It was good to return to Australia after 18 months. I managed to catch up with most of my friends in Melbourne, and the several mini-trips to Melbourne made it seem like several visits to my sister's family in Mount Macedon, too. Enough train station meetings and sending-offs for it to have felt like a far longer visit!
In Melbourne I managed a not unimpressive culture binge, too: I saw Warwick Thornton's highly praised "Samson and Delilah" (a beautifully shot dark fairy tale about Aboriginal life), the popular MTC production of "August, Osage County" (missable), a nice exhibit on the Ballets Russes in Australia and their enduring legacy, the NGV's impressive little Asian collection, and (as you already know) the John Brack blockbuster - twice. Melbourne is a remarkable world of culture.
But what most struck me this visit that was that no fewer than four Australian women I know have been diagnosed with breast cancer since I was last there. Three have had mastectomies, and all have been through chemo. All seem to be doing great, thank goodness. But still: I don't know very many people in Australia, and I don't know (or don't know that I know) very many women who've had breast cancer. Why so many? My hypothesis (some Aussie friends have provided some confirmation) is that there's a rigorous and effective preventive health campaign in place, and, perhaps, a new means of diagnosis which catches cancers earlier than before. And there may in fact be an increase in the rate in recent years. Nevertheless...
