Jan Morris - Journeys

JOURNEYS

JAN MORRIS

Journeys

B Y T H E S A M E A U T H O R

(as Jan or as James Morris)

C I T I E S

P L A C E S

T R A V E L S

D E S T I N A T I O N S

V E N I C E

OXFORD

S P A I N "

ThePaxBritannicaTrilogy

H E A V E N S C O M M A N D

P A X B R I T A N N I C A

F A R E W E L L T H E T R U M P E T S

S T O N E S O F E M P I R E

( w i t h S i m o n W i n c h e s t e r )

Anthologies

T H E O X F O R D BOOK OF O X F O R D

W A L E S : A S M A L L O X F O R D BOOK

JOURNEYS

JAN MORRIS

O X F O R D U N I V E R S I T Y PRESS

New York Oxford

O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press

O x f o r d L o n d o n N e w York T o r o n t o Delhi B o m b a y C a l c u t t a M a d r a s K a r a c h i Kuala L u m p u r Singapore H o n g K o n g T o k y o N a i r o b i D a r es Salaam C a p e T o w n M e l b o u r n e A u c k l a n d

and associated c o m p a n i e s in

B e i r u t Berlin Ibadan M e x i c o City N i c o s i a C o p y r i g h t 1984 by Jan M o r r i s

First published in 1984 by O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press, Inc., 200 M a d i s o n A v e n u e , N e w York, NY 10016

First issued as an O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press p a p e r b a c k , 1985

The essays in this b o o k a p p e a r e d in slightly d i f f e r e n t f o r m in the f o l l o w i n g p u b l i c a t i o n s :

" T h e Best of E v e r y t h i n g S t o c k h o l m , S w e d e n " in Connoisseur, N e w York; " N o t So F a r A E u r o p e a n J o u r n e y " in Encounter, London; "In R u r i t a n i a C e t i n j e , Y u g o s l a v i a " in Geo, N e w York; " B o o m t o w n ! H o u s t o n , U . S . A . " and " T r a n s - T e x a n A n A m e r i c a n J o u r n e y " i n Texas Monthly, Austin; "A Visit to B a r c h e s t e r W e l l s , E n g l a n d " and "Oil on Granite

A b e r d e e n , S c o t l a n d " in The Times, L o n d o n ; all o t h e r essays first a p p e a r e d in Rolling Stone, N e w Y o r k

All r i g h t s r e s e r v e d . No p a r t of this p u b l i c a t i o n m a y be r e p r o d u c e d , s t o r e d in a r e t r i e v a l system, or t r a n s m i t t e d , in any f o r m or by any m e a n s , e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o c o p y i n g , r e c o r d i n g , or o t h e r w i s e , w i t h o u t the prior p e r m i s s i o n of O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press, Inc.

Library of C o n g r e s s C a t a l o g i n g in P u b l i c a t i o n D a t a M o r r i s , Jan, 1926-J o u r n e y s .

1. M o r r i s , Jan, 1926

2. V o y a g e s and t r a v e l s 1 9 5 1 I. Title.

G465.M66 1984 910.4 83-25009

I S B N 0-19-503452-X

I S B N 0-19-503606-9 (pbk.)

P r i n t i n g (last digit): 9 8 7 6

P r i n t e d in the U n i t e d States of A m e r i c a INTRODUCTORY

This collection is rather in the nature of a mystery tour, when you make your booking without knowing your destination. It describes a jumbled succession of journeys offered without benefit of itinerary, some to places far away and exotic, some to places more familiar.

Their only unity is a unity of time, for they are nearly all journeys of the early 1980s. It has been a bewildering decade so farominous, tooso perhaps it is only proper that such a contemporary expedition should promise no certainty of a ticket home!

Trefan Morys, 1984

J.M.

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CONTENTS

A N A U S T R A L I A N J O U R N E Y

LAS VEGAS, U.S.A.

W E L L S , ENGLAND

AN INDIAN J O U R N E Y

HOUSTON, U.S.A.

A EUROPEAN J O U R N E Y

A B E R D E E N , SCOTLAND

M I A M I , U.S.A.

C O N T E N T S

A N A M E R I C A N J O U R N E Y

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

C E T I N J E , YUGOSLAVIA

SANTA FE, U.S.A.

A CHINESE J O U R N E Y

Journeys

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AN AUSTRALIAN JOURNEY

K ev. Kev! Time you got going."

Jeez, Sandra, it's raining out there."

"TV says it's fining up. You're not crook are you, Kev? It's all that booze you know, Kev, you know what the doctor said, cut down on the booze, he said, no wonder you're crook in the mornings, the human body can take only so much...."

But Kev has slipped out by now, and with his office gear slung in his backpack is away, and up the steps, and halfway along the approach to the great bridge.

If he was crook, he is crook no more, for the TV was right, the rain clears as if by magic, and all the glory of the winter morning unfolds over the water as he breaks into his jog along the sidewalk. He is joining the stream of life itself! To his right the suburban trains clatter, the commuter cars lurch in fits and starts towards the city. To his left ferries bustle across the harbor, the first hydrofoil is streaking in a foamy curve towards the sea, the very first yacht is slipping from its moorings, and a tug is on its way, riding lights still burning, to meet the towering freighter just appearing around the headland.

On the harbor bridge there are already plenty of people about. He overtakes briskly walking businessmen with briefcases and identical moustaches. He is overtaken by huge athletes in sweatbands and sloganed shirts. Archetypal schoolboys loiter their way, satchels dangling, reluc-tantly towards their education. An elderly lady in a mackintosh cries 3

OVER T H E BRIDGE

"Grand to see the sun again!" in an exaggeratedly Irish brogue. Another pack o giants comes panting and sweating past. Another covey of schoolboys kicks a pebble here and there. Ahead of him, between the massive pylons of the bridge, the city towers are beginning to gleam in the sun, and there is a flashing of upper windows, and a fluttering of flags in and out of shadow, and a golden shine from the observation deck of the tallest tower of all.

It is as though the innocence of the morning has infected the whole scene, and made everything young. A pristine vigor is on the air, very fresh and good for you, like orange juice. By the time Kev reaches his office on the 17th floor, he feels he's never drunk a tinny of Foster's in his life: and looking back upon the scurrying ferries of the Circular Quay, the flying white roofs of the Opera House, the traffic still streaming across the bridge, the rising sun and the water and the green parklands all around, silently he congratulates himself once more, as he does every morning as a matter of principle, upon his great good fortune in being born an Australian.

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The city he surveys is a very concentrate of that condition. The whole matter of Australia, history, character, reputation, attitude, finds its best epitome in this particular corner of the great land mass, where Sydney stands beside its fjord-like harbor. When the world thinks of Australia, it thinks of that bridge, that Opera House, that wake-frothed and yacht-flecked harbor. When the world thinks of an Australian, it thinks, more or less, of Kev.

Australian society is overwhelmingly urban, and Sydney is Australia urbanissima. Canberra is the capital, Adelaide is a delight, Perth holds the America's Cup, Melbourne people believe their city to be at least as mature, civilized and unutterably lovely, but only Sydney has the true metropolitan presence. An enormous spread of suburbia around an intensely packed downtown, it stands upon its marvellous haven in the stance of proper consequence. A glittering business quarter makes one feel it is keyed in to the Wall Street-London-Zurich-Hong Kong circuit of profit. The inescapable presence of virtually the whole Australian Navy, moored beside its dockyards or glamorously returning from sea with ensigns flying and radars twirling, gives it a front-line air. It is equipped with all the statutory metropolitan tokenscity marathon, re-5