Marulan for Breakfast

I’ve been in Canberra overnight for another rehearsal with Brindabella Chorus, staying with family. A month earlier we’d come down to check out the National Multicultural Festival where Brindabella Chorus were on the program. It was my first performance with Brindabella Chorus that was not part of the competition package.

The Multi Culti, as it’s locally colloquially known, is a gathering from every representative national group (and associated activities) that can be found in Australia’s national capital city. The streets are filled with stalls, many offering food along with information about the people who have prepared it. Performance groups in various national dress wander through the crowds either on their way to a performance, or relaxing after one. Even when the skies opened with a generous thunderstorm right before our performance, it was a colourful and delightful place. As the rain stopped you could see the steam rising from the dark asphalt.
After the Sunday performance we’d driven back home chasing the same storm, purple skies darkening to night many hours before sunset.

Only three days later I drove back again, on my own this time. We’ve learned that for us, a good midway point is the small village of Marulan. It’s a fascinating place, its claim to fame being that it’s the only town in the world on the 150^th meridian. It also means that in this time zone, at the equinox the days are of exactly equal length here, sunset at 6 pm and sunrise at 6 am.

With the highway dotted with brightly-lit food and fuel stops, highly visible as you approach and easily accessible as a quick lane-slip off the highway, places like Marulan can miss out on the passing trade. As a result, the food is better, the fuel is cheaper, and the relaxing break is more therapeutic. I topped up my tank then drove to Meridian Café for a light lunch.

We first discovered Meridian at Marulan a couple of years ago when we took refuge in heavy rain on our way to Canberra. Other travellers mingled with locals gave sage advice on what to expect further along the road. We sat in the warm café watching the deluge becoming even heavier outside and waited for a break in the weather to continue our journey.

Since then we’ve tried other towns as ‘pit stops’ but we’ve always come back to Marulan. Goulburn is lovely, it’s still got a strong historic feel with its wide streets and late 18^th century building facades, the Paragon Café in Goulburn has glorious old-world charm and the food is great. But Marulan feels like a cosy country farmstead, it feels like home to us.

We had a good rehearsal last night. I usually can only attend online, being able to come to Canberra for a rehearsal in person is hard work but full of joy. There’s nothing like being surrounded by the music to really help you learn it well.

Next morning I knew I’d be on the road early. I’m an early riser even when I’ve been late to bed. The sun was barely up but my granddaughter was already dressed and packing her bag.

“Such a glorious view,” I commented at the vista of hills tipped with gold from the sunrise. “Look at the mist still pooled down low in the hollows!”

“That’s what we call ‘failure to load’,” my computer-savvy granddaughter remarked.

I chuckled. It did indeed look like a computer game that had started to load, then stopped with blank areas not filling in.

My stomach takes time to wake up in the mornings. With certain dietary issues (getting older really brings some shocks but it beats the alternative) it was easier for me to plan breakfast on the road. Sometimes it’s a fast-food drive-thru grabbing some bacon and eggs, nourishing but generally unsatisfying. As a result, I’d planned a fast getaway while around me the household got ready for a busy midweek day. Kids heading to school, parents heading to work.

I stayed long enough to be available should one of the kids miss the bus, but I was on the road by 8 am.

The mist had begun to rise quickly, the blue-tinted low, dense clouds warming and stretching in the early morning. By the time I got to Lake George the clouds were just resting on top of the hills on the other side of the lake, as if tethered to the wind turbines. The lake was silver with a thin stripe of pale blue on the far shore. It’s still very full of water, I wonder where the sheep and cattle are grazing now.

The highway was fairly quiet on the weekday morning, I had a good run for the next hour. There was a little excitement — traffic was slowed when we saw flashing lights ahead. A lot of flashing lights. Multiple fire trucks and some police cars, hoses being played on the carbonised wreck of a truck. No sign of a crash, it looked like the truck had simply caught fire. But all being sorted now, nothing to see here…

The Goulburn sign coming up. Advertising for various food stores and for fuel. Over the years we’ve tried them all, I’ve even written about some of them in previous blogs here. But this time I wasn’t tempted. Not today. I was enjoying the wide open spaces.

It was late morning when I finally swung off the highway for the short drive into Marulan. First to fill up. Then a minute or two down the road and I’ve gone back in time to a quieter, calmer place. I parked across the road and my stomach rumbled in anticipation as I headed up the steps.

