Penang / September 15, 2023 by Gede Austana

It’s been a while since I’ve travelled and to be honest I wasn’t sure I ever would again.

The events of 2020 had really drawn a line in the sands of my life progression and I decided to leave Australia to pursue a long overdue return to Bali. The conditions of my visa until recently were single entry and having no income meant as time went by, travel was becoming more and distant. Luckily I managed to upgrade my visa which required an exit from Indonesia to reset my status.

And so I found myself in Penang, Malaysia.

To be honest I had lost my curiosity for Malaysia years ago when Malaysia airlines was disappearing and getting shot out of the sky. I had tried to overlook those events and still booked a trip to Langkawi, only to have the airline cancel my flight for me (for no known reason) and not even attempt to assist in an alternative. But after a brief stint in Jakarta, the lush coastline of Penang was soon under my plane window.

I had done no research on the island other than how to get to and from the airport to a chosen economic accommodation and a quick 15min hover in Tripadvisor for museums, art galleries and a pretty beach.

After a year and half in Bali I really didn’t know what to expect from Penang other than a similar language and food to Indonesia. Exiting the airport was painless and getting on a bus up to Georgetown was quite straightforward too. It was a modern full-size bus which took a visually interesting route north through the suburbs up to Georgetown. I was immediately struck by the amount of high rise apartments, clustered into their complexes, that strangely interrupted the steep jungle covered hills in the distance. The roads and footpaths that were all well built and maintained, an impressive accomplishment after coming from Indonesia.

Even though Penang, a tropical island was by definition surround by water, there didn’t seem to be a cooling sea breeze, which became immediately apparent when walking the few hundred meters to the hotel with a heavy backpack and my customary anti-airline-AC long cover ensemble on. That walk though set the tone for rest of the week. Georgetown is an ex-colonial port town and has that wonderful colonial area architecture to it. Tightly packed together and eroding with the elegance of a great grandmother sitting on a cramped stoop, grinning at the world passing by. The ethnic Chinese influence infused into the European terraces to give that electric quality.

What had me excited though was the abundance of street art and not just any naturally occurring youthful angst (of which I saw almost none) but a curated and coordinated open air gallery of local street artists. In my imagination I can completely see a town meeting where everyone came together and agreed that a good solution for driving a walking consumer base into otherwise forgotten corners would be to art. And then just executed it, well.

The next few days would be spent roaming the streets of a 1x2km chunk of the town, searching and finding wall art, art cafes temples and other visual treasures. I had heard of Penang years ago and had the impression that it was a tourist-centric location like Kuta in Bali, Puckett Thailand or the Gold Coast in Australia, but I was wrong. Georgetown, and most of Penang is very much a place where locals live and work with tourist being quite secondary industry in my opinion. Sure there’s plenty of hotels and tourist aimed cafes, restaurants and attractions but they almost seem to be an afterthought to the normal activities that would appear in any other town. What was even more surprising was the lack of other tourists that you would expect to see. Yes there were tourists there but not in the overwhelming numbers that a place like this would expect to have. They weren’t the dominant presence at all, and that was also a nice surprise. The 3 ethnic groups of Malaysia were all there, Chinese, Indian and Malay, which meant authentic food and night markets were alive, well priced and delicious. Being so close to the Thai border also meant a solid Thai presence as well and a return to the great Thai food that I had been missing in Bali.

I made a point of getting to a beach one day and found the experience disheartening. To look at in pictures, the beach looks amazing but the reality is a seeming lack of cooling breeze, brown water and most beach front businesses closed, I’m guessing due to Covid. Although I could tell it would be an amazing sunset destination, I left long before that due to boredom of just sitting in the sand.

The highlight of the trip though were exploring the beautifully aged and surprisingly spacious terrace houses, a lot being converted into art cafes and creative spaces. Mostly run by artists and art collectives, these spaces truly embraced and showcased the creative spirit of the local artists who, while some did cater for the a souvenir market, none lost their artistic integrity.

