Australia Calling

Dear team

A short end of year note to say hi and wonder at the marvels of intercontinental travel.

My last week or so in Canada was just as the first: intense. Many kind students bought us gifts, said lots of nice things and even sat patiently while Tom talked (boy can he talk!) and (get this) I sang and played the guitar during our final minutes together. Now, if any Australian readers needed any further proof that this is indeed a special group of people, this should dispel any doubts. Thanks to one of the students, Steven Ferracane (whom I actually thought I could trust!), this final ‘class’ has actually been video recorded. No doubt the footage will be used to embarrass Tom and me (or at least me) at some future shing-ding. A small price to pay I guess given the incredibly generous and warm farewell we received.

As it happened, ‘Gardy Unplugged’ was not quite the end of proceedings. That night a large number of CSU Ontarions braved the bitter weather for a major knees up at the one and only ‘Joe Dogs’ (thankfully just around the corner from the Gingerbread House). It was actually also Tom Lowrie’s birthday which, according to some obscure Canad custom, means that Tom had to drink heaps and heaps of shots (no choice in the matter I’m afraid) including a particularly palatable one I sampled (would have been rude not to) called a ‘Polar Bear’. I think that one came courtesy of Amanda G and Erin M (very kind) but don’t quote me.

Later that night, a small group of the more sophisticated (ok... hard core) students came back to help me farewell the Gingerbread House apartment. As you can see from the attached photo, a more wholesome and well behaved group you could never wish to meet. Thanks to (from L to R) Mark, Carlie, Lindsay, (MG) Bridget (above), Maria (below), Jay (the purple one!) and Juanita (who took the photo and kept everyone entertained) for being so quiet as you left the building at 5am (especially you Bridget!).



As if to round out our Canadian tour of duty, the weather obliged with a real cold snap and something approaching a foot of snow over the last couple of weeks. The attached photo shows the Gingerbread House luxuriating in a fluffy white blanket just after a reasonable fall.



I was quite enchanted by the winter until the first time I had to dig the car out! I was over it after that, although I think it is all a matter of mindset. By the time the snow came I was beginning to think about my impending southern migration rather than settling in for six months in the Arctic Circle.

Not much else to report except that Tom and I finally did get to a Maple Leafs game (see attached photo, note also Tom’s new leather jacket bought to celebrate his much-deserved elevation to full professor) courtesy of a mysterious benefactor (they know who they is!). The Lowrie-Gard magic worked (as usual) with the Leafs snapping another of their numerous losing streaks, edging out the Anaheim Mighty Ducks.



Perhaps the highlight of the night came on the walk back to the car which saw your little aussie heroes braving –13 Celsius conditions. Having proved our point, we hailed a cab.

The final weekend was a blur of boxes and last minute panics. Packing my road bike into a newly acquired ‘Trico Iron Case’ was an IQ test like no other but definitely a step up from the cardboard box which (somehow) got it here. I prepared for the flight home in traditional fashion by downing three beers in an hour and a quarter at Toronto airport. After that, the trip home was a doddle except for a slight mishap in LA. Seems an Air India jet fluffed its landing on the longest runway leaving debris all over the shop. My 747 was filled to the gills and, therefore, needed to use this runway; apparently they were legally prohibited from using any of the other shorter runways because of the weight of the plane. Long story short, they decided to leave everyone’s bags in LA (although do you really think the first class bags got put off?) to lighten the plane and use the shorter strip. They showed up in Australia a few days later.

It is now the 29th of December. Christmas with mum and dad was quiet and hot. The attached photo is of my feet and a gentle little right hander on my favourite ‘private’ beach. Despite the christmas/new year influx of people around Yamba, very few people know about this little slice of paradise.



In a week or so I’ll be in Bathurst before flying to sunny England on January 21st. Next stop Yorkshire!

Hope christmas and the new year are kind to you.

Love yous all

MG

Canadia Calling 5

Dear Team

I know what you’re thinking; geez it’s a been a while since we’ve heard from Gardy, that little aussie battler with class to burn and the gift of the common touch, friend to movie stars, media personality, spokesperson for the oppressed and advocate for cats with too many toes. Well, all I can say in my defence is that it has been go-go-go here in the socialist half of North America (a.k.a. Canadia). This week it’s sport, culture and even some romance. More on that later.

But first the thing that nobody seems to be able to resist asking me about: the weather. Well, first it was hot then it was really wet then it was cold then it snowed a bit then it snowed a lot then it rained and washed away all the snow and tonight it is snowing again (see attached photo of un-fazed Burlingtonian greeting the first snow a couple of weeks ago. Also take particular notice of new extremely expensive Bulgari sunnies!). I hope that satisfies everyone’s curiosity. Generally, it’s just cold and we get things called ‘flurries’ a lot, except you gotta hear how the Canads say ‘flurry’; it’s a scream!



