The vines of Victorian victory

9th September 2006, Day 172

Victoria, Oz.

I've seen a bit of sport now, the two footballs anyway. One round and the other slightly misshapen in my opinion. Misshapen, but not egg-shaped; Soccer vs Australian rules Football.

Victoria and Victorians, according to all the travel guides, live and breath sport. I wasn't about to miss taking a gulp myself before departing for playing fields new.

I went to see Melbourne Victory play Sydney FC last Saturday as I mentioned in my last blog entry. It was good fun, not least because Melbourne beat Sydney 3-2, but it was also a nervy affair because of the hype around the event. After the successful world cup, Australian attention on soccer had this domestic fixture red-ringed as the litmus test of whether the A-league was really turning a corner in popularity. The game was switched from the smaller Olympic Park - where Victory normally play - to the Telstra Dome to accommodate the 40,000 crowd which eventually saw the game. This broke the attendance record of a league match by some margin. Melbourne's new Brazilian signings Allesandro, Claudinho, Vargas and Fred were all on display as well as Grant Brebner, a close season signing from Dundee United. Also in the Melbourne side were World Cup heroes Kevin Muscatt and Archie Thompson.

I arrived early and was impressed by the easy access to the stadium, tiny queues for food and beer (which you can take to your seat), the foot room whilst in your seat and the sight lines. On the downside, there wasn't exactly a pressure cooker atmosphere despite the large crowd and closed roof.I was sat next to some first timers, who were just getting to grips with the game, helping each other out with some of the finer points of the rules. It was great to see that soccer's popularity is growing and to be part of that. There were plenty of families around me; no discernable intimidating atmosphere. I looked for the vocal elements of the Victory fans and the visiting Sydney-siders. They were present, but swallowed up inside the 60,000 capacity venue which muted them to some extent. Frankly it was all a bit synthetic and unreal. I was a too far from the pitch for my liking, but keen for the game to get underway.

The game tore into life and to start with it looked as though it would be a night to remember. 3 goals and a sending off within the first 18 minutes ('who said this game wasn't exciting?' was the remark from my right). A goal for Danny Allsopp, followed by winger Alessandro being hauled down in the area after a good run, which lead to captain Muscatt's second succesful penalty in as many games. Shortly after that, two successive fouls by Mark Rudan - Sydney's skipper - meant that he got his marching orders. This was down to a fair bit of play acting by Alessandro which was disappointing, especially when there are myths to explode about Brazillian football. Melbourne got their just desserts immediately when Sydney pulled a goal back through Fyfe. Phew!! Only 18 minutes on the clock!... then everything died off a bit. The players remembered how many were watching and started to get a bit to self-conscious. The game started petering out approaching half time. The second half started with another goal for Victory but this in turn gave way to another down beat thirty minutes of scared midfield ball hogging. The half was sandwiched with an own-goal by Vargas to put the score back to 3-2 in the last ten minutes. That's the way it ended, a bit of an anti-climax, but not a bad game. It all felt like a showcase match rather than the cut and thrust of two bitter rivals. I enjoyed it, but it just ain't Torquay United.

* * *

This Friday I went to check out the 'real football' as Victorians no doubt refer to it - Aussie Rules or AFL as it is commonly known. This was at the recently re-built MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground) , to watch the first round of the 'finals', watching my local club St. Kilda Saints take on Melbourne Demons. I say local club, they haven't played in St. Kilda for years; the Saints play their home games at the Telstra Dome now. This evening didn't go quite so swimmingly as the previous Saturday, as St. Kilda let a wide advantage be narrowed twice to eventually lose 72-90.

I should explain a little about Australian rules Football. Scoring works by getting the ball between the two main posts (a goal - 6 points) or getting it between one goal post and a smaller side post (a behind - 1 point). It flows fantastically, is very physical and entertaining. It's much swifter the Rugby (Union or League) and when the game starts or the ball goes out of play (if unintentional) the Umpire whizz the ball up in the air, bringing the ball up from between their legs and tossing it behind them. It's ace. Perhaps my favourite thing are all the little spats between the players which happen all over the huge oval pitch (there 18 players on each side) to the seemingly oblivious 5 man umpire team. They just let them get on with it!! Also, no off-side rule.

AFL has a rich and long tradition which I know very little about. One thing I do know is that Aussie rules originated in Victoria and the Australian Football League was once the Victorian Football League. The nationalisation came as late as 1990 and previously there were no teams in NSW, Queensland or WA. Orginally all the teams were localised drawing their support base from that area like most sport. This has now changed with teams like Essendon, Collingwood, Melbourne Demons, St. Kilda, Richmond and Carlton (all Melbourne teams) all playing in either the MCG or the Telstra Dome. That really doesn't appeal to me. If a team loses their home ground, what are the criteria for supporting a team? Hereditary links? Success? It all sounds fishy to me. Anyway, I don't follow the history so here's the match.

This is Flinders Street station on match night. Match night was too damn cold but I'd at least eaten at my local veggie Krishna restaurant, Gopals, beforehand. I rushed across Federation Square to make my way through Birrarung Marr to the MCG.











Here's the MCG from the walk way. It's the jewel in the crown of the stadiums they built/re-built for the Commonwelth Games. Right next to the MCG are the Rod Laver arena and Olympic Park, where many other Victorian sporting activities take place. The MCG is no small venue with a capacity of 100,000 - that's 10,000 more than the new Wembley will hold when it finally opens. It had a few nice foibles - the walkway to the stadium pumps out Aboriginal music walk, which had a calming effect on me despite being late. I suppose this must be intentional. The AFL season's structure is a little complicated so I'll let Wikipedia explain on my behalf:

"The AFL Premiership Season, contested between the 16 teams from around Australia, lasts for 22 rounds and begins in late March.

At the end of the 22 rounds, the top eight teams compete in the four-week AFL Finals Series. In the first week, depending on the their ladder position, teams play in two Qualifying Finals and two Elimination Finals. The two lowest placed losing teams are eliminated, the two highest placed winning teams progress into a Preliminary Final (in the third week), and the other four teams play in two Semi Finals (in the second week). The losers of the Semi Finals are eliminated and the remaining four teams play in two Preliminary Finals, with the winning teams play in the Grand Final."

Confusing, huh? I'd give more kudos to the team who wins the league after 22 rounds (the minor premiership), but then what does an ignorant pom's opinion matter?

Inside the MCG: St. Kilda have just scored a goal here, hence the red, white and black pom poms shaking behind the goal. I had met up with my flatmates Richie, Leanne and Graydon (James was there too) outside and we got in a bit late. After being flabbergasted at the size of the stadium, we grabbed some beer and sat down to soak things up.

The game was played at frightening pace with St.Kilda taking a strong early initiative in the first quarter producing a lead of about 10 points which they held onto until the beginning of the forth and last quarter. I was pretty entertained although it was really cold and I had to endure Graydon making a home video of the match (with ill-informed Asker commentary) to send back to his pals in Calgary, Canadia.

Here's how the game went in a little more detail. St. Kilda bossed the first two quarters, and although it was all end to end, their conversion rate of chances was miles better than Melbourne. For people who whinge about the length of soccer matches - these matches really do go on for ages. Although each quarter is supposed to be 20 mins, but the clock is stopped every time the ball goes out of play so the four quarters last for 30 minutes each. This duration is added to by two 5 minute intervals and one 15 minute intervals. You get your money's worth.

