Meta 'matta

“Coffee is a lot more than just a drink; it’s something happening. Not as in hip, but like an event, a place to be, but not like a location, but like somewhere within yourself. It gives you time, but not actual hours or minutes, but a chance to be, like be yourself, and have a second cup” ― Gertrude Stein, Selected Writings Proper coffee, as in the store-bought coffee and not the plunger (french-press) that I make at 6am before leaving for work, is both a luxury and an essential. Gertrude’s words touch on how I feel about coffee - its not just the actual drink itself, but the chance to be apart and regroup (calling all introverts here). I managed to make it through university without it, but got trapped in my first proper job by a dear friend who I blame for my coffee addiction.  British readers, particularly those in the south, will know how seriously many Aussies feel about their coffee. An upside (perhaps the only one?) to the slow but steady gentrification of Parramatta is an incre

My commute to and from Parramatta is navigated by landmarks.  On the way in, Strathfield station marks time for breakfast.   Dooleys (some sort of club venue) at Lidcombe Station is an indicator that I need to start mentally preparing to get off the train and ready for work.   Auburn swimming pool. Gallipoli Mosque at Auburn.  “Furn ture”, something my mind catches every time I pass it. The missing ‘I’ really messes with my perfectionism, but the equal number of letters on each side satisfies my need for symmetry.   Harris Park means I need to pack away the book I’m reading. Landmarks are the Saree shop and a random group of weatherboard buildings that have been fenced off for the 4 years I’ve been semi-regularly commuting this route. The high-rise buildings either side of the station create a tunnel effect that signals I’ve arrived. I love catching public transport. Its the option of being able to gaze as the world wizzes by, to read a book, to fashion watch strangers. Its the journe

Parramatta , lands of the Burramattagal people , site of Australia’s second colonial settlement, temporary home to a transient and dusty bunch of archaeologists. While archaeologists have been sifting through the dust of Parramatta for decades, the State Government’s plan to re-elevate Parramatta as part of the Sydney Metropolis , has meant that Parramatta’s past is being uncovered at speed and by many.  Archaeology is interpretation. Digging is interpretation. How we feel and what we are going through is brought to site every day. But site diaries tend to only record the weather, the daily activities, whose on site and what was found. Site diaries don’t record the feelings of those digging.  Archaeology is (mostly) a career chosen out of passion (none of us are paid enough for the amount of mud we spent our days in?), a passion (on most days) we bring to site. But where does all this feeling go? Does it get captured in the reams of paperwork produced? What about the experiences of bei