I immediately decided that I liked Perth; unfortunately, I proceeded to not spend enough time there to confirm or refute this decision. An evening before heading to Noggerup, a day before heading to Exmouth, an evening after returning from Lyndon - this is all I had. Not really a fair amount of time to make a decision on a city. In the interest of fairness, however (I mean, I wrote about Brisbane, I have to write about Perth), here are the, albeit brief, impressions that I had of Perth.
- Damn, this city looks like San Diego. I know I’ve mentioned similarities between Australia and San Diego before, but Perth was pretty astonishing. The relationship to the ocean, the architectural styles, the sense of growth and development, the burgeoning music and arts scene, all felt so familiar. It was shockingly simple to stare out the window of the bus and watch the palm trees zip past and convince myself that I was back in Southern California. Perth is considered one of the most isolated cities in the world, so I’m not sure what that designation says about San Diego, its ‘sister city’; maybe SD is just really good at making friends with the loner?
- Damn, this street is cool. My first night in Perth, I got off a late-ish flight and, as I was good and ravenous, asked the nice man behind the metal grate at the hostel (my hostel was not in a great area, I gathered, either that or the staff couldn’t be trusted to not maul the backpackers) if there was somewhere he recommended for dinner. He looked at me blankly and said that everything would be closed. It was just before 9:00. I assured him I wasn’t picky, pub food was completely fine, but no, apparently even pubs wouldn’t be serving food at that time; Perth, he informed me, likes to eat early. He gave me a map and pointed me in the direction of a ‘good area’ with an air of hopelessness. I trekked over a bridge and suddenly spied brightly lit, colorful trees off to my left. We all know, at this point, that I am a huge sucker for Australia’s penchant for glow-in-the-dark trees. Turning down this mall (in the traditional, not American sense - it was a walking-only street), I could hear loud, classy American voices; this is rare, not the loud and American part, but the classy part. Moving past my neon trees, I spied an outdoor movie screen in front of me, placed at the front of a small amphitheater, concrete steps happily covered in bean-bag cushions and cushy-looking lounge chairs. There were even a few food carts! I plopped down and kept waiting for one of the guards milling around to ask me for a ticket, or pick me out as a tourist and force me away from the free entertainment, but I was left in peace to enjoy my veggie burger and watch Double Indemnity, surrounded by twinkling trees. When the movie ended, much to my delight, they projected a cartoon of a crackling fireplace, with figures leaping and dancing through the flames, while playing classic jazz music. A well-dressed couple in front of me sipped on coffees while their kids juggled and hula-hooped at the base of the steps. I noticed two theatres to my left, and a library and a museum to my right. This, I decided, is probably the best street ever designed.
- Damn, that’s some good damn theatre. I was lucky enough to see 2 shows while I was in Perth. The first was young, energetic and delightfully experimental; the second was perhaps the best piece of theatre I’ve seen in Australia. The first show, Uncle Jack, was a new play from an established Perth playwright, mixing together a post-WWII PTSD drama with a coming-of-age story. It was in a tiny little black box theatre with limited props and just two actors. It was passionate, enthusiastic, and very Australian - I left feeling almost stoned from the joy of creation that simply swam off of the stage. Alternatively, I may have been a little high from asphyxiating on the red dirt that they were kicking up with abandon (this was before going to Lyndon, so I was still a dust virgin). Before the show started, the gent sitting next to me struck up a conversation. As it turns out, he was an actor, currently in rehearsal for a production of As You Like It, at the State Theatre, right next door. When I returned from Lyndon, he graciously gave me a ticket. I am not a theatre critic, and I won’t force a theatre review on an unsuspecting audience, so suffice it to say that this was the best production of AYLI I have ever seen, and on my top-ten list of best Shakespeare productions I have had the pleasure to watch. Also, the State Theatre of Western Australia is a simply beautiful structure, all glass and mirrors on the outside, and all wood inside the theatre. Going to the state theatre is obviously a posh night out in Perth - I was in my ‘nice’ outfit, and still felt painfully conspicuous, like I had ‘filthy backpacker’ tattooed across my forehead. It probably didn’t help that I had just gotten back from Lyndon, and I was paranoid that the smell of cow dung was clinging to me like those squiggly lines of smell around a cartoon character. No one gave me a dirty look though, so either Australians are very polite (I don’t buy it), or it was all in my head.
- Damn, that’s what patriotism is supposed to look like. I was lucky enough to be in Perth for ANZAC day, which is a day of memorial for the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps that served in World War I, particularly at Gallipoli. In some strange rush of enthusiasm, I decided to get up in time to watch the dawn ceremony in King’s Park. The problem, as I see it, with a dawn ceremony, is it requires you to be up and about before dawn; so here I was, stranger in a strange land, wandering the streets in the darkness of 5am, trying to figure out where King’s Park was - I mean, it’s bigger than Central Park (take that New York), how hard could it be to find? I eventually saw a man in a crisp white military uniform of some sort, and decided that he seemed a good person to follow; as we climbed up a hill, presumably towards the park, I started to notice more and more people on what had previously been the deserted streets. By the time I had entered the park and was walking down a beautiful esplanade lined in towering white-barked trees, I was part of a flood of people, a nearly silent river of humanity sweeping towards the memorial. I don’t know why I had expected the ceremony to be somewhat poorly attended - I suppose I granted the same degree of laziness and a distaste for early mornings to the entire population of Perth that I have myself. As it was, I was part of a crowd of nearly 40,000 that stood, in more or less perfect silence, and watched a very simple, but very moving ceremony - many wreaths were laid, bagpipes and trumpets were played (including my new favorite bugle call, Last Post), the Australian and New Zealand national anthems were sung by sweet-voiced children, and the meaning of ANZAC day was addressed in a short and effective speech. All the while, the sun rose over the city of Perth, which was laid out beneath us. After the ceremony, everyone dispersed around the park and proceeded to lay out picnics and blankets, pull out frisbees and bikes and rugby balls, and just generally enjoy the sunshine. Which leads me to…
- Damn, that’s a nice park. It’s huge. I’ve stayed in towns smaller than that park. I spent an entire lazy day just wandering around King’s Park, alternately exploring the native flora or lying on a sarong watching the world go by, and I know that I only saw the tiniest fraction of it. There are beautiful gardens laid out that showcase the plants and trees of different regions of Australia, and the world, there’s a treetop walkway, and streams and lakes, and towering Boab and Eucalyptus trees. Should you get bored looking at trees (sacrilege!), the park is built on a hill, so you have all of the city of Perth and its harbors upon which to gaze. It’s better than Central Park; there, I said it, and I won’t take it back!
There are so many parts of Perth that I didn’t get to explore - Rottnest Island, Fremantle, really anything outside of the CBD. Perth, I’m sorry I short-changed you; next time, I promise to pay more attention to you, so as not too add to your isolation complex.
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