On the second-last day of the month I waited at the light rail stop at about 11.30am. Once on the tram, a young man in the carriage wearing a purple sloppy joe took off a pair of heavy boots as he sat in his seat. From a Coles branded polka-dot shopping bag that was in his rucksack on the floor he took out a pair of fashionable grey sneakers. He put the shoes, which had three parallel black stripes on the outside of the uppers, on his feet. Then he put the boots into the same bag and put it in his rucksack.
At Central Station three young men coming up on the escalator from platform 25 were wearing long sleeved shirts, waistcoats and plaid caps like 19th century apprentices. On the train a man was talking on his mobile phone behind me in the carriage. “Oh hi, can I make an appointment for Monday? Are you open?” Monday was Labour Day. “You’re closed on Monday?” said the man, who sounded like he had migrated from Vietnam.
I arrived at Tempe at around 12.30pm and followed some men wearing lederhosen and check shirts and braces who were also leaving the train station. We queued up outside the Concordia Club and I paid the $15 door charge to gain entrance. A blue paper band was attached to my right wrist. In the compound there were white marquees set up with long tables and chairs, in addition to the usual restaurant seating on the verandah and inside the building. Before looking for a table, I bought some drinks tickets at the cashier that had been set up for that purpose at the back of the clubhouse. The bar didn’t accept money and the only way to purchase beer was using tickets.
After the transaction had been completed I found a table in a marquee that had some empty seats and asked the young men sitting there if it was ok to sit down but they said that other people were expected. At the next table I asked the young mother sitting there if it was ok to take a couple of the empty seats. She took pity on me and said it was fine. I sat down to wait for a friend.
At 1.06pm there was an explosion of amplified guitar coming from the club’s interior. Then there was silence punctuated by the hubbub of hundreds of adults getting tipsy on good German beer. What sounded like an electric ukelele began strumming shortly afterward, prompting vocal expressions of approval from the people at the table next to mine. One of the men sitting there had a T-shirt that said “Oktoberfest” printed on the back along with a colourful heraldic crest. His head was shaved and he had tattoos all along his left arm from the wrist to where his arm disappeared into his sleeve. I saw a man standing at one point who had tattoos on his calves, it might have been the same tall muscular man, but I’m not sure of it.
Other young men were sitting at the same table. Some young men wearing richly-embroidered lederhosen and check shirts and suspenders were standing around the table talking and drinking. One of them wore a T-shirt that was printed with a tromp-l’oeil design that looked like a traditional check shirt with suspenders. The design included the top of the lederhosen that the wearer should have had on. At the same table several women were seated who wore grey felt conical hats on their heads. Other people had the colours of the German flag featured on their clothing: red and yellow.
Everyone was drinking beer. My Spaten was in a glass stein with a handle and dimpled sides. Next to me the young mother and father I had spoken with earlier were talking. Their children were with them. One of the children, a toddler aged about two years, was crawling on the table top. Her brother, who was aged about five, hung around the table. From time to time his father would take him to where the jumping castle had been set up on one of the croquet greens.
After a while the friend I had been waiting for arrived and we took turns to order food at the kitchen, where there was another queue. I ate pork schnitzel, sauerkraut and mashed potato. The meat was served with gravy. I also had a white roll with the meal. Another friend turned up a bit later and ordered some food as well, choosing to eat fried battered fish and red cabbage.
After eating food we moved to stand on the grass. There we listened to the music and talked. From time to time we would visit the bar to get refills. Two of us wore jackets against the cold wind even though the sun was warm. There were some Asian women sitting at tables in the main hall and on the verandah but for the most part the people there had a European background. Some security staff wearing black suits who had lanyards around their necks walked around the compound keeping an eye on things. Club staff dressed in traditional German costumes came by the tables on occasion taking away empty plastic cups and used plates where people had been consuming food.
A band played throughout the afternoon but from time to time they would take a break, and during these periods the PA system continued to be used, feeding recorded songs to the crowd. The music included a version of Joe Cocker’s 1990 ‘Unchain My Heart’, Mary Hopkins singing her 1968 hit ‘Those Were the Days’, the 1959 song ‘Che Sera’ that was made famous by Doris Day in an Alfred Hitchcock movie, a version of John Paul Young’s 1977 ‘Love Is in the Air’, one of Van Morrison’s lyrical 1967 ‘Brown Eyed Girl’, one of Ike and Tina Turner’s stomping 1973 hit ‘Nutbush City Limits’, and one of the Proclaimers’ bracing 1988 song ‘I Would Walk 500 Miles’.
The music was on all afternoon, so this is a very partial list of the songs that were played. It was hard to find an authentic German flavour in this sort of playlist but the club runs the event each year so presumably they were giving people what they had asked for. For us, sometimes the music was cause for conversation and in any case this sort of fusion is inevitable where the source cultures share so much in common. The overall effect was festive, and men, women and children danced happily on the wooden dancefloor that has been installed in the main hall near the front door.
After my friends and I moved inside the main room and we had found seats at one of the long tables that had been set up there for visitors to use, we talked among ourselves while the people around us enjoyed the afternoon. There were elderly women sitting at our table who spoke German, as had done the woman who sold me my drinks tickets. At the next table a group of young men, and women who were dressed in dirndls, were seated. One of the women handed a small child across the table she was sitting at, to one of the men. He held the child in his arms and moved its small body to the rhythm of the music as it played over the PA system.
