blamebrampton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blamebrampton) wrote2008-07-19 06:41 pm
blamebrampton) wrote2008-07-19 06:41 pm
Here in the Holyish city ...
Yesterday was a very quiet day in terms of pilgrim interaction, they were all busily watching the Stations of the Cross for most of the day. I'm in two minds about the Stations of the Cross; on the one hand I am all for medieval theatre and there being public rituals in the life of a city that bind people together. On the other hand, it's a bit like watching a Mel Gibson production. And the bloke they had playing Jesus was an advertising executive, which I think is asking for it really.
Today I frankly hid. all of my pilgrim interactions were care of the news. SBS news showed a group of friendly protesters tossing condoms at the pilgrims, two rather fit lads bent down to pick some up, was it pure chance that they had Swedish flags on their backpacks? I think not. The other pilgrims called out 'Benedicto' to the protesters, who wore shirts condemning the pope's stances on birth control and homosexuality.
One pilgrim was taken away by police when he tried to assault a protester, but he was later released. I wonder if the reverse situation would have had the same result?
The pilgrims were marching for miles across the Sydney Harbour Bridge, through the city, to Randwick, where they are spending the evening camping at the racecourse before a large mass tomorrow (as you can see, those Swedes were forward-thinking). I am not a big fan of huge crowds, so stayed in Erko and Newtown, which were pilgrim free.
I finished my mainlining of Girl Genius webcomic, which I heartily recommend to anyone who is a fan of steampunk, big-busted girl heroines with ray guns, or heavily amusing graphic art (the first panel features an advert for frogs, 2p; sugar frogs, 5p, sugar sans frogs, 20p). Then we popped up the road for a bite to eat.
I was partially intelligent about this, slipping out of my flowery sundress and coat ensemble that had seen me through the day and into a woolen top and skirt with coat arrangement that is about four times warmer. Where I failed was in the shoe department, I had been pottering about in my new Doc boots in a bid to break them in (being far too old to resort to the old thick socks and a bucket of hot water trick that I would have used the last time I had Doc boots, before half my flist was born).
Had you been standing in a quiet corner of Newtown earlier this evening you would have seen a short, black-clad woman unlacing a pair of red boots and stuffing her socks into them before setting off home in bare feet. Happily there was no broken glass, only cold, cold pavement. I can now tell you that fresh tarmac is warmer than old, concrete smoother than tarmac, and bricks best of all. Also, that no matter how much of your earlier life was spent barefoot and fancy free, none of that counts after a few years in sensible shoes.
This was not the only oddness of the evening. I had been curled up on the sofa with Girl Genius for a few hours when J bustled past me into the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Ten minutes later, he went out to see how the stovetop coffee maker was going. When he drew back the curtain* leading into the kitchen, a wave of acrid smoke poured out. He had turned on the element under the wooden chopping board rather than the one under the Bialetti, and it was cheerfully charcoaling. Luckily the smoke alarm is in the next room, and the curtain did its job holding in the smoke. It is one of the few times I have been happy to have an electric cooker. I had to explain to the cats that Daddy was trying to kill us, again, so they needed to stay out of the kitchen for a while. This involved the bag of milky treats and much tummy tickling. Like all cats, they can be bought.
Tomorrow we will add a new chopping board to the list of the day's missions. And I will brave a city full of worn-out, smelly pilgrims on their way back from their camp-out and mass in my bid to find a reasonably priced microphone for podficcing.
It's got to be safer than staying home ...
*Our house is small, and there is no room to mount a door, but it is also a freezing cold house in winter, and so you need to keep the rooms contained to hold any heat in. Thick curtains do the job admirably. And add a rakish, bohemian air. I am thinking of sewing up a quilted felt pirate flag to replace the current one at some point.
Today I frankly hid. all of my pilgrim interactions were care of the news. SBS news showed a group of friendly protesters tossing condoms at the pilgrims, two rather fit lads bent down to pick some up, was it pure chance that they had Swedish flags on their backpacks? I think not. The other pilgrims called out 'Benedicto' to the protesters, who wore shirts condemning the pope's stances on birth control and homosexuality.
One pilgrim was taken away by police when he tried to assault a protester, but he was later released. I wonder if the reverse situation would have had the same result?
The pilgrims were marching for miles across the Sydney Harbour Bridge, through the city, to Randwick, where they are spending the evening camping at the racecourse before a large mass tomorrow (as you can see, those Swedes were forward-thinking). I am not a big fan of huge crowds, so stayed in Erko and Newtown, which were pilgrim free.
I finished my mainlining of Girl Genius webcomic, which I heartily recommend to anyone who is a fan of steampunk, big-busted girl heroines with ray guns, or heavily amusing graphic art (the first panel features an advert for frogs, 2p; sugar frogs, 5p, sugar sans frogs, 20p). Then we popped up the road for a bite to eat.
I was partially intelligent about this, slipping out of my flowery sundress and coat ensemble that had seen me through the day and into a woolen top and skirt with coat arrangement that is about four times warmer. Where I failed was in the shoe department, I had been pottering about in my new Doc boots in a bid to break them in (being far too old to resort to the old thick socks and a bucket of hot water trick that I would have used the last time I had Doc boots, before half my flist was born).
Had you been standing in a quiet corner of Newtown earlier this evening you would have seen a short, black-clad woman unlacing a pair of red boots and stuffing her socks into them before setting off home in bare feet. Happily there was no broken glass, only cold, cold pavement. I can now tell you that fresh tarmac is warmer than old, concrete smoother than tarmac, and bricks best of all. Also, that no matter how much of your earlier life was spent barefoot and fancy free, none of that counts after a few years in sensible shoes.
