Running Out of Things to Say About Canberra

Somewhere around the turn of the previous century a group of isolated colonies on this great brown land banded together and declared their proud dependence on Great Britain.  A few years later it was decided that this new semi-nation required a capital.  A city where the elected representatives of those who weren't black, Asian or female could gather to debate the issues of the day.  At that point we had two major contenders; Sydney, Australia's first city, was large, vibrant and business oriented.  Or to put it another way it was dirty, crowded and corrupt.  The other contender was Melbourne, at least in its own opinion Australia's cultural capital.  In other words it was, preening, self important and the weather was deeply suspect.

There were certain other cities in Australia of course but nobody seriously considered them as a national capital.  Brisbane was the sort of place we exiled people to, not governed them from.  Hobart was remote and the capital of a state which couldn't even manage corruption efficiently.  Perth, depending on the current value of the minerals under its soil was either in a state of secessionist fury or mendicant beggary and Adelaide was beautiful, nicely laid out and well designed.  It's no wonder the nation's most creative serial killers tend to originate there.

So the choice was narrowed to Sydney and Melbourne and immediately a problem was struck.  The representatives from each city indicated they would cheerfully sever a limb rather than visit the other on any sort of semi permanent basis.  So a new city was commissioned.  Midway between Sydney and Melbourne and thus irritatingly inconvenient to both.  It was even more inconvenient for representatives who came from any of the other cities but there's no record their opinion was sought.

In 1908 the order went out, "Let there Canberra!".  And so Canberra came to pass, just as soon as we found the money, imported an architect, dammed a river to provide an ornamental lake and built a whole bunch of buildings in the middle of nowhere.  Slightly more than a hundred years later and things have changed.  Canberra is no longer in the middle of nowhere, it is the middle of nowhere.  Driving into Canberra is like entering a country town and it stays like that until you've left again.

Once again I and others of my ilk ignored the tears of our loved ones and left civilisation behind us to journey to where only politicians and heroin addicts are known to gather.  For the time has once again come for CanCon.  A gaming festival situated on the Australia Day/Invasion Day long weekend when any sane person is getting hopelessly drunk as close to home as possible.  Gaming buddy and incidental chauffeur Ivan Kent turned up with either a large hatchback or a small four wheel drive and loaded myself and a bleary eyed Aaron Cleavin into such passenger spaces as weren't occupied by gaming paraphernalia and pointed the headlights at the nation's capital.

After last years minor geographic catastrophe I had acquired an airbnb host a mere block away from Ivan's hotel which cut down on driving and opportunities to get lost.  I really didn't care but I'm sure Ivan appreciated it.  I walked in, met my host, dropped my bags and promptly went out again.  Drinks with the boys (average age 52) was the first social activity on an agenda crammed with human interaction as long as that interaction involved rolling dice in a cup.

It has to be said Canberra was buzzing this year.  There were so many people around that in the evenings diners and drinkers almost outnumbered derelicts.  As I wandered through the street of downtown Canberra, carefully avoiding the less photogenic beggars I felt I could gaze onto a city that has really arrived.  Admittedly it had arrived in Canberra but it had arrived nonetheless.