22/02/09
Trina is working today, so I have a very lazy morning, which is nice as we’ve been busy! I manage to catch up on writing some postcards so feel marginally less guilty about having been lazy all morning…
It is a gloriously sunny day and I manage to singe my shoulders in under 15 minutes, just putting the washing out. I’m sure that’s what it was though, as it’s only on one side! Still, it seems to be the sort of singeing that goes nicely honey brown rather than peeling, so that’s good!
Chelle has said she will spend the afternoon with me today, which I am looking forward to. As it is a glorious day, I suggest we toodle up Mount Wellington again in the sun; I want to see it in sunny mode after having seen it enshrouded with clouds a few days ago!
Trina is working today, so I have a very lazy morning, which is nice as we’ve been busy! I manage to catch up on writing some postcards so feel marginally less guilty about having been lazy all morning…
It is a gloriously sunny day and I manage to singe my shoulders in under 15 minutes, just putting the washing out. I’m sure that’s what it was though, as it’s only on one side! Still, it seems to be the sort of singeing that goes nicely honey brown rather than peeling, so that’s good!
Chelle has said she will spend the afternoon with me today, which I am looking forward to. As it is a glorious day, I suggest we toodle up Mount Wellington again in the sun; I want to see it in sunny mode after having seen it enshrouded with clouds a few days ago!
We fortify ourselves with bakery items (I would be soooo fat if I lived in Hobart!) and head into the cool darkness of the museum. The first section we come to is about the local Tasmanian Aborigines and their crafts and skills, and their way of life before, during and after various massacres. Tasmanian Aboriginal DNA is apparently slightly different from those on the mainland, and the faces of these guys are slightly different too – flatter, darker, more button noses. There is a recording of one of the better-respected Aboriginal ladies, Fanny Cochrane-Smith, who sang Aboriginal tunes for recording. She also married a white man and successfully integrated into colonial society. Another lady, Dalrymple (Dolly) Johnson, reminds me of someone I once knew… Interesting. The crafts they exhibit, some local ladies have made videos so we can see, are rather fun. Weaving is one, and shell-necklace-making another. Apparently the shells are a particular sort, gathered by hand in small numbers on certain beaches, and then rubbed with a particular oil from a local ‘mutton bird’, which dissolves the upper coating of the shell, leaving bare the green and turquoise opalescent nacre. Strung together in an intricate way, they are delicate and a joy to behold.
There are stories of the Dreaming in Tasmania too; here they are slightly different. One tells of the first man in the world, Paloa, who was ten feet tall and made without knees. This seemed fine to him until he wanted to lie down to sleep, which he couldn’t do because he had no knees. He became angry and stamped his feet, making great holes in the new ground of the freshly-created Earth. Eventually, one of the goddesses of the sky felt sorry for him and gave him knees, and while he slept, the rain gently soothed the stamped earth and filled up the holes to make lakes and the sea… the aurora borealis (I don’t know if they have a different name in the southern hemisphere – the southern light perhaps?) are also a great part of the creation myth here for these people too… I should find out more…
Sadly, looking at the political side of their heritage, it appears that the Aborigines here were treated even worse in Van Diemen’s Land than they were on the mainland; they were brainwashed with half-learnt attempts to Christianise them; treated as second-class citizens and there was killing and child kidnapping for slavery and worse… It makes your heart weep, and the paltry offerings of apology from the official government channels, which only began in 2000, seem barely adequate to cover the loss of even one aboriginal child. Still, at least it is an acknowledgement, which is a start I suppose…
We trot around the rest of the museum, seeing creatures in cases, fur, feathers and scales, all are represented here, including various beetles and critters, some of which I have seen! There are Oriental urns, chests and dragons; paintings by a chap called John Glover, whose style is much like that of Turner, but has incongruously been turned to painting angry red sunsets and Aborigines dancing around fires, while naked eucalypts twist and dance in the harsh sun he has tried so hard to depict in Western paint. He is undoubtedly a fine artist, but I feel this barren, arid land is far better suited to the coarse dots of the natives, which nevertheless hold infinitely more meaning… That said, the juxtaposition of continents and styles is fascinating and interesting to pore over.
The most exiting thing I see today, for me at least, is the Antarctic exhibition. I wander towards it with some doubt, as the rest of he floor seems to be full of stuffed, glassy-eyed fur seals and taxidermied penguin chicks, which, frankly, smell funny and make me sad!
No, the highlight of this museum is definitely the moment where I enter the exhibition and stand, slack-jawed in amazement and not sure whether to giggle or weep. The first items in the exhibition are proudly displayed in a large case bearing the legend, ‘The Debenham Globes’.
This is why I wanted to see this exhibition – these two lovely, old, maps of the world are dainty things, standing about 3 feet high apiece, and have that lovely nutty tint of old wooden items well-used. These two globes, one of the world, one of the starry skies, were owned and used by Dr Frank Debenham prior to his trip with Shackleton, after which he survived to set up the Cambridge Antarctic Institute. It is rather exciting to be so close to something with such historic and familial significance. He was born in New South Wales, so I shall see if I can find anything else about him when I head to Sydney. How exciting!
Incongruously, Chelle wants to make us watch One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest tonight, as she loves it, Trina has never seen it and I was supposed to watch it for my MA and never had time!
We have fish and film – both are excellent and I can recommend each…!
;)
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