Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)
Sunday 3 May 2020
It’s kind on an ironic title today … being Sunday, and in quarantine, I suppose you would call this a rest day, among rest days
I was going to run with the title “Food Rustling”, because the sound of paper bags rustling outside the door three times a day, has definitely heightened my sense of hearing and perception.
Even in my sleepy dark slumber at 7:38am this morning, having only been in bed 5 hours, after completing a batch of video editing till the wee hours, my subconscious could instantly detect the sound of paper, well before the trademark … knock, knock, knock … on the door.
The paper noise had me bouncing out of bed, but in retrospect, I needn’t have been so swift to the door; given that this morning’s offering was a bit of a culinary low-point, if I’m going to be honest. But still, I suppose there was some exercise-value in the 10-or-so strides to the door. This isn’t intended to be a complaint, but I’m rather thankful I now have my own reserves of breakfast cereal and fruit juice to fall back on in moments like this.
The photo tells the story, with the strategically placed dried banana slices in the corner of the plastic container, doing little to enhance the look, or the taste for that matter. The muffin on the other hand was probably even cuter this morning than the one from the other day, and maybe smaller too, if that’s possible.
Following on from watching, A United Kingdom, on Friday night, or was that Saturday morning … based largely in Botswana … last night, I watched another David Oyelowo movie, this time featuring Uganda … so I suppose my movie choice is developing a particular “type”.
But I think for anyone old enough to remember anything from the 1970s, just the mention of the word “Uganda”, brings back horrific memories of violence, military coups, hijacking, massacres and corruption. So it was nice to finally see something positive and uplifting from the place.
It’s a Disney movie after all, but still, it presents the reality of slum life, then overlays the most unlikely story of an eleven year old girl, forced to drop out of school at the age of 9 to support her mother and siblings by selling maze on the streets, who miraculously becomes an international chess champion. Well worth checking out, and again, remarkably close to the truth … at least 90% if the word of the (now 24 year old) real life, main character is to be believed.
With the rising sun casting a shimmer of golden light over the ripples … the Yarra River looked slightly less brown this morning, so I thought I’d take a photo to capture the moment …
To see a truly BLUE Yarra River, however, you have to travel back in time … back to 1956 … to the 16th Olympiad … now would I lie to you??
Well, I don’t have to lie, because the Post Master General’s Department, (the forerunner to Australia Post) has done it for me … and here’s a postage stamp from the day, to prove it. I think the “misleading and deceptive conduct” laws hadn’t been fully developed at that time, although it’s obvious the term “marketing” was alive and well back then, as it is now.
Figuring the above image needed a bit of an update, I took a snapshot from my 12th floor window and found that if you get the light … just right, the water is indeed blue. Not the Harpic Blue of the 1950s, of course, but more the Pastel Blue of the modern skinny latte times … now would I lie to you??
Maybe tomorrow I’ll have something to write about…
It’s now around 9:00pm, my dinner-bag has come and gone, and it’s interesting to reflect on just how strange it is to open my hotel door just three times a day, poke my arm out just far enough to loop my fingers through the raffia handles of the large brown paper bag, then retreat again to my room. Each time I call out … “thank you”… mostly into the ether, because I tend not to advance far enough to look fully left and right down the halls.
My door is opposite the lifts, and occasionally there’s a security person sitting on a chair nearby. If there are smiles on the faces, they’re hidden behind the mask of course and there’s not a lot you can say, or rapport you can build, in the 5-7 seconds that it takes to complete the bag-grabbing manoeuvre.
You get the sense, that if it was possible to slip the bag under the door, or through a well-sized flap, then they would. “They”, being the delivery person, who I’ve never actually seen, but also all those others further up the line of command.
I keep telling myself … this is just for a few days, I’m not being tortured or coerced into making a false confession, I’m not in a foreign land with unjust laws and officials corrupt to the core … But tragically there are plenty of people who are in those situations.
I suppose it comes down to there being a difference between choosing your OWN form of isolation – sailing, bush walking, meditation-retreat, road-trip … you name it – and having the isolation imposed. Freedom is that rare commodity you only truly appreciate when it’s taken away, and when it is, there needs to be a very good reason.
I suppose trying to stop people dying, kind of fits into the category of, “a very good reason” … as my agreement states … Section 1 (6) DIRECTION AND DETENTION NOTICE … “You must comply with the directions in clause 3 below because they are reasonably necessary to protect public health, in accordance with section 200(1)(d) of the Act”
Maybe I’m thinking too much … time to watch another movie …
Simples !
Smooth seas, fair breeze and day of rest
Rob Latimer
NZ2020 