Since we last spoke I have been through the unbridled excitement of Halloween (spelling?) which deserves an entire epistle of its own. For brevity’s sake, let us just say that after splurging on chocolates and then spending most of the night taking photographs of small children to whom I offered said chocolates (see attached photo of happy trick-or-treaters) my career in education may now be somewhat up in the air.

 

The Lowries, Terry Noonan, the Frasers and I also attended the Toronto ‘Winter Fair’ a few weeks ago. In a general sense this might be compared to the Royal Easter Show although there are no showbags, no rides and I couldn’t find a decent sponge anywhere. On the up side, we saw a fair dinkum rodeo which included horses running on the top of moving buses! I kid you not! There were also plenty of Australian ‘cowboys’ wearing spats, the size of which I haven’t seen since the last Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Will Letts took me to. What is it with these cowboys? Despite the lack of showbags and fairy floss, there were plenty of exotic animals including more breeds of goat than I knew existed and some absolutely monstrous rabbits. The attached photo is what you get when you cross Bugs with an Australian blue cattle dog. Needless to say ‘Blue Bugs’ came home with me and is quietly nibbling on my Italian shoes in the corner of my apartment (he, like his new owner, has expensive taste). I also saw the world’s biggest root vegetable (see attached photo. Notice that there is a pumpkin in the photo as well).





Speaking of Tom, with my time in Canadia coming to an end, I should pay tribute to the Lowry family. Bathurst friends will know that for some time I have occupied a position as fourth child in the Marino family of Forest Grove, a responsibility I have executed to the best of my ability. Over the last five months I have added ‘third child in the Lowry family’ to my CV. This has meant (amongst other things) providing brother Matthew with a decent masculine role model and being on hand every time mother Robin (how shall I put this?) is feeling under the weather. As ever, I have been on the receiving end of more kindness than I have given. In my heart, I will be part Lowry for ever! Thanks team!

In recent weeks I’ve managed road trips to Montreal for a conference on dance and human rights, Ottawa where I finally saw a game of ice hockey, and last week to Queens University in Kingston where I gave a public lecture on – yes – obesity.

I always measure the European-ness of cities by the amount of spitting in the streets and smoking in the restaurants. On this scale Montreal is right up there. Of course, I café’-ed with my fabulous French speaking colleagues and ‘merci-ed’ and ‘bon jour-ed’ my way into the hearts of millions of Quebecers. What can I say? Some of us were just made for café culture.

I zipped over to Ottawa the following weekend in order to see the high-flying Ottawa Senators play the not so high-flying New Jersey Devils and to take in the delights of the nation’s capitol. Now, it has come to my attention that some of my wonderful Canadian students have stumbled upon Gardy’s Excellent Blog (http://gardysexcellentblog.blogspot.com) and so I will choose my words carefully when discussing the national past-time. Ice hockey is an interesting game. For a start, the players come out dressed like the most unpopular kid at school (shorts way too big and shirt apparently bought so that Jimmy will grow into it in about, oh, 12 years). I must say that I struggled to take seriously 10 blokes ice skating (I mean, bloody hell, only really nerdy people ice skate, right?) around a rink with bums the size of small suburbs (I know! I can hardly cast stones about bum size!). What exactly do they wear under those shorts? Are they banned from going to the toilet during the game and therefore have to take ‘special precautions’? Despite the ludicrous get-up, the players actually manage to do amazing things with the puck (I’m sure I saw a New Jersey Devil turn it into a leather belt!) and skate at blinding speeds. I had donated a kidney for my ticket and found myself two rows of seats from the playing surface, a fact which helped me to appreciate the best part of the game, the bit where some bloke waits till an opposition (what is the right term?) hockey-er is close to the edge of the field and (apparently legally) slams him into the glass with the puck long gone. Cool huh? I was also joined rink-side by Spartacat, mascot for the Senators. He and I (as you can see from attached photo) were both a little under-whelmed by the action although the Sens (as we die-hards call them) held off a fast finishing Devils outfit to prevail 5-4 and go top of the league. Unfortunately, no fights broke out and, to be honest, my impression is that the fans are more interested in the punch ups than the players. I mean, after you’ve ripped off your helmet and gloves, thrown down your stick and (ahem) adjusted your under garments you’ve probably forgotten whatever it was that fired you up in the first place, right?


 
On to Kingston, where I spoke to a surprisingly large Queens University audience and managed to get into a great little stoush with some box headed obesity scientist. Needless to say he was transported out of the building in small tupper-ware containers after I ‘sliced-and-diced’ the poor little bugger. I also met and had lunch with lots of interesting and friendly Canads, and was generally reminded why being an academic is such a great job.

In the meantime, classes have come to an end here. While relieved to have that out of the way, I have (as always) needed to steel myself for the goodbyes. This has easily been the most satisfying experience of my teaching life and I will miss this group of students a great deal. I’m not sure if they learnt anything from me but I had a great time getting to know them (see attached photo of star-students Jay, Mark and Kevin on the last day of classes).



