Brisbane is the capital city of Queensland, the only Australian state with more farmers than city folk. This results in some curious salutations even more bizarre than the usual "g'day-mate-how-ya-goin". One morning this past week as I was strolling through the suburbs, I passed an elderly woman in a sensible though perhaps well-worn jumpsuit, clutching an umbrella.
This being October, it was too early to drag out the summer frocks. That was it. No "hello young man" or "morning handsome. That's Queensland for "It's a bit hot, isn't it? I was born and bred in Brisbane, back when it was a dull old town run by fascists whose governance would have given Thai corruption a run for its money.
The state's electoral borders were so gerrymandered there was no need for such crudities as military coups or martial law. A fellow journalist, Matthew Condon, who did his cadetship the same time I did mine, has put out three best-selling books about the almost hedonistic corruption that permeated the police and politicians here in the s and s.
I see that in Thailand the banning of political parties and rallies has raised its head yet again. In Queensland it was illegal to walk three abreast because that constituted a political rally. We really do have a lot in common. Brisbane has completely changed now. We have gone from a backward, corrupt country town to an intensely liveable tropical city, an alternative to the rat races of Sydney and Melbourne.
We no longer "spread" avocado on bread and toast, for instance. Now we "smash" it. It's been a wonderful week catching up with family and friends, almost exclusively in pubs around the city since it appears Queenslanders are unable to do anything without clutching a "woit woin" or slamming down the local beer known as "XXXX". On my first day in Brisbane I went to an inner-city pub which was fun until I needed to visit the bathroom.
