THE CROWN
Lavendar Hill
Clapham Junction
London, United Kingdom
In the interests of research GO pulled up a bar stool with Brisbane native and London local Jen Botting to chew the fat about her local pub.
JEN>> Our most geographically local is Mish Mash, the nightclub we live above. We tend not to go there too much because the music is bad and we get it every Friday and Saturday nights til 2am!!
GO>> So where do you go most often?
JEN>> The Crown. It’s just down the road from us and is a classic English pub. I love it for the fireplace and big comfy couches that I’ve been known to fall asleep in!
GO>> And your usual order?
JEN>> Well, I’m a bit of a cider fancier myself (although I gather this makes me something of a chav). Myfavourite is Weston’s organic cider, which, as well as being all organic and therefore good for you, is ridiculously alcoholic at 6.5%. Actually, I think the whole ‘organic’ element probably nullifies the chav factor!
GO>> What’s a chav?
JEN>> Oh God, I was wondering if the term had reached Australia yet! Your classic chav is basically Vicky Pollard from Little Britain, It’s all about the tracksuits, ciggies, council housing, boozing it up and accumulating ASBOs (anti-social behaviour orders).
GO>> Ah, all is clear.
There is a Chinese curse that says, “May he live in interesting times.” If cities can fall prey to curses too, then, without a doubt, the bustling Chinese city of Shanghai is a victim of this one.
Whether they like it or not, the people of Shanghai are living through perhaps their city’s most interesting time. In short, if you’re seeking adventure, shopping, partying, culture and inspiration, all on a budget, then Shanghai is the city of you.
The story of Shanghai is much like the old Hollywood faithful about the innocent little country girl who moves to the big smoke and becomes a star. Unfortunately, her path to stardom is marred by evil Hollywood money men who want to exploit her natural good looks and country charm for their own fame and fortune. Eventually, after trials and tribulations aplenty, she triumphs and becomes a star in her own right, without the money men pushing her on stage, and without anyone holding her hand.
With her past as a small fishing village in the eleventh century and her present as a modern masterpiece, cultural centre and financial hub, Shanghai’s story mirrors the country girl’s. In the mid-nineteenth century, English, French and Japanese colonists all arrived to exploit the city’s valuable portside position and by the 1930s it was the financial centre of Asia.
But the fame was short-lived, and during the communist years, the eyes (and wallets) of the world turned instead to Hong Kong. Since 1992, however, Shanghai has reclaimed its global status and emerged successful, sophisticated and sexy. As China propels into the twenty-first century, Shanghai begins to look much hotter than Hong Kong, which is just what the Chinese Government wants.
This turbulent and culturally diverse history only makes Shanghai more appealing to visitors. Its unique blend of past and future is its most intriguing feature. Amazingly crafted and architecturally outstanding office buildings literally seem to scrape the sky, sitting alongside tiny street stalls where you can buy a fresh and authentic Chinese breakfast for less than a dollar. One bank of the Huangpu River is lined with grand 1930s European buildings and hotels in glorious sandstone. The other is a virtual poster child for the combinations of steel, glass and stratospheric heights that is modern architecture.
In this way, a visit to Shanghai can be akin to experiencing China’s history in a nutshell. Every traveler has to visit the French concession. Like many areas of French colonisation, the concession is set out an easy-to-navigate grid. Although now mostly absorbed into the hustle and bustle of greater Shanghai, the area retains a faded 1930s European charm. Increasingly, its small alleys and quieter backstreets are filled with ex-pat cafes and art galleries that, although expensive, provide a glimpse of the ongoing cultural diversity of Shanghai.
Nestled in this concession is the old girls’ school where, in 1921, Mao Zedong helped found the Chinese Communist Party. The site, now an outrageously propagandist and rather dull museum, marks Shanghai as the birthplace of Chinese Communism. In 1966, the city was selected by Mao as the launch pad for the Cultural Revolution in the hope of transforming it from a symbol of pernicious Western opulence to one of Communist reformation and zealous Maoism.
Today, Mao memorabilia can be bargained down and bought in the Yuyuan Gardens and Bazaar. If you’re lucky, you might even get an original in the Dongtai Lu Antique market.
Fast-forward to 1992, when the city’s most recent makeover into an investor’s dream and property developer’s delight really began. Pudong, on the eastern bank of the Huangpu River is the best example of this. In 1990, the area was nothing more than muddy marshlands supplying vegetables to Shanghai’s markets. Now the area supplies to the global market and is crowded with gleaming silver skyscrapers and hi-tech factories in all shapes and sizes that light up like neon Christmas trees at night.
