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News.com.au
9 hours ago
- News.com.au
‘Horrendous experiences': Woman opens up about ‘dire' Aussie dating scene
Aussie woman Hannah Code says she has dated 'every freak in Australia', and is now trying her luck across the ditch. The 39-year-old has endured the good, the bad, and the 'should've joined a convent type', from being serenaded mid-dinner at a packed restaurant to dining with 'Mr split-the-bill-down-to-the-cent' with his calculator. 'The bill came to about $140 and I had $70 in cash which I gave to him, and he said, 'you still owe me 85 cents',' Hannah laughed as she recalled a particularly dire date. 'The dating scene is pretty rough – I've had some pretty horrendous experiences.' She recalled one time her date spoke about himself non-stop. 'He spoke about himself for 25 minutes straight and didn't ask me one question about myself. Needless to say there was no second date.' Hannah said nowadays there are so many options that no one puts in the effort anymore. 'Dating can be fun and I always have funny stories to share with my friends.' But sadly she said there's more 'bad' experiences than 'good'. 'I'm over it – dating in Australia is the bottom of the barrel.' Hannah has been single for the better part of a year, and like many of her friends, was ready to 'throw in the towel' until she stumbled across a competition hosted by Air New Zealand. To mark 30 years of flights between Sydney and Queenstown, the airline is giving single Sydneysiders the unique opportunity to find romance across the Tasman, with their new initiative '30, Flirty and Flying'. Hannah, along with 29 other Sydney singles, made the cut, with the airline flying them and their wingmen and women to the adventure capital. 'I am hopeful I'll meet someone, but in an organic way doing the things I enjoy like adventure stuff,' she said. She won't be on dating apps, and instead has packed her itinerary with adrenaline activities like bungee jumping, skydiving and tobogganing. 'Hopefully I meet someone doing the things I like to do,' she said. 'I am just after someone normal – it's so basic but so hard to find,' she laughed. 'I am not picky when it comes to guys, but it is really hard to find a stable, nice guy – just someone funny who likes to have adventure and not sit still.' The 39-year-old has never been to New Zealand and is excited to explore the cultural landscape, while also hopeful she will find love. According to new research from Air NZ, Sydney locals are feeling dating app burnout, with 41 per cent saying they've 'given up' on the local dating pool, including Hannah. Meanwhile, 62 per cent are open to dating someone outside their city, while 87 per cent say they've either had, or are open to, a holiday romance. 'Our research shows Sydney singles aren't just open to change, they're craving it,' Air New Zealand general manager of Australia, Kathryn O'Brien said. 'Whether it's swiping in future holiday spots or bending the digital rules to meet someone new, daters are actively seeking novelty, adventure, and fresh faces.' Ms O'Brien said '30, Flirty and Flying' is their way of helping singles step away from the usual dating routine and create unforgettable moments in one of the world's most stunning destinations. 'Whether love takes off or not, it's the perfect chance to unplug, explore somewhere new, and come home with fresh stories and perspectives.'
AU Financial Review
a day ago
- AU Financial Review
Arkley, Olley soar at $14m art sale
Collectors flung their umbrellas in a soggy tangle at the door of a Sydney auction room to help send three paintings through the million-dollar mark on Tuesday night. And it was two of those in-room bidders who secured the top-priced works in Smith & Singer's 93-lot auction of Important Australian Art. One attendee landed Howard Arkley 's deliciously gaudy painting, Contemporary Units, 1988, with a decisive $2 million gambit, knocking out a rival's $1.7 million bid in one go.
SBS Australia
3 days ago
- SBS Australia
A generation to lose it, three to restore it: One man's quest to revive a language at risk
Marlon Williams is torn between two worlds. E mawehe ana au ki nga ao e rua ( I am split between two worlds ) are the first words sung in the new documentary that follows one of Aotearoa's (the Māori name for New Zealand) greatest musical exports, Marlon Williams. Two Worlds — Ngā Ao E Rua, follows the 34-year-old musician as he records his first album sung entirely in te reo Māori (the Māori language) — Te Whare Tīwekaweka — and documents the challenges of reconnecting with culture, deepening ties with community, and reclaiming his reo (language). Williams identifies as part Māori, part Pākehā (Māori for a white New Zealander) — from both Ngāi Tahu and Ngāi Tai iwi (tribes). He has always sung in te reo Māori, but is still not fluent in it. It's a challenge many Māori share today. While language revitalisation efforts have ramped up in recent decades, reclaiming Indigenous languages is still an uphill journey. And for Williams, music is the strongest way back. Aotearoa musician Marlon Williams is not fluent in Māori. But he still recorded an album entirely in te reo in the hope to reconnect with culture. Source: Supplied "This documentary is about my process in making an album fully in te reo Māori and the Māori language and all the bumps and slides along the way," Williams told SBS News after its Melbourne International Film Festival premiere. "Maori is always a beautiful thing to sing in. Like a lot of things in my life, music was the way to find a new way of thinking. But it was very patchy and certainly wasn't fluent. "I'm still not fluent, but music's helped me find a sense of entitlement to the language." Lost languages Te reo Māori was once the language of daily life in Aotearoa. But British colonisation and assimilation policies sought to erase it — and almost succeeded. Children were told Māori "had to be left at the school gates" and that English was "the bread-and-butter language". Those who spoke it risked corporal punishment. The result was stark: In 1913, around 90 per cent of Māori schoolchildren spoke te reo (the language). But by 1975, that number had plummeted to just 5 per cent. For director Ursula Grace Williams, the Samoan filmmaker behind the documentary, that kind of loss is deeply personal. "My mama is from Apia — she was born in Samoa and came over to New Zealand in the 1960s," Ursula told SBS News. "At that time, it was assumed that you needed to assimilate into colonial culture." Her Nana, who was born in Vaimoso, a village on the island of Upolu in Samoa, prohibited her mother from speaking Samoan at home. "My grandmother — without any shame or disrespect at all to her — but my mum wasn't allowed to speak Samoan in the house at all." We lost our connection to our own mother's tongue. Ursula Grace Williams, director of 'Marlon Williams: Two Worlds – Ngā Ao E Rua'. "My mum was not allowed to speak, so we weren't allowed to speak. I know small greetings … but it's a shame I don't speak the language." She says her experience made her understand what it was like to "lose something beyond your control that should belong to you forever". "You hold it in your bones." Musician Marlon Williams and filmmaker Ursula Grace Williams both know what it's like to lose their own language. Source: Supplied From loss to revival By the mid-1970s, Māori activism was pushing back. In 1975, a petition with 30,000 signatures called for te reo to be taught in schools. It became a turning point, sparking the creation of kōhanga reo (Māori-language preschools), bilingual and immersion schools, adult learning initiatives such as Te Ātaarangi, and Māori broadcasting. Te reo Māori became an official language in 1987, the direct result of the WAI11 Waitangi Tribunal claim . This Māori Language Act 2016 reaffirmed that status, acknowledged the harm caused by past language suppression, and committed the Crown to revitalisation. The current strategy sets ambitious goals for 2040: over 85 per cent of New Zealanders will value te reo Māori as central to national identity; one million people will hold a basic conversation in it; and 150,000 Māori over 15 will use it as often as English. Ursula saw the benefits firsthand. "I was lucky enough that my mum had the foresight when there was a resurgence of Māori in New Zealand in the 90s that she enrolled me into a bilingual unit," she said. "My first learned language was actually te reo Māori. There are a lot of similarities [with Samoan]." "It's Te Moana Nui a Kiwa — it's a broader region of the Pacific." Te Moana Nui a Kiwa is a name used in both Samoan and Māori cultures to represent the Pacific Ocean — the significance of it as a source of life, a pathway for exploration, and a connector of people and culture. It is 'The Great Connector' of all Polynesia. Music as a gateway to 'preserve difference' For Marlon Williams, preserving Māori culture through music is part of that continuum. "It's a very basic human thing to preserve difference," he said. "In an increasingly globalised world … it's important to be able to understand different pedagogies and methodologies of understanding of life." Waitata — or Maori songs — have always carried whakapapa (genealogy), identity and history. Williams joins a long legacy of artists recording in te reo, but, as Dr Julian Rawiri Kusabs notes, that wasn't always possible. Marlon Williams joins a growing cohort of artists who have recorded songs in Māori in the last few decades, but before that, it typically wasn't viewed as being "commercially viable". Source: Supplied "It hasn't always been viewed as commercially viable," Kusabs, a Maori educator at the University of Melbourne with Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Te Arawa, Ngāti Awa, Ngāti Maru (Hauraki), and Tainui iwi affiliations, told SBS News. "People have had to fight to get that. But in the last few decades, you've had a lot of artists — both Māori and non-Māori — recording and re-recording songs in the language." Kusabs says Marlon's album shows that fluency isn't the only measure of authenticity. "The fact that there are opportunities for someone like Marlon to go back to the language and have the opportunity to record and engage in it, even despite the fact that there aren't resources that make fluency available, that's a really positive step," he said. There's a range of ways that Maori people can still gain meaning even if they're not necessarily fluent. Dr Julian Rawiri Kusabs, Māori Educator at the University of Melbourne "There's still a lot of meaning and value that can be gained from having the language more available and having more culture available." "Even if they can't understand every word, just being able to hear the sounds, hear the intonations, hear the styles and connect with a long tradition that way." The protest of the everyday Revival efforts have shown some signs of success. Government data shows the proportion of New Zealanders able to speak te reo in daily life rose from 24 per cent in 2018 to 30 per cent in 2021. Almost a quarter of Māori said they spoke te reo as one of their first languages, up 17 per cent in 2018, with younger people most likely to speak more than a few words or phrases. Kusabs warns of recent hurdles: attempts to roll back te reo in official settings, cuts to Māori language teacher training, and a growing backlash to bilingual efforts. "After all these fights for revitalisation, you're seeing a bit of pushback recently against having it be given equal prominence and equal opportunity and equal standing," he said. "I think that's part of fighting for a language and also fighting for an Indigenous culture — it's filled with those difficulties, setbacks, and struggles." For Ursula, the most powerful response to the film is one of persistence and the "protest of the everyday". "It's those stories of the everyday — in terms of where we choose to place our time and who we choose to connect with and how we choose to position ourselves within society — those are the things that chip away at discussions and narratives and the context of where we are," she said. "It's the protest of the everyday … standing in yourself and speaking your language and reconnecting with fragments of who you are." Marlon Williams hopes that his story can inspire others to find their way back to te reo Māori and help them any shame around losing the language. Source: Supplied / Ian Laidlaw 'It's yours by birthright' For Marlon Williams, that persistence has already had an effect. "There have been people reaching out," he said. "Because I'm not fluent and because on one level, I'm not classically Māori in appearance, it feels like people have been afforded a little bit more room to find their own way back to [learning Māori] without the sense of shame or embarrassment that comes with that." Shame is always there when trying to reclaim a language that has been lost over generations. Marlon Williams He hopes that his album and documentary will help others shed the shame, even a little bit. "It's there and it's yours by birthright to go into that world," he said. "That sense of shame at having lost it [the language] — it's not a reason not to do it." "It's the reason to get into it because that shame is something that's been overlaid into you and the estrangement is built on the system." "It's all the more reason to feel like you've got the right to be able to do that and go into that world."