Inside it was as welcoming as ever. Room for me, but definitely not empty. The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled. “We only saw you yesterday. Same again?”

I ordered my breakfast (brunch by now) and ducked into the loo while I waited.

It was the best bacon and eggs I’ve had anywhere on this drive. They’d slipped some slices of lightly grilled tomato onto the plate as well.

All too soon I was finished, fed, rested and ready to head off. As I left the café it was quiet outside, bees buzzing in nearby lavender bushes clearly audible over the distant hum of traffic from the highway. I debated a visit to the antique shop next door but figured it can wait until next time.

I’ll be back.

Steel Butterflies

Rehearsal weekend with visiting US coach, Gail Jencik.

I love to sing. I think I’ve mentioned this before. I also enjoy travel, especially after three years of mostly being stuck in one place when even a walk to the letterbox was the travel highlight of the day.

Thanks to my daughter leading me astray, I’m now a member of two Sweet Adelines choruses (all-female a cappella close harmony): Endeavour Harmony Chorus (based in Sutherland Shire); and Brindabella Chorus in Canberra (where my daughter lives). Both are a very high standard and Brindabella Chorus will compete internationally in the US this month.

Endeavour Harmony Chorus will also be competing internationally next year, but that will be another adventure for a later time.

It’s big stuff.

I can attend most Brindabella rehearsals online, but intense workshops needed personal attendance usually on a weekend, so we would combine a quick visit to the family with rehearsals. I also would make the occasional mid-week rehearsal in Canberra.

In June we drove down to Canberra via Wollongong because Jeff had to drop off a crate of stuff to a friend. From there it was closer to drive up the Macquarie Pass, an amazing scenic trip through lush forest and a steep climb from the coastal plain to the Southern Highlands. We stopped at the pie shop in Robertson but it was too cold and crowded to eat there. A chapter of bikers were happy to show off their machines and were on the road soon after we left.

I’ve made a few of these trips this year, a couple of them alone. I’d attend the Tuesday Sydney rehearsal on Tuesday night, drive to Canberra on Wednesday, attend Brindabella rehearsal with my daughter, then next morning leave at sunrise and drive home, so I’m there in time for the Thursday night Renaissance choir rehearsal.

Did I mention I love to sing?

In the last few months we had two intense weekend workshops with as many of the singers as possible. It’s more than singing, we have to really present the music with movement, sound and emotional engagement with the message of the music. I won’t go into details yet of exactly what we’re working on, but it’s fun, it’s hard work and I love it.

You mightn’t think it’s hard work if you were watching, but even in a Canberra winter, women were shedding jackets, scarves and beanies as we got intensively into the program.

I had planned on taking a lot of photos, but I also have to respect the privacy of the other singers. I’m sure they would be happy for me to post pictures, but I have to ask them first and… well, we were busy.

We stopped for a quick morning cuppa then later on for lunch. Over lunch on the second day we were chatting about various topics. The subjects ranged from a recent deep-sea submarine disaster (“they shouldn’t have relied on the carbon fibre technology, it fatigues like metal and can shatter unpredictably”) to stories of deep sea divers surfacing too fast due to technical difficulties, and suddenly going from 9 atm pressure to 1 atm, with resultant disastrous results on the human body.

A nearby singer protested. “Hey, we’re at lunch, remember? We’re trying to eat.”

Another said, “No, go on. I’m fascinated.”

The lunching person stuck fingers in her ears and sang, “la la la…”. Very well sung, now I think of it…

While continuing lunch discussions on safer topics, those of us who are from “out of town” learned more about each other. Among these women, who when performing are coiffed, made-up and dressed in so many sequins it can be blinding, were engineers, doctors, lawyers, physiotherapists and an occupational therapist currently working on a PhD. And even an astronaut-in-training. There were more Masters degrees and PhDs in one place than would be found in most company boardrooms. I felt inadequate with a mere science degree.

The stereotype of women being brainless bimbos could be an ignorant person’s first thought when they see a group of us blinged to the max for competition. But to be able to perform at such a high level takes drive, dedication and intense focus, the sort that is often found in high-achieving positions elsewhere in life. And don’t forget the few who are “just mothers”. That takes drive and dedication too, to be able to out-stubborn a two-year-old kid mid-tantrum. These women are steel butterflies.

