Counter Culture
It was bound to happen, I suppose, that culture shock would afflict both M and me. I’ve had a few culture shock tantrums over the last few months, but walking down Pitt Street to the State Theatre for last Sunday’s Film Festival entry gave M her first reverse culture shock tantrum. We set out early. George had been by, having been in the neighborhood to attend a photographic exhibition in a small gallery down the street from us. He stopped off to visit for a bit because the photos had been of NYC, taken by an Irish ex-pat living in Sydney who’d gone back for a couple of months on a photo safari. We figured we’d fit it in before the movie and dinner. Some of the photos were very good, very NYC, inspiring a bit of nostalgia, for lack of a better expression, but most were a little too photographic for my taste. As we headed into town, we were keeping our eye out for a restaurant to have dinner prior to the film, and talking of NYC, our heads full of the last two years, our eyes full of Sydney. I really like this city. Really. It’s much more dynamic than I think it gets credit for sometimes. There’s a lot going on, some of it out of the way. Construction is apparently booming, and although that’s mostly been true in the suburbs, like Ashfield and Zetland, it’s happening in the CBD, too. There’s something about those skyscraper cranes that gives a city a dynamic, but temporary feel, and that may be part of why we don’t always sense the full urban power of this place. That, and the advantages of the harbour and nearby beaches tend to give an outward focus to the residents. Rugby and AFL (that’s Australian Football League, otherwise known as Aussie Rules) being in season now doesn’t help, either, as the culture of Australia is sports-mad, leaving lots of empty seats in the cinemas showing anything less than a Hollywood blockbuster, although cricket, the summer sport, has a laconic effect of its own that’s as hard to understand as the rules thereof. Meanwhile, as M’s boots, which weren’t, apparently, made for walking, began to exert their full effect on her feet, we continued to not find the Greek restaurant we’d been looking for. In fact, we weren’t finding any restaurants at all, meanwhile getting ever closer to the State and a level of hunger that would soon become insupportable. We’d have been happy enough to venture across to one side or the other of Pitt if there’d been any indication of a nice place to eat nearby and if M’s boots weren’t threatening to take her toes off, but conditions as they were sent M into a rage against all things Australian, Sydney in particular. “Half way around the world and you can’t get a decent meal anywhere!” she raged. “This wouldn’t happen in NY!” Of course, once we’d finally settled on a café we wouldn’t have otherwise looked at twice and boosted our blood sugar to normal levels, we settled down and managed to recall that yes, indeed, this would happen in NYC, and in fact had, more than once, if not in the particular of restaurants, at least in other amenities or necessities. NYC is no different than anyplace else, and you can go for blocks without seeing anything but convenience stores or bodegas. Cafés encountered in these areas are more often than not exactly the kind of place you never want to eat. Then you’ll suddenly find yourself surrounded by a lovely array of restaurants, varieties of ethnic foods disporting themselves up and down the avenue. (That doesn’t sound appetizing, does it? But you know what I mean.) Sydney’s much the same, although it can be more like L.A., requiring you to venture a bit further sometimes than NYC might. Still, if you read Calvin Trillan, you’ll know that if you want the best Chinese or Korean food, you sometimes have to venture into parts of Queens you didn’t even want to know existed prior to that particular dining urge. Until we’re as familiar with Sydney as we’ve been with NYC, I think we’ll just have to take a bit more care in planning our excursions, especially on Sunday nights.

The State Theatre, by the way, is a beautiful, ornate entertainment emporium, harkening back to the glory days, painted in gold tones and encrusted with crenallations beyond imagination. The stage is set back and appears narrow at first, especially from the further ends of the arced rows of seats, but the sight-lines are actually quite good, even for films. This is the kind of structure that gets pulled down in favor of cinema multiplexes all the time, so it's particularly valuable that the State has survived. It sounds a bit 1984, but long live the State.