Lights, Canberra, Action

​Canberra, the national capital of Australia, is understandably omitted from many tourist itineraries. Located in the Australian Capital Territory (ACT), a remote region of bushland 250 km away from Sydney and nowhere near the coast, it has a reputation for being a perfunctory political hub. However, this seeming contradiction between government grandeur and accessible nature was actually what caught my interest. When I found out about the hot air balloon festival scheduled for March, I booked my trip.

As far as cities go, it has an unusual origin story that’s worth highlighting. When the Australian colonies federated in 1901, rivals Sydney and Melbourne couldn’t agree on the new government’s location. As a compromise, they specified a capital city somewhere in the state of New South Wales, but at least 160 km away from Sydney. The current site was selected in 1911, and was followed by an international competition to design the city layout. The winning team was a husband-and-wife duo from Chicago, Marion and Walter Burley Griffin. One of the key features of the Burley Griffin design was a “land axis” from Mount Ainslie to the future capital hill, and a perpendicular “water axis” along the Molongo River. Parliament officially moved to Canberra in 1927, working in a temporary building as the city was gradually built up. In 1968, the construction of a dam turned the river into Lake Burley Griffin, now the focal point of the city. The Old Parliament House was superseded by the current Parliament House in 1988 – more on both buildings later. From the Parliament House, two radial roads emanate like spokes, one towards the CBD and one towards the defense precinct, creating the Parliament Triangle.

​I flew from Melbourne to Canberra, an easy <1 hour journey. The first three nights, I stayed at a hostel in the CBD. It was the only hostel in Canberra, and a sad place. One of my roommates was an overly chatty middle aged Australian man who narrated the entire process of booking a flight to the Philippines. At one point, I encountered a drunk skateboarder vomiting on the sidewalk in front. Apart from that, it was a central location and the rest of the area was fine. On the way to get groceries, I walked through a polished shopping mall with a Lego store – the center display was a minifig taking a selfie with a kangaroo.

Like Washington DC, the concentration of top-tier museums is one of Canberra’s strongest points. I visited 8 different galleries, and all of them were free! The first was the National Gallery of Australia (NGA), home to impressive international works and even better Australian ones.

A particular highlight of the NGA was a gallery dedicated to Vincent Namatjira, whose colorful and playfully irreverent paintings lampooned colonial icons (like the royal family) and celebrated the musicians and athletes that inspired him. One series of paintings told the life story of his great grandfather, Albert Namatjira, also a famous painter.

I liked Sidney Nolan’s series of paintings chronicling the life of bushranger Ned Kelly, drawn with a cartoonish representation of Kelly’s signature suit of armor (which I had just seen in Melbourne).

An enormous room of hollow log coffins arranged in the shape of a specific river in the Northern Territory was a beautiful memorial to Aboriginal people killed by European settlers.
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Another powerful work with colonial themes was a painting by Gordon Bennett that adapted imagery from 9/11 and Jean-Michel Basquiat into an Australian invasion setting.

​But my gallery visit didn’t stop when I left the building! As part of the Enlighten Festival, there was a live concert right outside, featuring a rapper named Briggs from the rural city of Shepparton, and he was very proud of his backwater roots. The concert led up to the start of the light projections, the signature feature of the Enlighten Festival where prominent Canberra buildings are dressed up with colorful animations. The animations are different every year and reflect the building’s spirit. The NGA show was titled “Aboriginal All-Stars” and projected Vincent Namatjira’s dazzling artwork onto this grand canvas, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

​Some of the other noteworthy Enlighten displays included cartoon characters running silly science experiments on the Questacon, historical Australian footage on the National Library, and a groovy 80’s color palette on the Old Parliament House. I even walked up to the new Parliament to see this year’s Lego-themed animations, a reference to the scale Lego model on display inside. Alongside the projections were other attractions including a live rock band, a fungi-inspired light installation, and a tap-dancing group.

​I headed back to the CBD, crossing a bridge which under cover of darkness had become an arachnid gallery. Every single stretch of railing had a gnarly spider on display, and it was a long bridge. Maybe the politicians can learn a thing or two about spinning webs.