As the match went on, we wondered who (in addition to the 5 umpires) the funny men in luminous tracksuits were invading the pitch. It turns out they are the coach's runners, delivering information directly to the players. It didn't seem to interfere with play, but I haven't seen enough AFL to say for definite. The 18 players can swap with 4 subs as many times as they wish, so it's a bit difficult for a first timer to keep abreast of who is on and who is off the pitch. It's all very permissive compared to the football I know.

Anyway, after plenty of humourous scraps, forced goals and scraped behinds, Melbourne's tenacity told in the last two quarters and St. Kilda tired. The demons came biting back to finish with the score line which is written this way:

St Kilda 10. 12. (72) def. by Melbourne 13. 12. (90).

The scores in brackets are the ones to worry about; the overall total. The first number is the number of goals scored. The second number after the dot is the number of behinds. They like their statistics in this game.

Blown it! Actually this was the beginning of the match but it looks as though it could be the Saints about to troop off disconsolately. It was a bit of a sad way to end my first match, but the Demons deserved the win from what I could see.

Melbourne will continue in the final series, but the season is over for St. Kilda. Things start afresh in March.

I did like the game a great deal more than rugby. I don't think I'd ever like it as much as soccer, but who knows? I hope to catch some more on the television when I finish work in three weeks and take up a life leisure once more. Hooray!

A Wandering Minstrel

Congratulations to my sister Shan and her fiancee Mark on setting a date for their wedding.

On the 4th August 2007 (although I know these dates sometimes change nearer the time) she should be wandering through the makeshift mud ailse into a barn in south Kent to marry her beloved, in a manner beffiting two veterinarians.

I am flattered to have been asked to play guitar as Shan stomps down what I imagine to be a dirt track. This is going to be a proper hill-billy wedding!! Anyone who knows me will know that despite having been in possession of guitars for the best part of my life, guitar is not my strongest instrument. I better get practising, that or buy a lumberjack shirt and learn the banjo.

Shan's given me some leeway to think of something fitting myself. I will have to play my cards carefully here or risk creating some schism whereby I am no longer invited to family events nor indeed loved by my family anymore. So agit-prop may not be the order of the day, but I will not, I WILL NOT play something insipid like Jack Johnson.... OK, I will if they really want me to. Maybe I could persuade them with some Hank Williams.

Anyway, all my love to you both.

An old and familiar groove

27 August 2006, Day 159

Melbourne, Victoria

The steady rhythm of working life has me zipped-up in it's straight jacket once more.

This is the cut of the cloth:

Monday: Wake up and grudgingly go to work. Tap numbers into a PC and strain my eyes (no glasses). Try to look around the town centre at lunchtime, but realise half my break is gone by the time I get downstairs in the lift. Get home and do the weekly shop with James, then cook, eat, do the washing up and realise that it is 10.30pm, then slouch off to bed.
Tuesday: Much the same during the day, expect skiving expeditions to the toilet increase. Stay in, but achieve nothing constructive with the time after making dinner, doing the washing and visiting the internet caff.
Wednesday: Look forward to going out in the evening. Scrape through the day and bite my tongue when my accent is compared to Prince William's. Realise that my eyesight is being reduced to the same state it was in before I left home! Stay out in town and go to the Greenepace meeting.
Thursday: Same office day again. Party night which involves going to see bands/exhibitions and then falling over into bed.
Friday: Go into work with a hangover and no sleep. Feel grumpy and 'emotional' all day and go home and have an early night.

So you see, it's not that I've stopped bothering with or thinking about the blog. It's still going to be kept up to date, but less frequently until we leave Melbourne, mainly cos there ain't so much to write about.

Seriously, though, I am still enjoying myself a great deal and there are elements of having a daily routine which enable me to get myself in check after four months travelling and decide what it is that I want to do next. For Mum, Dad and anybody else who might be interested, here's a quick catch-up on what I have done in the last three weeks:

We've spent a lot of our spare time with Dave and Jodie. As I mentioned in my last blog this is a fantastic piece of good fortune as both of them have been great fun to hang out with and it's a bit of familiarity so far from home. Considering how long I've known Dave (I started my middle school with him in 1989), it's an unlikely situation that I should be socialising with James and Dave two people I've known for well over ten years, in Australia.
Because of Dave and Jodie's design background we've been to a fair few exhibitions such as Genevieve Gauckler's exhibition at the Someday gallery, which James and I otherwise wouldn't have visited. I've often wondered how both of them got into setting up Peskimo as a business and labour of love. That night I found out a bit about what makes them tick which I really knew nothing about.

My work is OK. I did promise myself that I would do anything other than work in an office, only because that's what I do at home, and this trip - if nothing else - is about challenging myself to try new things. In this instance, however, the practical necessity of funding the rest of my trip outweighs all else in the short term. The only other thing which I could have picked up for two months work (most bars aren't interested in anything less than about 3 months commitment), was cash-in-hand manual labour, which would have been risky, and if I'd got injured on the job bloody stupid. What the job does give me is an insight into Australian office culture, that is to say that how it appears to be indentical British office culture. The behaviour of folk in Aussie clerical jobs is very similar to that of Brits, which is probably why everyone seems to know and appreciates the British sit-com the Office, and grin when I tell them that I'm from Slough.
Working here makes me think Australian superannuation arrangements are preferable to pensions in the UK, mainly because employer contributions are mandatory and the employee takes the fund with them from job to job and continually accumulate to one account. Lots of people I know at home don't think about pensions until they're into their late 20's.
By a quirk of fate, I'm working in the team with another bloke called Dan Morton. As you would expect he is sophisticated and charming. Actually, he's a nice enough Melboure Uni student taking a sabbatical year, whose Dad is from England. Who knows, perhaps we're distantly related somewhere back along the line? I've never met anyone with the same name as me before, despite Daniel being an incredibly common first name and Morton being a less-than-rare surname. Well, there you go.

Perhaps my favourite thing to happen at work was when I had to speak to a bloke with a really thick Aussie accent on the phone regarding payment of his employees' super. He responded with an informality better suited to the pub: 'Now look here mate, a lotta my pals are pretty upset about this June super cut-off business, and how the super funds do nothing to help our employees make sure they get their cash. Now what d'ya reckon you boys can do ta help us owt?' Short of a hotline to John Howard or our CEO there wasn't a lot I could do, but I was cheered by his optimism.

In my spare time I've been familiarising myself with and finding ways to contribute to the local group of Greenpeace activists in Melbourne. Julien, a St. Kilda native and Greenpeace intern, is involved mainly with climate change and renewable energy issues. He's organising this year's 'Walk Against Warming' which coincides with the International day of action against climate change. You can see last year's website here, but it apparently wasn't that hot (!).
The big difference this year is that it coincides with the UN Conference on Climate Change being held from 6-17 November in Nairobi, Kenya and we've got far more time to organise and plan than last year. The intention of the event is more or less education, but also to sway politicians in time for the state elections. The scales still need to be tipped on people understanding how to tackle this monster.
Anway, after a few drinks and a good chat, I got the feeling I'll be able to help Julien out a fair bit. He also lives just round the corner, and is someone I can talk to about football! It certainly impressed me when we were talking about England, and the subject (as it inevitably does) turned to Torquay United:

Julien: 'Who's a good Torquay United player? Hmm. Gregory Goodridge?'
Dan: 'How do you know about Greg Goodridge?'

