An Australian trip

It is surprising that I am not a Mark Rothko fan. I find his work to be easy and tedious. I feel nothing when I look at his work. It doesn’t overwhelm me, in the way that a Rembrandt, or a Caravaggio does. Yet, what he is trying to convey – a sense of calm – in nature, I find to be breathtaking. The photo below, I took yesterday somewhere along the Great Ocean Road in Victoria. It’s difficult not to think “Rothko” when you see it. Yet it possesses something that Rothko just couldn’t create. Perhaps something that man can’t create.

Rothko simply fails to grasp hold of this sense of beauty in his works.

Here are a few photos I have taken on my second trip to Australia. Enjoy.

Ash bought me this incredible coat, as an early birthday/christmas gift. It is actually the greatest coat ever made. This was taken on a steam boat on the Murray River. Ash booked a gorgeous weekend away in Moama.

Our room in Moama, complete with a fire place, and a spa.

A shack on the Murray River.

Claire and Mark!

Ahmed, Geoff, Kerry, Ash and me.

North Melbourne V Collingwood, at the MCG.

Mr Geoff, in front of Flinders St, in Melbourne.

There will be more to come!
And be sure to check out my other photography: Futile Photographer.

Seven Months.

Me and Ash are seven months old today. And as most of the people who read this are aware, I (being from England) am staying with Ash (being from Australia) over here on the over side of the World, for ten weeks. I absolutely adore waking up next to her each morning, hearing about her day, learning to cook from her, exploring the World she knows with her. These 6 weeks so far, have reaffirmed my initial reaction upon meeting her back in December, that I want to spend my life with this girl. Completely one in a billion.

I have met all of her family now, and they have been amazingly welcoming. I already feel at home here. I have met the people she hangs out with; Gianna; a rather cool carefree Aussie who should have been this age during the 1980s (Aussies seem to love the 1980s, as opposed to us Brits, who like to pretend it didn’t happen), she seems to have a magnetism that people appear drawn too, which intrigues me. Kerry; a friend of Ash’s with an awesome sense of humour and gets TV rage at bad mums on awful yet strangely mesmerising reality TV shows. Mark; a kind of gentle giant who happens to be able to cook pretty fantastic food. And Kerry’s boyfriend (I forget his name, Ged, I think); very knowledgeable chap which is great for political discussions, with a quick wit, a very friendly aura, and a camera buff for all my photographic needs.

Ash now needs to meet my friends.

For our One year anniversary, Ash will be over in England. We plan to spend New Years in Paris, and then onto Florence, Venice and Rome. I know Rome pretty well, and Ash knows and adores Paris, so it’ll be an exciting few days, and a particularly spectacular way to spend a one year anniversary.

Anyway, here are a few photos of Ash, me, and a few people who have made my trip a happy one

This first one, is us in Surrey in December 2009.

This second one, in eerily similar fashion to the one above, is in Melbourne, July 2010.

This is me and Ash in my bedroom back home in Leicester, in December 2009, complete with my Abbey Road picture, Vettriano and Doisneau works languishing pointlessly in the background.

This is a rather awesome photo of Mark, Ash and me, at a bar in Melbourne. We should be a band. Except, I can’t sing or play any form of instrument.

This is me and Kerry’s boyfriend (I still forget his name, Gene, I think).

This is me teaching REAL football to Ash’s little brother, on their land in Tasmania.
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This is us on a rather beautiful beach, on the South coast of Australia, last weekend.

This is Ash’s dad and her step mum, at their BBQ in June.

Kerry, drinking an ENTIRE jug of alcohol to herself. Okay that might be an exaggeration.

A KOALA!!! IN THE WILD!!! A FUCKING KOALA!!!!!

In a little over five months time, I will be posting a similar blog, full of photos of Ash, my friends, and European exploring, entitled “One year”.
Fun times.

GEOFF!!!! That’s the one!!!

Australia

As I was strolling around the town in which my beautiful lady Ash lives, I saw a man with a moustache, in a red plaid shirt, dirty jeans, and big boots, carrying wood on his shoulder. It then hit me that I was quite obviously in Australia.

It feels great to be back with Ashlee. I have not been able to hug her when she’s had a bad day, or make her a cup of tea in bed, or go places with her, for almost 6 months and that has been horrible. We have both struggled with it. But seeing her again, at the airport, for the first time in over 5 months, made it all worthwhile. It re-affirmed my previous conclusion that I want to spend my life with this girl. I feel tremendously lucky.

