I don’t think I ever realised how snobbish Melbournians were towards Brisbane until I spent a little time here. All in all it’s not too bad a place really. What I had expected from seeing a few locals heading this way on the same flight from Cairns was hordes of mullet-wearing, Falcon-driving rednecks in wifebeaters, but on the whole the place is pretty and urbane.
By far the greatest feature is the Brisbane River. The friends I’ve been staying with have a place overlooking the River and University of Queensland, and they have the greatest view from the front veranda of the ‘Queenslander’ (a type of villa characteristic of these shores). It ranges out to the hills in the distance over the green of the suburbs, and the River winding its way towards the city centre.
Thing is, Melbourne is also a river city, but I’ve never realised how under-utilised the Yarra is. Sure, some people have river frontage, but on the whole people seem to avoid it for the cesspool it really is. There’s been at least a few cases of water-users being seriously infected by it. Very seriously infected. The same threat doesn’t seem to stop Queenslanders from waterskiing though. Go figure.
While curious about the use of the River, my desire to stay well out of it meant I caught a ferry from just up the road into the city to take in the fantastic scenery and hear the locals chat. Eavesdropping is my favourite way to gauge a population. The ferry system was well up to the task, and sets Brisbane well and truly above Melbourne, and closer to the Sydney public transport system, with hubs all along the waterfront. I heartily recommend it as a way to tour.
I stopped on ‘Southbank’ for example and checked out the Arts Precinct. Not too shabby. The Museum was, in a word, dull, and the Gallery had a few interesting Masters and the usual Australian art collection. But, it also had two fascinating pieces. It’s weird how I can wander around a gallery or museum and only remember one or two items. Picasso? Ho-hum. Installation by Japanese or Indian unknown? Wow….
Anyhow, the first was a shallow pool, around 20cm deep and partially filled with lots of river stones. The pool was maybe 8m wide, and 20m long, at a guess, and was partially covered in hundreds of silver spheres. The artist had set up a few jets in the water for movement, and the balls, which sounded much light Christmas tree ornaments knocking together, kind of floated around and made these sharp little sounds. The currents meant that the spheres would sometimes float out by themselves, or huddle in big groups around one or two square islands in the pool, and keep making ringing noises when they contacted one another. With the reflection of myself and other people in the shiny spheres, it wasn’t too difficult to imagine a microcosm of a society in that pool.
The other object that grabbed my imagination was a large ‘cup’ that hung on the wall of one room. It was hung so that the flatted base was touching the wall, and the open ‘top’ faced outwards to the viewer. It was coloured an incredibly deep indigo, with a tiniest hint of red, that made it really difficult to focus on the texture of the cup’s surface. Then, what I at first thought to be the flat base of the cup appeared to be ‘floating’, and spherical inside the object. When standing directly in front of the cup, the illusion was of a flat circle with a sphere floating in mid-air between the viewer and the circle. But again, focus was exceptionally difficult, so the sphere would kind of fade and reappear in my vision. I had to get really, really close to realise that the base of the cup was actually a half-sphere, obviously intended to produce this illusion of a void within an open space. Amazing.
Artsy-fartsy stuff aside. There’s two more things, one is to go to the Brunswick Street markets on a Saturday. The place hums. Oh, and to the bloke who made me coffee, you are a barista, not a rock and roll icon, drop the attitude. I had a question about the antipasto and asked for a coffee, not for you to rate my ‘cool’. You wanker. That aside, they did the best $10 big breakfast I’ve ever had.
The other thing I noticed pretty quickly was the omnipresent critters. Sure, in Melbourne we have bats for example. You’ll see them flying in from the suburbs to the Botanic Gardens. But here? The big feck-off bastards hang out in the trees around the house, that squawk and flap about. I arrived at the gates to my mates place after 11pm and one the things scared the crap out of me.
But wait, it gets better. Everybody has these noisy geckos living in their houses, which are actually kind of cute, despite being 15-18cm long. Then there’s the now-banal flying giant roaches. The friends partner had one land on her face when sleeping, and now sleeps under a mosquito net. Mind you, that’s more reassuring than the 2 and a half metre python that lives at the bottom of the garden, by the river.
Queenslanders seem to take these things in their stride however. While this Melbournian-cum-Kiwi goes “What the fecking hell is that?!!” to the 30cm Water Dragon at the ferry terminal (a lizard, looks a bit like an iguana), the locals were completely unphased. In fact, they were almost condescending their indifference.
So all things being considered Brisbane is really a Western city like any I’ve ever been to. I expect that if I really want to see the Army of Gavin and the mulleted masses I’ll have to head inland.
Which isn’t going to happen.