Attitudes towards climate change here are even more divided than at home over the issue of nuclear power. One of the main reasons I am involved with Greenpeace is their total rejection of the nuclear 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' alternative energy to carbon rich fossil fuels.
At home the big nuclear talking point is the replacement of our elderly nuclear power plants and Trident nuclear submarines. In Oz the focus is different. Australia sits on 40% of the world's uranium resources which big business now has in it's sights. Who is to say that this deadly and finite resource will not prompt the next war frontline in the future when oil fields are sucked dry?
John Howard is an active supporter of nuclear energy and Kim Beazley is changing the ALP's attitude away from caution to increased consideration of further uranium mines and domestic nulcear plants. Despite having only one domestic nuclear energy facility a number of prominent politicians have begun to advocate nuclear power as a means to affordably reduce greenhouse emissions and perhaps allow for large-scale de-salination plants. Australia has very extensive, low-cost coal reserves and substantial natural gas. The brown coal used in Victoria such as at Hazelwood power plant is horribly polluting. According to some sources it is the most polluting power station in the industrialised world (based on CO₂ per megawatt hour sent out). Because of the ready-supply Australia could and probably will continue down the dirty brown coal route, but if and when it takes climate change seriously, it could be blindly lead away from one path to destruction and down a nuclear cul-de-sac. This is the time to make sure the public don't let it happen.

".. whilst you can guarantee that uranium mining will lead to nuclear waste, you can't guarantee it won't lead to nuclear weapons." - Anthony Albanese (Federal ALP, would you believe).

* * *

I've continued my exploration of some of the other suburbs of Melbourne, including a slog around Windsor, Prahran, South Yarra, Richmond, Collingwood and Fitzroy all in one afternoon a couple of weeks ago. Brunswick Street in Fitzroy is still the most vibrant street for my money. It feels like the centre of the band scene and a focal point of the street community.

We got an idea of what this 'street life' was like for previous Melburnian generations at the Skins n Sharps display on Gertrude Street. During the late sixties in Britain the skin-head cult appeared, perhaps as a violent reaction to hippydom. This same machoistic and hedonist movement was adopted in Melbourne by the turn of the dcade. Individuals morphed the look from skinheads to sharps. At that time sharps were skinheads retaining their 'tails' a mullet-like fringe of hair at the back of the head. One band adopted by the scene were AC/DC - the most successful Aussie band in history. Indeed, you can identify a bit of a sharp look in early photos of Bonn Scott. A more a natural part of 'the scene' were poeple like Lobby Loyde and the Coloured Balls. Regardless it was a reminder to us of a time when youth culture - for better or worse - was less established, local and honest about its intentions. Birds, booze and fighting: that's about the size of it. It was not intellectualised or something that could be packaged and sold to kids like todays 'subcultures': goth, punk, emo, sports casual or what have you. The sharp scene was organic to isolated and poor kids wanting a sense of identity and belonging; they knew it was nothing more than that, despite plenty of bullshit then too. The scene, moronic as it might have been in someways, belonged to them. I don't think kids today really think when they dress a certain way or listen to a set of bands or type of music. It's not so much peer pressure that forms the subconscious choice, it's case of selecting from a range of brands which sell you an image which you can be a part of, if you have the money. If you don't, well...

Finally, football absence has got to me to the extent that I've had to take action. Tonight I'm going to watch Melbourne Victory play Sydney. 'Soccer' is it is known here, is on the up. A few years ago with the National Soccer League on the verge of collapse, there was a breakaway 'professional' league set up in 2005 - the A-league. The reason for problems with the NSL were numerous. Just some of the oft-touted problems were: potentially divisive ethnic support for individual clubs, incompetant national administration and multiple clubs in a single city spreading support too thinly. This type of overhaul would never (and should never) happen in Britain, but Australia and New Zealand make up the best part of a continent not a country, and soccer support bases have not been organically established in the way they were in the UK.
Regardless of whether the slick new coporate sponsored structure was a good idea, this league and it's eight teams from Sydney, Perth, Brisbane, Melbourne, Adelaide, Newcastle, Gosford and Auckland enjoyed a largely successful inaugural season. Bringing us back up to date, the Socceroos enjoyed a fabulously rewarding World Cup, making it through a tough group stage only to be knocked out in the second round by eventual winners Italy. Having observed the behaviour of some of the Aussies in Bangkok, it obviously meant a lot to them, and that passion is ripe for redirecting towards the domestic game.
Whether I'll enjoy this type of football when so much of what I like about supporting Torquay United is absent (intimacy, community, lack of corporate backers, fewer money grabbers etc.), has yet to be seen. I think that the sense of being at the start of something growing and popular will appeal. Tonight's game is at the Telstra Dome, which is bigger than Olympic Park which is Melbourne regular ground. The change of venue is because the Football Federation of Australia want to make Melbourne v Sydney the equivalent of a European derby game. The difference to home is that it isn't a local affair, but the rivalry of Sydney and Melbourne as cities has deeply embedded historical roots, and is not a wholly manufactured thing either. I hope the intensity of an Old Firm derby style game can develop between the sides (minus the bigotry and violence).

To give you an idea of how sport is conducted over here, and the support it gets from the City of Melbourne, here's a little anecdote from the other day. I went along to Melbourne city square about a fortnight ago to watch Melbourne Victory do a PR event to launch the new season. This involved plenty of 'Samsung' tracksuited vendors handing out glossy postcards with images of our heroes on the front - internationals Kevin Muscat and Archie Thompson. Samsung, the shirt sponsor, were offering a deal on the back of the cards to win a trip to watch a Chelsea game, whom they sponsor in England. There is a strong interest in English football here and a feeling that the English Premiership should be the template for the A-league (God preserve us). Amongst the local dignitaries present to make speeches and show their support amidst other major sponsors of the side was Lord Mayor of Melbourne John So and Minister for Sport and Recreation Justin Madden. They announced a new State Government funding commitment of $750,000 for junior football development in Victoria. I can't imagine this happening with Torbay Council for Torquay, but then I never have to listen to someone from Samsung banging on about their new Samsung 'Imagine Victory' promotion at Plainmoor.

Melby-ville

14th August 2006, Day 146 (Happy Birthday Mum)

St. Kilda, Melbourne

We've settled in now. The back pack is empty under my bed.

Two shaggy haired, travel-weary fellows arrived in Melbourne just over a week ago on a train from New South Wales, and it didn't take long for Sydney's serene twin to win them over.

When we arrived that night at Southern Cross station on the western edge of Melbourne's rectangular CBD, we traversed it's perimeter to North Melbourne where a YHA hostel was situated. Nice and easy. This is a quiet suburb though not far from town and we happily made our beds for the evening, but with an urge to set-up quickly and find somewhere permanent to live for the next few months. The following day we contacted Jackson Apartments, following yet another fruitful tip-off from our friend Mr. Partington. Jackson have property all over St. Kilda, which is backpacker central. For $120 a week signed up for a decent flat as we were unlikely to strike a superior bargain elsewhere.