On the Saturday afternoon we had our first (and only) audience performance in Australia of the final package. It gave us a chance to gauge audience response and reaction times and get a feel for what was working and what still needed tweaking.

It was a very productive and effective weekend. On Sunday we worked more on polishing the whole planned performance together into a seamless whole. An area that is weak for me is the way I move. I was raised to just stand still when I sang, any choreography limited to not distracting from the lead singers at the front of the stage. I also have some physical limitations especially with moving my feet, so my old habit of staying still when I sing is something I’ve had to learn to change.

As we stepped down from the risers at the end of the second day, the woman next to me (a regular with this chorus) said, “I’m so glad you were next to me. I’m not confident in how to move, and having you there and moving so well the way you do, has encouraged me to move more too.”

I could have hugged her, and I told her how much that meant to me to be told this. When my daughter and I finally climbed into the car to drive back to her place, we were really tired. We compared notes on how much we had achieved as a group, and how good it felt.

The director’s pep talk was very much along the lines of, “We’re going to get out there and show the audience a good time.” But don’t get me wrong, this isn’t complacency talking. We’ve been rehearsed and drilled thoroughly, but we also sing from the heart, part of the whole story of our mini-show. We will have fifteen minutes to win the hearts and minds of the audience, all of whom are also international-standard performers. A standing ovation from such an audience would be high praise indeed.

The weeks have flown by, final details are now nailed in place. My bags are packed, our itinerary is full.

In a few days’ time, we head to the US for international competition

I can’t wait.

Canberra by Covid

We’re in Canberra for a quick weekend. It’s not the best time, but we’ve been wanting to visit for several months but health issues got in the way. Now as we travel, Jeff is sitting very carefully due to bruises after a backyard tumble in the rain. He’s healing well but still sore. The laptop’s in the car and will get a workout with my own writing, and editing for others. As always, I do a lot of writing preparation while I travel.

As we turned onto the Federal Highway, we were delighted by how lush and green it all was. It was dust-dry a year ago.

Lush pasture on “the long paddock” by the highway. The fields are green.

We planned more frequent stops so Jeff could get out and walk around. We called it “taking Robert the Bruise out for a gallop.” At each stop, we wear our home-made face masks and if we can’t wash our hands in the rest rooms, we use our bottle of sanitiser which we keep in the car. Some of the rest rooms barely qualify for the polite label. On the Federal Highway to Canberra, the rest stops are named after decorated soldiers. There is a plaque detailing what each soldier earned his Victoria Cross for.

The toilets are basic but functional. Pit toilets, most of them, with tasnk water when there has been rain. The instructions are to keep the lid down on the toilet when not in use — the ventilation is designed to draw out unpleasant odours. Sadly, not everyone understands this. The stenciled warning on the path to watch for snakes can be daunting to many overseas tourists.

Rest stop at one of the “V’C.”s. Pit toilets, no power, no running water. Tank water only, when the tanks are full.

The business end. Despite the primitive look, this is a very good facility for the conditions. Get used to it.

Outside in the fresh air at the rest stop. Boxers Creek, somewhere on the highway to Canberra. Deciduous trees provide much-valued shade in the summer heat but let the sun in over winter when it gets very cold.

We made our next stop in Goulburn. Time for another walk around, and lunch. We avoided the usual fast food franchises and a pie shop we’ve learned to be wary of, and found a pleasant little cafe. Covid-safe rules meant we had to register. That is about to become law through our state, so it was good practice on so many levels.

After lunch I wandered over to take the obligatory tourist snapshot of the Big Merino (dubbed “Rambo” by our family), yet another of the Big Things we feature in Australia to showcase the produce of the area. For those curious about matters of a biological matter, let’s just say that Rambo is a wether.

This is a major stopping point for the many trucks which are increasingly relied on to transport loads of freight up and down the eastern seaboard of Australia. On the freeway we meet many of these pulling their trailers carefully at the speed limit. This is a highly policed freeway with automated checks for the whole route.

Back on the road, we quickly came to Lake George which has more water in it than I’ve seen since I was a teenager. There were still sheep and cattle grazing, and the pasture looked lush. While there were shallow pools closer to the road, in the hazy distance we could see the new extent of the lake’s water. Even now, most of the lake bed remains as pasture.

