed at home, waiting to be folded and packed. It has been suggested that I do this in order to expand my wardrobe. I am horrified by the thought. Although my new shirt is gorgeous.

Leaving DJs, it was time to find a decent bottle shop and purchase that necessity of life, champagne. Much like our attempt to leave Oberon, the different GPS apps we were using, were dragging us in different directions. After walking in circles for a while, I scrubbed the address and put it into Google maps without direction. Despite what we were being told, we had been walking in the wrong direction.

Problem solved, we arrived at the Canberra Wine + Spirit Merchants, just in time for an ad hoc wine tasting of Enotria Wines. Very nice. Purchased a couple and a bottle of bubbles. Our hotel room has a small west-facing balcony and is quite the place for an afternoon aperitif. While we were chatting to our host at the bottle shop, we asked for recommendations for pizza and received two.

Amici's Wine Bar and Deli is less than 5 minutes walk from the hotel and was open on the way so we booked for dinner. It is an interesting place. Some would say pretentious. Others would say the staff were indifferent. I would say both. It was certainly buzzing at 6pm when we returned and neither of these factors were immediately evident. But it didn't take long. We were nodded in the direction of our table and there we sat for a while, until someone noticed we had neither menu nor drink. Menu discussed, we ordered: olives and sourdough and two pizzas. I requested the wine list: "Sorry we don't have one, our turn over is too great. We go through the stock every two weeks," I was informed. Seriously? If your wine stock doesn't last a fortnight, you have issues with whoever is ordering the wine. "Just go inside and choose a bottle from the wall" he says. Really? It was not easy to make out the labels because the wine wall was backlit. But I made a selection. A cheeky little number from Burgundy and not at all bad.

Then the food arrived. OMG! It was a plate of olives masquerading as dinner. It was massive. And quite tasty as was the olive oil and balsamic. The oil was so sweet. But just too big as a starter. We tried to eat all the olives, unsuccessfully, and had them boxed to go home. The pizzas arrived before the starter debris had been cleared and the waiter had to call another of the staff over to remove the used plates. The pizzas were a good size for one person or to share if you'd started without the olives and sourdough. If only the staff had been interested enough to tell us. Anyway. We soldiered on. The pizza was good, but I've had better and we decided it best to have the leftovers boxed for home. The waiter grunted, disappeared, and returned with a box that he almost frisbeed into Jayne's lap. Such style, such service, such a dick.

Thankfully it was a short walk to the hotel because I felt like Mr Creosote (Google it kids). I could explode at any minute. Safely home, we fell into bed to dream of tomorrow's adventure: The National Museum.

Muttaburrasaurus hangs out in the atrium

Still feeling the after effects of dinner we decided to walk to the  Museum and have a light breakfast there before our 10am tour. It is an interesting place and one designed to be noticed. If you've been to Canberra and driven across Lake Burley Griffin, you will have no doubt noticed the structure growing out from a weird building on the Western side of the lake (heading north). It looks like an unfinished roller coaster you'd see in Japan (nightmares stay away). It's all bright and twisty. It screams, look at me, look at me! Which is how we discovered the museum existed. Driving across the bridge I looked out and said, "What the hell is that?" Dr Google answered and it was placed on our (long) list of things to do one day. Like when you can't travel overseas. So, here we are.

The museum café is a destination in itself. Enjoying the best coffee I've had since I left home, we watched dog-walkers, joggers, cyclists, museum patrons, friends catching up and the dragon boat team arrive for coffee, breakfast and cake. The staff were lovely and the food was great. It is a great place to kick back and enjoy the view across the lake.

Our tour commenced with Sarah at 10am and we were the only people on it. Happy days. It focussed on the building itself which proved to be far more interesting than I thought. I'll try not to nerd up with too much information.

We commenced outside in an area that has been recently designed as a welcome to country.

A local totem

This was followed by a quick review of how Canberra came to be the national capital as well as the design of the city by Marion Mahoney and Walter Burley Griffin. Who? you say. Burley Griffin and his wife were both instrumental in the design of the capital. They were both accomplished architects who had worked for Frank Lloyd Wright in the United States. Marion gets very little recognition for her contribution, presumably because she was female. Not much has changed in Canberra in the last decade, has it?

The Burley Griffins won the design contest and then, much like Jørn Utzon of Sydney Opera House fame, they had their design altered by the government of the day, because the politicians and bureaucrats were so much better at architecture and design than the professionals to whom they had awarded the projects.  The Burley Griffins copped a lot of undeserved flack and eventually, in disgust, they decamped to Sydney where they focussed on designing the suburb they had decided to live in - Castle Crag. The fundamental premise of their focus was to work with nature and the environment rather than trying to flatten it to build houses. The design genius and innovation of Marion Mahoney has been the subject of a recent exhibition at the Sydney Museum which we had visited earlier this year.

Anyway, back to the National Museum ... the architects, whoever, wanted the building to be noticed. Ticked that box. They were also known for 'appropriating' other concepts to incorporate in their work. To that end, there is a nod to the Sydney Opera House, to the MCG (whatever - I think the Greeks had cornered the arena market well before the MCG) and famous artworks: Blue Poles and works by Tom Roberts and Streeton. They were even sued unsuccessfully by a Jewish architect who believed they had stolen a design he had created for a Holocaust Memorial in Europe. 

Australia though John Howard's eyes.

My favourite aspect? I thought you'd never ask, my impatient reader; the outside of the building is covered in rectangles that change colour with the surrounding light. The best aspect though? On each rectangle is braille and they were actually made to be read together. So, if you pop down to the museum, you'll see some of the tiles have bright shiny buttons destroying the braille statements. Sort of like a petulant child scribbling over something he/she didn't like. And that is exactly what happened here. The mundane "She'll be right, mate" was given the tick of approval, but comments about "sorry" and "genocide" were not approved and were subsequently covered over with these discs by the government of the day. Oh, seriously my forgetful reader you need to be told which government? Ok, then, the one that can be held responsible for some of the least pleasant aspects of Australian society today. The Howard government. The one that gave you "I deserve" and "I'm entitled" and demonised refugees and asylum seekers (you don't agree? couldn't care less, this is my blog not yours).

Can you read that? Not anymore. Thanks Johnny.

Despite it's relatively new status, the museum is being renovated which meant some areas were closed, making navigation a challenge. The basic displays at the moment feature early Australia, post 1788, a first nations' display and the current drawcard: Cook and the Endeavour, which juxtaposes the white European perspective of settlement (Cook fired first, that's invasion) with the indigenous perspective. It was interesting to see the original inhabitants finally acknowledged properly.

Sometimes the past is still too close.

I know I said I wouldn't nerd up, but seriously, this place is fascinating, but you must do the tour that covers the building itself. There is so much more, like it being aligned with Uluru. OK, OK, I'll stop.

Dinner that night was at SoLita, the other Italian restaurant recommended to us. I'll cut to the chase. Superb. Packed and busy, glad we booked, it was too cold to eat outside. Interesting wine list and a varied menu. Despite the crowd, the staff were delightful and the food was excellent. It was the best pizza I've had for a long time.

And thank you dear reader for staying with me. The driving has meant blurring the edges around the posts, but I'm sure you've coped. I think I'm back on schedule, although a day in front of you, or maybe two.

Today's title? Ah, yes. A tad depressing is Paul Simon's 2011 The Boy in the Bubble. Maybe you should give it a listen again, it's hyperlinked to youtube. I chose the title for the Canberra bubble, frequently referred to by our temporary PM. And the sometimes depressing nature of society as a result of the population voting for themselves and not for the greater good.

Anyway, sweet dreams.