I don’t like waking up early, but I can force myself awake for the right reason – like the launch of hot air balloons at dawn! I packed a light breakfast and walked through the still-dark park at 5:30am, full of chittering fruit bats and cute possums peering down from the trees. The launch site was the Patrick White lawns, a surprisingly small footprint for the ~40 balloons that took off each day. As I approached the lawns, the darkness was pierced by flashes of flame and whooshing roars as the pilots tested their equipment. A fleet of food trucks was ready to feed and caffeinate the groggy masses.

​Flat white in hand, I walked through the field to get a closer look at the baskets, stepping into the radius of warmth. The pilots were busy unloading their vans; a dog leapt out of a tall basket on command. Spectators trickled in, forming circles around the flat balloons. With intermittent flames in the background, it was very cultish. I walked up to the library’s terrace to get a better view of the scene.

First, the balloons were cold-inflated, reluctantly pushing themselves off the ground. Then, with the baskets lying horizontally on the ground, the flames were shot sideways into the opening, providing the hot air needed to coax the balloons upright. In the gray 6:00am light, the flames were bright enough to illuminate the balloons from the inside, and they flickered like enormous lightbulbs.

One-by-one the balloons took flight, revealing their designs. Most were classic checkered colors. A few had interesting shapes like an Air Force helmet and a cartoon head with pigtails. Others had advertisements for seemingly random things like Hendrick’s Gin, a veterinary drug called Zolvix, and Melbourne tourism. Some lifted straight up, others got a running start like planes on a runway. A few people absorbed in their photos were almost plowed over!

Once the final balloon had launched, I joined the masses walking west, following the wake of the aerial parade. I could now see the lake was full of kayakers and boats, many now paddling west too. The balloons had traveled far and were already small in the distance. Seeing the skies filled with these iconic Aussie aircraft was charming, but the energy of the launch site was the best part. I've never experienced anything like it!

​After that, I visited the Parliament House, now looking rather plain without its Lego projections. In front was a mosaic with an indigenous design, meant to put the First Nations first. The building is embedded in the hill and seems to rise organically from the earth itself, as democracy should. Past a basic security check was a beautiful lobby with green marble columns. The tour itself was short and sweet, visiting the House chamber (color coded green) and explaining some of the design features, like a white-noise fountain to mask private conversations. The guide suggested visiting the rooftop, home to an enormous Australian flag the size of a double decker bus and some excellent views. Of course, I made sure to visit the Lego model, which was accurate and full of cute details, like an observer accidentally dropping a hot dog into the proceedings below.

​It was a long walk across town, but I made it to the Kingston area to check out a few sights. One was an active glassblowing center with public viewing, but I didn’t linger as I was already overheated from the walk. Another was the Old Bus Depot market, a spacious crafts market with lots of tempting local goods. I tasted a few spirits and syrups and bought a few postcards from a local artist with quirky Canberran designs, including a group of magpies in a meeting to select their next victim. The third attraction was a Nepalese restaurant that had been recommended to me, called Lakeside Gurkhas. I ordered a sampler platter that was loaded with goodies, including curries, chutneys, veggies, and fermented soybeans. The staff was very amiable and even brought out a little dessert.

Feeling a little stuffed but carrying on, I crossed the lake, passed the carillon, and walked up the ANZAC Parade towards the War Memorial. The parade was a rich maroon color and was lined with smaller memorials for each conflict Australian soldiers were involved in. It was peaceful in this slow part of the day; a sulphur-crested cockatoo was drinking water from the Vietnam memorial fountain and flew off as I approached. I cooled down with an iced coffee at the museum café.

The War Museum was too large to absorb in the short time before closing. Some of the material was familiar – for example, the Gallipoli campaign had been featured at the Te Papa museum in New Zealand, since it was a joint ANZAC operation. In my brief stint, I learned that Australia had a front row seat to the Pacific theater of WWII, with Darwin and the northern coast suffering Japanese bombings.
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The reason I arrived later in the day was to see the Last Post ceremony, a late afternoon event that honors an individual soldier by recounting their story. On that day, it was Lance Corporal William James Thomas Kelly, who had been deployed to Britain during WWI, fought on the Western Front on multiple tours and persisted through multiple injuries, only to die in the post-war influenza epidemic. People who I assume were living relatives of the soldier placed wreaths by his photo, while melancholy bagpipe music reverberated throughout the stone courtyard. The ceremony was attended by many fellow tourists, but they were all respectful, soaking in the solemnity. It was really quite moving.

