For a few days I've been visiting friends in Noosa Heads, a one-time
hamlet or village clustered on an idyllic coastline north of Brisbane,
Australia; this is where I made my home in the early nineteen eighties;
when I lived here all the streets, with the exception of main
thoroughfares, had grass verges, and dusty casuarina, eucalypts,
banksias, acacias, melaleucas, sheoaks, and drooping pandanus were the
predominant flora; now manicured lawns, smart combinations of terrazzo
pavers and gravel, and palms and other lush topic plantings have elbowed
their way into this Australian seaside town. Now it's as if a town
planning manual had exploded.
Nowhere is this gentrification more obvious that in the jewel of the
town, Hastings Street, the town's boutique shopping heart; I can't deny
that to walk along this tiny narrow strip, squeezed serendipitously
between the ocean and the Noosa River, with its idyllic pools of flame
trees shadow, is a delight; there was a time when my life centred on
plans for converting Hastings Street into an alternative version of what
it has become, but what has been done, without my help or hindrance, is
beautiful. You should come and visit this place if you are in
Australia.
But as is often the case, there are storm clouds, every bit as large and
spectacular as those that loom on summer nights, building and
billowing, and the breezes are turning to gales.
Now with the high Australian dollar making cheaper-than-ever-before
international holidays, tourism in the town is, unlike the luxuriant
tropic plants, wilting, and this, together with the Australian economy,
which has a sniff of uncertainty about it, means that while every house
and apartment in town is for sale, buyers are fewer than in boom times,
and they are more opportunistic.
There are many dreams at stake here; good people whose imagination was
captured by the the white light, the turquoise ocean, the golden sands,
the forest green of the headlands, the warm fragrant evenings, and by
the promise of an easy lifestyle, dreamed of settling - and many came to
stay. And for some those realised dreams of sumptuous residences,
eye-pleasing vistas, and pristine neighbourhoods have the potential to
become nightmares as times inevitably turn and circumstances change.
The gentrification of paradise; it's said to be progress. But now I wonder.
Hello John:
ReplyDeleteI am 57 years of age and begin to tire myself when I honestly look at the state of our world.
Take care,
Mike
Hi Mike,
ReplyDeleteLove your 'stranger in a strange land'; I've got it in one!
I share your feeling.
Wish I had some kind of solution - for me and others; but if you observe our world for long enough it's pretty bleak.
All that said, I've come to the conclusion, for me, the right thing to do is keep offering the wisdom that we all acquire over the course of a lifetime; I think in a way it's an obligation.
I wish you well and we should stay in touch.
Thanks again for your contribution.
Best Wishes.
John.