This penchant for light shows is also on display in the Bund ‘sightseeing tunnel’ that takes visitors under the river. Contrary to its name, the tunnel does not allow one to ‘sightsee’ or even promote places to ‘sightsee’ in Shanghai. Instead, travelers clamber into futuristic train modules and are treated to a bizarre tunnel ride of flashing lights, dancing holograms and bad video-game music.
By far the best way to enjoy the expansive grey of this side of Shanghai is from the warm insides of a Western hotel. Although not privy to the hallowed halls or luxurious lounges of the formidable Hyatt Shanghai, this writer can attest to the quality (and value for money for a hungry backpacker!) of its buffet lunch – enjoyed 54 floors up from the world of commerce and construction and overlooking the misty grey of the river.
Yet, in the true tradition of the newly minted grown up, Shanghai is experiencing some growing pains. The city’s hotpot combination of a uniquely Chinese, agrarian past and its decidedly Western-looking future occasionally causes an awkward and amusing cultural clash.
Nowhere is this better illustrated than in the Xiang Yang Clothes Market where signs that state, “we are collectively responsible for the protection of intellectual property rights” hang, resplendent in red and gold, above a bustling marketplace selling in overwhelming abundance all the fake European watches, wallets and wearables we know and love.
Luckily, my Mandarin-speaking friend was able to disperse many of the vendors of forbidden goods with their oft-repeated call of “Hey lady! Hey lady! Watch? Bag? DVD?” However some were so persistent that our joking demands to buy a cat were met with one man’s earnest promise he would sell us his family cat if we came back at the same time the following day. In spite of our desire to experience all of Shanghai, from early morning to tai-chi to late night cocktails, this was one offer we could refuse!
But the growing pains are part of the city’s charm. For all its grandeur, the quirkiness of the Shanghainese manages to slip through. While out for a dinner one night, our hot steamed dumplings and chicken with chili and pinenuts were not only accompanied by the now familiar noise of fellow diners hocking up phlegm, but by a garishly Western-infused Chinese wedding. With its pink balloon archway and game show-like MC, the wedding, was a corny imitation of the most kitsch Western traditions. Like much of China’s – and Shanghai’s – rapid imitation of the West, something is just not quite right.
These Western-pretenses seem to reveal a city that is still deciding whether to embrace its Chinese heart or Western mind. The result is a city with a skyline than is a more ostensible tribute to capitalism than any skyline in Australia, yet a rather unworldly population where the sight of a blonde, brunette and redhead walking along the river is one to capture on camera.
Despite these growing pains, Shanghai is a truly world-class city on the brink of something beautiful. And although having a Mandarin speaking friend was a definite bonus, the metro is easy to use, taxis are cheap, the street vendors are pleasant rather than pushy; the majority of the street signs are in English and, overall, the city feels safe, not shifty. This feeling is undoubtedly increased by police tips such as, “Avoiding being stolen should always be remembered. Be prepared for danger in times of safety,” and “When getting off with your lover, watch your bag!”
My friends and I were lucky enough to be in Shanghai at Chinese New Year. As we walked home in the wintry cold of our first night, we were greeted by the sounds of fireworks exploding. Everywhere you looked fuschia, lime green and gold sparks lit up the sky and the towering Shanghai skyline.
This amazing, albeit arbitrarily policed, spectacle is an ancient Chinese method for warding off evil spirits and their malicious curses. To me, such warding seems a little premature. If Shanghai wants to keep growing into global superstar it can be, then perhaps the supposed “curse” of interesting times should be allowed to linger just a little longer. Well, at least long enough for me to go back and buy that “genuine” Gucci bag.
Welcome to Forrest, Western Australia. Population: two. A remote airstrip on the Nullarbor Plain managed by the town’s only inhabitants, two crazy ex-tour leaders, Suzy Browne and Paul Conway.
With a postcode of their own (that’d be 6434) and a whole lot of desert for their neighbours, Suzy and Paul live in one of the most remote towns in Australia. “Sometimes we just go out onto the airstrip and do wheelies because no one can hear us scream. And no one can tell us not to!” says Suzy, laughing.
Australia has some of the most formidable and desolate landscape on earth. Only 14 per cent is forested and 70 per cent is arid or semi-arid. The majority of Aussies are clustered on the coast, and while we know that vast areas of our country are remote and isolated, few of us have experienced it firsthand.
The Nullarbor Plain is one of the most famous of Australia’s desolate places, and a trip across it is one of our most iconic road journeys. The plain sits on a 250,000 square metre chunk of limestone, the largest of its kind in the world that, unfortunately, isn’t too conducive to growing anything more than a few random saltbushes and low-lying scrub. The actual word ‘Nullarbor’ is derived from the Latin for ‘no trees’. It is, in short, a very, very treeless place.
