The Club

Chapter 2 - The Capital

Trying to find a rental property in Canberra is problematic. The city has a well-educated, transient workforce that snaps up anything decent in an instant. Prices are high and on an assistant professional’s salary (which by the way had yet to be determined) I had a small subset of properties available to me.

In general, you attend an open house for a property that might be open for 15 minutes. When you arrive you enter a long line of potential tenants and hope that the agent hasn’t run out of applications. Then you go inside and wonder if you aren’t in the midst of a dog kennel. Properties are rented for generations and because demand is high the impetus for an owner to make renovations doesn’t really exist. Worn carpet, damaged walls and grimy fixtures are the norm. But alas there was some urgency for me as a $200/night hotel market in Canberra was the alternative. I had almost given up hope when I saw an ad for a brand new apartment complex not far from the course that was open for inspection at 5 p.m. on Friday afternoon.  The timing was perfect. Friday afternoon corresponded to happy hour at most of the local pubs and may have meant a smaller-than-normal group of potential applicants on the doorstep, what with all of the civil servants otherwise occupied.  I hit the jackpot. When I arrived I wasn’t dealing with an agent but the owner of the property who had invested in this new project. Because the space was brand new and had not yet been marketed by one of the many corrupt local real estate agencies, it was fairly priced and, despite not being perfectly finished, was clean as a whistle. After a 20-minute conversation with the gentleman – exchanging stories about Canberra, Queensland and Tiger Woods – he agreed to let me have the space and (even better) not to make me sign a long- term lease.  The next day I would bring my two bags of possessions and my sleeping bag to camp out at unit 412 at #1 Swinger Street.  I decided to celebrate with a coffee. 

Saturday morning was moving day and the owner met me with the keys at 10 o’clock. I decided not to buy any furniture until I was sure that I could endure my first week at “The Club”, but it made sense to purchase a couple of personal items before I could get back for my gear from Noosa. I called my mother who was delighted that I had a place to stay. I decided to be elusive when she asked about the golf course and the people. Best left unsaid.

Though I had been to Canberra on a class excursion in high school, I had never really seen the place so I decided to take the afternoon to see the sights. Truly there is no reason for Canberra to exist. It is not a port, a trading route, a farming locale, or a beacon of natural resources. Its presence on the map is solely due to its proximity to both Sydney and Melbourne. Neither city could agree why it should be the capital and the other shouldn’t and therefore, in the spirit of compromise, Canberra was born.

I decided to get oriented by first heading to the highest point in the city to take a look at the intelligent design behind the capital. Well maybe not the highest point. The apex could be said to be Black Mountain Tower (or its promotional moniker, “the Telstra tower”), but such an elevator ride would cost $8 and I’ve been told the view from the Mount Ainslie lookout is just as good and precisely $8 less expensive. I coaxed my decade-and-a-half-year-old Falcon to the top of the hill and looked down. The drive to the summit was quick; three gentle turns and a homestretch to the finish. On the way I went by neighbourhood after neighbourhood of post-war homes; all 3-bedroom bungalows with one bathroom –  baby boomer heaven. The suburbs of Canberra are really a sight to behold. It’s as if they were designed by Karl Marx or Helen Keller: urban utilitarian chic at its finest without even a dash of aesthetic. Ghastly! You wind yourself through block after block of suburban jungle, with trees hiding each and every dreadful edifice within. 

And then the “mountain” appeared and I was suddenly at the top. I was so non-plussed by the drive that I was sure to be unimpressed, but I have to say I was wrong. From the top of a mountain looking down, Canberra is quite stunning. All of a sudden the Parliamentary buildings emerge in all of their strength and glory. The lake nestles and rolls around the cityscape creating harbours, inlets and tidy hideaways. The museum district impresses, and the clear lines amongst the government houses, the war memorial, and the civic areas create a beautifully precise pattern. Even the neighbourhoods look less and less like an abyss and more and more cosy and scenic. For the first time I understood what the city designers had in mind – a collection of villages, each with its own shops and schools and mixed housing. There are no good parts of Canberra there are just parts. I’d like to say they all have a particular flavour and maybe they do, but I have yet to get the feeling that there is anything unique about Watson when compared to Lyneham. By rising above the city you also see that it is massive; a huge valley bordered by hills and mountains that contains a little city and a lot of park. You quickly realize that Canberra could be a city of a million people with ease but instead is home to a mere 350,000. There are times that you drive on the roads and you wonder if you are alone. You can make it to the airport in 20 minutes in peak times from almost anywhere in the city; try that in Melbourne. Canberra has a unique elegance from afar which you don’t necessarily see when you are smack dab in the middle of town, trying to flee from the neighbourhood where you work to the one in which you live.

As the day wore on and I became confident of my bearings I took in Commonwealth Park, the Old Parliament Buildings, the National Museum of Australia, and the town centre. I decided not to head to the Golf Course. I figured this might be my last Saturday off for a while as I was quite sure that Cloudy’ s Sunday embargo probably extended to Saturday as well.

I finished the day off with a quick bite at a coffee shop in Civic. I ordered the breakfast special on Saturday night and enjoyed my poached eggs with Salmon and Hollandaise – better than I could make at home, especially because I did not yet have a fridge, and the lack of fresh produce can put a damper on the dining experience. I went to bed early on Saturday night and buoyed myself for my first day at the Club the next morning. I slept like a baby…woke up every two hours and wept.