Cockington Green
If you grew up in Canberra, you would have been to Cockington Green at least once. I’ve spoken before about how much I love Questacon and Telstra Tower, but I’d forgotten entirely about Cockington Green. It’s nestled in amongst a score of other touristy places in Gungahlin, and worth a visit for anyone over two (although 2-5 is a dangerous age, because it’s definitely not for touching).
My mum, my sister, Louisette, and my sister’s two girls just visited Cockington Green for the first time in a decade – maybe even two decades.
It was also the first time Louisette and her toddler cousin rode in a double stroller together.
The toddler likes trains and was totally overwhelmed by the experience.
When we finished the ride she refused to get off, and it wasn’t easy to extricate her from the fence, either.
Read the full article (for which I now get paid, and paid per reader) here.
Captain Cook Fountain
One of Canberra’s many lovable follies is the Captain Cook Water Jet. I wrote about it (for money) here.
Boy, I look pregnant đ
S#76: I am an aeronaut
I’ve written a shiny new guest blog (about ballooning and sailing a tall ship, from the perspective of a writer), all the details of which will be revealed very soon.
Today, finally, is the triumphant blog of riding in a hot air balloon. Here’s how it went:
The pilot released a large helium balloon with a light on it – for wind speed – then laid out the nylon envelope (with our help).
CJ and I held the envelope open while it was inflated with a powerful fan (only about half inflated, really). The pilot walked inside, checking the ropes to the vents on the top and side were lined up correctly.
The top vent is mainly useful for descending – possibly very quickly – while the side vent/s change direction by venting air sideways (not actually steering).
Fire! The air grew hotter and hotter until the balloon stood up, soon pulling the basket with it (with a little help from us). We climbed in over the sides. At this early stage, the burner was uncomfortably hot on the top of my head because it was on so much of the time.
And then we flew – so lightly and so high – like a feather blown off the ground that floats up so smoothly. The strangest part was how easy and natural it felt.
The flight part of this article is here, where I get paid for it đ
We overshot about four possible landing spots and ended up out of Canberra in a random farm (causing considerable difficulty for our follow vehicles). Turning in a circle, there were literally no man-made buildings in any direction. We were lost!
As we came in to land, it looked like we’d tip over – but we didn’t.
CJ stood on the envelope so it didn’t refill.
We pushed the envelope into a long sausage shape, which we later shoved willy-nilly into a large nylon bag.
The pilot knew the pilot of the Melbourne flight that was on the news in January when it had overshot the beach and descended in the sea. The pilot had kept the balloon hovering just above the waves until a boat reached them. He tied the balloon to the boat, safely unloaded all the passengers, and then towed the balloon in to shore. The envelope was a new one, and cost $80,000.
Our pilot also lent me a fabulous Time/Life book called “The Aeronauts”, some sections of which are reproduced here:
After a long and terrifying flight from St Louis in 1859, four men were brought down by a storm over Lake Ontario.
One final squall hurled the balloon against a high tree, where it expired. The basket lodged in a fork about 20 feet up. Cautiously the men inspected themselves. LaMountain had suffered contusions on one hip; the other three were shaken but unhurt. Lowering themselves by ropes, they were greeted by a dumbfounded delegation of citizens from the nearby town of Henderson, New York. An elderly lady expressed surprise to see âso sensible-looking a partyâ debarking from âsuch an outlandish-looking vehicleâ. She asked where they had come from. “St Louis,â Wise replied. The lady fixed him with the gimlet gaze of an experienced detector of humbugs. âThat will do, now,â she said.
In the 1820sâŠ
Green used all kinds of innovations to keep his performances lively. One of his earliest triumphs was an ascent on a pony attached by ropes to the balloonâs hoop; he calmed the animal by feeding it beans from his hand. A planned flight in the company of a tiger and its trainer was canceled when the authorities intervened.
In 1957, as part of his training for space, Major David G. Simons went aloft in a cylindrical capsule measuring just three by eight feet. He was in it for 43.5 hours in one stretch, wearing a pressurized space suit so snug he said it was like âbeing loved by an octopus.â
In 1906, a man called Butler took a group of dinner guests from London to Brighton in a balloon, stopping frequently to correct their direction. At one stage, with little idea where they were, they landed in a tree. They awoke a large number of birds, which then awoke the owner of the tree.
âGoodness gracious!â exclaimed the man, raising the window. âWho are you?â
âBalloonists, resting,â replied Butler. âWhere are we?â
âTwelve miles from Brighton, going South. Are you stuck?â
âOh, no, weâre very happy. You donât mind us sitting on top of your tree, do you?â
âNot at all,â said the man, who then closed the window with a polite âGood night.â
#204: Sculpture Garden
Canberra’s National Gallery was built by orcs. It is designed to confuse and infuriate. Much as I generally like at least some of the art, I spend every visit to the National Gallery in a state of disoriented confusion due to the strange permutations of the building’s many and winding concrete corridors.
