My classmate and I sat in the gordita shop on the break. I had a gordita doble queso with salsa, barbecued onion and lime juice, dripping all over my fingers and the plastic sheet covering the plate—common, so they don’t have to wash.
On the television the video clip of Gotye’s Somebody that I used to know was playing. I told my companion ‘this song is Australian’, but he didn’t seem interested. So everyone in the world’s heard it? Here too. On the radio, in bars, on people’s iPods. When it was first released I imagine the pop station I listen to would have announced part-way in ‘Escutchas Gotye, Somebody that I used to know’ in a smooth, authoritative disc jockey way, where the meanings of the English words don’t seem to totally hold meaning. At 3 am one night I heard Land down under in a taxi.
Some people have heard about our prime minister who is a ‘tough lady’ and ‘like a Margaret Thatcher’.
I went to a bar with my friend and her work colleagues, on the top floor of a new business complex, in the middle of nowhere on the coldest night of the year, with the city lights spread around. The Australian Open was showing on all the television screens, and it looked really hot.
Eucalyptus trees are everywhere here in unlandscaped or informal places, especially by the side of roads. Noone seems to know or care that they are from Australia, but they are like familiar faces to me. I’ve also seen casuarinas, and a lilypilly by the gate at the park, which smelt the same as my chilhood.
After school I sit in the cathedral downtown for meditation. Today they were cleaning and there were no flowers. A boy was sweeping and polishing the woodern lecturn. Someone was practicing the organ, which sounded like a gaudy funeral parade. Beneath the soaring sound was the mechanical breath and fall of the instrument.