​In the evening, I headed to Commonwealth Park with a picnic dinner for a free outdoor concert. Though smaller than the Sydney Myer Bowl in Melbourne, this Canberran equivalent was worthy in its own right, with well-organized sections for blanketers vs. camping chairs and a vanguard of food trucks. It also bordered a fruit bat colony, which gradually launched at dusk, just like the balloons in the morning.

​The musical performer was a unique, never-seen-before collaboration between the Canberra Symphony Orchestra and the Hoodoo Gurus, a well-regarded Australian rock band. I chatted with my picnic neighbors, an older Canberran couple, who explained the Hoodoo Gurus had been popular on the US college circuit in the 80s. The songs, all Hoodoo Gurus hits, had been arranged specifically for this concert by a young local composer. The lead singer of the Hoodoo Gurus, Dave Faulkner, had a great stage presence, as did the symphony conductor, Vanessa Scammel. I felt that the rock instruments drowned out the traditional ones, but it wasn’t a big deal as the rock songs were all excellent.

​On the way back into the CBD, I stopped by a light installation at Civic Square, featuring ancient animals like a saber-tooth tiger. The creatures were made of geometric wire frames and backlit fabric, giving them a wonderful aesthetic.

​Another morning, another early start for the balloons! This time I headed to opposite side of the lake to get a different perspective. The sunrise was gorgeous, creating silhouettes of the balloons and kayakers. The balloons took a slightly different path, narrowly clearing the bridge and deliberately flying low across the surface of the lake. A few balloons even let the kayakers grab on, and pulled them across the lake!

I was conveniently located at the National Museum, with one small problem… it was still 7:30 in the morning. I killed some time by walking around the Australia National University (ANU) campus, looking for a bathroom but it was completely deserted. Thankfully the museum opened at 9:00 even though it was Canberra Day, a public holiday.
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The National Museum had an excellent flagship exhibit on Australia’s natural history. The entryway highlighted the bunya trees of Queensland, which have enormous pinecones. During the pinecone season, indigenous groups traveled long distances for an annual gathering to collect this important food source. I actually found a bunya pinecone near the balloon launch site later in my visit. Good thing it didn't land on a balloon, or it could have punctured one...

​The museum also highlighted Australia’s natural disasters, including cyclones and bushfires, and had an excellent animated map explaining the continent-level weather patterns. Now I know why Melbourne can have four seasons in one day! There were also some regional spotlights, on traditional controlled burning practices, migrating moths, and the “Snowy” hydroelectric scheme.

Another wing of the NMA was about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander history and culture. The signs didn’t beat around the bush when it came to atrocities committed by Europeans. For example, the Coniston Massacre of 1928, where the murder of one adulterous white man escalated to the murder of 60 innocent indigenous people. But there were also messages of hope, like an explanation of the 1992 Mabo decision where Murray Islanders regained their ancestral land rights in a Supreme Court ruling.

The most unique item in the NMA was the preserved remains of a thylacine, aka the Tasmanian tiger, from the 1920s. I already had a mild fascination with this extinct animal from my visit to Tasmania. It’s a bit of a "ghost" species, still haunting the public psyche, printed on every Tasmanian license plate, but not something you’ll find out in nature – or even a zoo. The last thylacine in captivity died in 1936. The one in the glass case looked sad, almost anguished, seemingly aware of its species' fate. Maybe it will be cloned someday. Alongside the display was some other historical content including a cute photo of a mother thylacine with three joeys and a desperate campaign flyer from efforts to locate any surviving populations in the wild. Poor thylacines. Gone, but not forgotten.

Another pleasant stroll around the lake, a sandwich for lunch, and I was right back into museum mode. The National Portrait Gallery had the whole pantheon of Australian celebrities on display but didn’t resonate with me. My main takeaway was discovering that the classical guitarist John Williams is from Melbourne, as he had a portrait on display. The café at the NPG was nice though.

