Continent Hopping, And The Brow Mopping That Follows
November 23rd 2009 07:24
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Category: No Category
Beauty and Boredom
Beautiful Boredom
Boring Beauty
There are as many versions of these as there are people
People are so numerous in range
That all you ever need is one
To kick off the connection-making
The spectrum unfolds
I attempt to love them, boldly
Whether you're a pedestrian in Bangkok or Frankfurt, Tokyo or Rome, the traffic is topical, for comparison's sake. Unruly Europe, or one whose orderly sobriety challenges a love of fun-making. An Asia so wild that it will impress upon you new standards of 'untamed', or one so meticulously organised that nothing seems out of place.
As I hopped from Asia to Australia, two earth segments I have strong connections to, I felt yanked from a world where pride new no bounds but was reeled in by mild-mannered politeness, where people spoke to me in soft and humble tones, made restrained but smooth movements, imparted a strong sense of keeping themselves collected in a scrupulous, ethically potent whole, and didn't take themselves incredibly seriously (a fun contemplation being just around the corner, no matter the topic). Girls with light pink shimmery eyeshadow and black eye-liner emphasising their almond-shaped eyes, sometimes with deep blue contacts and slick dark hair would simultaneously convenience and inconvenience me, as they spoke in English that had a degree of the undecipherable in a pleasant, would-be-helpful kind of manner. Dutiful smiles, genial countenance - a superficial kind of earnestness that I longed to be reproduced when I first came back to Sydney.
The Melbournian assumption that I would just be brimming with understated merriment got on my nerves early. Thankfully we had Jet Star staff from Bangkok for the flight to Australia's cultural capital, making the transition a little less overwhelming. I did not want to catch any Australian's eye and resonate or affirm their feeble assumptions. My incredulity faltering, I began to feel similarly to how I felt when I returned to Sydney after eight months in California: resentful of the hegemony of the abrasive culturally generated warmth. It was like a blanket that I didn't want to be wrapped up in, and it made me all the more depressed to realise that I was surrounded by this country and continent-wide attitude for miles and miles and miles. The closest country, New Zealand, was even worse in that respect.
No wonder I feel so flat in Australia - it kinda drives me crazy!
Here's the thing: it's not really better or worse than anyplace else. I find Sydney simultaneously more interesting and boring every day. It's my [more permanent than I'd like] window into world culture - an isolated capital city which nevertheless attracts people from all around the world, both as residents and as visitors or guests. I have come to accept that there are few other places which offer a lifestyle so admirable and profoundly well-meaning. Australia rocks... in a subdued, low-key kind of way. With an aggressive cheekiness that alienates you if you aren't going to accept the main thrust of its validity.
But it's okay... no irritation, intense pleasure, discomfort, or perk lasts forever. Australian life will suffice until the day I leave it behind without a second thought... only to return, again and again. What kind of cultures cheerfully co-exist in my head? That's the best question...
Beautiful Boredom
Boring Beauty
There are as many versions of these as there are people
People are so numerous in range
That all you ever need is one
To kick off the connection-making
The spectrum unfolds
I attempt to love them, boldly
Whether you're a pedestrian in Bangkok or Frankfurt, Tokyo or Rome, the traffic is topical, for comparison's sake. Unruly Europe, or one whose orderly sobriety challenges a love of fun-making. An Asia so wild that it will impress upon you new standards of 'untamed', or one so meticulously organised that nothing seems out of place.
As I hopped from Asia to Australia, two earth segments I have strong connections to, I felt yanked from a world where pride new no bounds but was reeled in by mild-mannered politeness, where people spoke to me in soft and humble tones, made restrained but smooth movements, imparted a strong sense of keeping themselves collected in a scrupulous, ethically potent whole, and didn't take themselves incredibly seriously (a fun contemplation being just around the corner, no matter the topic). Girls with light pink shimmery eyeshadow and black eye-liner emphasising their almond-shaped eyes, sometimes with deep blue contacts and slick dark hair would simultaneously convenience and inconvenience me, as they spoke in English that had a degree of the undecipherable in a pleasant, would-be-helpful kind of manner. Dutiful smiles, genial countenance - a superficial kind of earnestness that I longed to be reproduced when I first came back to Sydney.
The Melbournian assumption that I would just be brimming with understated merriment got on my nerves early. Thankfully we had Jet Star staff from Bangkok for the flight to Australia's cultural capital, making the transition a little less overwhelming. I did not want to catch any Australian's eye and resonate or affirm their feeble assumptions. My incredulity faltering, I began to feel similarly to how I felt when I returned to Sydney after eight months in California: resentful of the hegemony of the abrasive culturally generated warmth. It was like a blanket that I didn't want to be wrapped up in, and it made me all the more depressed to realise that I was surrounded by this country and continent-wide attitude for miles and miles and miles. The closest country, New Zealand, was even worse in that respect.
No wonder I feel so flat in Australia - it kinda drives me crazy!
Here's the thing: it's not really better or worse than anyplace else. I find Sydney simultaneously more interesting and boring every day. It's my [more permanent than I'd like] window into world culture - an isolated capital city which nevertheless attracts people from all around the world, both as residents and as visitors or guests. I have come to accept that there are few other places which offer a lifestyle so admirable and profoundly well-meaning. Australia rocks... in a subdued, low-key kind of way. With an aggressive cheekiness that alienates you if you aren't going to accept the main thrust of its validity.
But it's okay... no irritation, intense pleasure, discomfort, or perk lasts forever. Australian life will suffice until the day I leave it behind without a second thought... only to return, again and again. What kind of cultures cheerfully co-exist in my head? That's the best question...
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