Slàinte Mhath

Earlier today I went to a fiddling session in Port Hood.  Mike and Candy from Austin were there too and they proved to be more than enough for the simple, overweight locals.  The dynamic really didn't allow a softly spoken New Zealander to participate. I wasn't asked who I was or where I was from.  Mike and Candy continued their "I'm a dumb American" style of relating, which the locals seemed to be quite used to and comfortable with.  A combination of shyness from the locals and loud dominance from our Texan friends meant I would have had to have stood on the table and shouted, Moulson-style "I AM A NEW ZEALANDER!"  Perhaps the best moment was when Candy mentioned that they were looking at buying real estate on Cape Breton Island and would therefore soon be more than just honorary Cape Bretoners.  There was no response from the locals, they remained silent and politely avoided her gaze. Nevertheless, the music was brilliant and evoked a deep sense of longing. No one addressed a single word to me and my only attempt at conversation was met with startled surprise and nervous hesitation.  I walked out of the place anonymous, full of the sweet sadness of the music.

Slàinte Mhath played the Capri Caberet in Sydney last night.  I ended up sharing a table with John and Howard, filmmakers working on a documentary about a group of 30 coal miners between the ages of 40 and 60.  The mines were closed in December 2001, even though they were still profitable.  By so doing, the payment of pensions was avoided.  John was originally from Toronto but married a Nova Scotian so tries to spend as much time as possible out here.  Howard grew up in Nove Scotia and Montréal.  He was in New Zealand about 12-14 years ago and managed to finish the filming he was doing within 3-4 days.  The rest of the time there he spent hanging out on beaches north of Auckland.  John said he'd been a troublemaker at school but one teacher had got through to him - a New Zealander, so he has always been fond of New Zealanders.  Niev joined us for a while - tall, black-rimmed glasses and blond spiky hair.  John and Howard told me later that he is a world famous director and in Cape Breton doing a documentary about the next child prodigy fiddle player.

I talked to Howard about Switzerland and how I was heading back there.  I tried to describe to him the feeling I have there, that something vital is missing from the culture, the psyche, the spirit of the people.  I ended up saying it was spiritually dead, then pointing at the dancing crowd and animated band, the opposite of this, I said.  He smiled and understood.

John and I discussed Alistair MacLeod - he described his writing as having a "brutal clarity".  He also mentioned the very Scottish attitude of almost overwhelming emotion being held just under the surface, barely constrained.  I realised how well this describes me and my heritage.  We talked about Gaelic.  A girl was serving when I first sat down - long, black locks, slim, attractive and very friendly, almost flirty.  When the band started I was surprised to see her on stage.  All members of the band were incredibly talented, swapping instruments at will and all dancing at the end.

The ferry to Newfoundland is leaving soon.  During the war, the Germans torpedoed a ferry, the Caribou on this crossing, with the loss of 135 souls; hopefully no re-enactments are scheduled for tonight.