The very first thing you notice in Australia, is the vast open spaces. The cities like Melbourne are modern and rather big. But within seconds of leaving the city, you’re presented with free space as far as your eye can see. It contrasts hugely to the densely populated cities and towns in England. Within seconds of leaving Leicester, you are in a new city or a new town, and the only open spaces are parks or farms.

Excuse the horrendous generalisations i’m about to make, because whether they are true or not, we English certainly perceive them to be true of everyone else, other than us. England has a bit of a North/South divide. Those in the North are never too keen on those in the South and vice versa. And I personally find Northerners far friendlier and willing to talk to you than Southerners. Aussies seem happy and friendly and willing to talk to a stranger, far more than we are. If you ask a Londoner where the nearest Tube station is, he’s likely to look at you as if you’d asked if you could lick his face. Aussies seem far friendlier than us Englanders. That’s not to say that we’re all miserable unhelpful bastards!

I have noticed just how different mentalities are in Australia in comparison to what i’m accustomed to in England. England is far too American. We are always in a rush. We are made to believe that the object of our lives is to have more stuff. Our cars have to be perfect. Our homes must be modern and filled with huge TVs and Xbox’s. Our entire economy is based on promoting useless wants. It’s a very flimsy system. Australia seems different from first glance. Cars have scratches and dents, they’re old and have torn seats. They do not seem to care if they get a tiny scratch that would essentially drive an Englishman crazy demanding compensation. Australian houses, from what i’ve seen are old miner’s homes from the gold rushes. The outside of the homes are very old looking and quite eerie in nature. I walked past one that had an old torn sofa on the front porch, a rocking chair, and a broken swing in the front yard blowing gently in the wind, with a whisper of a creaking sound. If that isn’t the mark of a house owned by a serial killer, I don’t know what is. And yet, inside these seemingly run down old miners homes, are beautifully renovated modern interiors. We in England find it difficult to get our heads around this idea. Seeing cheerful friendly people come out of eerie looking homes, not even carrying a bloodied axe or a black bin bag in the shape of a corpse, is not something we understand.

So far, I am loving Australia. I arrived on Tuesday. After all the jetlag, and waking up at 4am ready for my day, tired by 6pm ready for sleep, and other odd sleeping patterns, I am left not really knowing what day it is today. I presume it’s Monday. The flight was okay. I hate flying anyway. The slightest hint of turbulence and i’m convinced we’re going down. Over Afghanistan, the plane began to rock quite violently, we’d hit bad turbulence. A woman a couple of rows in front of me screamed. So naturally I was convinced the wings were about to come off. I am not a good flyer at all. If I hear a noise that sounds like the engines are slowing down, I think “Does the pilot know that the engines have stopped working? Shouldn’t somebody tell him that the only thing keeping this tin can unnaturally in the air, have just stopped? ……Shouldn……..oh wait, they’re making noise again.” I over think the entire flight all the time.

Kuala Lumpur airport has a forest in the centre of it. You go through a door to get into it. The sign on the door reads “This airport and its affiliated airlines cannot take responsibility for any lost luggage or deaths that may occur.” When there’s a disclaimer telling me that I might die if I go through the door, I am pretty sure that isn’t a door I ever want to go through.

I have had a pretty fantastic first week. First and foremost, I got my Ash back! I have explored towns that all remind me of Hill Valley in Back to the Future III. Old Western style towns, that I adore. They have such character. I have seen some beautiful scenery. I have not got used to everything being in Kilometres as opposed to miles. I have met Ash’s friends, who were all very friendly, very welcoming, and made a beautiful dinner and breakfast for me. Which is massively appreciated. I have driven and got confused by the idea that if the green man is showing, and there is no one directly crossing in front of your car, you can drive on. I have explored Melbourne, and walked along the south bank at night. I have joined together with Ash’s friend and beat two Aussies at pool. I have been in an Aussie pub, with very welcoming Aussie locals, and was fed the worst toast spread in the history of the World. I have learnt that the phrase “What’s going on?” is pronounced “s-carnon?” I have met Ash’s dad and brother, who are both great company, and whom bought me a pizza and wine, and whom we are seeing again next week in Tasmania, and…………… I HAVE SEEN KANGAROOS!!!!!!!!

If Australia beat Serbia and make it through to the next round of the World Cup, and England don’t…………… I’m going to change my accent, never go home, dress in plaid shirts, and call myself “Bruce“.