One last stop at a rest top on the edge of Lake George and it was time for the final run-in to Canberra. My husband limped over to take the wheel. He reckons he’s more comfortable driving.

Only for a couple of days, Canberra, but we’re ba-a-ack!

Going Home — In Apple Blossom Time

It’s lovely being away and in a different space for a while. Even if it’s only a short stay and you’re busy, or you’ve been there before. But I’m noticing, we often have plans which we never fulfil.

Of course we generally get the important stuff done. This last long weekend our main aim was to visit Floriade and to also hear our daughter’s choir sing. As they were singing at Floriade, it was a good double bill for us. Seeing the grandchildren was a bonus, and we always enjoy Canberra sightseeing. However, there is so much more we want to do and never get the chance. Or perhaps, we never make the chance? Or, more likely, we over-organise ourselves and so sitting around doing nothing is what we should be doing. Never underestimate the value of Time. It’s never wasted when it’s with family.

Parliament House, Canberra. The ‘Big House on the Hill’ is actually under the hill.
The government inside is less green than the lawns on top.

The choir was singing on Sunday, but we travelled down on Friday. Saturday was spent hanging around with the kids, doing very little. We could have used the time to visit my cousin’s vineyard, but it is a long drive from our daughter’s place. I had my laptop with me, but decided against getting some writing done (even though I have a backlog of writing tasks accumulating) in order to just ‘hang with the fam’. The kids planted some seedlings in the garden and helped me tidy up the dead woody stems from last season’s herbs.

Yesterday we got to Floriade and thoroughly enjoyed it. The choir performance was ‘just fun, more relaxed,’ our daughter said later. They had to adapt their performance to a smaller stage arrangement. Listening to superb renditions of old favourites, new songs and especially Australian classics while surrounded by glorious colour in the flowers around us was a wonderful way to begin our exploration of Floriade.

Brindabella Chorus, an international standard all-female barbershop choir.
They’re a branch of the Sweet Adelines and they sound amazing!

After the performance we grabbed an early lunch and set off to explore. You would think the kids would quickly become bored with even the prettiest gardens but these kids wanted to know everything. ‘What are the bees doing?’ ‘Where is the pollen?’ ‘Why do they do it?’ So we watched bees for a while, and I explained a little about plant anatomy. We had a discussion about weeds, and how even a beautiful flower can be a weed if it’s growing where it’s not wanted. Then the kids were off to various organised activities and rides. Somewhere in there, ice cream featured. So while the kids did their thing, we explored the gardens and took our photographs.

A sample of Floriade. Every year in Canberra, spring is celebrated with wonderful floral displays.

And now its Monday morning. Time to check out soon. This was a different motel to our usual, and at first it seemed to be a valid alternative, but we quickly realised that convenience to the railway station had its downside. This place is more expensive and, although breakfast is included, it only consists of tea, instant coffee, fruit juice, cereal and toast. With my dietary restrictions (gluten-sensitive and lactose-sensitive) I pretty much had to bring my own of everything. At least I could use their toaster, although even that would not have been possible if I was completely gluten-allergic.

The room is a concrete box at the top of the stairs where everybody has to walk to go do the things that travellers do. All the doors open to the outside, which would make it cold in winter and hot in summer, despite air conditioning. And the walls are so thin that we can clearly hear the main road traffic, and even the people in the next room snoring. I’m sure they heard more of our weird conversations that they would have wished to and are making mental notes, ‘Never again get a room next to a writer.’ There is a very popular pub over the road. People enjoy conversations in the street as they leave, and rev their cars.

As a result, when we leave here this morning, we won’t be taking a last, regretful look back. The people have been lovely, even the snorers next door. But it’s time to go home. Home is where chores are waiting, various appointments to be kept, and life returning to our village routine. From here it may seem dull, but it is still calling me. We need our routine, our home space, and when we feel particularly frustrated we can dream of life on the road.

It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining. So even though we have to get home, we’ll take the long way. On the drive down, I saw orchards of apple trees in full blossom and it reminded me of my childhood and the drift of spring petals from our own orchard. They say we can never go home after we’ve left, but either in our hearts or in our own lives, home is always there.

We’ve always wanted to go the slow road for years, to see the other side of Lake George and drive through the heavily forested areas towards Bateman’s Bay.

Even the journey home can be an adventure!