It’s also been great visiting the schools and meeting lots and lots of Canad teachers. Now, as some of you know, I am an award winning Italian wannabe and, perhaps not surprisingly, have made friends with a lovely group of Italian students here in the program. A group of them were placed to teach at ‘Our Lady of Victory’, a (very) Catholic school in a place called Milton not far from Burlington. One of the classrooms I spent time in at OLOV was run by my (new) friend Mary-Jean, who (having learned of my impeccable Italian credentials) took me under her wing. Mary-Jean has an espresso machine in the classroom (!)and my final visit to her classroom was spent sipping very good short blacks and nibbling on biscotti while the student teacher (a brilliant teacher already) ran the class! Just for a fleeting moment I glimpsed the future of education; an espresso machine in every class and, rather than text books and work sheets, lively conversation about Rome, restaurants and the pursuit of a life well lived. I know what you’re thinking; the man’s a visionary.

Last weekend Tom Lowry, Peter Marshall and I made the trek across the border to Buffalo to see my beloved Buffalo Bills play a turgid NFL game against the Carolina Panthers. It was a tough day at the office. We managed to get to the game late, watch the Bills go under 13-9 (beaten by the only touch down (that is, try) of the day late in the 4th quarter), just about run out of petrol and then get caught in mind boggling traffic on the way home. It also has to be reported that the time we spent in Ralph Wilson Stadium did nothing to dispel my suspicion that Americans are, in fact, aliens from outer space. This may not come as a surprise to some of you and yet the scale of their weirdness does shock even a seasoned traveller like myself. I am absolutely sure the bloke next to me was Butthead from Beavis and Butthead. He spoke no discernable English, only occasionally making that signature half laugh-half grunt noise for which Butthead is justly famous (Oh yes, see attached photo of Bills faithful leaving the ground. Note extra bags of warm clothes on the ground, thankfully not needed).


 
Somewhere amongst all of this a large group of us made our way to Stratford, Ontario, for the annual Shakespeare festival. For the hopeless romantics out there you’ll be jealous to hear that we saw ‘As You Like It’ set somewhere in the 1960s with not a few gestures towards Vietnam War (and, presumably, Iraq war) politics. It was great fun although I did have to spend an inordinate amount of time after the show trying convince Tom Lowry (as many of you know, a mathematician) that the show was not, in fact, an allegory for Ferme’s last theorem written by an early 1970’s kitsch-pop songwriter. Sheesh! (See attached photo of me, Tom and some weird dude with porn star moustache and curious silver clobber)

 

An absolute high spot of the tour came last week when I went with a student and his partner to see the Toronto Dance Theatre perform with my new favourite band, The Hidden Cameras. The dancers danced, the musicians played, and then the dancers played and the musicians danced and then they all danced and played together and by the end I could have died happy. A truly unforgettable show turbo-charged by the coolest new music I’ve heard since… well, since a bloody long time ago. Elsewhere, Mum and Dad Lowry and I also managed to take in ‘The Constant Gardener’ at the cinema (is crying at the movies a sign of age, madness or both?).

Now, romance. Some readers will know my friend Mark Falcous who visited Bathurst some months ago. Anyway, having left beautiful Wigan in England’s north he is now firmly ensconced on New Zealand’s south island with partner Katy. Seems they tied the knot recently on a rare sunny Dunedin day and have the photies to prove it (see attached photo). Congratulations you two. Also, Rylee and Claudio (Bathurst friends) are expecting twins any day now (my understanding is that they are giving birth to one each; very modern don’t you think?). I’m crossing everything for you! Can’t wait to see the new members of the Bathurst clan. To CSU friends, it’s a great regret that I won’t be there with you to mourn (celebrate?) the retirement of Bob Meyenn. Have a great time and, Bob, I’ll be thinking of you. Catch you in Byron where we’ll take stock and plan the next 10 over a beer and the sound of the surf. Oh yes, your leather jacket is in the mail!



Last, I have an essay (I refuse to call it a ‘piece’) in tomorrow’s (that is Saturday’s) ‘Insight’ section of The Age newspaper in Melbourne. If any of you know anybody in Melbourne could you please ring them – like now!! – and ask them to secure a copy and send it to you so that you can send it to me. I will reimburse all costs of course. As it happens, I was speaking to the editor of the section on the phone tonight and was struck by how totally identical she sounded like Margot Kingston, whom some of you will remember as the ex-firebrand lefty journo with the SMH and now professional web diarist. Turns out it was her sister and that not even their mother can tell them apart on the phone! Not sure whether anyone will find the article all that interesting but Gay (the editor) told me that the accompanying art work shows an SAS team crashing through the ceiling of a house and trying to break into the fridge while non-plussed bloke in singlet looks on from his arm chair. Now that’s got you interested hasn’t it?

Well team, it’s off to bed, still a little shaken and sick to know governments of allegedly civilised countries can kill young Australians for (at best) medieval reasons, but comforted that I will see you all soon. I can’t wait.

Love yous all

MG