tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59455083073950286822024-03-13T06:51:25.605-07:00Eric and Mary's Big MoveUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger78125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-38114884452436941372010-08-16T00:10:00.000-07:002010-08-16T00:39:39.663-07:00Amsterdam or Amersfoort?Craig and Annie joined us for a Tues-Fri trip to Amsterdam, about a 6-hour train trip from Berlin. More accurately, we joined them, since they planned the entire trip, bought the train tickets, and booked the house where we stayed about an hour's train ride from Amsterdam in a little town called Amersfoort. We arrived early enough to walk around our scenic little village and eat ourselves silly on tapas. <br /><br />The following morning we took the train down to Amsterdam, only to be overwhelmed by the hordes of tourists. We walked around with Craig and Annie for a couple of hours looking at crooked buildings on canals before retreating to a cafe for breathing space. Following lunch, Craig and Annie retreated all the way to Amersfoort while Eric and I saw some additional sights. <br /><br />We visited the Houseboat Museum, which confirmed that Craig was correct in referring to them as "housefloats." Most of the live-aboard barges have neither sails nor motors and only leave their moorings every 3-4 years to have their bottoms cleaned. I guess it's still waterfront real estate, but it kind of takes some of the romance away knowing that they're really only floating apartments. Still, the museum was interesting, with lots of pictures and videos of the creative ways people have utilised the limited space aboard their housefloats.<br /><br />Then we moved on to the photography museum, as Eric and I both tend to enjoy photography more than Renaissance paintings of fat ladies, fruit, or men on horses. Unfortunately, the only exhibit on was by some famous fashion photographers, which translated to lots of female nudity. For a while, I felt like we were in Amsterdam's famous sex district rather than a museum.<br /><br />We followed the museums by a stroll through what the guidebook referred to as one of Amsterdam's most "international" markets. It was only international in the fact that in cities all around the world, they try to sell pointless crap to tourists. After killing a little more time at a canal-side cafe with a typically surly waitress (but nice, cold beer), we checked in on the line for the Anne Frank house again. Apparently everyone had read that it was the "must-see" attraction in Amsterdam as the line had to be at least 3 hours long, even at 6:30 pm. Knowing my attention span, after waiting in line that long, I wouldn't have the patience to read any of the exhibits, particularly with strangers touching me. Thank God for the internet, where I can view pictures without sharing others' oxygen!<br /><br />Amersfoort felt like a refuge after the crowds of Amsterdam, so we decided to spend the rest of our time there. Therefore, our 4-day trip to Amsterdam turned out to include only about 8 hours in Amsterdam, but we were happier for it. Amersfoort was really, really lovely and surrounded by a perfect canalside trail for jogging or strolling.<br /><br />Our last full day in Amersfoort was the best day of the vacation yet. Eric and I rented a couple of cruiser bicycles and rode down to Utrecht. We were a bit sketchy on how the bicycle highway system worked, turning a 23-km ride into a 2.5 hour tour of the countryside, but it was fantastic anyway. <br /><br />Utrecht was more touristy than Amersfoort by less overrun than Amsterdam. We enjoyed wandering around for a while before visiting the Dick Bruna Haus museum. I always thought that Miffy was a cheap knock-off for Hello Kitty, but she was actually the inspiration. Dick Bruna started drawing her in 1955, and Hello Kitty didn't appear on the scene until 1980! The Miffy books are the second-best-selling children's books, just behind Roald Dahl's collection. So there.<br /><br />Overall, we spent about 7 hours on the bikes that day, and it was great to stretch our legs and breath some fresh air. I've been jogging when I can, and goodness knows we've been walking enough, but sometimes the sight seeing really does feel more like a death march than recreation.<br /><br />One thing that was surprising was how well the Dutch all spoke English. Many of them barely seemed to have an accent. This is in sharp contrast to Germany, where very few people seem to speak English, and where I can't understand the train announcements that are in English any better than the ones in German. Now before anyone gets up in arms, I realise that I'm in their country and speak no German - I'm just highlighting the comparison between the two countries.<br /><br />Now everyone's first question upon hearing that we were visiting Amsterdam was whether we would be partaking in any illegal drugs. I'll disappoint you all by telling you here that the only Amsterdam substance we imbibed was Heineken. While we had an 8-months-pregnant lady to blame our lameness on, it really comes down to a lack of interest in spending one day of four in a semi-comatose state. And we weren't entirely sure how to order it anyway...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-72179731492528878132010-08-08T23:31:00.000-07:002010-08-08T23:40:09.153-07:00MunichWe only had a couple of days in Munich, which was enough for me. This is mostly because the transition from fish and rice in Japan to heavy cream, potato pasta, and sauerkraut in Germany was too much for my sensitive stomach, and I didn't feel at all well. It was really nice to have Ralf along to order food for us, and he booked us rooms at a very traditional, German inn a 30-minute walk from the Marienplatz, ro the centre of town. A highlight was meeting up with another friend from Sydney, Sebastian, his wife, Elizabeth, and their gorgeous 7-month-old baby, Clara. You could tell the baby was half-German, half-Australian by how happy she was to spend several hours watching us drink huge beers at the Hofbrauhaus. <br /><br />It's kind of creepy, but I couldn't help thinking as I wandered the streets in Munich how many Jews had owned the businesses lining the streets or lived in the apartments above them. Every time I saw an older person, I wondered what they did, or perhaps more importantly what they didn't do, during the war...then again, maybe I was just sick and thus ready to move on from Munich.