Tag Archives: places: australia

David Malouf: Remembering Babylon

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I read this a while ago, but I am still haunted by this fictional journal entry, from a fictional Anglican minister, in a fictional white settlement in 1840s’s Queensland:

We have been wrong to see this continent as hostile and infelicitous, so that only by the fiercest stoicism, a supreme resolution and force of will, and by felling, clearing, sowing with the seeds we have bought with us and by importing sheep, cattle, rabbits, even the very birds of the air, can it be shaped and made habitable. It is habitable already. I think of our early settlers, starving on those shores in the midst of  plenty they did not recognise, in a blessed mature of flesh, fowl, fruit that was all around them and which they could not, with their English eyes, perceive, since the very habit and faculty that makes apprehensible to us what is known and expected dulls out sensitivity to other forms, even the most obvious.

We must run our eyes and look again, clear our minds of what we are looking for to see what is there. Is it not strange, this history of ours, in which explorers, men on the track of the unknown, fall dry mouthed and exhausted in country where natives, moving just ahead of them, or behind, or a mile to one side, are living, as they have done of centuries, off the land? Is there not a kind of refractory pride in it, an insistence that if the land will not present itself to us in terms that we know, we would rather die than take it as it is?

For there is a truth here and it is this: that no continent lies outside God’s bounty and his intention to provide for his children. He is a gardener and everything he makes is a garden. This place too will one day, I believe, yield its fruits to us and to the great banquet at which we are the guests, the common feast; as the Americas brought corn and tomatoes and sweet peppers, and rhubarb and the potato, that bitter root of the high Andes that women, over long years, by experiment and crossbreeding, have leached of its poison and made palatable, to be the food of millions. (There is a lily-root here that the women know how to boil and make edible.)

The children of this land were made for it, as it was for them, and is to them a rich habitation, teeming with milk and honey – even if much of its richness is still hidden; but then so was the milk and honey of the Promised Land, which was neither milk, in fact, nor honey, and the land itself to all appearance parched and without promise. We must humble ourselves and learn from them. The time will come when we too will be sustained not only by wheat and lamb and bottled cucumbers, but by what the land itself produces, tasting at last the earthy sweetness of it, allowing it to feed our flesh with its minerals and underground secrets so that what spreads in us is an intimate understanding of what it truly is, with all that is unknowable in it made familiar within…

…The theodolite offers only one way of moving into the continent and apprehending the scope and contours of it. Did we not, long ago, did not our distant ancestors, bring in out of the great plains where they wandered, out of mere wilderness, the old coarse grasses that lapped the bellies of their horses, and, separating the grains and nursing them to plumpness, learning how to mill and grind and make daily bread, and how to tend the wild vine till its fruit yielded wine, create settled places where men and women sit at tables among neighbours, in a daily sacrament which is the image of the Lord’s greater one? All this can be done again. This is what is intended by our coming here: to make this place too part of the world’s garden, but by changing ourselves rather than it and adding thus to the richness and variety of things.

How I wish that this character were true, and that his hopes for his new home had come true.



Tasmania Part 7: History

“Have you noticed any Aboriginal place names yet?” asked Matt, two days into our Tasmania trip. “In Victoria and New South Wales you get colonial names but also some Aboriginal names too. Down here it’s like everything has been renamed and reimagined.”

It really did feel like how I imagine rural England to be. It was cold, there were orchards and European-green fields, the colonial architecture has been well preserved. It was extremely hard to imagine that anyone other than European settlers had ever lived there, so successfully had the indigneous community been displaced.

The sense of European history was heavy and permeated everything. It was beautiful. But also a little bit creepy.

This is the last installment of pictures from the trip. Thanks for patiently waiting for me share them all!

Franklin statue and pretty planes

Part 7: History

Tasmania Part 5: The Animals

Throughout our trip we chose not to go into any wildlife sanctuaries or zoos – more because we didn’t have the time than anything else. We were blessed though to see heaps of beautiful animals in the wild. Sadly we missed out on seeing any iconic Fairy Penguins or Tasmanian Devils. However we did see heaps of wallabies at Freycinet (unfortunately tamed by all the tourists) and heaps of beautiful birds. There were some sea birds I had never seen before, which looked like oversized seagulls. And we got a very quick glimpse of a seal in the Port Arthur harbour!

Yellow Rosellas

Part 5: The Animals

Tasmania Part 2: Home

Home for the week was in the lovely historical suburb of Battery Point. We staying in a cute 1.5 bedroom cottage with quick and easy access to the most delicious bakery/cafe I have ever been to. All the houses were at least 100 years old, which by Australian standards is pretty impressive!

The side of Jackman and McRoss bakers. I think they should they pack up and move to Sydney.

Part 2: Home away from home

Tasmania Part 1: Some wonderful friends

We made it home from Tasmania safe, sound and surprisingly, actually relaxed. You know how sometimes you go away on holidays and everything goes horribly wrong? [See, for example, last year’s winter holiday.] This trip was not like that. It was wonderful.

As you might imagine, we went to heaps of places, I took heaps of photos and made heaps of memories of the lovely things that happened. To leave some record for looking back at I’ve decided to post across a few different posts – organised thematically rather than chronologically. ‘Cause Tasmania works like that. Hope you don’t mind be clogging up your friends pages and RSS feeds!

Part 1: Some wonderful friends