The Parklands

As a child, it was a common practice for my mother to discipline me by locking me up in an outside toilet – sometimes well into the night.   This has resulted in me being extremely uncomfortable in tight spaces.  In fact, when seatbelts were first introduced, I would often have a panic attack when buckling in. For a long time I couldn’t take lifts without a resultant panic attack, and needed to sit in the front seat of a car so I could see freely.   I’m still that way to this day.

Therefore, it is no wonder that I have always found solace in being able to see large horizons and spaces, whether the sea, land or parklands.

I am thrilled now to be living opposite the South Parklands in Adelaide.  As often as I can I go for a walk in the garden where I greet the ibises and ducks, get dive-bombed by the magpies in nesting season and see and hear the rosellas, parakeets, cockatoos and other birdlife that have their home in these gardens.   It has been a highlight to see the baby ducklings each Spring as they are introduced to the stream and chase each other across the lawns.

There are grottos with tinkling waterfalls, ferneries and wide expanses of lawn with large spreading trees. 

And then there are the roses – the Veale Gardens.  The roses bloom from around late August to May and are a real picture. I enjoy chatting with the gardeners as they maintain the stretch of south parklands through all seasons.  One of their biggest challenges is keeping up with dead-heading the roses in Veale Gardens when the roses are in full bloom, as they are now. 

These days, because of my spine, I can’t walk for long and, relying on my walker, frequently have to rest to ease the pain.  This is no chore as I can sit on my walker or one of the park benches and just enjoy the place for a while.  Throughout the gardens there are plaques of dedication to others over the years who have spent many hours in the parkland, as I now do.

Even when holidaying in Paris I headed for the gardens.  While I did manage to visit the galleries, that was in the morning and the afternoons were spent in the various gardens.  Many of the gardens contained statues of people from the arts, particularly musicians, and it was fun to walk around a corner and find Mozart or Bach.  

Even in Hong Kong it was possible to take the tram to the top of the  Peak and then walk in the garden. All the hustle, bustle and sound of money melted away the higher one went and in the garden you could just wander with all the commercial world at your feet.  If I got there early enough I would watch people go through their tai-chi routine, some of them brandishing swords.

While in Shanghai the garden was also a favourite place to visit.  Here there were the various groups doing their tai chi exercises while others were playing chess or mah-jong.  I would go to the garden after work, catch my breath and enjoy the trees, wind in my hair and the sounds around me. Shanghai at various times of the year can be extremely humid, and the garden was a relief.

While sitting on a bench watching the world go by an elderly woman came and sat next to me and wanted to speak English. It turned out that she had lived in London as a young married woman but with the ‘revolution’ underwent a ‘cleansing’ process to rid her of her western ways.  She told me that she still listened to the BBC whenever she could.  She reminded me of a great book I read, “Life and Death in Shanghai” by Nien Chen – I recommend it as it has an Australian connection with that time also.

It was in Singapore, in the Botanical Gardens there, that Lisa and I enjoyed our first ever degustation menu meal, while sitting on the veranda of the restaurant surrounded by the tropical garden.  This was a very exotic garden and, while filled with plant life, it was also somewhat congested and the horizon was not possible.   However, in Singapore there was also the Night Zoo.  This was my favourite place after work to escape to.  One could walk around the zoo among the trees and animals with the city a distance away and it all open to the vast sky above.

While living in Texas, it wasn’t the gardens as much as the open road that gave me the sense of space.  Houston is a huge, built-up environment with roads running right up against the windows of high-rise buildings.  But when you got out of the town, the wide roads, the wide sky and the endless plains gave me a sense of space and room to breathe.

I am sure there are many people now who, after being in lockdown in places without access to nature and the horizon, will be examining their options.  It will be a walk on the beach, or through the bush; a long drive in the country, or a visit to a botanical garden or parkland. 

Years ago a workplace ergonomic advisor told me that it was necessary to plan the layout of an office in Adelaide very different to one in Sydney, due to the different relationship the people have with the horizon.   In Sydney the streets are narrow, steep, winding – you cannot see easily the end of the street let alone the horizon until you actually find yourself at the edge of the harbour.  In Adelaide the streets are wide, straight and the horizon is always visible.   Apparently, according to this person, this had an impact on special requirements within an office, and also the ability of people to think long-term.  According to her, if we can see the horizon regularly we are more likely to think more widely and see the future as more important.  Whereas in Sydney, it is more about short-term gain and immediate response to opportunities.  Interesting perspective.