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-21608937239268663802010-08-08T22:47:00.001-07:002010-08-08T23:31:22.584-07:00Tokyo and KyotoTen hours after leaving the Australian winter, the first thing that we noticed stepping off the plane in Tokyo was the heat and humidity. After a couple of trains and a long, lost walk to our hotel, we were already soaked through with sweat. Unfortunately, we were forced to drop our bags and go for another wander before we were allowed to check into the hotel. <br /><br />However, without this delay, we wouldn't have seen any of the eisa dancing up the road in Shinjuku. Eisa dancing is unique to Okinawa, the island where I lived for three years in high school and to which my family returned for several years when I was at university. Okinawa has always been the poor cousin of the rest of Japan, except as a beach resort destination, so this was really unexpected. The whole time we were in Japan, things seemed familiar, like the big, green telephone boxes, but I was sad that I wasn't actually back in Okinawa. At least the eisa dancing was a small piece of the Okinawan experience.<br /><br />The next morning, we got up early to catch the bullet train, or skinkasen, to Kyoto. I had delusions of it being cooler up near the mountains, but this was not to be. If you look closely at the pictures from Kyoto, you'll see that my hair is flattened to my head with sweat in most of them. <br /><br />We visited the three "must see" sights in Kyoto, the Golden Temple (Kinkakuji, actually made of gold), the Silver Temple (Ginkakuji, actually made of wood), and the palace (Kiyomizu). The fact that the Golden Temple was actually covered in gold was impressive, but other than that, it really wasn't that interesting as you could only view it from a distance. The Silver Temple was more interesting, particularly for the view down the hillside into Kyoto and the Philosopher's Walk along a canal of small art studios connecting it to Gion. Kiyomizu is an entire complex with lots to see, including a lover's walk between two stones. You are meant to walk from one stone to the other with your eyes closed. If successful, you are destined to find true love. If you already have your true love, he or she can provide guidance by giving directions. <br /><br />The two highlights of Kyoto for me, though, were our ryokan, or traditional Japanese inn, in Gion, the traditional geisha district, and Kodaji temple, just up the street from the ryokan. When we arrived at the Montonago Ryokan, there were several Japanese staff in traditional dress at the door to meet us. One soft-spoken older lady in a kimono took us up to our room, prepared tea, and showed us how to don our yukatas to come down and use the public baths (which we could reserve for private use). After much giggling and a relaxing soak, we decided to take a quick stroll up to the Kodaiji Temple, which the lady at the ryokan had recommended. It's lit up at night, and it was the best temple we visited. There were only a few people there, including some girls in full geisha dress, and it was really serene. <br /><br />Back in Tokyo, we went to the fish markets, where we were almost run down by carts of heavy sushi bound for the city's restaurants before a nice security guard explained that the area was not open to the public until 9 am. Then we took a stroll around the Ginza and the Imperial Palace Gardens and finally wound up at the Ooedo Onsen in Tokyo Bay. The open spaces of Tokyo Bay allow an American to finally draw a deep breath after the crowds in the city. Tokyo Bay is like some bizarre, futuristic suburb on an industrial port that was built with expectations of a large population flocking to it from the city, but for some reason it never really took off. Perhaps the Tokyo natives just don't like those broad open spaces. Three hours in the public baths, including a 45-minute foot massage, were fantastic after the four-day "we must see everything in Tokyo and Kyoto" death march. Ralf and I also visited Dr Fish, which involves immersing your feet in a shallow pool filled with little black fish who eat dead skin. I'm not sure of the actual health benefits, but I do know that it feels really funny having hundreds of fish swarming and nibbling on your feet. At first it was so ticklish that we could hardly bear it, but then it dissipated to being just plain weird.<br /><br />We enjoyed our four days in Japan, although our motivation to visit the sights was sapped somewhat by the heat, but it's not somewhere I would ever want to live. People are unfailingly polite, and the food is amazing, but from an outsider's perspective, it's such an unfulfilling, commercial culture. I've never seen so many shops full of electronics and other things no one needs, or bars filled with businessmen who could be home with their families. It just seems like everyone is looking to buy the happiness that their daily lives can't provide. Then again, maybe I was just hot and grouchy...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-77286998439617838622010-01-31T13:48:00.000-08:002010-01-31T14:00:35.993-08:00We're here!Riding into Melbourne last night in the taxi was really strange. I've come to the city so many times just for the day for work, that it made me panic a bit to realise that I wouldn't be flying home to Sydney 12 hours hence. I live here now. I think the short 1.5 hour flight time makes the distance between Sydney and Melbourne seem minimal, but driving it in 11 hours last weekend brought it home: this is no different really from our move from Colorado to Minneapolis. There will be no going back to Sydney for the weekend just for dinner with friends. Maybe that hadn't really hit me yet because it looks like I'll be back in Sydney Monday through Friday for most of April and May. I still really have one foot in each place. Or maybe just a few toes in Sydney.<br /><br />Anyway, I felt much better once we got into the house and went for a walk around our amazing neighbourhood. We walked over to the bay in about 5 minutes, which was closer than I realised, and then found the amazing St Kilda Public Baths. They are a gorgeous swimming and exercise facility on the bay, and they host outdoor movies on the roof all summer. How cool is that? And the path along the esplanade looks ideal for more knee-skinning skateboard action. <br /><br />This morning is my first morning working from home. I keep feeling pressured to settle into a routine, because I'm so worried I'm going to lose my mind working from home. But how does one settle into a routine when the only furniture you have is an air mattress? I think for now I need to just focus on living in the moment, as my good friend Justine used to always (try) to remind me to do. <br /><br />I did walk up the road for coffee about 20 minutes ago, and I felt the greatest sense of well being that I have in about two years. I know this sounds a little crazy, but the air here feels like Florida in the Fall. Not just today, but every time I've been out here in the last few weeks. I just want to breathe it all in. Anyway, Melbourne is famous for its coffee, and I was in no way disappointed by the cup I had this morning. And the barista was really friendly. For lunch, I'm going to take a sandwich and a book to the public gardens, just about a minute's walk away. Ahhh...