A few days have passed, so what do I make of the city? Well it's every bit as beautiful as Sydney in my opinion, although it doesn't have the amazing estuary location and famous landmarks. It's little more subtle than it's sister and you must know the suburbs to know Melbourne; the CBD (whilst not ugly) is rather dull like all CBDs. Socially, instead of hanging out in St. Kilda, I've spent most of my time in Fitzroy and Brunswick where there are a multitude of bustling bars and exciting music.

Some of the nicest buildings in Melbourne include Flinders Street station's Victorian architecture and the Melbourne Exhibition and Convention Centre which is a good example of the tasteful modern architecture dispersed throughout the city. The big recent addition was Federation Square where many notable exhibitions take place with corporate sponsors. I don't know whether I like it or not yet.

Here is a view along Bourke Street. One part of Melbourne CBD is on a hill and there's an excellent tram network around the city that shares the thoroughfare with the cars and pedestrians. As a result, parts of the CBD look a little like San Francisco. It's quite hard to find the shopping areas with familiar chain stores (which are in malls) - there's nothing here like Oxford Street in the West End for instance. I appreciate a few degrees less of intrusive advertising.







This is a view of the south bank of the Yarra river which runs through Melbourne. It wasn't nicest day when I took this and the shot is deceptive. It makes Melbourne look claustrophobic which it most certainly is not. According to Wikipedia:
'Melbourne is typical of Australian Capital Cities in that it was built with the underlying notion of a "quarter acre home and garden". As such, much of Metropolitan Melbourne is characterised by low density sprawl.'
The sense of space is instantly appealing.






Let me talk a little more about St. Kilda. This is a shot of the artificial 'Lady of St. Kilda' wreck on St. Kilda beach, a beach which the locals sneer at. It looks nice enough to me! St. Kilda is based around this beach, which looked like a nice spot to J.B. Were on the day he held a picnic to discuss his interest in the cargo yacht 'the Lady of St. Kilda' in about 1842. The name of the boat stuck and gradually plots of land around the bay were sold off to wealthy Melbournians. It was an exclusive place with churches and sports clubs quickly becoming established. A promenade and amusement ground (Luna Park which you can see in the picutures below) were built, making St. Kilda a magnet for outdoor pleasure. This goldne era didn't last forever, though. During the twenties and thirties this air of decadence spawned brothels and open prostitution, the 'class' of the area was dulled for a long time as a result. As prices dropped, poorer citizens moved into the area. The seedy side of St. Kilda perisisted and only in the 70's did the council confront this with a programme of gentrification. Gradually during the 80's and 90's the social strata changed again as 'polite cosmopolitanism' became the theme for the area. It remains today an area for street-cafes, posh bars and socialites. On the other hand it is home to Melbourne's backpacker community and some excellent gig venues - the most famous of which is the Esplanade Hotel (the Espy), which I expect to become our second home.

One of the best things about St. Kilda from my perspective is Albert Park. This is a fabulous 225 Hectare park with an huge lake in the middle of it for water sports. The park also contains the Sports and Aquatic centre, redeveloped for use in the 2006 Commonwealth Games which were held in March. I found this brochure on Albert Park, which boasts of the wetlands and wildlife contained within the park. On my run this morning it looked every bit a suitable venue for an international sporting tournament. The lake provides you with one of those views of the City and CBD which makes you think of somewhere like Miami or New York; skyscrapers silhouetted against a saphire blue sky. Only today did I find out that this picturesque lake is also home to the Australian Grand Prix, which made me rather sceptical about there supposed commitment to wildlife.

Ah! Captain James Cook, I presume. The first European to set foot on Australian soil on 29 April 1770, in the place now known as Botany Bay, NSW. Despite the man's undeniable aptitude and ingenuity in his job, I wonder if colonists such as Cook will always be held in esteem? I don't suppose aboriginals regard him with fondness. This statue is just behind St. Kilda pier, not that he had much to do with Melbourne directly.

Here's a little more on the establishment of Melbourne courtesy of Wikipedia:

'The European settlement at Melbourne was founded in 1835 by settlers coming from Tasmania (then known as Van Diemen's Land), where they had difficulty finding available land.

The area was already inhabited by the Kulin people, then indigenous to the area. A transaction was negotiated for 600,000 acres of land from eight Wurundjeri representatives; this was later annulled by the New South Wales government (then governing all of eastern mainland Australia), who compensated the settlers in exchange. Ultimately, settlement continued regardless.

It was the capital first of the Port Phillip District of New South Wales and then of the separate colony of Victoria. With the discovery of gold in Victoria in the 1850s, leading to the Victorian gold rush, Melbourne quickly grew as a port and service centre.

Later it became Australia's leading manufacturing centre. During the 1880s, Melbourne was the second largest city in the British Empire, and came to be known as "Marvellous Melbourne". Victorian architecture abounds in Melbourne and today the city is home to the largest number of surviving Victorian era buildings of any city in the world other than London.'

A shot of Luna Park built in 1912, but refurbished recently and still going strong almost a century later. The big gob is a St. Kilda landmark.













I mentioned in my last blog that I was looking into the political landscape of Oz. Being aware of the memorial day marking 61 years since the Hiroshima bombings, tied in with an anti-Nuke protest, James and I rolled up outside the State Library. We went to find out the response of Melbourne to the current political crisis in Lebanon.

The event was organised by Stop the War and some Unions, the format being the usual speeches followed by a march. Afterwards some people argued that the event was hi-jacked by some leftist groups and the Lebanese community when they broke off route and burnt an Israeli flag outside the State Parliament at the end. I can see both sides of the argument on this. The event was supposed to be pushing an anti-war message and this is symbolically contradictory, although it was not a march for pacifism per se. On the other hand there is a direct link between Hiroshima and the Lebanese crisis as the Israeli army are alledgedly in possession of bunker-busting bombs (GBU-28). These bombs contain depleted uranium - a carcinogenic substance that spreads in the form of a toxic and radioactive dust, which enters the lungs and bones and is especially harmful to babies and young children. Therefore whilst their relatives are being massacred by Israeli troops it would be a bit difficult to turn around and exclude Lebanese people from the march and one can understand their fury at the Israeli state's actions (I personally see the burning of the Israeli flag, under these circumstances, as a message against the state, rather than anti-semetic). Regardless the event went off without much further incident, and I was able to chat to the local anarchos and to other groups like Greenpeace, TU's and community groups.
Later in the week I attended a local member's Greenpeace meeting, and immediately got my hands dirty by doing the minutes. My political views do not overlap exactly with theirs (which resulted in a full blown discussion-cum-argument in the pub afterwards) but am sure I can campaign with them in the short term, and play a tiny part in helping them to achieve goals which I do support. Their philosophy is based around action, and that is what interests me.

