The Violin is Consigned

 My online contacts with Sydney String Center inspired confidence. They were asking all the right questions and they even have an online form to upload info and photos if you want to consign an instrument. They seemed aware of their market and told me that they weren't interested in consigning the viola, since they were overstocked in that area.

When I actually went there, I was a bit dismayed. It's way out in the suburbs, in a very unimpressive little building (could be a dry cleaner). I had a `10:00 appointment and arrived early, before they opened, and there was no place to wait, or even a place to sit down. I just had to stand in the blazing (and I mean blazing) sun. Eventually I took a little walk around the neighborhood, which was basically residential but had a car dealership plopped in the middle of it. Weird. At least there were trees, so some shade.

When I finally got inside, I wondered if I was even in the right place. It certainly lacked the gravitas that I associate with a big city violin dealer. No low lighting and dark wood cabinets. Instead, there was lots of music-themed merch. A big business in rental instruments.  Definitely a focus on kids, on young students.

The rep who actually met with me allayed my fears somewhat. We went to a private room. She wanted to know all about the instrument, both technically and anecdotally. She understood everything I said and took it all very seriously.

She took the violin away to be examined by their violin maker. I wished I could have talked to him as well, but I can understand why he wouldn't want to have to speak directly to every customer. When she came back with her report, I could tell that she had accurately relayed my observations and concerns, and the luthier's comments were on point; specifically, that the bass bar was now where it should be for that violin, but that they would need to reset the neck because the instrument had not been played in several years.

The required repairs were $1500. The consignment arrangement was that they would keep 25% of the sale price (which I gather is good, since some dealers keep 30%). They will list it at $80,000. The extensive repairs (though well-done) and some other minor flaws may allow a buyer to knock that down a little.

They have another Smith violin on consignment, and several instruments by his students, so the rep said she was thinking of putting together a sort of exhibition of them. I gave her information about Geoffrey and a list of links to the YouTube uploads, which she thought she could use in the exhibition. She said potential buyers like knowing something about the history of the instrument.

Very Random Thoughts

 Are people treating me like I'm old because I'm acting old, or am I acting old because people are treating me like I'm old??

Family Matters

Michael

Michael is married to Larissa, who's very friendly. I think she said she's a school counselor. Her real interest is in sailing; Michael is a golf nut like his mother. 

Michael's daughter from his first marriage is Talei. She had a scholarship (Fulbright?) to Harvard to study Education but is currently unemployed. From his second marriage he has another daughter, Frieda, who's in high school. 

He was working as an electrical engineer doing something with mining safety but he was laid off. He's now doing something Janet doesn't understand; so I asked him and it's still something connected with mining safety, specifically the conditions that lead flammable substances to ... flame.

Rozie 

Rozie is married to Russell and has two children, Chelsea and Jack. Chelsea is an academic superstar and is now finishing medical school. Jack has learning disabilities but still did well with special support from his school. Rosie is currently commuting to work in Brisbane because research opportunities are sparse in Perth and getting worse. Grant funding usually goes to people who know people, so tends to center more and more in the other big cities.

In addition to Rozie's family money and no doubt generous salary, they have a ton of money from Russell's enterprises. He's a computer programmer but also, I think, an organizer and problem solver. He finds out what people wish a certain kind of software could do, and then he makes the software do that. He has worked with multiple startups, three of which turned into billion-dollar companies: Canva, Quora (like Reddit but less messy), and another I don't remember.

Helen and Joan 

Helen and Joan are sisters, daughters of Rose's sister. Rose's brother shot himself. Helen was tough and no-nonsense. 

I spoke to Joan on the phone, a long and interesting conversation. She's over 90, and she speaks very slowly (drives Janet nuts) but she is all there. She and Janet talk weekly. Joan lives in Brisbane, and I don't think I've ever met her (and she doesn't think she's met me.) She has always been depressive and has been hospitalized multiple times. She now has ECT every few months. She says she only does it because her doctor thinks it helps her; she doesn't agree. Janet's claim that it helped Joan was instrumental in Geoffrey's decision to try it. Sadly, when I brought it up to Joan, I sensed that I had sort of invaded her privacy. She said she doesn't tell many people about her depression; she evidently finds it somehow shameful. 

According to Joan, she and Helen and Janet and Geoffrey were very close growing up.

Her son (or Helen's son?) David was a doctor and an addict. (Geoffrey said he drank himself to death.)

Lost. Again. Thanks, Google.