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-36759130841323113762010-01-26T03:02:00.000-08:002010-01-26T03:36:59.927-08:00Man and cats in Melbourne...time to goThe day after my last post, the estate agent I had been stalking throughout the weekend left me the saddest voice mail ever: the owners had decided to go with another tenant. I tried to cheer myself with the news that we'd gotten the lovely four-bedroom house we'd applied for, and for at least a year, space wouldn't be an issue. Each cat could have their own bedroom if we liked.<br /><br />Now, given our luck with real estate, wouldn't you guess that the real estate agent from the first place called saying the owner had "re-considered our application" just as soon as we'd paid the first month's rent on the house online? However, we hadn't yet signed a lease, so I figured it would really just be bad manners to back out, and I was willing to be the Ugly American. The estate agent for the house was really cruisy about the whole thing and agreed to transfer the first month's rent back into our account.<br /><br />Until, as you may have guessed, we hit a speed bump. We were the only people at the showing for the house, and I don't know how long it had been on the market, but the owners decided to interpret email exchanges and the deposit of the first month's tent as a legally binding sign of intent. Why then, I asked the estate agent, were we suppposed to come into sign a lease in a few days, if email exchanges were considered legally binding? <br /><br />Anyway, a day of intense stress followed, with me afraid of losing my dream apartment and being forced to live in this house against my will. All's well that ends well, though, and we settled with the owner of the house by letting them keep one week's rent to make up for the time lost between the showing we attended and the one they could schedule for the following Saturday. It was a crazy 36 hours.<br /><br />Eric flew to Sydney for the weekend, and in the 109 degree heat (remember, no one here has AC!) we boxed up our entire apartment. After staying out til 3am Saturday evening/Sunday morning, we loaded the Turquey, the camper van, with our most valuable items (cats for me, TV for Eric) in a very hungover state on Sunday. On Monday, the temperature had dropped to about 90 and we set out on the 11-hour dive through the hills of New South Wales and Victoria. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcGEpBYtDpztKsWrXQpLq1ZjSS_xaCDXSVj2nMLJAhZttt3evjdSNs2VE4YhYhAkUEkWP5qwaLLCiMFviOT8YsXL-ShZanpAPqPBqj0vHxipPQx-zZXE03TNA3f_k7j7HRiUfEq-WVO9b/s1600-h/Loaded+Turquey.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcGEpBYtDpztKsWrXQpLq1ZjSS_xaCDXSVj2nMLJAhZttt3evjdSNs2VE4YhYhAkUEkWP5qwaLLCiMFviOT8YsXL-ShZanpAPqPBqj0vHxipPQx-zZXE03TNA3f_k7j7HRiUfEq-WVO9b/s320/Loaded+Turquey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431002577672874578" /></a><br /><br />Now, Turquey isn't a spry young van - she's more of a vintage model - and she had one scary hiccup going up a long hill. She jerked a couple of times, and then Eric was slowed to about 15 mph despite having the gas pedal on the floor. We rode in the shoulder for a bit, afraid to stop since she might never go again. In a few minutes, she pepped up and was willing to give it another go. Needless to say, every time she shuddered for the rest of the afternoon, we held our breath. On a positive note, these injections of adrenalin, along with signs constantly warning me to be on the lookout for koalas (I was!), kept us from falling asleep!<br /><br />On a tangential note, on a break from packing on Saturday, Eric and I went out for a quick swim to bring our blood below the boiling point. We both looked at this bird bobbing about 10 feet away and turned to each other at the same time to ask, "Is that a freaking penguin?" I am not sh*tting you, we swam with a penguin. Not a March-of-the-Penguins-syle Emperor penguin, but the little fairy ones we have all around the southern part of Australia. There's a penguin reserve about a half mile from our new house in Melbourne. Just a reminder that our nearest neighbour to the south is Antarctica!<br /><br />When we arrived in Melbourne, I was delighted to find that our apartment was every bit as wonderful, better even, than I remembered from the viewing. I feel kind of like a guest at a really nice b&b. Eric and I are upgrading some of our furniture to be worthy of the place. It's one quarter of an old house on a lovely tree-lined street a block from the St Kilda Botanic Gardens. While it has all of the charm of an old place (stained glass in several rooms, fireplaces, carved ceilings), it's been completely modernised. I have a dishwasher for the first time in years!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzl-K3PmhpTxP5qhFsC5wBr78ACUpPU2O0V53g8kOO3YTqlJe0UTuDne-IWz4jaZuvCm8vF8kJ1crcybcf0RoeltluKJ7nGhHO3j0NydoeRgCE_dYryAopzeAeSoGnviHrhyphenhyphenuuDWPuQ70M/s1600-h/DSC00039.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzl-K3PmhpTxP5qhFsC5wBr78ACUpPU2O0V53g8kOO3YTqlJe0UTuDne-IWz4jaZuvCm8vF8kJ1crcybcf0RoeltluKJ7nGhHO3j0NydoeRgCE_dYryAopzeAeSoGnviHrhyphenhyphenuuDWPuQ70M/s320/DSC00039.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431007587271814674" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVZyJE2XPit2D7GwAtBZbf244-drepVXNlnoGp6qvKNMuWTMQWkH_KWnxYQyZy8faln1DA_wq1Yt4I0Ifs7hHUFEg8P2anuc_eK8PdvlODXJhJergcVSDxYyTVamQmgRVEJUUZCFArlkvj/s1600-h/DSC00038.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVZyJE2XPit2D7GwAtBZbf244-drepVXNlnoGp6qvKNMuWTMQWkH_KWnxYQyZy8faln1DA_wq1Yt4I0Ifs7hHUFEg8P2anuc_eK8PdvlODXJhJergcVSDxYyTVamQmgRVEJUUZCFArlkvj/s320/DSC00038.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431007581396186994" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppIXYjVjgJaDB_8crGFyqq74Ag0ry0TGRGueQDWvE1wNubWbyxPpRQ4YTvpdHDxM6OblPiivmgAMAiZG9MgDR6LDlo-nV9N3V3CoMrF-_AdfP00g1vJrY-9K4zZMq8RvEPWGfknCAm6l-/s1600-h/DSC00035.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppIXYjVjgJaDB_8crGFyqq74Ag0ry0TGRGueQDWvE1wNubWbyxPpRQ4YTvpdHDxM6OblPiivmgAMAiZG9MgDR6LDlo-nV9N3V3CoMrF-_AdfP00g1vJrY-9K4zZMq8RvEPWGfknCAm6l-/s320/DSC00035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431007571022247730" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4xF4hpxbEMKA8ZeM5UrKbo-uc8bdyYI_RsEQW2lomIZeIXjO5csLcuS2fNYMwNKm2imdCBb0CcMgEytf4V9tD7l2GqNORrxmoNSbdZJuvAJfr8rwyGAdeh98369z43uSdscD9nX3xJGf/s1600-h/DSC00041.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4xF4hpxbEMKA8ZeM5UrKbo-uc8bdyYI_RsEQW2lomIZeIXjO5csLcuS2fNYMwNKm2imdCBb0CcMgEytf4V9tD7l2GqNORrxmoNSbdZJuvAJfr8rwyGAdeh98369z43uSdscD9nX3xJGf/s320/DSC00041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431007173451641474" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8G47dPazR7ub-eBn_VzL9LCmUQaOteOx3EgOW2vtlzuB3Psg-sWMWpTBd-x45OZsU-Lu2FFAEpumlE-T9qHtGKH67dklhaJVWkdIZikNpMHofftAdsWNKAZwiM-j8OkTTamxFq2S580V/s1600-h/DSC00040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8G47dPazR7ub-eBn_VzL9LCmUQaOteOx3EgOW2vtlzuB3Psg-sWMWpTBd-x45OZsU-Lu2FFAEpumlE-T9qHtGKH67dklhaJVWkdIZikNpMHofftAdsWNKAZwiM-j8OkTTamxFq2S580V/s320/DSC00040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431007169129097842" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Nd1ujw9tzOsYrcrGj5SLzUdDl4XxrT4riBCc8NLKh2cDQI1TVa89BpQ1ufJxMdkHnbEkF6fNfFB9_WjwS18EUrBOfiDakc08t2gCc-I3cNX7vlInT1AFpltSqgtjS7s6Y24VHXbNj6Dp/s1600-h/DSC00034.