During the best part of this week, I have cast my attention towards finding work. This has mainly involved lengthy dull registration procedures with temping agencies, and personal brain wracking to find something more worthwhile than simply working in an office for 8 weeks. I went for an interview to do some 'frontline' charity work with Greenpeace which would have involved signing up members from the general public. Unfortunately I didn't get the job because I'm not around for long enough. They did offer me the chance to attend a local group meeting (which I just mentioned). Today I finally found some work with a superannuation company. Four weeks of data entry. It won't be much fun, but it is a relief that I'll have a source of income once again.

We've done a couple of other things this week such as attending a Neighbours theme night. We went mainly because it was an opportunity to hang out with our house mates and meet one of Thom's friend's Laura. I cannot deny that there was an element of curiosity on behalf having watched the daily Aussie soap continually between the years of 1988 to 1996 or so. I watched it because it is shown on BBC1 at 5.35pm - in other words, during or just before dinner time. It's banal stuff and the standard of acting has been questionable, however I certainly enjoyed watching it at the time. The character I'm pictured with is Jarrod 'Toadfish' Rebecchi. He was the only charater I recognised, so I eagerly got a snap taken. Obviously I was disappointed Harold Bishop didn't put in an appearance as he is still in the soap. The evening was full of British backpackers on a nostalgia trip so it quickly descended into druken nonsense. The main Neighbours related activities included a quiz, and footage of old episodes projected onto the back wall of the venue. It isn't something which will live on in my mind!

Oh, here's another St. Kilda icon. This is just weird. It's a mural of Steve Davis hanging above a video rental shop on Barkly Street, St. Kilda. Look at the eyes and the sucker-like fingers. We think it comes alive at night and haunts the streets.











One thing I've really kicked myself about is missing the vast majority of the Melbourne Film Festival, which has coincided with our arrival. We've had to be prudent with our cash, but we missed the bulk of it due to forgetting about it when we had time on our hands. Once our good friends Dave and Jodie rolled into town, I decided to make a last ditch attempt to see something on the closing night of the festival. After a hasty taxi journey into town, we managed to see one short and a full-length feature.
The short was entitled On the Other Ocean (Dir. Amiel Courtin-Wilson). This centred around a young woman reflecting back on a doomed childhood visit to the seaside which ended with the family having a car crash. It was beautifully shot and evocative of tender childhood, but it didn't do much more for me than that. The full-length feature was called The Desealer (Dir. James Clayden), which was am interesting look at mental-illness. It was confronted schizophrenia in the context of an intimate relationship between a man and woman. It picked up on how perception of things changes at different times of the day, and how disorientated anyone can feel under the right circumstances. Jodie thought it was a little overlong and indulgent, but I quite enjoyed it. Again I liked the mixture of shots, lighting and textures. These were both films with Melburnian directors, and I'll check out more about the local movie community whilst I'm here.

The old yellow'n'blue

5th August 2006, Day 139

Melbourne, Victoria

A new season and time to implore from the terraces of League 2, COME ON YOU GULLS!!!

Ian Atkins has put together a strong looking side in close season, bar a few question marks over the midfield and goalkeeper. Whilst I personally don't like Ian Atkins much (due to his behaviour at at Torquay with other sides), he turned things around at Plainmoor in a manner akin to Jesus last season. Let the second coming commence.

Shame I can't be there for the first game of the season, but I certainly will be next year. Hope you make some noise at Underhill, Sarah!

This year it'll be promotion not relegation under consideration. PLEASE.

Gis' a swig on the old yellow'n'blue!




















I am an fool for the marketing man.




















I'll post some musings about Melbourne in a few days time.

Bands, beaches and backyards

31st July 2006, Day 134

Bondi, Sydney

'Oi, bruv, can I DI this bass?'

So we finally got around to checking out some gigs (the photo on the left is from the Lovejam event on Sunday). Boy, I was gig-thirsty! It didn't take us long to get drinking the three bottles of milky indie-rock goodness that were left on our doorstep.

King's Cross and it's vicinity have several venues, and I just hope St. Kilda (where we're odds on to end up in Melbourne) is just as good. I've heard a few things about the music scene being on the decline over the last few years there, mainly due to resident's complaints shutting down established venues.

Anyway, here's a little review of everything we've seen so far. Bear in mind that we haven't seen any live music in months so we might have a skewed view of what is good, especially after three months of being of subjected to James Blunt and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers in Thailand.

Thursday 27th July - Candy's Apartment, King's Cross
Dardanelles
Paper Scissors

My evening got off to a poor start when I was ID'd and had to march home to get my passport. I'm 26 now! This will still be happeneing when I'm 30. Fortunately home was only a 2 minute walk from the venue. After the Responsible Service of Alcohol course we undertook today, I now know that drinking culture and legislation is far tighter in Oz than at home. Candy's is cute little venue with tonnes of mirrorballs hanging from the ceiling and a young crowd. Paper Scissors are the sort of band I should have liked; they were subtle and pleasant enough, but me and James couldn't find a cutting edge with them, nor any memorable hooks. They sounded a bit like Modest Mouse. We were ready for something a bit more punchy, which arrived with Dardanelles. The singer was a well built young chap in a tight-sweater (the girls dug it), who bopped-around behind his microkorg to a technoed-up tunes backed by Bunnymen bass lines. Not a bad thing in my opinion, but of course there quite a few bands doing that at the moment like the Rapture or even the Bravery. After this we went on to a night in Paddington called 'Rock'n'Roll Motherf**ker', which I mentioned on my previous entry - this put a bit of a downer on the night.

Saturday 29th July - Spectrum, Darlinghurst
The Dolly Rocker Movement
Belles Will Ring
The Astral Kaleidoscope

This gig would have been mighty better/worse, if James and I hadn't drained a bottle of red wine before we set foot outside the flat. During a merry call to our good friend Rob Garmonsway (now affectionately termed the 'Buckinghamshire Bastard' by me and James) with whom we commiserated about Syd Barrett's death, we made our way through Darlinghurst to the Spectrum club the see some bands who offer Syd a bit of a debt.... even if that debt was mainly sartorial. A good-sized venue at the top of some stairs, full of hippy-ish clientelle, oil projectors and substantial bar meant that the red-plonk reservoir in my stomach was topped in time for The Astral Kaleidoscope. These guys were very much like early Velvet Underground, and despite all their songs being based around a template of thudding drones in 4/4, we enjoyed the groove they summoned up. James and I had plenty of red wines stains on our t-shirts even by the end of their set. In the Astral's wake, Belles Will Ring appeared. I'd refilled again my 120 ml standard measure of table wine by this point, but all I can remember is I thought this band were the best of the three. They had some good songs, managed to produce something out of the 60's trippy-kitsch-vibe and they had a gorgeous female keys player. With any luck, the band misinterpreted the rings in my eyes as being under the spell of the music rather than Australian grapes.
James and I didn't think the Dolly Rocker Movement were as much cop as the previous two bands, though our opinion by this point in the evening (I was tired and started dosing in the stair well while James was slumped near the front of the stage) is not to be trusted. The Dolly Rocker Movement were more song-based than the other groups from what I can remember and I felt Belles Will Ring had more tricks up their sleeve. We cut our losses and went home to bed.

