Native-born Australians ignore elegant, artistic Adelaide — and Mark Chipperfield is glad.
After 22 years in Sydney I recently migrated to Adelaide, Australia's smallest mainland capital city. Just before I left, Tim, the bloke in my local off-licence said: "Adelaide? You poor baaastard. You must have done something pretty crook to deserve that."
For most Sydneysiders, South Australia ranks just below Tasmania in the hierarchy of scorn - a colonial relic populated (they imagine) by country bumpkins, serial killers or, worse, tweedy Anglophile toffs sipping wine. South Australia is the only part of the continent not settled by convicts - a distinction that generates inordinate pride among its 1.6 million inhabitants.
Although I have been visiting South Australia as a travel writer for more than a decade, I was finally lured away from Sydney by a job editing a quarterly magazine in the Barossa Valley, the country's largest and most influential wine-growing region. But, in truth, the matter had been settled a few months earlier when I was escorting Simon Bates, the British radio presenter, around the Barossa.
"So why do you live in Sydney when you could be based here?" he asked, gazing out at the pristine bushland and its resident mob of kangaroos. I had no logical explanation.