Some people don't appreciate Australia's cultural currency... you know who you are! In the last week I've enjoyed a string quartet performing Schubert in a Fitters workshop, an incredible coffee-shop Jazz trio, a world class National Gallery, a poetry slam, an impromptu back-stage tour of the Bell Shakespeare set in Canberra Theatre (including a game of darts on stage), brunch with one of Australia's prolific poets and one of the best pub gigs I've ever seen (right up there with the annual Whelans gig by The Stunning). Maybe I've just been really lucky with the people I've met.
I also had time to wander around the city and absorb some of its symbolism and symmetry. A good example is the new Parliament House, reputed to be one of the most accessible Parliament buildings in the world. A huge skylight sits atop both Houses (Representatives and Senate) signalling to the public that they are welcome to come and observe the proceedings, day or night. As voting is compulsory in Australia the elected representatives must attend all sessions so empty seats are a rare thing. Quite unlike other parliaments I could mention.
Everything in the building appears to have symbolic meaning. From the blue-green imported marble pillars in the foyer represent the forest of gum trees encountered by the first European settlers to the well-maintained public lawn on roof of Parliament House, designed to remind the public that politians are not above the people they represent. Beyond the foyer all the materials used in the construction are Australian including a stunning range of beautiful timbers. The colour theme of House of Representatives is reflects the green colour of the House of Commons but is Eucalyptus blue-green. Similarly, the Senate uses the deep pink of the Eucalyptus blossom which also nods to the red colour scheme of the House of Lords.
With so much thought having gone into the design of this building, it did strike me as remarkably sad that the one solitary symbolic representation of the indigenous Aboriginal people was placed outside the main entrance, far enough away to be easily missed. Created on a level section of an otherwise sloping vista, this understated mosaic is rendered invisible from a distance and could almost be mistaken for an elaborate doormat. I find it incredible that nobody thought about how this might be perceived. Understandable then, that an Aboriginal 'tent embassy' set up in the garden of the old Parliament House serves as a reminder of the people who feel like aliens in their own land.
Standing to the front of this modern, partially, subterranean building there is a magnificent vista sweeping down the hill to old Parliament House, across the water and up Anzac drive giving an uninterrupted view of the Australian War Memorial. This huge museum includes the stunning but sobering grave of the unknown soldier and the heart-breaking Roll of Honour.
It's very difficult not to be moved by the sight of over 100,000 brass-carved names of dead Australian soldiers stretching across two long, poppy-covered walls.
Looking beyond the Roll of Honour the eye is drawn up Anzac Drive to Parliament House. It made me wonder if any of the politicians sitting there had remembered this solemn Memorial on their horizon as they prepared, once again, to send Australians to a foreign war.
I loved Canberra. I found it hard to leave. In fact, as I hit the road again in the autumnal sunshine with a local radio station playing country music, I accidentally made two unnecessary circuits of the city. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me something?
Despite having to return to the house, twice, to pick up forgotten belongings I suspect there is still a little bit of me left there.
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