Jesse stared at her silhouette on the blank wall of her room. Through the thin glass window behind her, peeked a bleak winter sun partly shrouded in a mass of dark clouds. The first storm of winter was upon them.
Stationary, Jesse observed the figure before her. Tall and lean, the shadow had a staunch confidence she’d never felt. The cape around its shoulders seemed fitting, as if the superhero within had finally broken free.
Jesse had spent childhood days dreaming of the waking moment she’d discover her gift. She’d imagined and reimagined the training she’d receive from masters she’d only read about. The waning sun had brought out all her secret desires, laying them out barren for her to devour.
As the light faded and the shadow melded, Jesse stood in the gloom. It pressed upon her room, while she listened to the ghastly winds that raged beyond. Alas, the darkness revealed her for what she really was—a shivering teenager clothed in a blanket against the cold.
Like wine was our relationship those mellow tones at the beginning, deep and divine flavours soon evoking it could cut through all bitterness each sip unlike the one before left us both whining for more every day we cherished our prize drowning sorrows in sweet shiraz our conversations revolved around it giving expecting voices a chance to rise halfway through lightheaded we were having said too much already to take shoving pizza helped calm the nerves a temporary solution for aching insides like plaster made of oil and water only so good before it slides all over for unlike ever before we’d talked and what a shame to stop progress now past that intoxication point and so we plunged on, on and on draining the last of the fine wine inhaling like oxygen under water exhaling grape breaths of regret oh, those eight servings of wine gone without even lasting four laid out flaws in plain vain sight the gluttony, greed, hidden hatred ending the mighty fight for high all that remained, of wine, of us was a broken bottle and a slit wrist
“I […] picked up the notebook and pen and, after a minute’s thought, wrote, “Canberra awfully boring place. Beer cold, though.” Then I thought for a bit more and wrote, “Buy socks.”
[…]
Then I decided to come up with a new slogan for Canberra. First I wrote, “Canberra—There’s Nothing to It!” and then “Canberra—Why Wait for Death?” Then I thought some more and wrote, “Canberra—Gateway to Everywhere Else!,” which I believe I liked best of all.”
Excerpt from In a Sunburned Country, Bill Bryson.
I read that piece of prose about a month before I moved to Canberra. A good friend, American, suggested that I read Bill Bryson’s In a Sunburned Country as a way of getting into the moving mood. Of course, my friend meant well—though he couldn’t recall Bryson’s exact feelings about Canberra, he did mention that Bryson covers the whole of Australia from an American comedian’s perspective. And that’s just what the book does.
I’d done some research on my own and everything I learnt hinted at a great place to live—a quiet small town with lots of greenery and large lakes, stunning autumnal sunsets, and frostbiting winters. And so it surprised me to read the author had suffered great boredom in Canberra. In the book, Bryson moves on to Sydney, Melbourne, and Brisbane, narrating his observations along the way. And sure enough, in comparison to those metro cities, Canberra is rather subdued and humble.
Estimated population of Canberra in 2035
But Canberra is far from a boring place. I’ve been exploring the area and town life every day since I moved here a month ago. And there’s not a single thing that didn’t amaze me. Aside from the old parliamentary building and the old law-making systems, the national war memorial that brings to life each war Australians suffered, and the museum of modern history that plays host to thousands of years’ history, the city by itself has a story to tell.
The National Capital Exhibition is a smaller building than the other tourist attractions. However, it hosts hundreds of interesting titbits about the city that’d make any Canberran swell with pride.
Canberra is a planned city. When the government decided that neither Sydney nor Melbourne can serve the purpose, they weighed various criteria to choose the capital city. With sufficient resources for agriculture and cultivation, natural scenery that’d attract visitors and locals alike, a secure landmass away from the coast and naval invasions, and an accessible location from all over the country, Canberra became the ideal capital. As I read through each point in favour of Canberra, I found myself nodding in agreement. This is a great place. And the best part—not many people have discovered it yet, giving it an excellent population balance.
Selection criteria for Australia’s capital city
In the exhibition is a large 3D model of Canberra’s layout, lit up, and highlighting the geometrical marvel that the city is built upon. The parliament building is on top of a hill. Looking right across from the top is the national war memorial serving as a constant reminder of the consequences of any decision made inside the parliament. Branching away from the centre are the main roadways—the spines for the many suburbs woven around them. From above, Canberra looks like a spider’s web. It’s well spread out and yet interwoven to make sure you can drive from one corner of the city to another in 30 minutes or less.
And then there’re the lakes. Although artificial, Canberra’s primary lakes, Burley Griffin and Ginninderra, complement the many natural forests around the city. Footpaths go around the lakes and the bridges over. It’s as if no humans can ever disrupt the calmness of the lake or disturb the babbling ducks in it. Looking at the Lake Burley Griffin through a window, I wondered how much the city’s designers (Walter Burley Griffin and his wife Marion) would’ve appreciated and yearned for nature that they decided to plot such big lake right in the middle of the city.
What is Canberra to you?
What is Canberra to you?
What is Canberra to you?
What is Canberra to you?
Sure, Bryson was right in a few aspects—the shops close at 5 and the night scene is still quite bleak, but this is the bush capital. If you like yourself some greenery, Canberra won’t disappoint.
Parting thoughts: Never judge a place based on a few authors’ descriptions. Everything is subjective.
Silence rang across the room, ricocheting off the jelled heads and cloaked shoulders. As Mary scanned the room, too fast to linger on any particular eyes, a dry lump swelled in her throat.
Urgently, she gulped it down.
She knew how important her audience was, and as she struggled to make a connection with the faces looking back at her with piercing judgemental looks, she knew they were anxious to hear her speak.
Only she wasn’t ready.
She tightened the grip on her chair, stretching the sheen of skin that clothed her knuckles. Despite the wintry breeze that raged beyond, beads of perspiration lined up on her forehead.
They were all looking.
Will she stumble? Forget her lines?
Breakdown and cry?
No way. She wouldn’t cry. She was an adult now, and this wasn’t her first grade school play. This was real life.
They waited patiently. Impressive, she reminded herself, considering she’d arrived ten minutes late. Though with straight faces and pursed lips, they’d welcomed her with the respect she deserved.
And it’s only fair that she spoke. Now.
She took a deep breath and, “Let the proceedings begin,” permitted the newly-appointed High Court Judge.
The Chaos Within 