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Nd1ujw9tzOsYrcrGj5SLzUdDl4XxrT4riBCc8NLKh2cDQI1TVa89BpQ1ufJxMdkHnbEkF6fNfFB9_WjwS18EUrBOfiDakc08t2gCc-I3cNX7vlInT1AFpltSqgtjS7s6Y24VHXbNj6Dp/s320/DSC00034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431007155333010018" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcaNpBG1_Ebcy13WsZkmV_nEv5b_MVs1x4YqVuhTP93TCtDQo1QNZ11hsvnWb_bmUTzXgButKzNT_gAnh38A68pN009KTh1dsL0X0wg1W7BQC5FTfjartEIngGPszslOfynCwdCAQgprK/s1600-h/DSC00037.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcaNpBG1_Ebcy13WsZkmV_nEv5b_MVs1x4YqVuhTP93TCtDQo1QNZ11hsvnWb_bmUTzXgButKzNT_gAnh38A68pN009KTh1dsL0X0wg1W7BQC5FTfjartEIngGPszslOfynCwdCAQgprK/s320/DSC00037.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431007147037394114" /></a><br /><br />Similar to my last visit, it was tough to come home today. My life is now divided between Sydney and Melbourne. I arrived back in Cronulla tonight just minutes before the Australia Day fireworks were shot off from the beach right in front of my house. From my third floor balcony, I had the perfect view with a glass of wine. But I'm alone here now, and I don't even have furry little faces to greet me. I'm homesick for a place I haven't left yet, but I'm anxious just to GET ON WITH IT. Time to move to Melbourne.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-43793812867393000992010-01-17T02:28:00.000-08:002010-01-21T03:24:46.313-08:00Move to Melbourne<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2u-AyHgHcDAcIaGxoMxmkBEltpDGYOzr28UCjeYgT9iX8tky4PZNrSJJwAnHlOHNABPys91GyH5HdB6jmd2tKHD0LBC5RMhMthB4dy-wkS8HPoJNOycvcpTm1PFhlA_YUIY6YktGJo-vP/s1600-h/Rockpool.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2u-AyHgHcDAcIaGxoMxmkBEltpDGYOzr28UCjeYgT9iX8tky4PZNrSJJwAnHlOHNABPys91GyH5HdB6jmd2tKHD0LBC5RMhMthB4dy-wkS8HPoJNOycvcpTm1PFhlA_YUIY6YktGJo-vP/s320/Rockpool.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429152337242333234" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEn5tf7QE3Q6itCb2ntvu0Fjy0PUtyupOFyj7Ix8stydGqwDYk8fhuCxtQ4a0iT5xrFB-S5M-VOq3NfAjokYjo1Rj6oMr9-ss_UhDCoe-YRN0sgyi5KWkGOLVi5Oz4ErOGGaW2n3HyR1B-/s1600-h/Rockpool3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEn5tf7QE3Q6itCb2ntvu0Fjy0PUtyupOFyj7Ix8stydGqwDYk8fhuCxtQ4a0iT5xrFB-S5M-VOq3NfAjokYjo1Rj6oMr9-ss_UhDCoe-YRN0sgyi5KWkGOLVi5Oz4ErOGGaW2n3HyR1B-/s320/Rockpool3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429152330955232706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpX-V7IBxSoiF9jesMNtRU2Bgd1YUnq0aSu1jzYsLS1HEhreAfH5XS_noMYciFEO0PGZDnfrlvddClHNSqYZIFc9kHspYURvyE5gK3lPPiYYWNrQnrJgppFKzSBFzyGvNWN_nTTaVVLDd1/s1600-h/Rockpool2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpX-V7IBxSoiF9jesMNtRU2Bgd1YUnq0aSu1jzYsLS1HEhreAfH5XS_noMYciFEO0PGZDnfrlvddClHNSqYZIFc9kHspYURvyE5gK3lPPiYYWNrQnrJgppFKzSBFzyGvNWN_nTTaVVLDd1/s320/Rockpool2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429152124955802690" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXor2LfsFzYyvfFz9n5GCrkDRGpbuyiKzMZQupaxpZCJLQxSH2jjmvkCYvT1FVx80rgFVuz5mrGeVwLlnOAIklwibOTM0meN860qXlfttaeos0vr3JhgxvKJOvE08ZjwycdC3KXG16FvMC/s1600-h/rainbow+from+porch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXor2LfsFzYyvfFz9n5GCrkDRGpbuyiKzMZQupaxpZCJLQxSH2jjmvkCYvT1FVx80rgFVuz5mrGeVwLlnOAIklwibOTM0meN860qXlfttaeos0vr3JhgxvKJOvE08ZjwycdC3KXG16FvMC/s320/rainbow+from+porch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429152117285821090" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRC2lAdobt922_sKSHbMx4tBPGMQN-1wNS3RS9oZFj09A5bMsn7ql6RTBMQ0h_55ACUODWMD79mX8mfMQ0TfxDOWSb7If3iCzQitWvLOu5gR6xsfBtC3hq92z4KPoBXRqf4C6gdZOGNt1/s1600-h/porch2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRC2lAdobt922_sKSHbMx4tBPGMQN-1wNS3RS9oZFj09A5bMsn7ql6RTBMQ0h_55ACUODWMD79mX8mfMQ0TfxDOWSb7If3iCzQitWvLOu5gR6xsfBtC3hq92z4KPoBXRqf4C6gdZOGNt1/s320/porch2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429152105715096034" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSNbq2-Cs1Z6xft6Hz0DPXsX_BFkx_WJn16ARl9kef2ltzw1bong2Bb1Yh9w0CT69w0tzxPHKMyCZowq8WCcs0uqPix1yioJXrFmsRuGgZ07FGD8Due5WF1ngdp7YsjMrD7YdjbE3guff/s1600-h/porch1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSNbq2-Cs1Z6xft6Hz0DPXsX_BFkx_WJn16ARl9kef2ltzw1bong2Bb1Yh9w0CT69w0tzxPHKMyCZowq8WCcs0uqPix1yioJXrFmsRuGgZ07FGD8Due5WF1ngdp7YsjMrD7YdjbE3guff/s320/porch1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429152094505080994" /></a><br />I stopped adding to this blog after my trip with my sister, because I thought that we were all settled and I had nothing of interest left to say (did I ever, you ask?). Am I completely unable to learn from the past? Isn't that some kind of sign of mental illness? Sometimes I wish I was <em>that kind </em> of Psychologist. Clearly my life is destined to be a constant progression of changes, admittedly mostly brought on by my own decisions.<br /><br />Just before Angela's visit, we decided that we'd like to live near the beach, both to reverse our commute times (shorten Eric's, lengthen mine, which was only a fair swap) and to improve our surfing (have only sustained one black eye recently). After an exhausting search of several Saturdays, running from showing to showing while Eric worked, I came to the conclusion that real estate agents choose the only decent vantage point of any given property to post on the web. Naive much? Was I the last person to figure out that truth doesn't live on the internet? The larger issue was that 100% of properties in Cronulla don't allow pets.<br /><br />Angela came, and we resigned ourselves to another few months of living in our shitbox in Erskineville. One weeked shortly after she left, Eric posed the query on a Friday night, "So have we officially given up on living in Cronulla?" I half-heartedly searched the web, found two questionable properties with inspections the next day, and agreed to give it one last shot. As you'd expect in any good fairy tale, one of the properties the next day was dramatically underpriced and had an amazing view of the ocean. At the urging of all of our friends, we decided to jump on the bandwagon of lying about the cats. "Everyone does it," they said.<br /><br />Now because Eric and I have been huge dorks our entire lives, we were a little sceptical about this lying gig, but it seemed like the odds were with us. WRONG. Part of the deal with the new place was that the landlord would keep a few things in the garage. As it was a double garage, this was not really a concern. He sent me a text to let me know he was going in on Monday, so I figured we were good for a while after that and took the cat cages down on Monday night. On Tuesday I received this text: "Not to be pedantic, but can you please confirm that there are no animals in the unit." Shit.