My favourite part of the gallery is outside – the sculpture garden, set amongst flourishing trees and shrubs and grass beside Lake Ginninderra. I wrote about it (for money! Yay!) here.
Today is the last day of September, so here’s your last “Killer Robot Cat” tale. I call it: “Peace in our time?” because Ana’s opiates made her so sleepy that (for once) she didn’t hassle Indah (the grey one, who is 13) and they were able, briefly, to get along. Yay for drugs.
Tomorrow, as the “Zeppelin Jack and the Deadly Dueller” twittertale begins, I’ll also be launching Steampunk Earth Day for Saturday October 30. It’s a lot like Earth Hour, but with more options and better outfits.
More data tomorrow!
#144: Go somewhere I’ve never been (Pine Island)
Most of this article has been moved here, where I get paid per reader (hint hint).
I have enjoyed clambering on river rocks in ankle-length skirts since I was ten years old (there are photos of that somewhere). There’s something about it that’s just scary enough to be enjoyable and adventurous without actually risking major physical damage. And, it’s pretty.
It was scarier than usual today, because I’d had a panic attack in the morning, which meant I was still rather shaky and unco. As a result, I wasn’t quite as graceful as I’d like.
On the up side, since J-Lo’s posterior is meant to be her best feature, I reckon I’ll be at least five times as popular once this photo appears. (Or maybe ten times as popular, to be perfectly honest).
I did manage to recover some daintiness on the way back, and (once back on shore) felt far mightier than when I set out.
Play along at home: Climb on or over something you probably shouldn’t (based on my experiences as a child breaking walls, shelves, and so on – test the strength of the climbable objects first).
Tomorrow: Poetry reading (as suggested by reader W).
S#63/6: Live Music at an Irish Pub
Today was an out-and-out awesome fail. The pub itself (King O’Malley’s in Civic, Canberra, Australia) is awesome (I even wrote about it here). CJ was awesome, smiling tolerantly as I fished ice cubes out of my Baileys and spat them into someone’s discarded Guiness (because no-one, NO-ONE, dilutes my Baileys). There were fire twirlers outside, and a random person complimented me on my boots through a loudspeaker poked out the window of their car (and why not?) That was all pretty awesome, but I was not.
No-one can sustain awesomeness forever. (Okay, some people can. I hope they get eaten by iguanas.) I have an anxiety disorder, and every so often I freak out for no reason and all the colour falls out of the sky and the air sours in my lungs and existence isn’t worth the souls it’s written on.
Today’s emotional crash was relatively rational, since a few bad things happened (the car had more stuff wrong with it, so it cost twice as much as expected; one of my books has a serious flaw that may involve rewriting huge chunks that I thought were finished; I’m dieting, so a chocolate binge is out despite how fat and angry I feel; my phone is out of credit four days earlier than it should be so I’m trying to go without until then; someone I know is suicidal but not considered sick enough to live in a place that will look after him).
Tomorrow will most likely be a good day. All the things that really matter are okay – CJ and I still like each other, my family is safe and happy, and we still have money in the bank.
But I feel awful. So today’s real awesomeness is to accept that emotions happen.
Play along at home: Eat too much (for me). Write the emoest emo poem ever. Hit something. Whine to a friend. Cancel your plans and watch TV instead. Do something ridiculously indulgent from Steff Metal’s list. Spend too much. Insult a cat/dog/fish with great cruelty. Swear. Exercise too much. Refuse to snap out of it until you feel like snapping out of it. Play depressing music. Cut off your hair. Go to sleep. Stay up late. Cut up your school/uni books into tiny pieces. Take photos of your toes. Leave your heater on all night. Chuck a sickie. Play with matches. Cry. Give it time. (I’ve done six of these, mostly in the last hour. Seven, if you count paragraph 2 as poetic.)
Today’s photo is of yours truly clutching my single glass of Baileys while sitting in the dark:
Tomorrow: Sunday Live – a cello performance. And most likely a better mood.
PS: Have decided the scratch on my leg from “Frolic in a Fountain” is probably shark bite.
PPS: Wrote the above entry last night. Feel worse this morning (apparently I gained a kilo this week, despite not eating chocolate. Epic angry fail). I still reckon tomorrow will be better, but today’s probably a write-off. Some days are. It’s 10:00am and I’m going back to bed until further notice. What are you doing today? Or not doing?
#123: Yum Cha
This is another idea from the sweetness that is http://the-creamy-middles.blogspot.com.