When I checked my bag at reception of the Old Parliament House, I asked if there were any exhibits I should prioritize. The reply was ambiguous but prescient: just explore, this place is full of surprises. Indeed it was! The first room was all about beehives, which one senator had set up on the grounds as a pet project. The second room was full of working typewriters, delightfully tangible. I had never played with a typewriter apart from a theater prop. Signs encouraged visitors to write letters and drop them in a free mailbox. Here’s hoping that this offer included international postage, as I may have sent a letter or two to the USA! I had a blast fumbling my way through: setting margins, figuring out the carriage return, hammering that ink ribbon, and dealing with jams. The rest of the building also leaned into nostalgia. The explorable labyrinth of rooms and hallways was filled with 80’s office equipment and government flyers.
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The museum was formally called the Museum of Australian Democracy (MOAD) and had rooms full of info about Australia’s voting laws and prime ministers. It made me realize that Australia has always been ahead of the curve with election rules – they pioneered the secret ballot (the “Australian ballot”), were among the first countries with women’s suffrage, allowed voting by mail in 1919, implemented compulsory voting, and even has ranked-choice voting for Parliamentary candidates. Setting a good example for the rest of the world.

​After a brief rest at the hostel, I embarked on the hike up Mt. Ainslie to catch the sunset over Canberra. The views of the city were spectacular. While waiting, I admired some beautiful crimson rosella parrots and a kangaroo joey hopping up a staircase. I stayed to see the changing colors of sunset, then headed back downhill before it got completely dark. After a 14-mile day, I indulged in a slice of cheesecake as a reward.

The third early morning was a bit of a dud. The balloon launch was called off for an unspecified weather reason, but I only found out when I was already in position at the lake. I stayed to watch the sunrise, wishing I had brought another layer as I munched on a piece of banana bread and sipped a canned Boss coffee. A large katydid was also watching the sunrise from the dock railing, until it was eaten by a magpie. I returned to the hostel, ready to check out and move on with the day.
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Upon leaving the hostel, I was picked up by Ian, a Canberra local and a friend of Gail’s who agreed to show me around. We hopped in his car and headed to the National Arboretum. From a viewpoint at the top of the arboretum, we could see the syringe-like spire of Telstra Tower, Lake Burley Griffin, burn scars from previous bushfires, and the arboretum’s orderly rows of young trees. It was incredibly nice of him to take a chance on a total stranger. With a relaxed attitude, deep local knowledge, and a twinkle in his eye, he played the role of tour guide incredibly well. I enjoyed picking his brain about all things Canberran and Australian.

Next we popped over to the Botanical Gardens and had a coffee on a sunny patio, watching the sun-bathing water dragons on the other side of the lawn. We took a stroll through the garden paths, which featured native Australian plants. Unfortunately, the misty fern pathway was closed due to bunya pinecone season – falling pinecones are no joke! In the bookstore, Ian pointed out a book on bees authored by one of his neighbors. A temporary art exhibit paid homage to the diversity of Australia’s bee species.
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Ian suggested grabbing lunch at his neighborhood Vietnamese restaurant. He knew the owner well and was enthusiastic about supporting this local gem. Our bahn mi sandwiches were lovingly assembled, and the paper bags were twisted up with expert technique. We took our food to the nearby park and found a shady spot by the side of the lake. Ian had a set of telescoping expandable stools, an ingenious design, which elevated our lunch quite literally.

Spending a few hours with Ian was delightful, and he was also kind enough to drive me to the outer suburbs and drop me off with my Servas hosts, Elizabeth and Gerin.
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I stayed with Elizabeth and Gerin for just two nights, but I got to know them quickly. Elizabeth’s background was in workplace counseling, and she always greeted me with a big smile and upbeat sense of humor. She was passionate about traveling, had excellent questions to spark a conversation, and had that aggressive Aussie sense of hospitality, declining my offers to pitch in around meals. Gerin was a structural engineer, with sun-hardened arms, a skinny yet strong build, and bright eyes. He spoke softly and slowly, contrasting with his fast-paced and vivacious lifestyle, which included juggling a portfolio of consulting projects, building the house, and playing field hockey. The two of them loved living in Canberra, citing an abundance of international events and academic lectures that were often smaller and more intimate.