<br /><br />While I was down (mostly) with the lie of omission of leaving the cats off the rental application, direct lying was really beyond my experience. I moved on to pleading. Similar to the time my best friend and I were pulled over in high school in some rather compromising circumstances and promised to go to the movies every weekend until we were 23, I just began offering things: additional bond, covering the sofa (the place was furnished), keeping the cats out of the bedroom. To be honest, I was pretty proud of my salesmanship, and in the end he decided not to exict us. By "in the end," I mean that the negotiations continued over several days, days when I couldn't eat without feeling nauseous. At work, I became known as the "crazy cat lady," and I was afraid Eric would finally follow through on the promise to chuck one of the cats off the balcony. <br /><br />The last four months in the place have been amazing. One morning, I saw dolphins from the balcony, and I was able to run down to the beach and be in the water within three minutes. We can walk to go surfing, I jog along the ocean every morning on the path that runs right in front of our house, and I've been able to do some cycling again, none of which was possible when we were living in the city. We live so directly on the sea that our address is 14 The Esplanade, The Esplanade being the path that runs along the ocean. There isn't even a road in front of our apartment block. <br /><br />Cronulla is referred to as "The Shire" by Sydneysiders, and upon mention of liking the area, the response is always, "Have you heard about the riots?" Apparently, some years back, there were some race riots. Groups lower on the economic ladder tend to flock to Cronulla at the weekends. As in most places, this includes a mix of bogans and people of various ethnic backgrounds. This was an explosive mix that was set afire one day by the warm summer sun, and suddenly Cronulla had made a name for itself. Other than the preponderance of scantily clad teenage girls who flock to Northies on a Sunday night and teenage boys with faux hawks and rat tails, we haven't really been much bothered by the seedier side of Cronulla.<br /><br />When we moved here, we signed a six month lease since a possible move to Melbourne had been on the cards since late May. However, my firm hope was that I would eventually be buried in Cronulla. That's how much I love it, despite the 3 hours of daily commute time. On 10 December, though, we got the news that Eric was expected in Melbourn on 4 January. At least they gave us plenty of notice. I picked my parents up on 11 December from the airport having barely absorbed the news. The next month I was conveniently distracted by all of the fun activities I had planned for their visit, even when Eric took off a couple of days after New Year's. <br /><br />Now it's all becoming real, though. I spent the first couple of weeks of Eric's time in Melbourne scouring the internet for places to live without a real idea of what areas were nice. This weekend, though, I went down for a crash course in Melbourne suburbs and to see as many properties as possible. We found several nice places, which we've applied for, one of which I've become obsessed with. The real estate agent has to think I'm some kind of stalker at this point given how many voice mails and emails I left her this weekend. Come to think of it, if she wanted me to do her laundry or rub her feet, I'd probably be down for it. I really love this place.<br /><br />But then I got back to Cronulla tonight. It was really sad leaving Eric at the airport after being there with him all weekend and feeling like Melbourne was almost a normal place for us to be, but it was also really sad sitting on my balcony with a glass of red wine listening to the ocean thinking about how soon that would all be over. I mean, look at the pictures of this place. Who in their right might would want to leave it, right? But then again, how bored do I get with any place in about 6 months? Every place I live, I convince myself that it's the best place in the world, and I never want to leave it. Then, at most a year later, I want to move just to be somewhere different. Charater flaw? Probably. But it's just reality. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit that this entire weekend in Melbourne, I was convinced that it was going to be a fantastic place to live, particularly the little neighbourhood that I fell in love with, which I've already dubbed "The Triangle." <br /><br />It does make it easier that we're not starting entirely from scratch. Since engineers who have worked on other desalination plants are in short supply, many of Eric's colleagues from the Sydney plant will be moving with us. In particular, a couple with whom we've spent a fair amount of time and who we both think are fantastic are going, as well as another guy who has a new girlfriend in Melbourne. God willing she'll be cool, and then there will be at least two other couples with whom we can hang out. I'm not sure I have the energy to start all over again so soon.<br /><br />One big stressor is that I'll be working from home in Melbourne. I did it for Sun Microsystems for a year, and I very nearly lost my mind. And that was only part time while I was writing my dissertation and had lots of stimulating interactions with the university library staff. I mean, a good three hours of my work day on average is spent chatting and making idle comments about things that don't really concern me. I'm not sure I'm cut out for spending all day in the house by myself, no matter how lovely that house may be. For now, I'm trying to focus on the positive: Without the three hours of commute time, I should be able to cycle for an hour and a half in the morning before work. I can work in the park or at a coffee shop. I won't be exposed to the negative atmosphere that exists (partially created by my constant whinging) in our office. On the other hand, I may turn into a gross person who never wears makeup or puts on a dress. And I may be so lonely that I die. We'll see.<br /><br />I'm fairly certain that none of this is of interest to anyone, but the good news is that I think everyone stopped reading this blog ages ago. And it serves the same cathartic purpose as a journal, but I don't get the hand cramps I do from writing in a journal since the only hand writing I do these days is to-do lists at work. How long before pencils and pens are phased out all together?