Darwin life, Larrakia country
Down south the sun sets on another 12-degree day, so I board a plane chasing it, finding five hours later in Larrakia country, it was here all along. In Darwin it's the fourth of six seasons: Gurrung – when the weather is hot and dry and the temperature and humidity begin to increase and animals crowd ever shrinking billabongs.
Mim meets me at the airport and the dry morning light and wide open space stuns me out of my stupor. Her stilted, louvered house is surrounded by palms and I think back to the naked tree outside my window in Melbourne. We're certainly not in Kansas anymore...
NT – not today, not tomorrow, not Tuesday, not Thursday – so goes the reputation of our Northern most compatriots. Understandable really when confronted with the false paradise in which they live. Kilometres of pristine beach in which you can't swim for the threat of box jellyfish and saltwater crocs; incredible Indigenous Australian contributions to arts, culture and land management set against the daily reminder of endemic dislocation, and the alcoholism and poverty that can come with it; booming industries creating wealth and jobs while stripping the landscape with little regard for the future; a city that essentially feels part of South-East Asia, but remains beholden to policy fed in from chilly, distant Canberra.
The back-drop at the beginning of the week is the London riots. Buses burning. And I can't help but think if the premier league season had already been underway, people wouldn't be so bored, and if they lived in Darwin, well, they'd be too damn hot to bother – busy dealing with things like swollen feet, blisters, sunburn and mozzie bites. There are certainly plenty of Brits in the city – all congregated around Mitchell Street – wearing little, drinking lots. With Mim as cultural guide and a copy of her streetpress, Off the Leash, I know to avoid this strip and set off to explore the many excellent galleries around town. The Harry Chan Contemporary Art Space, 24HR Art, Northern Editions & NTAGM.
I particularly liked the Lorner Fencer Napurrurla exhibit, a sense of humour apparent in the Lover Boy series (Mirtimirti), which features in the genre of Warlpiri art – Love Magic Paintings (Yilpinji). The Lover Boy is associated with the python Aspitides ramsayi, which opportunistically takes over existing burrows and is a metaphor for predatory men who take other men's wives as lovers. Another highlight was a portrait series focussing on the Sistagirls of the Tiwi Islands, which brought to life touching stories of trans’ life in a small, remote community. Three Sistagirls joined Drags Aloud (a comedy drag act from Melbourne) on stage at the Darwin Festival for a totally hilarious show, which elevated the Hues Corporation's Rock the Boat to anthem of the week. The trippy teletubby take on Manamana had us in fits of laughter as did Foxxy Empire's final quip after Hey Big Spender: "I'm always up for a little reconciliation". If only politics was always this funny.
The local markets were amazing. Not least because I ate my first banana of 2011, but also for the myriad tropical fruits, fresh juice, Cambodian rice balls, and fried banana waffles... and paw paw salad and laksa and salt and pepper squid and pad thai (see why I mentioned SE Asia)...
Mindil night markets stocked everything I'd ever need to fit myself out as a bona fide hippy. I resisted, but there may be another NT intervention if Mim and Marz continue down the floaty dresses/fisherman pants path much longer. I got out of town and did the drive to Litchfield National Park, swimming in waterholes and taking in some lively waterfalls. I was reminded what a great country Australia is. Land is important; ownership, understanding and interaction are important. History and culture and the time to listen are important. I kind of forget that living in big bad Melbourne. But what's equally important is friends, and a week with Mim and Marz was the best holiday a girl could hope for.
Darwin life, where bodies of water come with considerable risk...