​The house itself was extremely unique and a memorable part of the stay. Their original home burned down in the 2003 bushfires, a fire that wiped out most houses on their circular block. Being a structural engineer, Gerin had spared no detail on the design and materials for the rebuild. Inspired by interlocking gears, the façade was comprised of semicircular windows made with special Chinese glass to maximize natural light while insulating from heat. The interior was a series of half-stories; from each floor, you could see into the half-stories above and below. It was at that intermediate stage of construction, where the bathroom light was a temporary floor lamp, and parts of the walls were exposed, and full of surprises, like motorized pantry shelves that rose out of the kitchen counter. A cute and well-behaved Kelpie, their son’s dog, was a fellow guest and was often in the background, pattering across the concrete floors. It reminded me of a Lemony Snicket house, a larger-than-life physical space that reflects the owners’ auras.

The first afternoon, I tagged along with Gerin on some shopping errands. We picked up adhesives in the industrial suburb of Fyshwick, and briefly crossed the border into New South Wales so he could check in with a consulting client. He drove a 2007 Prius, the same that I drive, except with the steering while on the other side. I was sad to learn that its catalytic converter was stolen while in Townsville. The replacement converter wasn’t an exact match, and the dashboard’s “red triangle of death” was illuminated for most of the ride, disabling the AC. Gerin shrugged it off and opened the windows.
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The errands morphed into a spontaneous driving tour. We visited the defense precinct, home to Australia’s one and only military academy. A variety of uniforms for the army, navy, and air force were on display as we drove around the campus. Gerin had been the engineer and/or designer for several buildings here. Two unique challenges he faced were designing hat racks to accommodate the different uniforms and making the hallways wide enough for passing salutes. We drove past the Australian-American Memorial, a pillar with an eagle on top, which reminded me of Saruman’s tower from Lord of the Rings. Earlier in the day, Ian explained its local nickname: Bugs Bunny.  I was amazed when Gerin told me he had climbed to the top via an internal ladder for a recurring inspection! Later on, we drove through the embassy neighborhood, with lots of international architecture on display. The US embassy, a neat brick building, sat on an enormous and fenced plot of land.

In the late afternoon, I hiked into the hills behind the house to enjoy the sunset. The elaborate swirls and banks of clouds were beautiful. The air was filled with the robotic warbles of the magpies, the squawking of the crimson rosellas, and the guttural chirps and “ooo-EEEEs” of the currawongs.

Over a seafood pasta dinner, we continued chatting and I learned that Gerin had some Chinese ancestry. His grandfather came to Australia during the gold rush era and ran a general store. While it was unusual to grow up in a mixed-race family at that time, Gerin said that having many siblings and being a tough kid helped. He was born and raised in Canberra, leaving only to study civil engineering, which struck me as unique. Most people seemed to relocate to Canberra for work, bouncing back and forth with another area over the course of their careers.

Also staying at the house, but not Servas guests, were an Australian/American couple named Min and Marie. They both worked in NGO relief organizations and met in Bangladesh. Min was friends with the hosts’ son and looking for work in Canberra. An electrical engineer by training, Min was a gregarious and generous fellow. He let me borrow his road bike, effortlessly replacing the tires before my eyes, and made delicious espresso drinks in the mornings. I briefly met his wife Marie, who was 9 months pregnant, and very nice too. They also had an infant son who was a bundle of energy, and sampled the grapes from my plate, calling them “cherries.”
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To get a taste of the ACT’s wilderness, I embarked on a point-to-point hike along the Murrumbidgee River. Gerin dropped me off at the Kambah Rock Pools, perfect for swimming on a different day. I hiked to Red Rocks Gorge, pausing at the viewing platform to admire the alternating patches of still water and turbulent water flowing between the cliffs. There were a few bikers, and a cheerful group of older men who looked like a bushwalking club, but it was otherwise uncrowded. I spotted a couple of kangaroos in the shade, nibbling on plants. Our timing for the pickup was impeccable – Gerin arrived at the Pine Island parking lot at the exact moment I did.

​Back at the house, I had lunch with Gerin and made plans for a bike ride around Lake Burley Griffin. At the same time, Min was preparing the car to take Marie to the hospital, as the baby was coming. But the preparations weren’t quick enough – Marie went into labor in their room downstairs! Elizabeth and Min assisted Marie, while Gerin called an ambulance, and I tried to keep the dog and toddler out of the way. The baby was delivered safely before the medical team arrived, but everyone in the house was a little shaken. The family later went to the hospital, and mom and baby were both healthy.

