Osaka's green spaces should inspire Australia's urban renewal plans
There's something very charming about a pram jam: a jangle of buggies, yawning wide without their usual wiggly passengers, neatly lined up at the edge of the park and inviting a curious question — so, where did all the babies go?
Over there! A convention of kids stretching along the edge of a new, green park, sitting neatly on blankets, nibbling decorously on the exquisite little snack boxes their mothers have made them as they all chat in the half-light of a cloudy Osaka morning.
Does anyone picnic as elegantly as a Japanese child?
I stumbled on this scene on a recent trip as I went in search of what had been described to me as a near perfect example of an urban green development in one of the most green-starved cities in the world. (Yes, I like to look at infrastructure while I'm on holidays. I blame my engineer father, and the summer holidays spent visiting hydroelectric plants.)
There's something very charming about a jangle of buggies neatly lined up at the edge of the park.
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ABC News: Virginia Trioli
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The sprawling metropolis of Osaka, which has one of those obscure "sister city" relationships with my city of Melbourne, partially opened a large urban park late last year near the busy centre, which takes in nine hectares divided by a busy road, with a curving elevated pedestrian bridge uniting the two parts of the park.
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There are water features, and grassed open spaces, cherry blossom trees of course, amphitheatre seating and an exhibition space designed by one of the greatest living architects, Japan's Tadao Ando. The second part of The Grand Green Osaka and Umekita Park opens next year.
It is a very beautiful space. You come upon it with relief as you escape the grey intensity of the city's largest rail station, and it opens up for you as a wandering path through lovely trees and around a calm open green that faces onto a curved covered event space.
Walking into it, the impulse to sit and simply gaze on the green was overwhelming: like everyone else, we grabbed a (bad, sorry) coffee, found little chairs and simply sat and breathed.
Culture is the canary in the coalmine: the designers, artists and writers always get there first, so it makes sense that the magazine Time Out opened a new iteration of its celebrated city markets underground at the Grand Green, featuring the best of Japanese food at a series of elegantly designed cafes and restaurants. Yes, it's a food hall with, of all things, a Melbourne coffee-inspired cafe. Maybe this sister city thing does work.
The area that is now The Grand Green used to be the old Umeda freight station before the city partnered with the private sector to create an urban space that includes commercial and incubation facilities as well as the park, hotels and residential units. I think that might explain all those prams.
The magazine Time Out opened a new iteration of its celebrated city markets underground at the Grand Green.
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ABC News: Virginia Trioli
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Now, the moment I mention old freight yards, I'm sure your mind has turned to the one nearest you: that ugly abandoned or under-used pile of old tracks, rolling stock and buildings, an eyesore on prime land usually right near the centre of town. You're right to think of it, because not only is it wasted, unsustainable space, your city now has an obligation, like every other one around the country, to turn it into small-scale residential housing sustained by open green space.
Many cities are trying for something like this. Of course, everyone
I stumbled on this scene on a recent trip as I went in search of what had been described to me as a near perfect example of an urban green development.
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ABC News: Virginia Trioli
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I've always found it impressive and deflating in equal measure that this celebrated project is almost entirely supported by a volunteer army of locals who green and garden on roster. What disappoints me is that while the City of New York owns the High Line and the underlying viaduct, the Friends of the High Line manage and operate the park, largely funding it through private donations.
So, the city gets the greening, tourism and livability benefit without any ongoing project funding. That's just mean. Where's the state and federal money for something everyone benefits from?
I live near the oldest city park in Melbourne, and it is now surrounded by residential units in the same way, and I am always amazed and delighted to see how intensely Flagstaff Gardens is used: by mums and their babies, young couples and their small dogs, city workers and their take-out lunch.
Every city wants something like the High Line park in Manhattan.
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Getty/AFP: Spencer Platt
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It's the social exchange that as a country we have been lousy at making and offering: we will build homes for you, on a smaller and denser scale than you originally had in mind, but we will provide a beautiful and accessible green space that we will maintain well and that will connect you much more strongly with your community than any outer-suburban new tree-less mega-home could.