Sunday 30th July - Lovejam @ Beach Road Hotel, Bondi

It was our good fortune to find out about this gig in time. Firstly it gave us an opportunity to get the hair of the dog as the events started at 2pm not long after we woke. Secondly it took us over to Bondi, a pretty suburb on a beautiful day, to see 40 plus live acts playing for FREE.
After hopping on a gratis bus to Bondi Junction in place of cancelled trains, we boarded another down to the beach. Bright sunshine beamed, warming the mild winter air to British summer temperatures (well, apart from this summer, 2003, 1990, 1989, 1976 etc.) We found our way over to a smashing venue where this bash was being held. The Beach Road hotel is like a really big, plush community centre, with massive rooms and pool tables. For the event all the big doors were open. A nice breeze was flowing from the public bar, past an acoustic act, through a restaurant and into the beer garden from where we listened to a feisty folk-group. We had a nice drink, letting our hang-overs lift with the spirit of the punters around us. We watched similar groups, until we got bored and decided to check out the rest of Bondi in the late afternoon.

We went to a yard sale!! James bought a copy of a Nada Surf record for $2, which made him mightily pleased. A few streets further along near the beach, we encountered another sale overseen by some sarcastic students. James asked if they had any CD's for sale to which one haughty madam said we could listen to mp3's if we bought their knackered old PC. We were students once too, y'know! This is clearly a Sunday afternoon tradition in Bondi, it isn't just reserved for fictional American surburbia. James pointed at a sign along the lines of 'Garage sale: Furniture, Records and Shit', such is Aussie eloquence. Bondi is quite a posh district now, although I gather from almighty Wikipedia that this is a development of recent years. Indeed Bondi beach used to have sewage outlet pipe, which occasionally presented the surfers and swimmers with a 'Bondi Cigar'. I'll let you work out what that might be. The beach has also been cleaned up due to heavy investment.

A view of beautiful Bondi beach. Not nearly as tourist-tacky as some would have you believe. It is low season at the moment, so we have the chance to see it in it's best light. James is taking some nice pictures now; well done boss. We really want to get surfing as soon as possible after watching the waves roll in at Bondi because they seemed just the right height for us. We'll just have to wait until Melbourne, though.

Later in the evening we headed back to the Lovejam, and James jumped on the vintage video game machine. He was rubbish at Donkey Kong, and I let him know that in lucid terms. The atmosphere was pretty energetic now, and it was time for full-on DJs and bands. We watched more acts, but after a while the venue got so stuffed to the gills, it took about three minutes to get up or down the stairs. Had I been in possession of today's knowledge, I could have invoked the legislation in the 1982 Liquor Act and had the place shut early for breaching capacity restrictions. Just as well because as a responsible citizen I would have been obliged to do just that.

Over the last few days we've already 'hatched' an idea for a band, called Chicken Satchel, and we are near acquiring the essential item for any band - a myspace page. You may think we are attempting to waddle before pecking out of our shell, but I suggest that modern bands should have a myspace page prior to their first rehearsal. It provides sustenance akin to eating that clacium-rich egg shell. The band will mainly just be Asker/Morton improvised vocal jazz screamed into a dictaphone. Mp3's are on their way to you soon!!

Not to be outdone by our antipodean antics, here are some interesting visual artefacts of our mates Zaf, Jerome, Caroline and Shehnoor's 'Noise Night' back in Blighty. I trust the ultimate goal was to be as avant-garde as possible, regardless of the personal cost. The photos are courtesy of Craig Sanderson. I have not asked Craig's permission to reproduce them and instead rely upon his dwindling reserves of good will.

Zaf with a microphone and a nice old fashioned wooden chair. I don't know why he's in his underpants. Don't pick up that guitar...

...aarrgghh. And less than a mile from my cosy suburban home. See, this is music with it's tongue in it's (arse) cheek. I am glad to be a friend to these people who are all now pushing thirty and have no interest in knowing any better. They are turning nothing Thursday nights in East Berkshire into legendary events for the benefit of humankind... I salute them!

Dimension shift

28th July 2006, Day 131

Kings Cross, Sydney

Good lord! I have been transported to a new land.

The land of the familiar.

Here I can easily access cash, buy food I recognised from every convienience store, open bank accounts, get medical care which I pay a subsidised rate for, enjoy good and prompt service in shops and enjoy high levels of comfort and security in a largely well organised council. I am also in a country which supports the current actions of Israel, sells arms to that country and intervenes or invades other countries when it does not like their policies, or when the country threatens it's interests. A country that encourages it's population to believe in a 'war on terror' and place their faith in the government's actions even if that means removing basic civil liberties.

It took me about 20 seconds to get used to it, and now it already feels like the last four months of my life were an idle daydream.

* * *

That's was a superficial reaction, it was the one I honestly had though. Now I'll say some nice stuff about what is still a fantastic country and one that in other ways is totally different to the UK.

A few days ago we moved into our new flat in Sydney. I say flat, which is slightly misleading, it's really medium-term backpacker accommodation. It's not too shabby, and we've certainly got a good mix of housemates to live with - backpackers, people on short-term contracts, people placed their by social security etc. Perhaps the best thing about our new home is that we are very nearly on the doorstep of gig venues, club nights and cinemas. We've already taken advantage of this boon and went to watch a Ten Canoes, a film about Aborignal life prior to Cook. We also saw a Melbourne based band called Dardanelles (not the Irish band of the same name) play at our closest venue, Candy's Apartment. They were OK, and sounded rather like the Rapture to me. James and I were just happy to be back listening to live music again. Tonight we check out some other bands at the Spectrum on Oxford Street, including The Dolly Rocker Movement. If we can handle it there's a huge event called the 'Lovejam' tomorrow at which 40 odd bands are playing free. I'll report back.

James in our new room. It's certainly big, if a little bit cold. Step through the double doors at the end into...

Our balcony. Our road runs parallel to Darlinghurst Road, which basically IS King's Cross.

When we first arrived last Saturday we rolled up too late for the 20,000 strong demo against Isreal's invasion of Lebanon, which I would have liked to have joined. James suggested accommodation in the central YHA from Lonely Planets description, and upon booking we also decided to join the Youth Hostel Association. We then shuffled down the back stairs to the Scubar, a naff bar which was a cross between a Student's Union and a Chicago Rock Cafe. We were happy to be supping a 'pint of piss' regardless of the location. You could get cheaper drinks with a YHA card. The principle of 'discount' seems to be an Australian institution; not bartered reductions but pre-arranged money-off. Everywhere has deals and loyalty cards.

Sydney is a beautiful city and has instant appeal to a traveller, mainly due to it's excellent backpacking infrastructure and the fact that central city is compact and it's suburbs are negotiable by foot. Our particular accommodation so far has helped me form this opinion. The Central YHA in Sydney was the largest youth hostel in the world when it was opened in 1996, and it easily won us over. It is Posho! Eight spacious floors including professional looking kitchens, well-equipped laundries, an extremely nice cafe, a games room, jukebox, swimming pool and suana.

The view from one of the largest YHA hostel in the world.

Swimming pool and sauna rooms at the Central YHA. Not bad for $30 a night, eh?