A few hours later, Gerin pulled over to the side of the road in a non-descript gravel clearing, and pointed to the bike path on the other side. I hadn’t thought of testing the bike before we left. As he drove off, I realized it was a sink or swim moment. It didn't start well. The gear shifting mechanism was not obvious, and a few minutes into the ride, the chain became uncoupled. I reattached the chain, covering my fingers in black grease, not feeling very confident. But after a few minutes, I figured out the shifting controls and things improved from there.

I started the loop in a secluded foresty segment with little traffic. As I rushed past fields of resting galahs, strutting pukekos, and wary kangaroos, I was reminded of the joy of biking. Perhaps my last bike ride, the Croatian island where I stepped on a shell, had left the wrong impression. A few miles later, I was in the familiar zone of the Parliament Triangle. Paths that had seemed so tedious for walking were now made tricky by those same pedestrians.

When Ian dropped me off, I accidentally left my water bottle in his car. Since my bike route went near his place in Kingston, I arranged to meet him and pick it up. I was expecting a quick exchange, but he saw how disheveled I looked – sweaty, greasy, and dusty – and invited me for a drink. We had a bonus chat over a bonus pint (a local beer called Ale Mary) at a shady outdoor table of an English-sounding pub.
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Continuing the bike ride, I passed through the Jerrabombera Wetlands, catching glimpses of the action on the lake, including a game that appeared to be kayak basketball. Black swans floated past, cormorants dried their open wings on the shore, and I spotted a trio of black cockatoos. After completing the 16-mile loop, I was feeling good, so I decided to ride all the way back to the house, adding another 5 miles. Canberra is considered extremely bikeable, but it wasn’t until I headed to the outer suburbs that I realized why. The connecting path was beautiful, fairly direct, and there were bike tunnels to get under the main roads. Evidently, one of the advantages of having a planned, spread-out city. I now understood Min’s excitement when describing the biking paths.

Back home, Gerin and Elizabeth treated me to pork fried rice and a rhubarb pie. I explained the concept of Pi Day, which isn’t widely known in Australia due to the reversed date convention. Later, Gerin found an article explaining that Pi Day was popularized by the SF Exploratorium, a detail I didn’t know. When I first arrived at their house, I had brought a few gifts including chocolate corroboree frogs from the Great Ocean Road. Elizabeth went a step further and gave me a stuffed animal corroboree frog, now sitting on my desk as a cheerful reminder of their hospitality.
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It was the last morning of my trip, but I still had a few hours to explore. Gerin dropped me at the Canberra Museum, which explained the backstory on the site selection and Burley Griffin plan. I also visited the National Library for an official tour. The guide was an older gentleman with a cane, who took us into the depths of the building. It was built in the 1970s and had a working set of vacuum tubes for transmitting messages. I got to insert one of the tubes, which was whisked away with surprising force. We found it again later in the tour. The other group members, two Australian women, were library enthusiasts and were having a great time. They were pleasantly surprised to see a younger tourist like me on a library tour, and said a few encouraging words.

It was time to catch my flight, and Gerin took me to the airport in the trusty Prius. He hadn’t been there in a while and was excited to see the two water vortex sculptures in front. I thanked him for all of the driving around town, as it really helped me cover a lot of ground!

​In the airport, I looked at a beautiful painted turtle shell on display and got a sushi roll. It was served as a single piece, like an open-ended burrito, and came with a fish-shaped eyedropper of soy sauce. It was a smooth journey back to Melbourne, and soon I was back on a crowded but familiar 96 tram.
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Having seen a few sides of Canberra, it has a lot to offer but isn't for everyone. Without the festivals, the tourism draws would have been mainly museums and galleries, which I personally enjoyed but could be seen as a bit repetitive, especially for Australians who already know about their own country. The hiking and biking were certainly enjoyable, with Mount Ainslie being the highlight, but die-hard nature lovers would probably gravitate elsewhere. The suburbs have a good lifestyle, so it seems like a decent place to live. City-lovers and foodies might get bored, but it’s still an international hub. It wasn’t very walkable and the public transportation wasn't very convenient, so it's more of a car and bike oriented city. I did like the way the monuments were arranged in dialogue with one another, which gave it a sense of transcendence and allegory. I found Canberrans to be friendly, welcoming, generous, knowledgeable, and humorous. Getting to know them was the highlight of my visit! And of course, the Balloon Spectacular and the Enlighten Festival were the cherry on top that brightened it all.