It's a proposition that requires the inclusion of the wonderfully talented architects, urban planners, landscape designers and sustainability and housing experts that I know we have in this country with a private sector that needs to be persuaded that their profit margin isn't the highest priority in a major project of urban and green renewal.
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The proposition needs close and careful design of smaller scale homes within residential units that meet a family's real needs.
And then, it requires very persuasive and credible people to communicate this idea to people and families who still resist giving up their dream of a stand-alone home on a quarter-acre block.
It is no longer fanciful to argue for this. In the face of entrenched political resistance to the taxation reforms that have put housing beyond many Australians' reach, then re-shaping how we build and develop, and the roles that city councils and state governments must play in that, seems more necessary than ever. And it is being done well elsewhere. You really can build it, and they really will come.
This weekend you have your choice of
What to read this weekend:
Have a safe and happy weekend. Don't forget to tune into the ABC's election night coverage from 5:30pm AEST, on ABC TV and iView and hopefully we'll have an early enough result that you'll be able fit in
The last episode of this series, on the brilliant Richard Tognetti, goes to air next Tuesday, and thank you for all your lovely comments on the shows so far. I hope I get to do it all again for you.
And if all the political noise around the TV gets too much for you tonight, whack in the ear buds and turn this up, and the world should disappear — just for a bit. Go well.
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Virginia Trioli is presenter of Creative Types and a former co-host of ABC News Breakfast and Mornings on ABC Radio Melbourne.
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Sydney Morning Herald
6 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Stunning Japanese hike is like stepping into an (animated) movie
A related topographical quirk is Yakushima's location within the East China Sea's warm Kuroshio Current. Even in winter, the seawater averages 19.2 degrees, ensuring the island maintains a mild subtropical climate with cool summers and warm winters. The islanders like to explain the divergent topography thus: 'Oceanside, Yakushima is like Okinawa, but in the mountains it's like Hokkaido'. And: 'In Yakushima you can decorate a snowman with hibiscus flowers'. Another local saying: 'In Yakushima it rains 35 days a month', is equally revealing, although understandably, not as popular on tourist brochures. From the ferry port, it's an easy stroll to clifftop Hotel Yakushima Ocean & Forest where I am based for three nights. This 60-year-old officious looking place, formerly a government building, is now privately owned with a recent and decent facelift that makes it feel something like an alpine resort. Its 90 rooms all have ocean views, the best of which are Western-style with balconies overlooking the salt-sprayed cliffs. But it feels right to be in a Japanese room where I sip tea cross-legged on a tatami mat, knowing that my mattress will be dutifully rolled out on the floor come bedtime. Ideally, you'd stay a week on Yakushima and explore the entire clock via the island's loop road, but in two full days I'll tick off just the north-east coastline (about 1 o'clock to 4 o'clock) detouring inland for the hike. Along this part of the coast it's relatively flat with low-rise village houses and small-town infrastructure dotted amid a Tetris of citrus, tea and potato crops. Bougainvillea blooms along the roadside next to papaya trees and banana palms. At the inlet where the Anbo River meets the ocean the beach is sandy blonde, its warmish waters attracting swimmers, snorkelers and scuba divers. My guide, Mizuha Higashi, aka Mish, leads me upstream instead to a little wooden jetty where we slip into kayaks for a paddle along the waterway. It's a forest bathing exercise, the river banks dense with giant rhododendrons, camphor and beech trees. I paddle around the roots and rocks on the water's edge, peering into its translucent depths. Heading back downstream, Mish points out the simple waterside house where Hayao Miyazaki and the lead artists on the Princess Mononoke film based themselves while studying the film's forested world. Its significance resonates the following day on our hike through the Shiratani Unsuikyo Ravine. From the trail head, the dirt path continues along a crystal clear stream over big granite boulders and across a little storybook wooden suspension bridge. As we ascend, the forest foliage thickens, filling in the canopy above us like puzzle pieces. In the gaps, thin shards of light illuminate miniature ecosystems of ferns, fungi and cushiony wet moss where cedar tree seeds germinate before taking root in the granite rock. We walk on passing azaleas, sakura cherry trees, evergreen mountain ash, hemlock and fir. Towering century-old camellia trees with bright orange trunks appear young against the millennial cedars; their gnarly