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-83137608945586811072009-07-29T02:17:00.000-07:002009-07-29T02:30:17.156-07:00Days 23, 24, and 25: The Great Ocean RoadThat night in our 8-person hostel room we barely slept. We were already a day behind on our itinerary, I had a flight in just a few days that was several hundred miles drive away, and the storm outside sounded as bad as any typhoon or hurricane I’d been in. I’m guessing that mostly in reaction to complaints they’d received from travellers whose plans were ruined more than ours, the ferry did operate in the morning, but it probably should not have. I should have known we were in trouble when I tried to buy a coffee from the snack bar on board the ferry, and the lady refused to sell it to me on the grounds that I’d be puking it up in 10 minutes anyway. At first it was exciting, like a roller coaster, the way the ferry travelled up one side of each wave and then crashed down on the other. Then, in about 5 minutes, faces starting going pale. By the 10 minute mark, people were vomiting into little paper bags in every direction. After an hour, legs were not very steady as people stumbled off the ferry. Angela and I didn’t get sick, but I wouldn’t say we were very well either.<br /><br />The weather finally cleared as we started our drive down the Great Ocean Road from Adelaide. Just before dark, we did stumble upon Larry the Lobster, an Australian icon, which was a treat. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5xiECsoeg39IZdInNcCe4PUKI5HXYSJzK7fY8ck5HUO0LWs7yQWsGbEaFgkGrmB3Da4FjCIQkA2Ar2pWgSKCKAbq2csuLMTMXchwETrOPccyx-ONX9NdME3yodgjS8n_N5ELFdduOkj0x/s1600-h/Larry+the+Lobster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5xiECsoeg39IZdInNcCe4PUKI5HXYSJzK7fY8ck5HUO0LWs7yQWsGbEaFgkGrmB3Da4FjCIQkA2Ar2pWgSKCKAbq2csuLMTMXchwETrOPccyx-ONX9NdME3yodgjS8n_N5ELFdduOkj0x/s320/Larry+the+Lobster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363810734350651746" /></a><br />As we began to set up camp in a rest area down a long, quiet road, it began sprinkling a bit. Since we didn’t think anyone would notice, we just moved our tents under the picnic enclosure, and climbed inside for 4 hours of gin rummy and wine. Some time during our games, the wind began to pick up, and it began to rain harder. We had another sleepless night as we lay there wondering if the car was going to blow away.<br /><br />By the next morning it had cleared, and we continued down the road to Mount Gambier, a beautiful little town with some very blue crater lakes and the nicest public park I’ve ever seen in a small town, made even nicer by the fact that it was centred around a sinkhole that had been used as a trash pit and used car lot in the past. That evening, as it began sprinkling, we found another out of the way picnic area to camp in and began round two of the gin rummy championship.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3_gNjKzyNF6Gna_AVNPlY4ZO-ZlTFaPQVdlP_LcbXuodGgx0Sli-uolW3ke2-mJSCNXCy3ksJEDwWCM5poi4v4HvWgZLPOC0NW-gze3IgRmUmZs6d_i35Ap979mD-HZnUQCZ0CO9HnKE/s1600-h/Sinkhole.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3_gNjKzyNF6Gna_AVNPlY4ZO-ZlTFaPQVdlP_LcbXuodGgx0Sli-uolW3ke2-mJSCNXCy3ksJEDwWCM5poi4v4HvWgZLPOC0NW-gze3IgRmUmZs6d_i35Ap979mD-HZnUQCZ0CO9HnKE/s320/Sinkhole.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363811209960298386" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FbzrzjtTUsO4UQ9ax8RN1jSiaqL0W6WmmaTBRuyG5KoyR4_vuTnAsgMIw1KPuY1wNiwNoGIRIJzjhJl42yEBFrQXqpDFJ-9LBJMf3e8B51dxIn930mZYM79Qvp4lwkBhufHwqUqWdUsI/s1600-h/Mt+Gambier.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FbzrzjtTUsO4UQ9ax8RN1jSiaqL0W6WmmaTBRuyG5KoyR4_vuTnAsgMIw1KPuY1wNiwNoGIRIJzjhJl42yEBFrQXqpDFJ-9LBJMf3e8B51dxIn930mZYM79Qvp4lwkBhufHwqUqWdUsI/s320/Mt+Gambier.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363810743780859074" /></a><br />The final day of our trip was as good as any day we’d had along the way, most of it spent driving along the rocky southern coast of Australia. In the morning we visited the site of an old shipwreck and the famous 12 Apostles rock formation. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg73cWxPrZju9lac4iw9UedfS1KovrZ0IK2Swmrm-TuZ6bDXHgdyYlGtfKwncjryYfgXcTqUocD5qRUw6Bzx2rkoxrFy3y4VYGN_-CFRWdzzgAtJEtP0lpKtXB7lLfLEv5PFzZbKbarCYfF/s1600-h/Blowhole.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg73cWxPrZju9lac4iw9UedfS1KovrZ0IK2Swmrm-TuZ6bDXHgdyYlGtfKwncjryYfgXcTqUocD5qRUw6Bzx2rkoxrFy3y4VYGN_-CFRWdzzgAtJEtP0lpKtXB7lLfLEv5PFzZbKbarCYfF/s320/Blowhole.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363810725864073362" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFk0DgvPGuBtfVV7WiZwWjbp_8NIe_Dj6uOaKB-QVMwXZ7vaIdC_j8BljV3K-f_mXGI5i8bHesgUWp46Hg7Q58bJPcVxZp8hmJJVAm84vlyy_CxN4iCHupS6OUSf4-jM3CAP20vboQEEC/s1600-h/12+Apostles.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFk0DgvPGuBtfVV7WiZwWjbp_8NIe_Dj6uOaKB-QVMwXZ7vaIdC_j8BljV3K-f_mXGI5i8bHesgUWp46Hg7Q58bJPcVxZp8hmJJVAm84vlyy_CxN4iCHupS6OUSf4-jM3CAP20vboQEEC/s320/12+Apostles.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363810712075380770" /></a><br />In the afternoon, we spotted several whales who had come in close to the shore with their calves and stopped in at Bells Beach, home of the most famous surf competition in Australia. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgysQD6S8LcF-8snv5eeHigoVv2pbGXEznQYsYWdsbxAggBic-7L4fVkSwJvwU_wLI55z7xMWGmHc_Ad4-v6AGvlno_P0CrxXBwicacINZXwD0jsMFuphrv_zBO0qahurrXgo7SXvYo7Th5/s1600-h/Whale's+Tail.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgysQD6S8LcF-8snv5eeHigoVv2pbGXEznQYsYWdsbxAggBic-7L4fVkSwJvwU_wLI55z7xMWGmHc_Ad4-v6AGvlno_P0CrxXBwicacINZXwD0jsMFuphrv_zBO0qahurrXgo7SXvYo7Th5/s320/Whale's+Tail.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363811217707229090" /></a><br />Following the pattern we had begun to expect, the rain started in the early afternoon as raced to return the rental car several hours late. I made my flight just in time after leaving Angela and Dylan standing in the rain in Melbourne with no idea where they might sleep that night. But after almost a month together on the road, I knew they’d figure it out.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-46352520356080192102009-07-29T01:58:00.002-07:002009-07-29T02:15:53.184-07:00Days 19, 20, 21, and 22: Kangaroo IslandAfter two hours on a bus and an hour on a ferry, we arrived in Kangaroo Island. Until the 1980s, there was no ferry to Kangaroo Island, meaning that it is still relatively uninhabited and pristine. The Australian government relocated so many endangered animals there that they are now looking at having to cull the koala population. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rCzDtQsLbLywmFD9qw4rwl7c-9hcsvBupae_67OVte7Gf318E1MibRdT12zMEkY-nNNhdqId595BnlGa94ButGURRGhGlIXe-LIoWyiPgzHfmivguOpDbvONB6z3KDVjydK3gnwwFcYf/s1600-h/Koala.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rCzDtQsLbLywmFD9qw4rwl7c-9hcsvBupae_67OVte7Gf318E1MibRdT12zMEkY-nNNhdqId595BnlGa94ButGURRGhGlIXe-LIoWyiPgzHfmivguOpDbvONB6z3KDVjydK3gnwwFcYf/s320/Koala.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363806198408221186" /></a><br />We were enchanted instantly. First, we found a sweet little campsite near a river with hundreds of tropical birds and not a single other person. Then we took a hike along the coast, which is edged with green, green grass. The peninsula where we spent the first day was populated primarily by sheep. The car had to be stopped for cooing at the baby lambs many, many times. