Saturday, March 13, 2004
Darwin Daze
I promised a taste of the tropics in this blog and somehow it hasn't happened yet. When the icy winds of winter start blowing down south, and we've stopped sweating up here at the top of Australia, then I'll begin to crow but for now, I'll give you a snapshot that for me encapsulates something of the feel of living here.
I got involved in a focus group last week. A market research company approached me and they were paying $50 'expenses' for me to sit with 6 strangers for 2 hours and give my opinions related to tourism in Darwin.
Now anyone who knows me knows I'm a pretty opinionated sort of person, so the opportunity was just too good to refuse. One of the questions each person was asked was to give a verbal snapshot of something that typified Darwin for them. This was mine.
My unit overlooks a park, a cycleway and the Timor Sea. Because it gets pretty hot up here, in the middle of the day there are virtually no people around, but at dusk the cycleway, the park and the beach come alive. Joggers, dog-walkers, cyclists, roller-bladers, pram-pushers, power-walkers and just plain plodders cram the foreshore and watch the sun sink into the sea. I heard it said once that Darwin is the only place in the world where watching the sun set is a religion.
Every afternoon an old man brings two folding chairs and a small esky with a few cans of beer and sits where the jetty and boat ramp meet the cycleway. Everyone says hello or nods to him. Sometimes a mate will sit and talk for a while. Sometimes a family will stand around and yarn with him. The thing is, he's always there, like part of the scenery. It's the kind of place where an old guy on his own will take his chair and his beers and sit in the fresh air and find some company. Down south, this same guy would be sitting inside his lonely bed-sit unit listening to talkback on a tinny transistor radio or hanging around a smelly, dingy pub in the suburbs. Here, everyone knows him. I don't know how many friends he's got, but he's got lots of company. Oh - by the way - he's blind.
My Territory
I got involved in a focus group last week. A market research company approached me and they were paying $50 'expenses' for me to sit with 6 strangers for 2 hours and give my opinions related to tourism in Darwin.
Now anyone who knows me knows I'm a pretty opinionated sort of person, so the opportunity was just too good to refuse. One of the questions each person was asked was to give a verbal snapshot of something that typified Darwin for them. This was mine.
My unit overlooks a park, a cycleway and the Timor Sea. Because it gets pretty hot up here, in the middle of the day there are virtually no people around, but at dusk the cycleway, the park and the beach come alive. Joggers, dog-walkers, cyclists, roller-bladers, pram-pushers, power-walkers and just plain plodders cram the foreshore and watch the sun sink into the sea. I heard it said once that Darwin is the only place in the world where watching the sun set is a religion.
Every afternoon an old man brings two folding chairs and a small esky with a few cans of beer and sits where the jetty and boat ramp meet the cycleway. Everyone says hello or nods to him. Sometimes a mate will sit and talk for a while. Sometimes a family will stand around and yarn with him. The thing is, he's always there, like part of the scenery. It's the kind of place where an old guy on his own will take his chair and his beers and sit in the fresh air and find some company. Down south, this same guy would be sitting inside his lonely bed-sit unit listening to talkback on a tinny transistor radio or hanging around a smelly, dingy pub in the suburbs. Here, everyone knows him. I don't know how many friends he's got, but he's got lots of company. Oh - by the way - he's blind.
My Territory
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