A Seafaring (or Fearing) Man

The closest I have ever come to a sea cruise (oooo-eeee, baby!) is the half hour ride from Manly to Circular Quay on the ferry that traverses Sydney Harbor. Our friend Ronald tried to get us one from Narooma to Montague Island last week, but high swells prevented the prudently cautious captain from taking out his boat. Today there were no such problems with the Manly Ferry, and lest one think that harbor waters are generally still and peaceful the boat does have to face a bit of open water as it rounds the North and South Heads that guard the entranceway to this seaport. We have taken it in the past when it seemed the boat bobbed like a cork, but today’s run was very smooth.

Once we arrived in the Big Smoke, we had to get a taxi to our current lodgings. It was only a matter of a few blocks, but the burdensome load of our luggage suggested it was better handled with a cab ride. I am glad it was only a few blocks, because the driver, whose native tongue was clearly not English, promptly got lost and wasted our time and money going around a block that was roughly the size of Rhode Island. The promised discount in fare was not forthcoming.

The new apartment is a short distance from the conference venue at the Art Gallery of New South Wales and for the opening cocktail reception that happened this evening at the “O” bar on the 47th floor of the Australia Square building. It was quite an impressive view looking out over the Harbor Bridge and the Opera House, and off on the distant horizon one could see between the buildings the familiar outline of North Head. More surprises were to follow. As I chatted up Barbara, my host for this conference and met about five other librarians all of whom were named “Elizabeth,” I placed my hand on the outer wall of the widowed circumference of the room only to have the weird sensation that I was about to fall down. (Never fear, your prudent correspondent had not consumed that much beer.) The sudden onset of sea legs was caused simply by the restaurant itself which moves in a very slow clockwise direction, allowing a view of the entire city to unfold from all compass points. I have never been in such a building before and was thoroughly impressed, if not a bit sea sick.

The conference is quite small according to Barbara, perhaps about sixty or seventy people. I met one other American academic who will speak tomorrow, and a very nice archivist from New Zealand who told me tales about collecting Maori documents.It was amazing how much we had in common besides the ubiquitous Elizabeth handle. As I spoke to people I found a sincere love of reading, and an equal despair at its decline. I was also heartened to confirm that none of them blamed me personally for our country's recent decision to elect a tantrum-throwing haystack seated atop a Cheeto as our President. They seemed more than ready to hear my curmudgeonly take on digital library issues tomorrow, and I must cruise through this night while boarded on the ferry of Morpheus to prepare for the speech. I do not anticipate rough waters.