Tales from the road: Brett's Blog Volume II

Usually when a thing is delivered so far behind schedule that its relevance has become questionable, you'd assume there are good reasons - at the very least that extra care and attention has been invested to ensure a really superior, worthwhile result.

So by all means feel free to assume along those lines about my blog for day two: Friday 1st July in Cairns, playing the Tanks Arts Centre. Then if you don't like the idea of subsequently feeling cheated and disillusioned, it might be best to read no further.

Up early again, it's just past stupid o'clock as we command our bodies to move from hotel room to car... (Snooze opportunity unless you're driving - sorry Bob)... and through Brisbane airport to catch a cute little turboprop to Cairns. Personally I can't see the appeal of tour managing, and would be totally shit at most of the important parts of the job. For example, I'm drifting lazily in and out of consciousness in the car because I know things will be fine as long as I can follow a few simple instructions and don't wander off without telling anyone. Bob on the other hand is driving and his head, phone and laptop are clogged with every piece of information required for this tour and others, which must feel weird sometimes. I would say it's amazing this work doesn't send him crazy... but... I might sit on that comment for now.

At Cairns airport we are met by a driver and van which is really cool - firstly its proof positive that we're supposed to be there, and it saves time and cash springing for hire cars and all that. Arriving at the hotel we're told our rooms aren't all ready, so we throw our bags in one that is, then wander down the street in search of lunch. A mini Asian food court is located consisting of maybe five establishments but most of the food kind of looks the same so after perusing the line we end up back at the first. Tasty and hits the spot - Bob incidentally has a seafood Laksa - nothing wrong with that right? Not yet anyway.

Back at the hotel, rooms still aren't ready but rather than have us hanging around the front desk ruining their image they give us a couple of upgrades; we head up to dump luggage before meeting the bus again to go to sound check. My room looks exactly like the one on the original booking but on a higher floor - is that what they meant by upgrade maybe?

Set amongst the rainforest (the site also includes Cairns' botanical gardens) the Art Centre building hosting tonight's performance is pretty amazing, I haven't seen anything like it before so was quite struck to walk inside for the first time, I even said "wow" to no-one in particular and stopped for a second to gaze around absorbing the shape and scale of it. There's nothing intrinsically interesting about the building design at all unless you're fascinated by squat, concrete cylinders. !WARNING - HISTORICAL FACTS ALERT! One of three oil storage tanks built in the mid 40's to service Pacific naval operations, they connected to pipes feeding out to the water, and remained operational for the next four decades until being decommissioned and later purchased by the Council to serve their current purpose. *OK ALL DONE*

They've had a weird life really, those tanks - forty odd years of military service, standing right there under the forest canopy, tirelessly containing the fuck out of all that oil. Then all of a sudden they're doing this. Inside, a large iron pipe remains conspicuously installed with no job to do except to sit there reminding us that it used to have one. It still looks fairly serious and purposeful - yet somehow I got the sense it was enjoying the rest. Four decades spent channeling oil out the side of a big concrete tank has probably left it emotionally dead - it'll take a shitload of exposure to "the arts" to reverse that - and tonight's performance is unlikely to help much. But it's just a stupid pipe so let's move on.

I stroll around a bit, and try imagining the room is filled with oil which as it turned out was really easy and didn't hold my interest at all. The walls are still bark brown and little has been altered except for a few installations surrounding the stage, and the addition of a small structure on the side which acts as a dressing room. There are some posters up in there which collectively put out a cultured sort of vibe, and it makes me think we probably won't end up among them.

Gear is being set up inside, knobs twiddled etc. I contribute sporadically but become fascinated by a group of green ants fussing around the weeping fruit of a tree just outside the entrance. While they're clearly focused on their job, the others scattered around the perimeter keeping watch immediately sense my presence and start puffing their chests out - or actually sticking their bums in the air. It's weird, if a person did that it could only look comical but with green ants it comes across very menacing. I interpret their actions to convey something like "don't even think about fucking with our fruit. Or this branch it's attached to. Or this light pole next to it either. In fact you should probably just fuck off alright?" Which I did, returning a few times to see if they ever chilled out - they don't. Easily one of the most hostile vibes I've ever gotten from insects - apart from those bees when I was a kid but I fully deserved those five stings - and bees do have the decency to die after pinging you, which could be seen as a design flaw but I choose to believe represents a sense of honor. Green ants, I've decided, wouldn't understand honor - they are mean, aggressive and paranoid little bastards. In fairness to them I will admit it looked like a nice bit of fruit.

After sound-check we all have a snooze for an hour or so back at the hotel, then meet up for our lift out front where I notice Hugh has a seafood pizza which Bob asked him to pick up and take back for him, having stayed at the site. Hey, the guy likes seafood, alright? But here's the thing, I find this out later - the Laksa fucked him. He was really miserably sick throughout the evening - AND APPARENTLY THE SIGNS WERE CLEAR EVEN WHEN HE PUT IN THE PIZZA REQUEST. Most people respond to a bout of food poisoning with perhaps some medication, keeping fluids up, that kind of thing - we've all been there of course. Bob is the only man I have ever known to instead prescribe seafood pizza as the appropriate treatment - though stunned I can't help but be weirdly impressed and want to know more about this line of reasoning but can't really press the point with him while he's in pain. I still haven't - maybe I'll give it a try myself next time, could answer my questions.

This was a fun show - excellent turnout, cool venue, everyone does their thing and it's another one notched up, a little bit more memorable than usual because of the unique surroundings. I like pretty much everything about tropical regions except for their defining feature - the climate. It seems like a deal-breaker, my European ancestry just can't take the heat and humidity very well in my experience. Everything else is great - the relaxed pace of the lifestyle, lush green vegetation everywhere, interesting fauna. I won't write it off yet; the weather is actually perfect this time of year, not sure how long that lasts.

Damnit I've just looked at the time, have nearly finished my blog for next day as well - really I have, but not quite - so will send this one through and take another look after sleep. Mmmm sleep...