Singular Scene

So Singular in Each Particular

Notes from the West Island

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In the dim and distant past when I first embraced expatriate living in the US (Washington D.C.), I somehow came across a copy of the The Bone People by Keri Hume. It’s a novel of New Zealand and at the time it was a taste of home when I was sorely missing familiar things. America was then (and, let’s face it, still is) a strange and interesting place, and even despite all the cultural input we get from there, it is quite some distance (in every way) from the then familiar, small town New Zealand…

It has occurred to me recently that I don’t really miss those familiar things any more – a trip to a NZ supermarket recently only netted a packet of Twisties (Seriously, follow the link – it’s a 1980’s ad – memory lane for me!) which were disappointing in the extreme, and a Pinky Bar (never disappointing). But by and large, if I really want any of those old (unhealthy) favourites, I can usually find them somewhere here… Don’t get me wrong, I still LOVE Kiwiana in all its kitschy glory, but those old familiars don’t fill me with a desire to be back amongst them. They’re a nostalgic, warm memory of my heritage and my history. But they’re not so much really ME any more.

I’m thinking about these things because while I was in the airport on the way home I picked up the book I’ve just finished – Cut & Run: When the Truth is No Protection by Alix Bosco. It’s a good read, and part of that is because, like the Bone People before it, it’s written by a Kiwi and set in Auckland and Coromandel; places with which I’m thoroughly familiar.

In reading it, as before, I just loved the element of familiarity; reading street names and suburbs I know well and hearing the accent of my people in the character’s voices. But this time, in contrast to the last, while I was warmed by the connection, I wasn’t so reassured by it as I have been in the past, I’ve been trying to work out why this is so, and I’ve concluded the following.

While I identify with New Zealand in all it’s wonderful gorgeous glory – I’m no longer identified by it.

Does this mean I’m now identified by my Australian citizenship?  No, I just think I’m about more than where I’m from… unless of course you consider my ‘digital citizenship’ which raises a whole other set of ideas about identity…

:: Quick Disclaimer:: Now, before my family read this and freak out that I’m NEVER coming back – I never say never – and I LOVE NZ and that I’m from there… it’s just that, well, I’ve lived here in Sydney, in THIS part of Sydney longer than I’ve lived anywhere else… ever.::

P.S.  Of course all of the above could simply be interpreted as me not loving Cut & Run like I did the Bone People… *shrugs*

Look! Two Moons!

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So, if you’re a Kiwi of my vintage you may understand the reference above.  Once upon a time there was an ad on the telly for the ‘Smokefree Rally of NZ’ and two possums in the middle of the road see a car coming… with the anticipated results.  Those who follow me on twitter may guess the reference I’m making to it today,..

Ok. So it really was one moon last night, it’s just that I had the opportunity to see it repeatedly had I wished to and my exhibitionist neighbour certainly appeared to wish me to see his ‘glory’ repeatedly if the noisome attempts to attract my attention were anything to go by.

He was subtle about it, of course, because to actively shout out to me would not be seemly, But, coughs and throat clearings, heavy sighs and moving in and out of the security’s sensor to flick the light on and off also featured.  When I didn’t look up (I had noticed early on in the show when his back (thank goodness) was turned) he crossed the window in my kitchen to sit his (NAKED) butt down on my patio chairs.

To give him the benefit of the doubt I’ll go out on a limb and say it may merely have been that he was hot (only in the temperature sense of the word) as last night was particularly warm and humid. However, as he was outside for about an hour between the hours of 1 and 2 and as I was also up between those hours (fully clothed I might add) there did appear to be an element of ‘creepy’ about the whole situation.

I maintained an ‘ignorantly blissful’ demeanour the whole time. I noticed him early on and as such spent the hour ignoring him.  Once I’d finished my final Christmas preparations (at around 1.45) I turned out the lights, showered and went to bed.

At this point the Streaker (as he shall now be called) spent the next half an hour cruising outside my bedroom window.  Again, huffing and puffing, grunting (omg please don’t let me think about what THAT might have meant) and again, trying to elicit some response from me.  I ignored him, switched out the light, hung my rug against the window to block some of the flickering light from the security lamp, plugged in my earplugs and went to sleep.

So yeah, 2009 will go down in my history as not so much of the old ‘Silent Night…

or  Holy Night, for that matter…

And Then There were Seven

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My sisters have no ability to produce daughters. None.  These little treasures belong to Lil Sis and I’m stoked I’ve had lots of time to spend with them this week. I am so besotted right now.  Of course I’ve gone and left them in NZ haven’t I.  Sigh.  I need some to build me a Sydney Auckland Tunnel… mm, ‘k?