High, high on my list of things to do in Canberra was a visit to the much-lauded Cockington Green Gardens.1 Rick was,
admittedly, dubious. But his default is dubious for most things I suggest we do, so I waved it off and bullied persuaded him to come anyway. Promotional materials on the interwebs promised
a whimsical journey through meticulously crafted miniature villages. Spoiler alert: If whimsy means trying to work out obscure visual puns while being slowly cooked by the sun, then
mission accomplished.
Upon entering, we were instantly struck by the sheer scale—or lack thereof—of the miniature buildings. It’s like someone took a shrink ray to England and plopped it down at the edge of Canberra. Doug and Brenda Sarah, the masterminds behind this miniature kingdom, have evidently devoted their lives to tiny architecture. No seriously.
They got the idea for the Gardens while on holiday in the U.K. in 1972 when they'd run across several miniature villages. They returned to Australia bursting with inspiration—and possibly brain-addled by the jet lag. No dummies, they conducted a feasibility study2 for developing their own miniature village. Eighteen months and countless debates over the proper scale of a pint-sized windmill later, their grand, slightly mad project began.
It took seven long years, but Cockington Green Gardens threw open its tiny gates to the public on November 3, 1979. Those first visitors were greeted by not just a collection of accurately scaled miniatures but proof of the Sarah family's tenacity and love for the absurdly detailed. The original display is an English village based loosely on Cockington,3 a quaint English village located in Torquay in the English county of Devon that the family fell in love with during their 1972 holiday. Visitors wind their way through superbly manicured gardens that depict various colorful scenes that I expect the family may or may not have encountered in Britain.
This main section is an ode to all things English, featuring everything from cricket fields to Stonehenge—complete with, monks? I guess? and a couple of tourists getting a selfie. Elsewhere, if you look carefully, you’ll find a flasher,4 a butcher with a knife chasing a thieving dog,5 and a grim archery lesson.6 A soccer pitch features a miniature streaker who’s stolen the ball. And a half-sunk longboat for sale is noted to have “some minor leaks.” I kept hoping to see a miniature reenactment of a Brexit debate, but no such luck.
The gardens themselves are as impeccably maintained as those you might see in a royal village—a very small one, in a tiny kingdom. The miniature plants and trees, perfectly proportionate to their diminutive surroundings, give the impression that some obsessive-compulsive sprite has been hard at work with bonsai shears.
Oh, but the Gardens didn't stop there—oh no! They expanded beyond the original English village models, unveiling an international section in 1998 with models of typical scenes and locations from various countries around the world.
Walking through this section is like embarking on a budget-friendly, sanity-challenging world tour. Each miniature structure purportedly represents the essence of its country of origin, though one can't help but suspect that some choices were influenced more by embassy PR departments than by any genuine cultural insight.
Take, for instance, Argentina’s El Caminito. Really? Instead of the vibrant chaos of Buenos Aires, they opted for a quaint alley? Sure, it’s colorful and charming, but it’s like reducing the entirety of Argentina to a tango lyric.
Then there’s Israel’s Masada, a naturally fortified plateau overlooking the Dead Sea that symbolizes the struggle between oppression and liberty. Heavy-handed messaging much? Definitely.
New Zealand’s contribution is a beautiful collection of Māori marae and other cultural sites that provide deep cultural insight through mini representations of ceremonies and traditional activities celebrating New Zealand's indigenous heritage. No, it isn’t. It’s their Treaty House, a boring, Georgian-style building where they signed their Declaration of Independence of New Zealand in 1835.7
The choices for these miniature representations feel less like a celebration of global diversity and more like a checklist of tourist postcards. It's as if each country was asked, “What’s the most marketable part of your culture?” But despite—or perhaps because of—the somewhat arbitrary selections, the international section is still charming. Think of it as a miniature United Nations of stereotypes. And while it may not offer a profound understanding of world cultures, it does provide a delightful, if slightly surreal, stroll through a pint-sized global village.
Meanwhile, even those displays that seem more sensible are, well, quirky. St Mark’s in Zagreb is being visited by the pope! He’s waving to a small family nearby but completely ignoring the (very) pink ice cream van offering 10¢ cones. What a dummy.
Venezuela’s El Capitolio has a yellow Lamborghini parked in front because…the Mafia is visiting?
And Batman is apparently just arriving at the Chateau de Réduit in Mauritius. I’m not entirely certain how he got the Batmobile to an island country. Maybe he keeps on in every capital city, just in case? Is he there to confab with the Durian Avenger?
Australia's own contributions, the Central Deborah Gold Mine and Wheeler's Hut, aren’t all that, either. The Central Deborah Gold Mine, a glorious tribute to the thrill of digging holes in the ground, complete with mini miners who look like they’ve just escaped from a Dickens novel. And Wheeler's Hut, a rustic delight that asks, “What if we built something, and then just walked away?”
I mean, nothing says cultural powerhouse like a desolate mining operation and a hut that screams, “We gave up,” right? But, you know, they also included a…wait for it… Railway Superintendent's Cottage from South Australia, too. Truly, these exhibits are a masterclass in showcasing the pinnacle of Australian ingenuity and charm.
Ultimately, Cockington Green Gardens isn't about accurate cultural representation; it's about the joy of the miniature, the absurd delight of seeing the world through a magnifying glass. It's a playful poke at the grandiosity of nations, brought down to a scale that fits neatly in a little corner of the Australian Capital Territory.
So, if you’re in the mood for some international travel without the hassle of passports or flights, and you don’t mind a little bit of cultural caricature, Cockington Green Gardens has got you covered. Watch out for that little flasher, though—some things are better left to the imagination.
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