Having said that though, and still with my full respect and admiration, the art still existed within the conservative spectrum of style and subject matter appropriate for Malaysia. Maybe I didn’t go the right places throughout my 13000 daily steps but styles and techniques outside of well-established norms, (landscapes, street scenes, watercolours, portraiture and commercially viable pop-art infused street art) were no where to be seen. Even this thought I appreciated as it was reminder to me of the artistic relationship between freedom of thought, choice and the harmony of one’s existence. Within the turmoil of my existence, I was surprised to think to myself that Penang would be a place I would consider having a studio if my time in Bali was no longer an option for me.

Tasmania / April 4, 2022 by Gede Austana

It’s been 2 years, almost to the day, that the 2020 trip failed and I found myself on a mercy dash into Germany. Since then, both the world and myself have changed. Everything and everyone that I held dear in that moment have gone from my side and the path of my life. There has been heart break, heartache and a lot more self discovery than I really want to do. My life path and plans reset and adjusted again and again to cater for the uncertainty of a post covid world.

After years of ongoing, prolonged and repeated lockdowns, the stars finally aligned to where I could travel again, even if it was for only a few days. I could take some time to experience something new and continue on my goal of creating new, happy memories. This time it was Tasmania, the most southerly Australian state and more often than not, the most forgotten.

In any mention of Tasmania, its beauty will be expressed in the same breath but as is the Australian way, understatement plays its part and it is hard to fully appreciate the magnitude of this beauty without seeing it for yourself. So that is what I did. I have been wanting to go for many years now but the covid border restrictions finally forced me to look at domestic travel, Tasmania was the highest on my list.

Sydney have been gripped but another weather event, the obvious and extreme result of global warming and climate change. Months of almost nonstop rain have caused record flooding along much of the east coast. The constant greyness lingered throughout summer and the lack of sunlight has definitely been noticed. So the decision to travel even closer to Antarctica seemed kind of counter-intuitive. But the way I saw it, it’s one of those places where you expect to be cold and wet, so you accept it as part of the journey. So, within a few hours of getting leave approved, I had booked the entire trip with very little research and mistakes already made.

That saturday I woke up at 4am for a 7am flight. With only a few mildly placed words, the Uber driver revealed himself to be a veiled racist and proud nationalist. The airport seemed like an old friend that your parents banned you from playing with because he was covered in ringworms and smelt like the kind of parental neglect that comes when two elderly musicians hippy themselves into childbirth, way passed when they were supposed to. Take off was delayed because everyone is learning how travel works again and to my surprise (yet somehow un-surprise) the airlines idea of social distancing looked awfully like filling the plane to capacity. But the moment the plane rose above the clouds, it was all worth it again.

We landed and I collected my rental car, as seems to be the custom when coming to Tasmania. The airport is small by capital city standards and is located in a rural area just north of Hobart. The complete lack of traffic around the airport was making me second guess reality a little bit but I was going to make the most of wherever the plane took me so I trusted google maps, which seem to recognise that it was in fact in Tasmania. My car was a neat little Hyundai with as much power as them electric bicycle at home.

The sun was out as I drove into Hobart and headed north west, following the river out of Hobart again. The road became single lane as I very quickly learnt the reality of Tasmania’s reputation for beauty. At first I recognised the fields of crab-grass as standard for most Australian road trips although I was surprised to see it here. All the tourism advertisements depicting lush green forests with ferns and babbling brooks and so I was anticipating not crab-grass. But after a moment I realised that all the composition of this scene were familiar, it seemed better, more dramatic that anything I had seen before. Giant logs and tree stumps framed rolling fields which were somehow amplified in their flow. It had somehow been turned up to eleven, it had taken the standard dry pale yellow fields and made them into a surreal vista of fallen knotted trees, grey and white ghosts that protruded and haunted dry pale-yellow fields unbroken by any green. There was shapes and masses unlike the famed flatness of the mainland. It was iconic Australia but in the way it was exaggerated in every way to be unlike anything else I had ever seen. Needless to say, the camera soon sat shotgun with me and was in almost constant use.