girths, too wide to hug, dot our path like woodland gods. Generally, the Taikoiwa Rock trail is 5.6 kilometres – about four hours, but recent rain means a harder, longer (10-kilometre) detour that takes us along the Kusugawa Sidewalk. This natural rock path was painstakingly constructed 300-400 years ago during the Edo Period, so loggers could access the cedar trees. Back then the tallest, straightest cedars were harvested to make hiragi – lightweight wooden roof shingles that were also used as currency to pay land taxes. The less desirable cedars, including the ko-sugi – those that grow from the 'parent' stump of the felled cedars – remain today and are what makes the forest so magnificent. Stepping over slippery tree roots and trickling water channels, we continue to Kuguri-sugi cedar, its split trunk parting like curtains we can walk through, and Nanahon-sugi cedar, another wizened woodlands dame, 18 metres tall and said to be 2000 years old. Finally, at almost 900 metres, we enter the Moss Covered Forest of Princess Mononoke, where in the darkness a cool white mist shrouds us in stillness. The story goes that the Studio Ghibli artist Kazuo Oga had a favourite spot here where he would spend endless hours sketching the landscape and imagining its mythical inhabitants. As Ashitaka says in the film, 'this place is magical … a place for gods and demons'. And it is. This is a forest preserved in time, a world carpeted in lurid green moss where dragonflies flit, minuscule flowers bloom and giant tree roots hide the would-be tiny houses of forest creatures. As if on cue, we see a young Japanese couple taking in-situ photos of tiny figurines – the film's tree spirits, known as kodama in Japanese folklore. These endearing white ghosts with tiny bodies, cute misshapen heads and glowing eyes exist only when the forest is healthy and so become the film's symbol of hope for the natural world. Enchanted, we snap our own photos, then trudge on, eager to get to Taikoiwa Rock, the trail's balding rocky summit. Up here among the clouds the stillness prevails, at least until 'silence boy!' echoes around the mountains. THE DETAILS Fly + ferry ANA ( and Japan Airlines ( fly from Sydney to Kagoshima via Tokyo Haneda from $1220 return. Yakushima is a two-hour ferry ride from Kagoshima city. Loading Stay Hotel Yakushima, Ocean & Forest ( has six room categories and an onsen. Double room rates (some including a traditional Kaiseki dinner) from 12,000 Yen ($A130). The writer was a guest of JNTO.
ABC News
4 days ago
- ABC News
Kati Thanda–Lake Eyre could be filling at a scale not witnessed in living memory bringing life to those at its edge
Kati Thanda–Lake Eyre could be filling at a scale not witnessed in living memory. Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre is quickly filling with water. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) So we expected to see the South Australian outback come alive, but not like this. 7.30 cameraman Carl Saville filming in the dust storm. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Carl Saville out in the dust storm. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Carl Saville back in the car, covered in dust. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Turbulent winds whipped up clouds of desert dust — plumes so thick and winds so wild they consumed the blink-blink of our hazard lights and dulled the brights of our high beams. Ochre grit rolled across roads, spewing into the sky before drizzling down over a patch of Central Australia we were hoping, needing, to remain clear. With zero control over the timing of either phenomenon — the storm or the floodwater — we hedged our bets and pressed north, past monumental ranges and arid ashen landscapes, until a town appeared where the bitumen ended. "People think, 'Why would you have a pub way out here?'" laughs Maria van Wegen, owner of the Marree Hotel. The Marree Hotel in Marree, South Australia. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) An old train carriage in Marree. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) A street in Marree. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Marree's Outback Roadhouse and General Store. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Her establishment is almost as old as the settlement of Marree itself — a former railway town — population 60, plus tourists — considered one of the most accessible gateways to Australia's remote outback. "We're perfectly located at the junction of the Oodnadatta and Birdsville Tracks and so close to Kati Thanda, and there's a lot of history here," Maria tells us. "Mostly because of the Afghan cameleers and the railways being essential for transporting cattle to Adelaide. Maria van Wegen says pubs like the Marree Hotel are integral in small rural communities like Marree. ( ABC News: Carl Saville ) "Pubs like ours are just so integral in a community like this. "If anything happens — ring the pub. You want to know anything — ring the pub!" Lake Eyre from the air Want to see the sights and need a plane? Ring the pub. The airport was flash, by bush standards, and busy — a neat strip of tarmac; an adjacent dirt car-park full of four-by-fours and tourist buses. It had a tidy demountable with a flushing toilet — complete with the soundtrack of several small aircraft buzzing around and overhead. Planes at Marree airport. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Cars parked at Marree airport. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Travellers queue at Marree airport. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) In a town this size it came as no surprise Maria's husband is also the go-to pilot-cum-tour guide. We found Arid Air's Phil van Wegen at the edge of the tarmac, corralling a wild flock of outback nomads on the same pilgrimage as us. Anticipation emanated from the travellers as they were ushered into their respective fixed-wings, while our troupe packed into a six-seater. Pilot Phil van Wegen says Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre is "the most amazing natural irrigation system that you'll ever see". ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Within minutes we were airborne. "The whole region is massive, it all makes you feel insignificant," Phil says, as he pulls the Cessna up to 1500 feet. We cross the Flinders Ranges on the way to the lake. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) At this altitude it was clear to see the desert dust we endured the day prior, like us, it had driven itself deeper into the interior, riding the nose of a cold front. While Phil was worried about the imposition for us out-of-towners, the haze possibly improved the view — softening the morning light as it bounced off the colossal dunes, dried claypans, and the striking Flinders Ranges. Mystery surrounds who created the giant Marree Man. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Over the Strzelecki Desert, and past the mysterious 'Marree Man', the mulga, spinifex and Mitchell grass soon gave way to an expanse of salt. The southern reaches of Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre will only fill in a once-in-a-lifetime event. Salt in Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Salt in Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Salt in Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Salt in Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Carl Saville ) Salt in Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Carl Saville ) The dramatic colours of Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) "At the moment this whole basin, the Diamantina and the Cooper, has a lot of water in it, so if we get another big rain event next year it could be bigger than this year," Phil says enthusiastically, on approach to the lake's northern section. Suddenly it seemed as if there were two suns, the earth mirroring the sky. The sun reflecting off Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) "This is Lake Eyre North," we were informed, "144km in length north to south, 77km east to west," Phil explains. "The interesting thing is it's capturing approximately six per cent of Australia's run-off water, it's a huge catchment." "It's a huge dispersal, it's just the most amazing natural irrigation system that you'll ever see." By Phil's estimation the northern section is around 80 to 85 per cent covered. Water filling Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Water filling Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Carl Saville ) Water filling Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Water and sky combine for stunning visual But despite my asking, he's unwilling to estimate the volume of water within. At its edge, the head water moves at a "gentle walking pace", we're told, "and probably only around ankle-deep." In parts the lake will get several metres deep — while also containing the lowest point in mainland Australia –15.2 metres below sea level. Our Cessna climbs to 2000 feet, an attempt at fielding a broader prospective. Here, you can see the earth's curvature, but you can't see where the enormous body of water ends, and the sky begins. The only place to see Kati Thanda in its entirety, is from space. Scientists believe it formed approximately 200 million years ago, a Pangean oasis surrounded by dense forest and wildlife, fed by a monumental dispersal system of braided channels and flood-plains. Much of the water arriving here has travelled hundreds of kilometres through Channel Country after ravaging western Queensland several months ago. Water running towards Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) Water running towards Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) "You feel for those guys, there's been a lot of devastation up north because they've been hit so quickly, but you'd hope on the rebound the country's irrigated and going to do well for a while," Phil says. "We know we're lucky down here, because we get notice of a flood — we get time to get out of the way. They don't get that in western Queensland." Where 'magic' happens To the east of Kati Thanda, at the edge of Munga-Thirri–Simpson Desert National Park, is one of the most famous regions in remote Australia, home to some of the biggest pastoral stations in the world. Trees submerged in floodwater running towards Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) On