Since we arrived we've been trying to orientate ourselves and find out a little about the country and it's politics. We've done the bus tour and wandered around on foot with no particular destination. I also enjoyed one of the best runs of my entire life around central Sydney. In the late afternoon sunshine, we ran from George Street, through Hyde Park and over to the Domain, round Mrs. MacQuarie's chair to the Opera House and Circular Quay and through the Botanic Gardens. The serotonin was pumping and it was a joy to be out with the crowds.

Generally, the people we've encountered so far have been notable by their friendliness. This includes backpackers as well as shop assistants, bar tenders etc. Only a couple of things have stood out in terms of their attitude. On William Street, the main thoroughfare linking the City and King's Cross, there is a car rental place called 'No birds'. The logo has a picture of a girl with her knees up to chest, making the passer-by double take at what appear at first to be her bare breasts. I'm sure if the rental company is 'men-only', you would think it illegal, but I know there I women only car-insurance firms in the UK. Dunno what Germaine Greer would make of this, although I think she lives in London, nowadays. Secondly we went to a worthy indie club night on Oxford Street, which was choc-full of drugged up kids. I haven't seen that kind of thing in a rock club since I was a teenager. Now, whilst I'm far from outraged at this, it reminded me just what sort of tosser this environment is capable of breeding. We went upstairs and it was full of middle-class kids who were wasted. I don't mind that, but I do mind a place were everybody is supposed to get together to share a good time turning into a platform for individual's ego trips. One really cute girl came up to me to push and I was dumb enough to think she wanted to chat to me. I couldn't help thinking (I could well be wrong) that she was well dressed and probably well-off, yet probably got into small-time deal to appeal to a bad-girl stereotype. Later, I noticed several kids snubbing each other playing a game of who's-the-most-authentic-slacker. Sadly this is their life it's not a joke. James and I stood stationary with our beer and barely concealed contempt at the idiots surrounding us, trying to live out their rock'n'roll dreams by being arseholes, and guiltly recounting the worst behaviour of our mates (and ourselves) during our teenage years. Time to go home Grandad! That's what we did.

This Coke sign is the 'gateway' to King's Cross. Welcome back to the west, where cultural icons are as likely to be advertising hoardings as architectural wonders or sculptures. Ho ho.

Yesterday, we chanced upon a vigil regarding Isreal's actions in Lebanon. It's gave us both a chance to check out local reaction to international events and consider our own opinions on the conflict.

I have not stayed in one place long enough during the last four months of travelling to get involved with any activism. Those of you who know me, will have an idea of my interest in single-issue political campaigning. If you aren't interested in that, I suggest you skip the next few paragraphs. As the Left were out in force it gave me a chance to check out the how the fractured Left in Australia compares to the fractured Left in Britain. It was all wind-blown tressle-tables of leaflets, t-shirts and banners ignoring those on the tables next to them. I don't mean purely to mock; the people were pleasant and much like myself, even though I deliberately avoid aligning to any one group. They're far less ridiculous than any of the central parliamentary parties from what I can gather. Here's a guide for the novice:

Socialist Alliance: Trots, basically the equivalent of the SWP in Australia. Consider governments in Venezuela, Bolivia, Vietnam etc. to have come about by non-revolutionary methods i.e. indiviuduals who have hi-jacked proletarian movements.

Green Left: supports leftist governments in Venezuala, Bolivia and Cuba as an alternative style of government to western governments

The Australian Greens: close to our Green party.

The Sparticists: Presumably follow the doctrines of the Sparticists lead by Rosa Luxembourg in the ealry 20th century. Considered to be extreme by the other leftist groups. Opposed Australia's original intervention into East Timor as neo-imperialism, whilst the other groups initially supported it.

Stop the War Coallition: Single-issue, much like the UK's version.

Not present were the Australian Anarchist movement, who I assume don't like to associate with the left at events like this.

We're going to lecture and debate called 'the People's History of Empire' on Tuesday (held by the SA) which should be interesting, even if we don't agree with the view of the other's present.

It has been less than a year since the race riots in Cronulla (a district south of Sydney), and a delicate time to be in the country. The Guardian reported in December last year when the riots happened that 'in a few hours' mayhem, the comfortable, familiar sense of a stable society was blown away, revealing something malignant and ugly underneath. ' The riots were conducted in response to a gang of Lebanese youths attacking two white lifeguards on Cronulla beach, which then lead to revenge attacks against whites in Cronulla. In a country with a comparatively recent colonial history and still part of the commonwealth, it is worth observing how multicultural 'problems' are stirred up, just as they are back home. I admit I know next to nothing about this country and it's time to learn fast.

Here are a couple more photos from this weeks' wanders:

The financial centre of Sydney, Martin Place. My Mum used to work nearby in O'Connell Street for an insurance company. Hmm.

'War on terror' begins with paranoia at home. Bush, Blair and Howard are undoubtedbly a close knit truimvirate.

We need to get work now. We have decided to head for Melbourne on Thursday of this week. Before we do, James and I are attending a boring, Responsible Service of Alcohol course, which is essential before you can get bar work in Oz. This is my fall-back postition, I'll do something more worthwhile with my time if possible, including doing charity mugger work for Greenpeace, which I have a lead for in Melbourne. It's looking for membership, rather than donation - and I am at least a member already. James will do soimething else saying he'd rather not put people under duress, which might be involved to a small degree. I can understand his point of view. I did point out to him that we'd be turning the tables on people after fending off four months' worth of rickshaw/tuk-tuk wallah's advances, but he retorted that I might be going into it for the wrong reason. Ah well, I need to have a think...

We have arrived

23 July 2006, Day 126

Sydney, Australia

New continent today! What tricks has this one got in store?!

Uncle Ho and his darling nephew, Saigon: Cu Chi Coup!

11th July 2006, Day 114

Saigon! (Vietnam, as if you didn't know)

I know very few people who know nothing about the 'Vietnam war' or 'the Resistance War Against the Americans' as it is known in Vietnam. The latter is the more accurate title of the two since Vietnam has fought wars to overthrow the French, against Western 'intervention' and then Chinese imperialism in the twentieth century. British people learn a small amount about the American-lead war at school or by watching the Hollywood films about the conflict or by reference and contrast to current Western foreign policy in the middle east.

As we were not involved in sending troops to Vietnam during the 60's/70's, the war is nowhere near as engrained in the British public's mind as it is in the US or Australia. My understanding of the war was mainly that it was a strategic war against communist spread through South-East Asia via China presumably egged and that invasion was spurred by residual McCarthist paranoia. Also, so I understood, it was unjust, ill-concieved (in terms of American intervention) and that as it persisted worsening methods of warfare displayed contempt for human life in the face of achieving international objectives. I formed this nebulous notion mainly from watching Hollywood flicks Apocalypse Now, Full Metal Jacket and the Deer Hunter. The main issues are still sketchy in my mind as I try to read up on the subject, and I still think along the same lines about the war. I'm not going to put forward a strong opinion on the subject, because my visit has highlighted my own ignorance. All I will say is that it is doubtful that a divided North/South Vietnam, nor Ho Chi Minh's Vitenamese Republic are probably what the majority of people want. They might have suffered a hell of a lot less if France had honoured it's agreement to recognise Vietnam after WWII or if the American's had not backed Diem's regime in the South, propping up a dictator to strategically thwart communisms' hold in Vietnam. It should be noted that the North Vietnamese area, under the control of Ho Chi Minh failed to hold elections agreed in the Geneva Accords scheduled for 1956. I've certainly benefitted from hearing the still-vital fury of the Vietnamese, not an objective insight but one from the people as well as the state.