This was not the only oddness of the evening. I had been curled up on the sofa with Girl Genius for a few hours when J bustled past me into the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Ten minutes later, he went out to see how the stovetop coffee maker was going. When he drew back the curtain* leading into the kitchen, a wave of acrid smoke poured out. He had turned on the element under the wooden chopping board rather than the one under the Bialetti, and it was cheerfully charcoaling. Luckily the smoke alarm is in the next room, and the curtain did its job holding in the smoke. It is one of the few times I have been happy to have an electric cooker. I had to explain to the cats that Daddy was trying to kill us, again, so they needed to stay out of the kitchen for a while. This involved the bag of milky treats and much tummy tickling. Like all cats, they can be bought.
Tomorrow we will add a new chopping board to the list of the day's missions. And I will brave a city full of worn-out, smelly pilgrims on their way back from their camp-out and mass in my bid to find a reasonably priced microphone for podficcing.
It's got to be safer than staying home ...
*Our house is small, and there is no room to mount a door, but it is also a freezing cold house in winter, and so you need to keep the rooms contained to hold any heat in. Thick curtains do the job admirably. And add a rakish, bohemian air. I am thinking of sewing up a quilted felt pirate flag to replace the current one at some point.
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What is it you're implying about the Swedes? ;)
Sounds like your hippie childhood served you well in being able to navigate the streets barefoot.
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They are a cautious and prepared people!
I could have done with the thick soles of my youth, I felt every pebble of gravel there, and it took about two hours for them to stop stinging. The idiotic thing is that I had blister bandages in the house that I could have put on before I put these boots on. I am thick some days ...
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Peace,
Bubba
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i can't even go into times square on a weekend without wanting to throw things, so i can't imagine how you locals are dealing with it. (i guess the real question is, who are more likely to inspire ire: lost tourists in nyc or catholic youth marching through the streets of sydney? ...it's a bit of a toughie. :P) it's all pretty intriguing though. for some reason i can't help but bristle at the thought of an international youth event, and i'm trying to puzzle out why...
and yeah for bare feet! i admit it's not ideal for city-dwelling, but i find that drinks+dancing+3.5 inch heels often results in traipsing barefoot through the streets, fears of tetanus shots be damned.
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The pilgrims are mostly lovely, though some of them forget that they are in a real live city. That does happen in Australia in general, so much of it is so weird that people treat it like a theme park. Americans did this in London a bit when I was a girl and there was no BBC America. One asked where I was off to the other day, and was startled when I told her "Work", it was as though she thought everyone was on holiday.
But there have been very few pilgrims who have been actively crappy. The shouting of 'Benedicto' is pretty indicative of them on the whole, responding to things they don't agree with in a blessing. I approve, and the protesters said it was all very nice and full of goodwill.
That said, I'll be glad when it is all over and I don't need to check the train carriages for pilgrims with megaphoney things before I get on.
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LOL!
yes, us americans can be a bit dim sometimes. *sighs*
The pilgrims are mostly lovely, though some of them forget that they are in a real live city. That does happen in Australia in general, so much of it is so weird that people treat it like a theme park.
i was lucky enough to get to stay in sydney for about a month a few years ago for work and really loved it, but i never got outside the city. hopefully i'll get the chance to fly across the world again someday to see the rest of the country. i'm a big fan of weirdness. (but theme parks, not so much ;) )
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The white lines painted on the side of the road are the softest walking surface of all. I had to ditch my shoes in Cape Trib, but i can't imagine doing it in Sydney winter - ouch!
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It kind of worked for me, but in a bad way. In fact, I was hoping for a bit more abuse, Umbridge-style.
JUST KIDDING!
No, I saw a bit of it and I felt bad for the poor fellow. He looked really really cold up on that cross.
Sorry about your house getting burnt! I hope all is well and nothing smells to funny by now.
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The house smells terrible! I have bowls of baking soda out and will be following up with vanilla extract in a few hours if the smells don't start being absorbed. Sigh. And I still don't have a new board.
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Alas, our white lines are down the centre of the road, and given my track record with cars ...
Yes, he was definitely hot, but can you imagine the next time he tries to pick up a girl and says "Oh yeah, and I was Jesus on a cross once."
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I will not deign to dignify the references to a Sydney "winter" with an answer.
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All right, I accept that this is as nothing compared to Norway, but you still need a blanky!
I do understand your pain, f it makes you feel any better, they probably had at least one Norwegian parent.
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But at night, the houses are COOOOOOOLD! and DRAUGHTY! and the cold draughty winds blow through them and they reach under the blanky (for we are a poor folk and have but one blanky each) and they freezes us, my precious!
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Yes, we will be able to lure more tourists here from colder climes, and steal their blankies!
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She had not come in the night before, I peered through the windows until I spotted her lying flat on a patch of concrete in the coolest part of the garden, trying to stay cool.
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I read your Min story a while back, and it's just gorgeous. I hadn't talked much with you at that point so it seemed like too intimate a thing to comment on, but it made me cry and love the Min before I'd really heard anything else about her.
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my pair of doc boots is not the traditional style and there was no breaking in period. love them to death.
hope the chopping block was acquired.
[*runs off to Do Things*]
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No chopping block, J was Not Useful today (though at least he hasn't set fire to anything since last night.) How goes the packing?
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i'll deal with it on tuesday night. [*nods*]
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i also learned that the only things that are Must Haves are a visa card, a passport and an atm card. the rest is just gravy [*nods*]
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I haven't been following the pilgrim situation closely, but I did catch a glimpse of our boy Jesus on the telly, and it seemed a bit ... well. I'm an atheist and I've no business talking about sacrilege, but really - do they do this sort of thing a lot?