After about 30 minutes of driving I had my second profound Tasmanian experience. I realised that I had been the only car on the road for quite a while. It was just passed 9am on a Saturday morning and I had not seen another person on the road for at least 10 minutes in either direction. An hour or so later I realised that I had not seen a shop or petrol station of any kind either. All there was, was road and direct access to the landscape. A landscape that changes around every corner.

The first night was spent in a remote town half way between Hobart and Cradle Mountain as the crow flies. It was a small place that must of had only a few dozen inhabitants. It was serviced by a single general store, which was the only source of food for 20km. In the silence of the late afternoon sun I walked down the only road and ordered a fish’n’chips for dinner before returning to listen to the bird choir at sunset.

The next morning I was up and back on the road by 7:30am. The sun had just come up and the early morning mist was still lingering in the valleys. The snaking of the roads increased as I drove up the southern side of the central mountains. Each moment more breathtaking than the previous and still no shops or petrol stations. In fact in the first 3 hours of driving I only came across a few recognisable human habitations.

As I turned north along the western side of the mountains I entered an area that I imaged the Scottish highlands would look like. Then a few minutes later I was seeing something different again. Mountains streams, cloud forests, lake lands and mountain ringed flatlands to describe just fraction of what I saw along perfect roads.

After a total of 5 hours I finally reached the Cradle Mountain Visitor Centre with its lonely set of petrol bowsers and cafe, salvation for an empty tank and an empty stomach.

After such a long drive, experiencing dozens of different sceneries, Cradle Mountain itself provided even more totally unique environments which I simply wasn’t prepared for. I only spent a few hours here but I have to say that just this area alone would really need 3 days to fully appreciate.

Back on the road again and heading back to Hobart. The northern route is only 3 or so hours and once again it is a completely different set of landscapes. The drive down the northern side of the mountains is the most enjoyable driving experience I’ve ever had. Perfectly winding roads, no traffic and topping crescents greeted with alp-like peaks and vistas. Where as the south and west seem to be rugged and wild, the north and east as filled with farm land and rolling hills, beautiful is every direction.

After some more hours I finally found an actual petrol station/road stop and the best fried fish cakes I’ve had. A few hours later I finally made it to Hobart with a minutes to spare to sunset.

The next morning I wandered over to the second aim for the trip, the MONA aka Museum of Old and New Art. To be honest I’m not too sure where to start with this place or even if I want to. I’m not sure I have the cohesion of thought to properly address this marvel of art, architecture this place is and the testament to absolute creative autonomy it represents. All I can say is this place is amazing and worth it.

The rest of the time I was in Tasmania I spent exploring Hobart and especially Mt Wellington, another hidden gem of natural beauty. Maybe one day I will elaborate more on Mt Wellington but for now I will leave it at that. Tasmania’s beauty is often stated but cannot be fully appreciated until you go there. Given a chance I would go again.

The world I saw / August 2, 2020 by Gede Austana

Every so often on my trip I took snippets of video of the moments that made me really appreciate the moment. A month or so after returning and doing my mandatory 2 week quarantine I’ve managed to put together a short movie of it all.

It is quite rough and doesn’t have the usual polish that I would like to have but 99% of it was shot and edited on my iPhone. Despite this I’m still happy with the end result.

Enjoy.

Reflections on Germany / June 10, 2020 by Gede Austana

I think a lot of people who would have started a year long journey around the world only to have it stalled due to pandemic would be disappointed and upset but I’m honestly not. Despite years of planning and saving money, ending in 3 months of isolation in Germany and a premature return to Australia, I have nothing but appreciation for the experience.

