TRAVEL DIARY

A weblog regularly updated by Jodi Rose.

Wednesday, April 5, 2006

7:27 AM
Posted by jodi rose

first view of the bridge

having intense vivid dreams in this old house, one a few nights ago where nigel in barcelona was showing me all the ID cards he'd collected with my name and different faces. so, there I am living multiple lives in spain - am with you in spirit miss lizzie en famille, john& kim , krick and nigel, my favourite lollymakers.

went to the patricia piccinini show at wellington city art gallery, those creatures she makes are very spooky, lifelike and just wrong - but then I guess that's the direction we're heading with bio-tech, cloning etc. a cute series of motorbike-fish hybrid creatures, all glossy, sleek and prehistoric/post modern, while the pig/human and scaley backed honeyeater guardians are visceral with belly button, hair and lifelike skin. my cousin erin was intrigued - she wanted to know 'what do they eat?' so we asked the attendant who didn't know, but tried to imagine with us (omnivores) and had some great insights and comments.

This afternoon Kay took me to Eketahuna, walked along the river to a dilapidated swing bridge built 1891 (and badly in need of re-stringing!) then the cemetery - high on a windy hill, early settlers, many larsens and svenssons reflecting the hidden scandinavian history of the area - with the most insane list of by-laws, including not being allowed to put flowers on a grave without written permission from the council. Lordy.

Then we made it to the Anzac Memorial Bridge, lovley curve to the walkway, peeling white paint, and beautiful old memorial plaque. Six people from the area who died in WWI are commemorated there, and three who died in WWII. Most of them lived nearby, or worked on farms; the descendent of one grew up in the house I'm staying in... one of the three killed in WWII was a nurse, travelling in a jeep in Egypt which collided with a truck - how unlucky can you be. Survive the war only to have a car accident. I'm not sure how those buried in Turkey died, but their memory lives on in this tiny rural bridge.

This is the windiest place I have ever been, even windier than Wellington. Apparently, the wind blows around the globe, and there is basically nothing to buffer or slow it down until it gets to New Zealand. Then the mountain here eats it! They're very fierce, and I imagine the messages written in the currents are strange and defiant - Michel Serres talks about the earth writing messages in a highly sophisticated language that we can't decode, but travels through the wind, ocean and other currents. yes, he's a french philosopher, no-one seems to blink an eye when those guys come up with crazy ideas - but gives me support for the bridges having their own language.

You're wondering about the Scandinavian thing? The local settlers decided long ago that they needed help logging the thick forests, and brought in immigrants from Denmark and Norway, thinking they would have experience - the norwegians probably did, but there's hardly any forest in denmark. Anyway, they had a hard time, not speaking english and no-one thought to find a bi-lingual teacher for the school, so were treated ast second class citizens, but helped build the modern towns in this area, including this house for the clockmaker.

So, my head is spinning with clocks and winds from around the globe, now it's time to leave for wellington school of music where I'm giving the composers workshop this afternoon to the sonic arts students.