The turnoff to Forrest is approximately halfway across the Nullarbor Plain, and 120km inland via an ‘unconstructed’ track. Basically, you gotta bush-bash it to get there by road in a hard core 4WD. “It is so hard describe Forrest in words. It’s an experience, not a place. When you get out of the cities and come somewhere like Forrest, it blows your mind. There is a whole ‘other’ Australia that so many of us have never seen, that is so awesome,” says Suzy.
Tired of touring Australia and the South Pacific by air with elderly passengers, Suzy threw in her tour leader job and applied for a 12-month position as Airport Manager at Forrest. She was old-peopled out, and knew she had to find something pretty special to keep her entertained. Having been to Forrest a few times before, Suzy says she just couldn’t get it out of her head.
“The outback is magic. Because the desert is so flat, you sit on the water tank with a glass of wine and watch the sun set on one side and the moon rise on the other. The storms, the stars – wow! The weather out here is so incredibly beautiful; there’s no way you can forget about it,” she says.
She convinced her friend Paul, a tour leader in remote Cape York, to apply with her for the dual position. A few months later they found themselves managing Forrest, the largest tarred and lit airstrip outside the capital cities, and the emergency landing stop for Virgin Airways.
Forrest was built in 1917 as one of fifty maintenance stops on the 1700km steel ribboned Trans Continental Railway from Kalgoorlie to Port Augusta. As technology improved, the dodgy high maintenance tracks were gradually upgraded, shutting down many of the new townships.
However, in the age of early aviation, Forrest had its uses. Western Australian Airlines began using it as its overnight stop on the 16-hour flight between Perth and Adelaide in 1929. Thus began Forrest’s life as a vital stopover point for light aircraft travelling across the vast Nullarbor, providing fuel, terminal facilities and accommodation.
Accessible by plane, train and automobile, when the traffic is flowing, Forrest is not so lonely. “Three weeks is the longest we’ve gone without seeing anyone but each other.
We are both very intense and determined people, which means we definitely clash at times. Those times are the hardest because there is nowhere to go except into the space and more aloneness. But the great thing is, Paul doesn’t tend to talk, and I am a talker. In a town of two that works really well,” says Suzy.
When they are desperate for a break, Paul and Suzy lock up Forrest, and drive for three hours to Eucla, on the coast. “We drive at night after the day’s work, just to see the ocean. We camp out under the stars on the beach, and then head back at dawn for any arrivals that day. After being in the desert so long it’s amazing to be near the water,” says Suzy.
Suzy and Paul order their groceries from Kalgoorlie and get them delivered on the Indian Pacific Train, which runs four times a week between Sydney and Perth. The Indian Pacific doesn’t stop so they have to do the whole Chariots of Fire thing, running alongside the train to collect their mail and groceries. “If we’re lucky, the drivers will chuck a newspaper out the window as they go past, but it sucks trying to catch the cartons of beer,” Suzy says.
Because of its isolation, and Suzy and Paul’s hospitality, Forrest is a tourist destination in its own right, attracting an incredible array of visitors. “The isolation is harder to deal with than I thought,” Suzy says. “You rely on who comes in, and you have to wait for the world to come to you. But then everything will change in a split second and you forget you were ever alone.”
The desert Aborigines from Tjuntjunjarra drop into Suzy’s place for cups of tea and cake on their way between settlements. They remember being removed from Maralinga, the site of Australia’s controversial nuclear testing between 1952 and 1963. Suzy says they are quite shy, but occasionally speak of their memories of being transported from the nuclear testing site in strange vehicles and trains, to other desert areas.
Other recent visitors include a couple of young Parisian pilots, who hired a light plane and flew to Australia to clock up their flying hours. After Suzy and Paul took them high-speed dingo chasing, they didn’t want to leave. “They were going nuts about the dingoes! They were blown away by the dark and so much space,” says Suzy. “We took them four-wheel driving into the desert to see the giant eagles’ nests and the awesome meteorite sites. There is just so much cool stuff in the desert that is indescribable.”
Suzy and Paul have also had their fair share of science nerds to hang out with.
Aside from its aviation duties, Forrest functions as a meteorological watch station, and as part of the new tsunami warning system, has had its seismic station upgraded.
“Recently we had a London meteorite scientist here (who called everyone ‘Lord’ and ‘peeps’) and three scientists from Prague, who couldn’t speak much English. We did a camp oven for dinner by the fire, and as the sun went down they jokingly said, ‘Oh yes, we’ll have a gin and tonic with sunset,’ thinking we were a bunch of yokels! So I delivered six Blue Sapphires with tonic and a wedge of lemon. Yokels we ain’t!”
