Day 18: Canberra
So, with the markets and winery aspects of the visit out of the way, Tuesday morning saw us focussing on the buildings of national significance side of things though, had the weather been more favourable, Madam would have preferred to be focussing on autumn leaves and colourful landscapes as well.
That, however, was not to be, and as we considered the options the first issue was finding somewhere to park.
Given the fact that most of what we were interested in was clustered together in the Parliamentary Triangle, it made sense to park and walk, and we already knew there was free parking underneath the National Gallery, so the evolving game plan involved parking there, hoofing it up to Parliament House, and gradually working back until we'd had enough.
Despite Sunday's visit to the National Gallery, there was still plenty to see there, and I had intentions of a lengthy wander around Old Parliament House and a visit to the National Portrait Gallery as well, so it wasn't as if we were going to run out of things to see.
First, however, Madam was keen to get some panoramic shots of the city, and decided Red Hill was the best option, given the proximity to where we were going.
The problem, of course, was how to get there.
That seemed a simple enough matter when you looked at the street map.
Turn left out of the hotel, left again into Dalrymple, right onto Hindmarsh Drive and right again into Tamar Street and Mugga Way looked straightforward enough, but a substantial concrete barrier ruled out the last bit, and we found ourselves in a back street in the wilds of O'Malley figuring out an alternative route, which coincidentally delivered the opportunity to fuel up for the next day's trip, saving us from having to do it later.
The weather wasn't the best when we reached the summit of Red Hill, but the views were spectacular, giving Madam the chance to snap away in circumstances that hadn't been possible to date, and the road back down the hill debouched onto Melbourne Avenue, which fed directly onto the State Circle and delivered us to the desired parking location with pleasing rapidity, since time was marching on and we had a lot to see.
The nether regions of the National Gallery had plenty of parking space when we arrived, and a perambulation past the Portrait Gallery took us through Reconciliation Place, which was, I thought, nowhere near as visually significant as it needs to be, before making our way to the front steps of Old Parliament House, which these days houses the Museum of Australian Democracy.
The Museum wasn't something that was going to interest Madam over much, so a thirty second reconnaissance was enough to establish that I was up for $2 if I was going to have a wander around, and there was no direct route through the building to its replacement.
We skirted round the western, or Senate, end of the building, making our way up the hill towards Parliament House, a progress that had me reflecting on the wisdom of placing the Federal capital outside Sydney or Melbourne.
It would have been easy, in hindsight, to have done something along the lines of the South African model, with the Parliamentary capital here, the Judicial capital there and the Executive Capital somewhere else, but that would have precluded the opportunity to build the sort of extensive and integrated landscape we could see as we ascended.
I'll continue to be critical of the compromises that delivered deep flaws in the actual Australian Constitution, matters that really do need to be addressed in the light of changed circumstances over a hundred and ten years, but as far as the national capital is concerned I think they got it very close to right.
Looking back over it's predecessor towards the War Memorial, the view was impressive, expansive, and something that probably wouldn't have been possible had they decided to leave the legislature in downtown Melbourne or Sydney.
Now, from what I can recall, not that I was paying a great deal of attention at the time, when the construction process that resulted in the current structure was kicking off there was a degree of controversy involved, particularly over cost blow outs, which I've seen quoted as quintupling the original $200 million budget, but if you're after something that stands out you need vision, and a willingness to spend if necessary.
There's no doubt that the resulting structure, dominating Capital Hill as it does and drawing the eye from a number of nearby locations, stands out, and if the visitor takes a stroll through Old Parliament House the contrast, as far as the public spaces are concerned, is close to immeasurable. It's an imposing structure with substantial public space, and something that would have been done quite differently had the penny-pinchers been allowed to have their way in a post 9/11 setting.
Recently there's been quite a deal of discussion about the decline of the democratic process, the manipulation of the news cycle, and similar issues, and one can't help suspecting that some of today's critics are looking back to the halcyon days of the Old Parliament House rabbit warren, where it was virtually impossible for the Government to maintain a veil of secrecy about internal matters.
