Last week we had a family ‘back to Ballarat’ where Dad grew up. Maggie, the girls, Oli and I took a road trip to get there. We stopped at a couple of small towns along the way for a hot chocolate/coffee and lunch run around. Oli played ’20 questions’ and we listened to CDs and sang songs. While using her phone for navigating I noticed that Maggie only has the same two podcasts on her phone that I listen to.
My poor forethought meant that we passed through my great-uncle’s town without arranging to see him, and we drove through the neighbouring settlement where he and my great grandmother grew up too, not knowing their address. We were also rushing to get to Bendigo before the Marimekko exhibition closed at 5pm. We got there at 4.45 and whizzed around in delight – I love the bold, clean colours and textile designs. We bought some tea towels and mugs for home to remember it by and continued on the way to reach Ballarat’s Sovereign Hill hotel in the dark.
We stumbled around in the dimly-lit recreation Goldrush-era hotel to check in before heading out in search of dinner. Rhea: ‘If a Maccas is open we could have chicken nuggets. It has chicken in it.’ Maggie laughed. ‘Did that come out of the mouth of a member of our family?’ There wasn’t much open but we ate at a Nando’s – my first ever visit to that chain. Maggie bought herself a beer. ‘Do you drink beer?’ I asked in surprise. Back at the hotel I shared a Queen-size bed with the girls, all of us having been treated over the last few weeks for headlice, not completely successfully. They were both scratching their heads that night and the next few nights but I didn’t have the time or energy to treat both of them so I did one the next night and we treated both of them when I met Steve in Melbourne a few days later. Rhea had scratched her head and/or had it bitten so badly that it was bleeding in spots. I combed her golden hair carefully, one strand at a time.
Robert Dessaix has written about travelling and his view that the sitting down drinking coffee in cafés is just as important as all the things you see when you travel because it’s an interlude of peace that re-invigorates you to make the most of your travel. We did a bit of sitting down in cafés during our Back to Ballarat, both in Sovereign Hill and Ballarat itself. We caught up with Mum, Dad and Marcus in a café at Sovereign Hill to hear about their few days in Melbourne, and spent more time sitting around at a lovely café for lunch beside Lake Wendouree with Dad’s old teacher who he sees periodically and his wife. We had dinner at the same lakeside restaurant both nights with a good variety of food, colouring-in pencils and paper for the girls and glorious views of the sunset in this unseasonably long east coast summer.
We booked in to have our photo taken in old-fashioned clothes the first afternoon, updating a photo we had taken at Sovereign Hill about 32 years ago containing just Maggie, Marcus and I to now include Rhea, Lara and Oli. Unfortunately the girls couldn’t wear bonnets because I didn’t want to risk infecting other children with lice, but it’s still a good photo and we all had fun dressing up.
The kids enjoyed bowling in the bowling alley, dipping candles in coloured wax, watching lollies being made and tasting them afterwards, and they were so taken with the gold pouring into a solid block that they made a movie of it using my phone. I think it was interesting for them to see the small houses and tents that people lived in in those early goldrush days, re-created beside the creekbed where we all panned for a few specs of gold.
I had only vague memories of feeding the swans at the lake, the cold of my grandparents’ house when we stayed there when I was little, and visiting a distant relative who Dad had spent a lot of time with when he was little. By the time I was little Uncle Bill was in his eighties, walked slowly with a stick, still chain-smoked and was almost deaf and blind. Our carload revisited dad’s old house which was still there and didn’t look much different, there were still lace curtains on the windows. We also stopped by Bill’s simple white old house which had been restored but is still tiny. I couldn’t reconcile my memories of it with the trim, sweet cottage painted pale green with dark green trimmings.
We also looked in at Dad’s small old primary school and the girls and I asked the taxi driver to drive past his high school which is vast, reminiscent of the sandstone universities. This was the first time as an adult that I had seen where Dad had come from. I would have liked to see the flat where my grandfather moved to after my grandmother died, and the house of dad’s aunt who we used to visit, but I don’t think Dad has those addresses. I was quite struck by the contrast between those houses and the airbnb house we all stayed in for two nights in Ballarat which took up most of the block, contained a vast master bedroom and ensuite, well-equipped, showy kitchen, four other bedrooms including a projector in the kids’ bedroom and flatscreen TVs in the remaining bedrooms. It was luxurious, but like the old houses we used to visit, not designed for energy efficiency and not orientated to make the most of the sun.
The café and shop at the Ballarat Art Gallery were lovely places where we enjoyed a coffee and a browse, and the quality of the art. The historic building was such a contrast to Perth’s small, dark art gallery that we had all visited recently while in the West for Duncan and Becky’s wedding. It highlighted to me the wealth of Ballarat compared to Perth historically. There was a lovely Von Guerard exhibition on, and the main collection was also of high quality. Up the grand staircase was a room with a grand piano, which a man who looked like he could have been homeless (but probably wasn’t) was playing Chopin walzes by memory, which resonated throughout the whole building.
The airbnb house succumbed to a blown fuse after everyone but the girls and I had left on Sunday morning which took out the hot water, some electricity and plumbing. We took a taxi to the Museum of Australian Democracy (Eureka) Museum. The girls recharged at the playground outside then we all recharged at the café. After that we all enjoyed the museum. I thought it was very thought provoking about what is democracy and what is the power of the people. I had wanted to ride around the lake but there weren’t any bike hire shops open that day. Another reason to go back someday.
The train to Melbourne took us through dry country and Steve met us in the city. Thanks to Maggie for organising the family trip back.