It has been 3 months since I arrived in Germany completely unplanned and unexpected. The guest of a young professional couple, a city planner who loves nature and a doctor who spent most of his time in the front line of the crisis in the Covid19 ward of a hospital an hour away, I was left free for most of the time.

They and their extended family welcomed me in and looked after me with the most generosity and care that I have ever experienced in my life.

The time I spent here was the first time in my life that I lived completely free of care and free to explore my art with the only limitation being that I only brought watercolours with me. I would sit and draw with no pressures on me, no timelines to meet and no distractions to divert my focus. Going through my scans of old sketches I painted some that I would never have deemed worthy in more normal circumstances. With no idea when it would all end I was free of my usual time pressured judgements and filled my seemingly unlimited time with whatever (art) I felt like. It was complete creativity unrestricted and I filled sixty plus pages of my sketch book with new ideas.

In doing so I began to understand the origins of why I create, why I do what I do and why I am the way I am artistically. I understood that most of my art is my attempt to explore, understand and challenge myself in what seems to be a perpetual pursuit to reach my own perfection. I feel images emotionally and symphonically, I rationalise the structure of the image and hope to birth harmony in it’s intended form. It is equal parts intellectual, emotional and spiritual and explore issues of identity, purpose and individuality. I’m desperately exercising my freedom by creating things that are unapologetically me, unsullied by anyone but me, and in the process hoping against odds that it creates a connection with someone other than me.

I’ve spoken earlier of my separation from the German side and the gap in identity that it created. My time here has helped to fill that void and with the extraordinary help of the local town Mayor I now know where my German side is from and what their last address was when they left Germany. This may not seem like much but for me it is a thousand times more than what I ever had. It gave me something that I never had before, knowledge of kindness and reliability that now forms the foundation of my German side.

Having been surrounded by German food and culture I have developed a fondness for Currywurst and my hosts versions of Flammkuchen. I am bewildered by all the breads that make up the daily meals here but have indulged my hidden love of pretzels. I chopped and split so much would that I’m now waiting for official recognition from the government that I now partially qualify for German citizenship. There seems to be a love of wood here that borders on obsessive and almost patriotic.

When I wasn’t drawing, painting, thinking or chopping wood, I was immersing myself in my rural surroundings. Being in a small village meant there is always space to move completely to yourself. You can stand in a field and not see anyone else for quite a while. You can watch the trees sway in the breeze and hear all the unknown birds sing with no man-made sounds to contaminate your ears. This may not seem that interesting to some but for me it has been one of the biggest moments of my life. I’ve never known the feeling of safety and peace with everything around me until I came here. Bali has always represented home, identity and spirit to me but Germany gave me peace and safety.

I can honestly say that my time in Germany made me truly happy and I am grateful beyond words for it all.

All good things come to an end. / June 3, 2020 by Gede Austana

The trip has come to an end. The 90 day Schengen Visa will expire and its time to leave. Yesterday the tickets were bought for a flight 7 days from now.

Despite the global panic that is the virus and 2020 generally being the most extreme year in memory, I will always remember it as being the year I finally went to Germany. A total of 87 days would have been spent here and I’m grateful for every moment.

The news of the departure has spread and is starting to sink in. I know that there is still 2 weeks of quarantine when I land in Sydney and job prospects are not good at all but there’s very little that I do about any of that.

For now I’m resigned to filling my leftover days with as much of this place as I can so I can take back the memories with me. I’ll miss the bike rides through the fields and along the rivers. I spend longer and longer time trying to memories the countless leaves and trees, bushes and grasses. The way they fit together with every variation of green. These things I have to remember.

6.1 Lower Saxony / May 31, 2020 by Gede Austana

Although my time here has been mostly in isolation embracing social distancing, I have managed to see a few places in the German state of Lower Saxony and Hamburg. They’ve been mostly brief day trips but they were always greatly appreciated experiences and further glimpses of a place that I think I’ve grown to love.