Canberra 3: Corrections (and some quick counselling)

I can now tell my friends I've been to prison.
Fortunately it was only for a morning, and although the admission process was rigorous, it did not involve anything more intimate than an iris scan.

As a sort of "field trip" for the Custodial Medicine unit of my post-grad Forensic Medicine course, we were taken to the brand new, architect-designed Alexander Maconochie Centre just outside the city. After 2 days of tedium, I was quite excited at the prospect of seeing inside a maximum security prison, especially when my prompt release was guaranteed!

It was definitely memorable, but a lot less intimidating than I had feared, with plenty of natural light and an air of quiet efficiency. Certainly the heavy doors (half glass, half steel) shut with a loud conclusive clang, and there were occasional announcements over the speakers, but in general it was remarkably like an office block , albeit one with a very minimalist approach to interior design.

We met several of the custodial officers, and they were affable and quietly spoken, but with the calm authority of experience, and a surprising (to me) understanding of the varied personalities in their charge. Overall, the manner and opinions of these prison staff were far more positive than I had expected, although the ever-present cynic in me wonders if we met only the best ones.

Nevertheless, the experience did not depress me in the way I feared, although it was certainly a relief to pass back through all the security checks and into the free world.

I hope it is my last prison visit.

I'll finish this series of posts with something I saw on my first day, and which will remain one of my lasting memories of the city. Canberra was purpose-built, of course, and despite the best efforts of town planners since then, it still feels rather officious and sterile. Almost everyone seems to work for the government or its satellite industries, and everyone I saw on the city streets had an ID card on a lanyard. They all seemed to be very important people in a great hurry to get to their next meeting, so it is not surprising that they don't have much time to spare for introspection.

Not far from my hotel, this sandwich board was placed on the footpath each morning at 7.30 am, presumably to enable workers to pop in for speedy analysis on the way to work.

I have cropped this photo to avoid inadvertent advertising, but the therapist had included a photo of himself, and you won't be surprised to learn that he sported one of those very irritating tiny square beards in the middle of his chin.

Anyone who entrusts their angst to such a fellow, or who expects a quality service in the time it takes to write out an invoice, deserves our compassion.

Canberra 2: Colour and Calliope

After sitting through several hours of mind-numbing PowerPointing (it's a really bad sign when the first slide announces it is 1/143), I staggered out into the watery Canberra sunlight and decided to restore my spirits with a visit to Floriade, the renowned annual flower show.

The organisers had sprinkled helpful signs around the city, showing the direction to go, but it wasn't until I'd walked for half an hour and ended up with no way of crossing a 4 lane highway that I realised the signs were for motorists and not pedestrians. Grumbling mightily, I clambered over a crash barrier into the car park and finally found my way over the pedestrian bridge, arriving about 10 minutes before the show closed for the evening.

Not that it really mattered, because I was surprised to find nothing more than a few large beds of tulips and assorted flowers, arranged in admittedly pleasing patterns, but hardly the floral extravaganza I'd expected.

It was certainly very pretty in the late afternoon light, but I found it rather disappointing. I guess I am spoiled, because not far from my home in Western Australia is the extraordinary Araluen Botanical Park, where volunteers plant millions of tulips each year, creating immense drifts that extend for hundreds of metres in every direction, between the native eucalypts. Click here to see photographs taken by Flickr users.

In fact, the best thing I saw at Floriade was a beautifully restored calliope:

Canberra 1: Cant

Last week I was in our national capital for a 2-day "symposium". I've been to many thousands of seminars, lectures, tutorials, meetings and presentations; and even a couple of conferences, but I've never knowingly attended a symposium, so I was a little curious about what it would be.

Well now I know.

It's a euphemism for "sitting around a long table in a small room listening to other people talk and use PowerPoint until you lose the will to live".

There's a lot of that sort of cant in Canberra: using fancy words to describe something completely mundane. Politicians do it as easily as breathing, and it seems to have infected everyone in the city.

One day I walked for 3 blocks behind a man with a very snazzy tracksuit, plenty of hair "product" (another stupid word), and a mobile phone clamped to his ear. Without breaking stride, he maintained a steady stream of the most impressive twaddle, reminiscent of "Yes Prime Minister" and every political satire since then. But this guy had no script nor team of writers, so it is very disappointing that the only phrase I was able to memorise was

"We'll have to consolidate the neo-liberal economic platform before we rationalise our own objectivity parameters."

Of course it could have been the other way around.

An equally adept exponent of cant was our "speaker" for one afternoon session, although "droner" would fit just as well. In order to avoid one of those ghastly head jerks or involuntary snuffly grunts which are such an embarrassing giveaway of the secret snoozer, I kept track of the nonsensical jargon and euphemisms in the presentation. Fotunately these came along pretty often, so it was enough to keep me awake. Here are my favourites:

"adverse outcome assessment analysis"

"suboptimal problem resolution strategies"

"diagnostic overshadowing"

"mapping the behaviour curve to generate intervention plans"

and the truly inspired

"the success of positive behaviour support is judged by the durability, social validity and generalisability of the outcome."