In truth Vietnam only existed as it appears today in the late 1700's, when final unification came under Nguyen Anh, a member of the Nguyen noble family who fought for 25 years against the Tay Son and conquered the entire country in 1802. However, the country first gained indepedence around the 11th century. 200 years as a static state is a long time, but in the context of other nations it is even younger than the US. Perhaps it did not have a strong unifying bond in the way other countries have, especially considering that much of that time was under French colonial control. Now doubt the citizens were pleased when a republic was declared after WWII instead of a return to being ruled by the French, but it is likely the Ho Chi Minh would not have turned out to be a benevolent dictator, either then or when the French were finally kicked out in 1954, had he been content to rule North Vietnam. Indeed the emergence of boat people directly after the reunification is partly testament to this. 'Uncle Ho', as he is now known, was certainly not happy to see his nation divided and desperately wanted Saigon back under home rule.

26 years have now passed since the Vietnamese 'kicked Chinese ass' (in our tour guide's words) out of their northern territory in 1980, and direct military conflict ceased. There is plenty more to Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) than a hastily reconstructed, mentally-scarred city.

Left: View from Le Duan from Reunification Palace. A typically French tree lined boulevard.

Below left: Uncle Ho surveys activity in the GPO below him. 'Big Uncle' rather than brother.











So what is it like today? We've been in Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) for three days now and I've packed in as much as possible including watching the World Cup final until 5 o'clock in the morning yesterday night. This is the first time I've visited a strictly non-western society, having spent time in Thailand (where there is something approaching a democracy, despite the present polictical deadlock) and Cambodia (where there is lip-service to it). As you will know, the Vietnamese version of perestroika means that at first glance there's little different in HCMC from the neighbouring cities on the Malay peninsula (bar those in Burma no doubt), but it is still, if only in name, Communist. There are hammer and sickle flags along all major streets, but despite the average wage being lower than Thailand, it is higher than Cambodia. Familiar shops, bars, laundries, but above all low-powered motorbikes fill the streets.

We followed the Lonely Planet walking tour around the city which took us two days in order to have more than a token glance around the museums. As you might expect the Lonely Planet descriptions of the US-lead invasion and conflict are a source of contention here, along with much else the book describes. This along with the red-raw fury attached to commentary in the War Remnants museum and Reunification Palace (former base of the Southern Republic) remind you of state opinion, but the public's as well and the emotional and physical abyss which the US/South Vietnamese war created for the surviving Republic and people. I had my eyes opened during these visits (and our subsequent visit to the VC's underground tunnel system at Cu Chi) to American war atrocities which are still played down in the West despite the impact of many thousands of books, films and articles on the war. The use of Agent Orange is once such atrocity. Horrendous stuff; it's alledgedly killed or maimed a generation here. It was a herbicide used to deforest areas which were hideouts and strongholds of the VC and to deny them food. In total 24,000 square kilometres were sprayed with the toxin. Scores of high-profile lawsuits have followed.

Visiting the Cu Chi tunnel system, it highlighted that the North/South war was one of the first wars to be fought in a new style guerilla fashion, sounding the death toll (appropriately) for the direct troop conflict of the two great wars. Western military equipment and tactics had been developed to fight the old-style wars and they weren't able to wipe out the combination of the North Vietnamese Army and the Viet Cong in the guerillas in the south, who used an infrastructure of underground tunnels constructed and used to fight the French ten years previously. Miles upon miles of tunnels and the many camouflaged trap doors gave the VC the ability to pop-up anywhere amongst American troops and lay traps or start fighting, and disappear into thin air as quickly as they had arrived. Tunnels were also a supply route for food and equipment to the 'insurgents'. Tunnels were so developed that after a time they contained communications rooms, dormitories, kitchens and munitions factories. I am not normally claustrophobic but travelling through the tunnels myself (enlarged and sured-up for tourists), was disconcerting. I felt trapped in a way I never have before and my heart sped up and my mouth dried. This structure's advantage over the Americans/French came at a personal cost. The conditions underground were by turns hot, cold, damp, unhygienic and dangerous. The tunnels were actually preserved by the napalm dropped by US Vietnamese forces, which destroyed the vegetation above ground but hardened the soil beneath. As Wikipedia has it, 'Throughout the course of the war, the tunnels in and around Cu Chi proved to be a source of frustration for the U.S. military in Saigon. The NLF (VC) had been so well entrenched in the area by 1965 that they were in the unique position of locally being able to control where and when battles would take place, thus frustrating the Americans' overall military superiority. By helping to covertly move supplies and house troops, the tunnels of Cu Chi allowed guerrilla fighters in their area of South Vietnam to survive and help prolong the war and increase American costs and casualties until their eventual withdrawal in 1972.'

Stocks of American bombs used in the Vietnam conflict. There are still 6 million unexploded allied bombs left in Vietnam. There are tonnes of barrels of herbicide left around the countryside as well.

The Reunification Palace. This former Presidential Palace of the South Vietnamese republic is where the North Vienamese Army and Viet Cong finally gained control of Saigon. This bunker shows where the South Vietnamese Republic ongoing war effort was partially co-ordinated. It looks pretty grim down here, and I suspect that even the most senior officers wondered what the hell they were fighting for after the initial phase of the North/South conflict

Whilst we watched the locals put on their best togs for a romantic Sunday nights' scooter dash around Dhoi Kong and Pham Ngu Lao, a young woman approached James and I for some research towards her degree thesis. This turned out to be a relaxed interview in a cafe about our reasons for choosing HCMC as a tourist destination. It was a pleasant talk, but I didn't intend to pull any punches about authoritarianism in Vietnam even if it did cause her some mild discomfort. She smiled as I talked about what I disliked about western democracy and neo-liberalism, but she looked slightly anxious (or shy?) when I mentioned the loss of liberty accompanying a one-party state. Perhaps I am naive, but she wanted my opinion. I made sure no one was eavesdropping on our chat for her peace of mind. Most of the discussion was all very innocent concerning our favourite part of HCMC or food and I did say that I felt there was a distinct air of purpose and optimism around HCMC, which I honestly believe. I think I learnt something simply from her watching her attitude and reactions. It is such a shame that such an intelligent young woman (she could speak fluent Chinese, Japanese and English) may well have a shallow roof capping her potential.

Buddism is mixed with Tao here in a similar way to Buddhism and Shintoism in Japan. The pagodas and temples here are the most pungent and packed that I've visited in South East Asia. That's really saying something in a region in which religion plays a prominent role in many aspects of dailly life. It is an apropriate diversion from the death and misery which has plagued this country, I imagine. The Jade Emerald Pagoda (left) was once such place, and featured a josstick smoke filled side-room of hellish wooden carvings depicting guilty souls awaiting punishment. Retribution is not something I'd associate with Buddhism, but there is a lot of left-over anger in this country. Fortunately there were plenty of docile terrapins to look at in the pond outside when it became too much for me. I think Ho Chi Minh City is a place of surprises and intensity.