Culture Club

Like the urbane, big-city sophisticates we have become, Jayne and I sought out appropriate cultural amenities on Monday. In Jayne’s case it was an appointment, made for her by Jane as a treat, to get a facial in a beauty spa in nearby Mona Vale. We set out for the place about two hours early by walking down to the local Indian takeaway and getting on a bus that declared its destination to be Mona Vale. The bus sign was not misleading, but the route taken was a bewildering set of twists and turns into neighbourhoods we had never seen before. Many of the houses were quite nice, and at one section we even saw large tracts of over several acres where the owners had horses. That may not seem like such an unusual sight to you, dear reader, unless you have actually seen these Northern Beaches towns. They are densely populated, with many multiple storey apartment and condominium buildings. The single family residences often seem to have yards that rival our own back in Bozeman in puniness, so to see some with yards large enough to accommodate livestock is a rarity.

In spite of the meandering route, we arrived at the shopping mall where Jayne’s appointment was to take place and had enough time to wander a bit before the hour arrived. We investigated the local “hotel” (which simply means an elaborate bar) and the public library where we read the newspapers for a bit in air conditioned comfort. I left Jayne at that point to catch another bus by myself for my own cultural rendezvous.

At the Mosman Library, where Jane works, it was an “author evening” with a presentation by Thomas Keneally, the author of Schindler’s List and many other fiction and non-fiction titles. The chance to hear such a famous writer talking about his latest book was too good to pass up, so I rode a bus down from Mona Vale to Mosman (one that travelled directly to the target this time) and found the public library in no time. Jane was busy helping prepare for the event and I was early, so again I sought out a hotel to pass the time. At 7:00 pm Keneally arrived and began to speak about his latest work, a historical comparison narrative of the Irish Potato famine of the 1840s, the Bengali famine of the 1940s, and the Ethiopian famine of the 1980s. He was a pretty good speaker, with just the right touch of self-deprecating humour and not a trace of professorial posturing that sometimes taints such a talk. I enjoyed it very much. Afterwards the library served sandwiches and wine, which Jane had to supervise both distribution and clean-up. She then drove me home where Jayne awaited me with her new face (that looked a lot like her old one: just as beautiful, but perhaps more relaxed). It was a great day of cultural exploration.