I moved the article here, for money đ
Play along at home: Go to yum cha (I went to Ginseng in the Hellenic Club) but remember it’s usually a lunch thing, and not happening all the time. Alternatively, you can make your own by buying the dumpling wrappers at an Asian grocer and filling them with whatever seems good to you (I recommend a mix of pork and chicken mince, with soy sauce). Then steam or fry them, and eat!
I haven’t forgotten Secret # 6, don’t worry.
Also coming soon – a guest post from Emmy Lennevald.
So. . . that reverse burglary thing. . . here’s another, better clue:
S#63/2: The National Carillon
The article has been moved here – and if you visit the article, I get paid for it.
S#98: Embrace Another Culture
PS Part of this article was moved here, where I get paid for it if you click through.
I’ll be embracing Japan for twenty-four hours. This is everything I know about Japan so far:
1. Sashimi is yuck and makes me feel sick (which should make S#2: “Sushi” rather interesting) but most anime is very good.
2. Whales are hunted, killed, and eaten.
3. Konichiwa, sayonara, arigato, mitsubishi (hello, farewell, thank you, three diamonds).
4. Japan is a rich country with wacky game shows, heated toilet seats, bizarre vending machines and odd inventions (including a functioning breast for fathers to strap on so they don’t miss out on the breastfeeding experience).
5. They have a bad history with China, although their languages are visually similar (not aurally).
6. It is on a major fault line, which means there’s lots of earthquakes, volcanoes, and dramatic scenery (including Mount Fuji).
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I’m going to go and do some research, visit a Japanese restaurant for dinner, and write the rest of this entry later!
———–LATER————–
Things I’ve learnt:
1. ă€ăŻăăăłăăȘăăăăăźèăă§ăă
Means, “You are a yak and you smell of bananas.”
2. It is rude to blow your nose in public.
3. Japanese pizza can have mayonnaise, corn and seafood on it.
4. The “Walk” signs at traffic lights make a chirping noise so the blind know when to cross.
5. People sleep as they ride the train home.
All but fact #1 are from this patently unreliable site: http://www.tooter4kids.com/Japan/interesting_facts.htm
For dinner I attended a birthday party at Shogun Teppanyaki restaurant in civic. To be honest, I was dreading it. I like Japanese style, though, especially in restaurants.
We all had teppanyaki banquets, which I reviewed for money here.
At a certain point when we were enjoying the show so much that we were feeling completely relaxed, the cook threw food at us, which we attempted to catch in our mouths. CJ is first, then me.
Mmm. . .It cost $85 altogether, for both of us.
I’m just about to watch a Kurosawa movie. This has been quite an epic 24 hours.
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I also watched the Japan episode of Charley Boorman’s “Sydney to Tokyo By Any Means” series today, and quickly realised I’d forgotten something I already knew about Japan. In fact, you know it too.
Japan is the country that was hit twice by atomic bombs. Hundreds of thousands of innocent people were killed in the first seconds, and burns and radiation killed many more in the decades that followed.
In the DVD, a woman talked about her experience of the bomb. She described an intense blast of light followed by utter quiet, then darkness and the smell of burnt hair. At the time of the Hiroshima bomb, she was eight years old.
Since childhood I’ve been taught about the national shame of what non-Aboriginal Australia did to the original inhabitants of my country. But no-one ever taught me to feel ashamed of what my side – the “good guys” of World War 2 – did to Japan. Millions of Japanese people are still alive today with the memory of those days. How is it possible for me to forget so easily? It’s because of the Japanese – they don’t want or need my help, my money, or my pity. In the healthiest possible way, they’re over it.
My impression of Japan is that it is a beautiful, hyper-efficient, hyper-bizarre country with unstomachable food and a toilet obsession. That hasn’t changed. I chose Japan for this task because I have absolutely no desire to go there. But when I consider what this strong, powerful, reasonably happy country has survived, I want to know how. How are they okay? How have they managed to find the perfect balance – remembering what has happened without any rancour?
I’ve never thought of the Japanese people as the most forgiving people in the world, but that is the inescapable conclusion.
Japan, you are my hero. (And I LOVE teppanyaki.)
Tomorrow’s awesomeness: Sewing.
Like the boys from “Top Gear” I myself am ambitious, but rubbish. Wish me luck.
S#53: Be a tourist in your own city
Today my partner took a flex day (a paid day off he’s earned by doing overtime – probably the world’s best invention ever) and we and a friend of ours who I’ll call Hannah went and visited the Australian National Botanic Gardens.
Instead of dressing as a tourist (as per Steff Metal’s instructions), I dressed like a princess. All the better for crossing streams beside waterfalls. This article has been moved, and I get paid if you click through here.
Felicity Banks 