On the way back to Central Station I sat on a bench seat opposite two young men who were speaking in Korean. Once I was back on the tram and we were moving along the tracks through Chinatown I saw a long line of young people standing in a queue leading to Yomie’s Rice x Yoghurt on the corner of Hay and Thomas streets, proving that cultural fusion is popular everywhere.
At Central Station three young men coming up on the escalator from platform 25 were wearing long sleeved shirts, waistcoats and plaid caps like 19th century apprentices. On the train a man was talking on his mobile phone behind me in the carriage. “Oh hi, can I make an appointment for Monday? Are you open?” Monday was Labour Day. “You’re closed on Monday?” said the man, who sounded like he had migrated from Vietnam.
I arrived at Tempe at around 12.30pm and followed some men wearing lederhosen and check shirts and braces who were also leaving the train station. We queued up outside the Concordia Club and I paid the $15 door charge to gain entrance. A blue paper band was attached to my right wrist. In the compound there were white marquees set up with long tables and chairs, in addition to the usual restaurant seating on the verandah and inside the building. Before looking for a table, I bought some drinks tickets at the cashier that had been set up for that purpose at the back of the clubhouse. The bar didn’t accept money and the only way to purchase beer was using tickets.
After the transaction had been completed I found a table in a marquee that had some empty seats and asked the young men sitting there if it was ok to sit down but they said that other people were expected. At the next table I asked the young mother sitting there if it was ok to take a couple of the empty seats. She took pity on me and said it was fine. I sat down to wait for a friend.
At 1.06pm there was an explosion of amplified guitar coming from the club’s interior. Then there was silence punctuated by the hubbub of hundreds of adults getting tipsy on good German beer. What sounded like an electric ukelele began strumming shortly afterward, prompting vocal expressions of approval from the people at the table next to mine. One of the men sitting there had a T-shirt that said “Oktoberfest” printed on the back along with a colourful heraldic crest. His head was shaved and he had tattoos all along his left arm from the wrist to where his arm disappeared into his sleeve. I saw a man standing at one point who had tattoos on his calves, it might have been the same tall muscular man, but I’m not sure of it.
Other young men were sitting at the same table. Some young men wearing richly-embroidered lederhosen and check shirts and suspenders were standing around the table talking and drinking. One of them wore a T-shirt that was printed with a tromp-l’oeil design that looked like a traditional check shirt with suspenders. The design included the top of the lederhosen that the wearer should have had on. At the same table several women were seated who wore grey felt conical hats on their heads. Other people had the colours of the German flag featured on their clothing: red and yellow.
Everyone was drinking beer. My Spaten was in a glass stein with a handle and dimpled sides. Next to me the young mother and father I had spoken with earlier were talking. Their children were with them. One of the children, a toddler aged about two years, was crawling on the table top. Her brother, who was aged about five, hung around the table. From time to time his father would take him to where the jumping castle had been set up on one of the croquet greens.
After a while the friend I had been waiting for arrived and we took turns to order food at the kitchen, where there was another queue. I ate pork schnitzel, sauerkraut and mashed potato. The meat was served with gravy. I also had a white roll with the meal. Another friend turned up a bit later and ordered some food as well, choosing to eat fried battered fish and red cabbage.
After eating food we moved to stand on the grass. There we listened to the music and talked. From time to time we would visit the bar to get refills. Two of us wore jackets against the cold wind even though the sun was warm. There were some Asian women sitting at tables in the main hall and on the verandah but for the most part the people there had a European background. Some security staff wearing black suits who had lanyards around their necks walked around the compound keeping an eye on things. Club staff dressed in traditional German costumes came by the tables on occasion taking away empty plastic cups and used plates where people had been consuming food.
A band played throughout the afternoon but from time to time they would take a break, and during these periods the PA system continued to be used, feeding recorded songs to the crowd. The music included a version of Joe Cocker’s 1990 ‘Unchain My Heart’, Mary Hopkins singing her 1968 hit ‘Those Were the Days’, the 1959 song ‘Che Sera’ that was made famous by Doris Day in an Alfred Hitchcock movie, a version of John Paul Young’s 1977 ‘Love Is in the Air’, one of Van Morrison’s lyrical 1967 ‘Brown Eyed Girl’, one of Ike and Tina Turner’s stomping 1973 hit ‘Nutbush City Limits’, and one of the Proclaimers’ bracing 1988 song ‘I Would Walk 500 Miles’.
The music was on all afternoon, so this is a very partial list of the songs that were played. It was hard to find an authentic German flavour in this sort of playlist but the club runs the event each year so presumably they were giving people what they had asked for. For us, sometimes the music was cause for conversation and in any case this sort of fusion is inevitable where the source cultures share so much in common. The overall effect was festive, and men, women and children danced happily on the wooden dancefloor that has been installed in the main hall near the front door.
After my friends and I moved inside the main room and we had found seats at one of the long tables that had been set up there for visitors to use, we talked among ourselves while the people around us enjoyed the afternoon. There were elderly women sitting at our table who spoke German, as had done the woman who sold me my drinks tickets. At the next table a group of young men, and women who were dressed in dirndls, were seated. One of the women handed a small child across the table she was sitting at, to one of the men. He held the child in his arms and moved its small body to the rhythm of the music as it played over the PA system.
On the way back to Central Station I sat on a bench seat opposite two young men who were speaking in Korean. Once I was back on the tram and we were moving along the tracks through Chinatown I saw a long line of young people standing in a queue leading to Yomie’s Rice x Yoghurt on the corner of Hay and Thomas streets, proving that cultural fusion is popular everywhere.
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