the sodden banks of the Diamantina, we meet the dry-humoured desert ranger, Don Rowlands. The environment around him, usually dusty, red, and arid, is now surging with life — rivers are coursing across cracked floodplains, native fish dart through newly formed channels, and thousands of pelicans soar overhead. Even the air feels more alive. "We haven't learned yet to eat flies," he jokes "but I'm thinking we should learn soon because there's plenty of them." Ranger Don Rowlands says seeing the floodwaters bring the area back to life is "just magic". ( ABC News: Carl Saville ) Don's a descendant of the Watti Watti family and a Wangkangurru Yarluyandi Elder who recalls a fun childhood catching yabbies and yellow bellies, golden perch, "by the tonne". "I've been here all my life, lived here on the river with my family back in the 1940s and 50s, I've been here a long time and used the river for all the resources," he told us, sharing his memories of the "three big floods" — 1950, 1974, and this year. "Mate, in the water, out on the land — everything comes back to life — that's just how this country is, it's just wonderful to see nature spring out of the ground. Don Rowlands at Lake Machettie after another flood a few years back. ( Supplied: David Sproule ) "These flood events, it's the same as what my people did thousands of years ago, the reason they had rainmakers and rain dances was to create seasons such as this, to replenish all their resources. "It's just magic, and I can see my people walking through this country having the time of their life, it just keeps repeating itself and I hope I'm here for many more." While flooding in Channel Country is common, this event is bigger than usual. ( ABC News: Carl Saville ) The biggest township in the area is Birdsville, a well-known destination for tourists coming by road or air, often for drawcard events like the Big Red Bash. "Our bar is just 30 metres from the runway," says Ben Fullagar, the Birdsville Hotel's manager, who landed at the pub for a three-month shift 13 years ago. "In Channel Country floods are pretty normal, this one is just a bit bigger than what we're used to seeing. "It's a big positive for pastoralists, and it's a huge positive for outback tourism. Ben Fullagar is the manager at the Birdsville Hotel. ( ABC Western Queensland: Craig Fitzsimmons ) The Birsdsville Hotel in Queensland. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) A street in Birdsville, Queensland. ( ABC News: Tom Hartley ) "It's taken a bit to get back into gear since COVID, and situations like this, with this kind of flooding, is a huge positive for the industry." But at this time of year, he concedes, it is quieter than usual, worried there are misconceptions that Birdsville, and many bush tourism towns, were washed away. "I mean whoever surveyed Birdsville back in 1800s did a fantastic job, because water has never been into the town, it just goes straight past us and marches straight into the lake," he said. "I guess the message is, we're open for business. We didn't get our feet wet, the roads are reopening very quickly, far quicker than anticipated, and there's no better year to see the lake and the region than this year." Watch 7.30, Mondays to Thursdays 7:30pm on ABC iview and ABC TV
Sydney Morning Herald
5 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Melbourne's cafes have always been world-class. But in 2025 they've got even better
When Australians go overseas, it usually sparks a lightbulb moment: we take our morning routines seriously. While many other cities sleep, in Australia we're seizing the day with run clubs and coffee, or stopping at our favourite cafe for babycinos and a shared croissant en route to school and work. Weekend brunch tables are booked well ahead. People's devotion to their daily cafe visit borders on spiritual. There are more than 100 of these cornerstones of our social lives gathered in Good Food's Essential Melbourne Cafes and Bakeries 2025, presented by T2 and published today. The guide celebrates the people and places that shape our excellent cafe and bakery scenes and includes more than 100 venues reviewed anonymously across 10 categories, including icons, those best for food, tea, coffee and matcha, and where to get the city's best sweets, sandwiches and baked goods. These reviews live on the Good Food app, and can be discovered on the map. Skimming the list it's clear that, even if cafes are quintessential, they're far from standard-issue these days. Thick slabs of tamago (the firm Japanese omelette) are almost as likely as swirls of scrambled eggs. Rice and flatbread jostle for space with sourdough. Shades of purple, green and pink are seen in drinks and on pastries. 'Brunch and coffee have always been a significant part of Melbourne culture and the pride of every Melburnian,' says Tuan To, co-owner of Amara in Seddon, which he opened in April with a Vietnamese-skewed all-day menu. 'I thought why not bring [together] the two and create something new yet familiar.' Amara's signature dish might be a steel pan of runny-yolked eggs with pâté, sweet stir-fried beef and pickles. The crusty baguette on the side can turn it into a banh mi-esque experience.