Go home Google, You're Drunk 

 I am so f--ing sick of being lost. Google Maps is an absolute shitshow. Thursday I tried to do a practice run to the Great Synagogue, which as far as I could tell was about a 15-minute walk. I followed Google's instructions even when they seemed to be taking me out of my way. I knew I was was backtracking but I figured I had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Google's measurements were all off--they would say that a certain cross street was 60 meters ahead when I was actually a few steps from the corner. Finally Google said I was almost at the synagogue. Five minutes away. Then three minutes. Then...eight minutes? ...10 minutes? A giant synagogue isn't the kind of thing you could walk past without noticing. Especially if you were looking for it. I eventually gave up and went home. 

Today I looked at the simple map they had you at the front desk and walked straight there. Fifteen minutes. Two turns.

I did manage to get slightly lost again on the way home, since I had gone in the front door but left by the back door after kiddush. 

More absolute insanity from Google:

This morning I thought I'd check again for straightforward directions to the synagogue. The route twisted around and doubled back on itself and made no sense. Estimated time was over half an hour. I almost wonder if they're trying to make sure no terrorists ever find the place.

Then I started over and managed to get "Your Location" in the From field and "ParkRoyal Hotel" in the To field. I was sitting in the restaurant of the hotel. Google said I could drive to the hotel in seven minutes. Or walk there in 20 minutes, if I preferred

Even more absolute insanity from Google:

On a cruise around Sydney Harbor, with a little pop-up map in the tour company app that offers to give you directions to the thing you're looking at. Apparently I could either walk or bike to Clark Island. From the boat to the island. Across the water. Jesus Christ!
Oh yeah, I could get him to take me.

Day 1

 Sydney Beaches are closed because there have been four shark attacks in 48 hours; the chyron on the news is telling West Australians which way to flee from the wildfires; there was a record high temperature in the NW: 120.5 F

And I'm really glad to be here!

I got up enough courage to ask for preboarding privileges on both flights, and the answer was "of course." I guess I actually qualify under two criteria: "old person" and "need extra time." Violin in overhead locker--no problems at all.

I slept so heavily on the plane that I missed the midnight snack and missed breakfast. That's really weird--I have to attribute it to the Zyrtec and the eye mask. 

I paid extra for bulkhead seats for more legroom. That turned out to be a very mixed blessing. On the plus side: There's more legroom. On the minus side: (1)There's no place to store your carry-on so it has to go in the overhead locker. I can't really reach the overhead lockers, so I had to ask the airline staff for help. More than once, because I kept discovering something else I needed. (2) There's no window. Flying is surreal enough as is, but it's even more so if you can't see the takeoff and landing or look down at the tiny houses. (3) The armrests don't move. This was especially sad because the bulkhead seats weren't all filled, so they moved some people around, and I wound up with three seats to myself. But I couldn't take advantage of them!

Sydney

Getting There 

Getting started isn't easy. I'm in the airport, I've cleared security and I'm on my way to the gate, and I get a text notification from Qantas: the departure time for the PHL-DFW flight has changed to from 12:08 to 4:10. Heart-attack inducing--that means I'll miss the flight to Sydney and be stuck in Dallas overnight. 

 But wait! Now there's another text: departure time changed back to 12:08.

Nope, don't get too hopeful. Changed again: to 2:08. At least I can still make the connection.

At 1:30 the gate is mobbed, the clock is ticking, and there's another change (the fourth change, for those of you keeping score at home). Technical problems with the airplane. Boarding delayed for 20 minutes, then another 20 minutes. I join a long line for customer service to find out what happens if I miss my connection.

All's well that ends well? Eventually the plane actually departed, and I still had three hours to make the transfer in Dallas. 

 

ParkRoyal Hotel

Full of tourists and showing signs of wear, but really a lovely place to stay. The room is spacious and comfortable. No kitchen stuff, but apparently that's normal for Australia. There's a free breakfast that has something for everyone. East Asian (steamed dumplings, fried rice); English (baked beans, cold toast); European (cold cuts). Scrambled eggs, friend eggs, omelettes. Whole fruit, cut fruit, canned fruit.

There's a surfeit of front desk staff, but the excess of manpower is cancelled out by a deficit of competence. Part of the problem (but by no means all) is that more than half of them are not native speakers of English. TBF that's also true of the hotel's guests, so I hope there's enough language competency to go around at least.

Sydney 

Looks like NYC only cleaner. Or maybe looks like NYC had a baby. All the skyscrapers look like they were just built yesterday. And they are trying to outdo one another with exotic shapes and patterns.

It certainly is a lot less White that it was 30 years ago. Around the tourist areas it's actually very rare to hear an Australian accent. Lots of South Asians and East Asians. Even AAPI--that acronym I always have to do a double take to remember what it means. I met two Tonganese in one day: one a limo driver and the other an attendee at synagogue services (what???)