by Dave O'Donnell

It was fun and a little intimidating to plan our presentations over in Korea. How would the Quick Hut go together, how to best impress with what was done in Australia, what else could we do that would be interesting to passers-by etc. There was one other little item on the draft program that we did not pay much heed to - a "voluntary cultural component".

We wondered what this was about, and even tossed about glorious ideas about getting government support for Flying Fruit Fly Circus acts to accompany us. Slipping back from this pinnacle, we discussed hiring circus people to help us put together a performance, threw around more creative ideas involving a symbolic dramatic presentation, and finally reassured ourselves that perhaps we shouldn't do anything! I mean who were we? A bunch of technical trade types, a few students, and a couple of untalented old fellas. We were working people, not dramatic performers - we couldn't sing, dance, act, juggle or do somersaults. Apart from that we had everything going for us.

My personal sense of serenity was shattered when one of us (I think it was Brian Smith from Wodonga TAFE) suggested we sing "Waltzing Matilda". What a come-down! Grand ideas of an Aussie (and Albury-Wodonga) circus act of international renown, watered down to a bunch of hicks grinding out something we learnt in primary school! I knew I wasn't alone in doubting our ability to turn on a performance at an international event. When we looked at some photos of the auditorium we would be performing in, (it was very grand), I glanced across at the ashen face of Wes the Plumber, and the frown on Tony the Sparky's face...let's just say there was not a ton of enthusiasm. Justin (Fife) Pfeiffer seemed to swallow, but then said, "Yeah, we can do it!" There were a few tentative nods and the decision was taken.

Naturally there was no further rehearsal in Albury-Wodonga, none on the train to Melbourne, none on the plane to Seoul, and none at the dormitory in the mountains outside of Ulsan. One attempt to have a bit of a practice at our stand at the Expo drew looks of alarm from our young gladiators (or maybe that was just my singing). By then we had found out that Bok couldn't play the baby grand piano because no-one had got the music to her in Sydney in time to practice. In fact the only real rehearsal was at the Dress Rehearsal for the Real Thing in the concert auditorium! There were stage managers with microphones hanging off the sides of their heads, spotlights, rows and rows of performers from other countries in traditional dress - the works! We hopped on stage just after some Koreans completed a traditional mask dance using some wonderful wooden masks. Our mob looked so stilted to me that I thought the wooden masks carried about three times the expression. I had a dig at our team, and Fife said "she'll be right on the night", - I thought to myself, "talk about misplaced confidence!"

Despite Fife's words of reassurance, there was a little more interest displayed following the dress rehearsal. We had all witnessed very polished performances from the mask dancers to a traditional Malaysian dancer, and we had been told the Singaporean contingent were flying in 20 performers just for the Cultural Concert. So that afternoon we actually got down to trying to plan our act, you know really clever stuff like: who was going to stand where; who was going to come on stage at what point; and er..um..what we would even wear on to the stage. Believe it or not, some fair ideas came out and were incorporated onto the act, and we eventually agreed on what we were going to do...about 10 minutes before we went on!

We were first up. Shocking to have to break the ice, but at least we wouldn't have to follow a REAL act! I was on first, and fortunately got some strong applause and a few laughs - that settled some nerves. The others came on, on cue and in the agreed order. The audience loved 'em. Alan was a great swaggy, the jumbucks earned some huge laughs, and the 3 troopers got a heap of applause. Next thing we were hiding our singing behind a John Williamson tape (thanks mate), and the Pro Hart slides apparently came up particularly well. Moments later we were bowing to the cheers and whistles - we had done it! We were all pumped up, tremendously relieved to have carried it off, and I thought we hadn't done too badly either.

Then of course the real performers came on. We saw beautiful dances from the Peruvians, clever Chinese yoyo work from Chinese Taipei, a great dramatic performance from Chile, and heard some brilliant musicians from China. Then the Koreans crowned it off with their drummers, who maintained great rhythm and displayed impressive aerobic fitness. I tried not to feel too embarrassed as I took in their efforts, we hadn't done too bad for a bunch of Aussie battlers.

At the end of the night and the next day loads of people came up to me and congratulated us on our performance. It took me a while to realise they were not taking the piss. People actually genuinely enjoyed our performance! We had presented something that was simple, but deeply symbolic for us. We did not pretend to be something we were not, we were open and genuine. We didn't try to take ourselves too seriously, in fact we had a bit of fun with the audience and ourselves. In the end it was perhaps a more "fair dinkum" cultural presentation than we had ever imagined.

photos by Alan Grasset and from Korean Manpower Magazine