Walking down the corridor outside the Prime Minister's office in Old Parliament House, for example, I couldn't help thinking that if the PM wanted to carpet an errant minister, he would have to do it very quietly (assuming, of course, he didn't want the news to get out). There's a matter of only a couple of metres between the PM's suite and the passageway, and while we may be talking soundproofing and closed doors you wouldn't be able to keep too many secrets from casual passers-by.
Today, of course, in the new structure, the Prime Minister's suite, the ministerial offices, the Cabinet Room and similar locations are discreetly tucked away behind closed doors operated by security personnel, and not much is going to get out unless someone wants it to.
No stories based on inferences and observations in and around the actual corridors of power here, folks.
On the other hand, had the structure not been completed before the age of global terrorism kicked in, one can't help suspecting that the response to something like 9/11 would have been something like sealing off the whole site from public access, initially and supposedly temporarily because of national security concerns, with the temporary measures becoming permanent due to ongoing considerations.
A walk around Parliament House provokes those kinds of thoughts, particularly when immediately followed by a stroll around it's predecessor, which is what I did once we'd pointed Madam towards the National Gallery, working on the principle that both of us would have plenty to look at without the presence of impatient significant others.
The original intention had been to demolish the old building once Parliament House was finished, and while the new incarnation as the Museum of Australian Democracy has offered what may well be a permanent life line, I hope the place stays there, not least because it provides a window into the way things used to be, as well as an avenue for school groups and the like to act out scenarios that wouldn't be permissible in the actual Parliamentary chambers.
That stroll around the building must have taken a little longer than anticipated, even though I gave the Museum of Australian Democracy a fairly cursory once over, because I emerged from the building around the same time as the text message from Madam announcing that she'd finished at the Gallery arrived.
Actually, as I learned when I arrived at the Gallery foyer, she hadn't quite finished, since she'd failed to find the Varilaku exhibition of Pacific arts from the Solomon Islands, tucked away in a corner of the gallery she'd failed to notice.
A spell in the foyer while she headed in that direction gave me a chance to make a slight reduction in the tapping backlog, and from there it was off to the National Portrait Gallery, which didn't have a whole lot of interest for Madam, but I found plenty to look at wandering through the gallery while she took a spell.
The Portrait Gallery's remit is, on the surface, rather limited, to explore the identity, history, creativity and culture of the Australian people through portraiture, but what's on display in the gallery delivers a number of reminders about people you may have heard of along the way but forgotten alongside the portraits showing more obvious candidates.
To Madam most of those names would have been meaningless, so it's hardly surprising she found the Gallery interesting but largely incomprehensible. It might have been different if she'd been with someone who was in a position to take the time and energy to explain who the people were, which would have entailed a lot of back story filling, or had the time and inclination to read the detailed biographical notes beside each portrait without having someone at hand who was inclined to take a glance at most of what was there without hanging around to read and reflect.
Which is, I think, the main point. To get the most out of the Gallery you either need a fair degree of background knowledge or the time to stop and read the detail you're unfamiliar with, which may entail repeat visits (which wasn't, of course, an option available to us).
From there we headed off along the lake shore, hoping for an improvement in the light that failed to happen, circling the High Court building and heading back to the NGA car park, reclaiming the car and heading back to the Heritage.
There were a few options to consider for dinner, with possibilities in Kingston, Griffith and Manuka, but beckoning in front of us was the prospect of Portuguese cuisine at Vasco's, which was, as far as we could tell, in Kingston though I'd failed to sight it there the night before.
Having decided Vasco's was the go, and that there were other possibilities should we fail to locate it, I was rather nonplussed when we walked right up to a place that was clearly identifiable as our preferred destination without any complications.
What was even more surprising wasn't so much finding the place empty when we arrived (based on the possibility that we'd find the place packed if we got there too late) as the failure of anybody to wander in for dinner while we were there. Maybe those partial to Portuguese are inclined to dine later, but there were plenty of people who paused to glance at the menu on display but failed to wander in.
But in was where we were, and having ordered, what was on offer turned out to be very good indeed. Madam's seafood risotto was good, but my go at the barbecued chicken specialty of the house left me trying to figure out an excuse to get back for another go at it. A bottle of Massena Barbera went rather well with the chicken, and by the time we were finished I was a very satisfied customer who couldn't figure why we seemed to be the only ones interested in eating there.