Return of the Slamma

My little brother hopped off the plane looking fresh as a dairy. I had expected to meet a stinky grumpy sort of bastard but he was quite cheerful and didn't even complain about the heat, heat being the natural enemy of Slammas.

The fierce hot wind left me a little jet lagged but I managed to drop one person off in Springwood before returning to Penno and my brother's house, formerly known as my squalid sanctuary. We stopped at Penrith Plaza food court for a spot of lunch, fancy, where I thought I saw David from the movie show on telly, Margaret was nowhere to be seen.

My brother immediately started emptying his suitcases all over the floor and what came out of those cases was astonishing. He'd been shopping that boy, shopping in markets all over China between gigs. I am currently wearing Anna Sui perfume (fake), a mint green Gucci watch (fake), Chanel sunglasses (fake), jade earrings and matching pendant (real!). I also have a packet of communist cigarettes, a Shanghai keyring, a tiny silk bag, a jade snake tablet thingy from a temple and I suspect from the haste with which he sneakily pushed some items out sight one or two things to look forward to for Christmas.

I spent hours surrounded by exotic trinkets, swathes of silks, no less than seven fake watches, perfumes, enamel boxes, jade jewellery, shiny weird cigarette packets and other nameless gorgeous things.

He was full of tales and photographs, he said the duality of China was astonishing and explained pit toilets with scrolling l.e.d walls. He talked about architecture and the feel of shining booming futures. He told me about the old city where our family lived and the POW camp were some of them died. He said Chinese McDonalds is excellent. He said when he stood on top of the pointy tower in Shanghai to photograph the city that he could not comprehend what he saw, the city stretches all the way to the horizon. When he said that I could see the memory of the dropping feeling in his stomach. A city that stretches all the way to the horizon is certainly beyond my comprehension. You can walk out of Sydney in an hour if you're quick. You can start at the Opera House or the Harbour Bridge and walk yourself right out of the place without even raising a sweat. I don't know what I'd do in an endless city.

There were photos of festivals and concert halls, theme parks, bars, universities and town squares. They played at every kind of venue imaginable. I wonder what people thought of them. I wonder if people unfamiliar with that kind of music can slip as easily into their liquid sound. I'm wondering if flugelhorns require translators.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Technically, the city part of Shanghai is not huge, if you're likening it to the city part of Sydney. It's just that all the surrounding suburbs have high rise apartment buildings instead of low density housing. I could probably walk from one side of Shanghai city to the other in an hour too. Maybe two hours.
cath said…
Whoo Hoo! Prezzies from brothers are very good indeed. It's always odd to realise that the person who used to give you dead arms actually likes you enough to buy you presents:-) Enjoy!
TimT said…
I'm wondering if flugelhorns require translators.

As you may know, the Bassoon (a reed instrument) is called, in Italian, the Faggoto. Germans just call it the Faggot. Presumably they joke about it ('whose blowing the faggot today?')
DS said…
Creamboy you are technically correct.
Cath, yep woo hoo!
timt ooh the bassoon. I had a brief thing with the bassoon but I am not ace with double reeds and my thumbs are actually quite small and that was a disadvantage. I went better on the bass clarinet, that was very easy after the bassoon.
Anonymous said…
You have got to love Genuine Fakes. Fakes with spelling mistakes are even better, like a bag we saw with a map of Australia on it, and the island under "VIC" is labled "SAT".
DS said…
I once dreamt about an island called SAT.
Anonymous said…
I imagine SAT to be a place where their wilderness is cherished, the government isn't a puppet of one large corporation, and friends of Dale don't get brutal treatment from police. I'd like a place like that.
TimT said…
Sounds a bit like here, because the government isn't a puppet of one large corporation here either, but I'm getting political.

Perhaps the existence of SAT is merely further proof for the theorem stated earlier that maps are invariably the wrong way round.

Is SAT short for Satmania, though? Or Ainamsat?
DS said…
Satspactacular is the name of my imaginary island home. The locals call it spac for short and I am the Prime Minister.
Gemnastics said…
Fresh as a dairy?
DS said…
Good lord! Talk about a slip. Its that damned lactose intolerance trying to ruin my life and deprive me of things such as cheeses, yogo, milk chocolate, gelato, yogo, cream, cheesecake, panacotta, milkshakes, lattes, yogo, mousse, custard, yogo, pizza, other things with cheese in it and yogo.
Gemnastics said…
i used to like the creamy rice yogo, before they realised everyone else thought it was weird and got rid of it.