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkx82XFCXx4wpW0ue42_GVyerbHcSyuJLYMDoRjEtSlSHcpxsXJYhGgzySQ3gNTeXcR-BQwXzKIfViIxathB1h6hjqL6x_-5HnXEy3_d7J6uDbiMOXqU5cqv0mHfAJDVOE4p_3LQMwDG_/s1600-h/Lamb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkx82XFCXx4wpW0ue42_GVyerbHcSyuJLYMDoRjEtSlSHcpxsXJYhGgzySQ3gNTeXcR-BQwXzKIfViIxathB1h6hjqL6x_-5HnXEy3_d7J6uDbiMOXqU5cqv0mHfAJDVOE4p_3LQMwDG_/s320/Lamb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363806207519790162" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPqP2aq4jzdIzi8_rpyv74XK93_LN835S_YcnAGCzlD4-dwrAJdzI9XfjZb3GjHLYh_5UarQXrgtRGxZrnVhaz3VDOgvrV_VWvVSKsezEDsTcSZzxc_v7R6Ot6K0r5LpfQn6LMz07dDkK/s1600-h/Kangaroo+Coast.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPqP2aq4jzdIzi8_rpyv74XK93_LN835S_YcnAGCzlD4-dwrAJdzI9XfjZb3GjHLYh_5UarQXrgtRGxZrnVhaz3VDOgvrV_VWvVSKsezEDsTcSZzxc_v7R6Ot6K0r5LpfQn6LMz07dDkK/s320/Kangaroo+Coast.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363806186732600770" /></a><br />After spending sunset with a cheese plate and a bottle at a local winery, we settled in in front of the fireplace at the local pub to play cards until time for the penguin tour. <br /><br />Yes, I said penguin tour. The rocks along the coast of the peninsula were infested with penguins. Given the full moon, many penguins were keeping out of sight, but we did get to see two little babies huddling together while they waited for their mom to come back from fishing.<br /><br />The next day we toured various eco-tourism attractions on the island. First, we visited an Emu Distillery, where they turn the layer of fat under an emu’s skin into amazing lip balm. The owner of the distillery rescues little joeys who survive their mothers being hit by cars and raises them in cloth shopping bags that he hangs from door knobs to simulate the pouch. He had two joeys hanging on the door when we visited, and one of them decided to pop up and say hello for a bit. We also visited a lavender farm, where we sampled their lavender fudge and lavender scones, and a bee farm, where we sampled honey mead and honey soft drinks. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhluGBdWNhjpjyRGCLnDIsZdidVqv_ae_hTaRxbccip3pUUvLUJrnCP0arWbIySVr6pdJdzL5Fj_3kLeMrVog3FadL_dJbDl0Ex44FWkFBKuNFoI856vrcflBIBWgZB9N42TqLq6QhDCCbv/s1600-h/Lavendar+Farm.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhluGBdWNhjpjyRGCLnDIsZdidVqv_ae_hTaRxbccip3pUUvLUJrnCP0arWbIySVr6pdJdzL5Fj_3kLeMrVog3FadL_dJbDl0Ex44FWkFBKuNFoI856vrcflBIBWgZB9N42TqLq6QhDCCbv/s320/Lavendar+Farm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363806218493028114" /></a><br />That evening we found a secluded camp site on a cliff overlooking the ocean, where Dylan mentioned what I’d been waiting to hear all day. At the emu distillery, Dylan and I were chatting with the owner, who mentioned that the trail we were going to hike the next day actually continued around the entire peninsula, about 20 miles all together. From the glint in Dylan’s eyes, I knew he wanted to do the full walk. He had a GPS and plenty of supplies, so we walked a ways down the path with him in the morning and then sent him on his way. <br /><br />Now on our own, Angela and I did a couple of short walks and then went to the marron farm for lunch. The marketers of marron will tell you it is like a more succulent lobster. I can tell you that it looks like a cockroach and tastes like nothing. However, we had a nice feast on other tasty treats, including a bottle of local wine.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1yAo4WhG7HzX7gf6vL8hvYPTtgK4cq3EhJJ8DjiAoGl5VTUyli_rid6zI-EQSFOjLMQ4P_LJgex5Yaf1PkSLlRKaD_q3ikkpSUpz5uugbemiBQ1CS7uBbXtur9HihIFV_vQiuNxdm1ZN/s1600-h/Lunch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1yAo4WhG7HzX7gf6vL8hvYPTtgK4cq3EhJJ8DjiAoGl5VTUyli_rid6zI-EQSFOjLMQ4P_LJgex5Yaf1PkSLlRKaD_q3ikkpSUpz5uugbemiBQ1CS7uBbXtur9HihIFV_vQiuNxdm1ZN/s320/Lunch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363806894776090114" /></a><br />That afternoon we visited the Remarkable Rocks, the Admiral’s Arch, and the three different types of seals that live on the beaches surrounding the two landmarks before stopping in at the Flinder’s Chase National Park visitor centre to check in to our campsite. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2kxsrMTybyYVtHi3DcnFvwp7IHrMj54aoERyCl8sDSRxa2cXoaAKlxpRpG324Eoq98SRURFXkC7CpwLq3bOKHo0UNxVCHSLlPKPuvLlmaWtOjrTXwrBMfJm-v-8NLsIr71qNYGZBctPt9/s1600-h/Remarkable+Rocks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2kxsrMTybyYVtHi3DcnFvwp7IHrMj54aoERyCl8sDSRxa2cXoaAKlxpRpG324Eoq98SRURFXkC7CpwLq3bOKHo0UNxVCHSLlPKPuvLlmaWtOjrTXwrBMfJm-v-8NLsIr71qNYGZBctPt9/s320/Remarkable+Rocks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363806916534099970" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CoLxB6MVkXHk37a-gEcNGepg_s15VULPvZEK8R2Jm9SnPBl8Ut_AgQKztnbXnz22tyateoL-IUkfoBSotXK-s02d07o4XYpns7m0Ug3pgO6-0mhtu37rXXZNt8nUaCoehtX1yowJt2Tb/s1600-h/Remarkable+Rocks+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CoLxB6MVkXHk37a-gEcNGepg_s15VULPvZEK8R2Jm9SnPBl8Ut_AgQKztnbXnz22tyateoL-IUkfoBSotXK-s02d07o4XYpns7m0Ug3pgO6-0mhtu37rXXZNt8nUaCoehtX1yowJt2Tb/s320/Remarkable+Rocks+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363806902080583298" /></a><br />The first thing we noted at the visitor centre was a map of the peninsula that Dylan was trying to hike, clearly indicating that the trail only went half way. Angela and I both began to panic a bit as we had no means of communicating with Dylan (we only had one phone), and we had not made a back up plan if he didn’t meet us at the other end the next day. <br /><br />The ranger was very keen to know whether we had 4WD as the recent rains made it impossible to reach our campsite without it. As we did not have 4WD, he suggested that we drive out of the park to one of the caravan parks, which are typically fields full of RVs that cost about $40/night. I pushed for other options as I’d made these reservations several months before, which lead him to consult with two other rangers. From their group investigation, they could not tell whether I’d paid over the phone or not, because their detailed record keeping system involved writing names in a notebook and highlighting them if they’d paid. The conclusion, mostly because they couldn’t tell if they owed us a refund and wouldn’t have known how to process it anyway, was that we would probably be fine as no additional rain was anticipated in the next 24 hours. With not a lot of confidence, we set out on the 20 km track back to the camping area. To be sure, there were a lot of low points in the road with some standing water, but it didn’t look like anything to be concerned about without quite a bit of rain.<br /><br />Angela and I set up the tent on top of a sand dune overlooking a pristine beach and played nine games of Yahtzee while consuming about 2 litres of wine once it was dark. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12AYHQ01f2GaTuUxUCaGbRyLEE4TJOLT1kFne6NiE92VApN4DXWn-ChDIADQLn5odI96kklKb8njQATRYJU8HWrxnoewnvV83H406f5pcxWRaE-s18qeu8557sggC1lJuEXlRvT2mZ5R0/s1600-h/Yhatzee+in+the+tent.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12AYHQ01f2GaTuUxUCaGbRyLEE4TJOLT1kFne6NiE92VApN4DXWn-ChDIADQLn5odI96kklKb8njQATRYJU8HWrxnoewnvV83H406f5pcxWRaE-s18qeu8557sggC1lJuEXlRvT2mZ5R0/s320/Yhatzee+in+the+tent.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363806923208263714" /></a><br />Then at 10 pm it began to rain. And rain. And rain. We both spent most of the night wondering whether we had left Dylan to die, whether we might wash away, and whether we’d ever get back out on the road to find Dylan if we weren’t washed away. The camping area had only one other inhabitant, who we had been avoiding since we weren’t camping in a designated spot. Obviously we weren’t as tricky as we hoped as she was parked by our car in the morning when we ran up the hill in the rain with our gear. She did have 4WD and very, very nicely agreed to let us follow her so that she could see if we got stuck. <br /><br />Anyway, all’s well that ends well: we made it out without incident, and we found Dylan. He’d realised that the trail ended about mid-day the day before and hoped that we wouldn’t make the discovery. With the help of the GPS, he found his way out, and then we found him.<br /><br />That afternoon, we decided to stop in at Kingscote, the main town on the island, just to see it before we caught the evening ferry. As we filled the car with petrol, the owner of the station casually mentioned how rare it was that all ferries were suspended. With alarm, we proceeded to the ferry office in the town centre, where we were told that all ferries were indeed cancelled due to rough seas. Looking out at the sea from Kingscote, it was difficult to imagine how they’d come to this conclusion – it looked relatively placid. The lady at the ferry office was able to book us into one of the last rooms remaining on the island, a hostel room that slept 8 for $150. A bit pricy, but none of us was keen on camping in the cold rain another night. As it had been 4 or 5 days since our last showers, warm water sounded nice, too. <br /><br />We also stopped in at the car rental agency to confirm that the gentleman would still be at the ferry stop to collect the car that evening as we were staying close enough to the dock to walk the next day. The lady looked down at her notebook full of scribbles and erasures and said that according to her records, we had turned the car in at 10 am that morning. We really must get these Australians access to Excel; it would revolutionise their world. However, she assured me that he would still be there to meet me that evening. <br /><br />When we got back to Penneshaw, the town where the ferry actually docked, we understood why the ferries were cancelled. The seas there looked like they’d been churned by a tropical cyclone. The wind was howling and the rain was driving hard. We were shocked by how different the weather was just 30 km around the side of the island. <br /><br />At the designated time, we drove over to return the car. We waited. And then we waited. But no one came. Then Angela noticed that the keys to the office were sticking in the lock on the outside of the door. I simply walked up, turned the key, walking into the office, and turned on the lights. In the unlocked drop box near the door were the keys to several vehicles parked just outside – I could have had my pick. I called the emergency number for the rental agency and reported the situation, expecting shock, alarm, and immediate action. Instead, I was instructed to leave my car keys in the box, turn off the lights, take the keys out of the front door, put them on the desk, and leave. I explained that I wasn’t comfortable doing that as someone could steal a car for which I was still responsible. Sighing, the man on the other end of the line explained that in that case he’d have to come up there, which I affirmed was a good idea. I let him know that he could find me in the pub with the keys. At this point, I’d simply had enough of the Australian lasseiz-faire approach to life. While charming in some situations, trying to book travel arrangements and adhere to an itinerary were not those situations.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-40797290892923835882009-07-29T01:58:00.001-07:002009-07-29T01:58:40.550-07:00Day 18: AdelaideAfter working with Angela on an outline for her Personal Statement for her medical school application in the dining car over some much-needed instant coffee, we got off our last train of the trip in Adelaide around mid-day. Our Couch Surfing host, Alexis, met us at the train station and walked us to his house. That afternoon, we ran around various outdoors good stores preparing as if we were heading to the Arctic. For the remainder of our trip, we would be doing winter camping.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-78830507672156199692009-07-29T01:45:00.000-07:002009-07-29T01:57:58.523-07:00Days 14, 15, 16, and 17: Alice Springs and surrounding areaWe arrived in Alice Springs on The Ghan at about 10 am on day 14, fresh faced after a night sleeping squished into the hidey hole created by the two set of seat backs converging. We picked up our exceedingly tall Land Cruiser with the camper built ON TOP of it only to find out that it had a manual transmission. Now, I rarely drive in Sydney, and I certainly don’t drive ridiculously top-heavy vehicles with a stick shift. In fact, as Eric and I have been discussing buying a camper van, a major hesitation of mine has been whether I could learn to drive with the stick on the “wrong” side. After one false start, I’m glad to say I conquered my fear.<br /><br />Fear returned about two hours later as I barrelled down a rough dirt road and noticed smoke spewing from the rear of the vehicle. Apparently I’d had a flat tire for some time but had not noticed given the rough conditions. It took quite a bit of fanning and pouring of water bottles into holes in the tire to cool it enough to lift. More alarming, we were now in a famous desert with no spare tire!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4HRLnumoB1t-SHg860rW1Oyc8iQ41kkbm90Cngtg8YToJToMkANE5pM4eJRm9FPUBMcX58tn2vr_RZTgqe5slEQ355nTLlurBjgDa_p8BfnR9PWVf478oZqp6DBoE_U06I7_UNdYM2Hjj/s1600-h/Sad+Tire.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4HRLnumoB1t-SHg860rW1Oyc8iQ41kkbm90Cngtg8YToJToMkANE5pM4eJRm9FPUBMcX58tn2vr_RZTgqe5slEQ355nTLlurBjgDa_p8BfnR9PWVf478oZqp6DBoE_U06I7_UNdYM2Hjj/s320/Sad+Tire.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363801734536455090" /></a><br />There was no time to waste, though, as Uluru, or Ayer’s Rock as the white settlers called it upon their “discovery,” is most famously viewed at sunrise and sunset. We pulled into the sunset viewing area with about 10 minutes to spare and were in no way disappointed.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBqxVSA7x_tAFRL_ByKVWTT0ozEzq9f8kv9TbpLOzyQIBD6vhi-feEHwkYw4BR8OwUJGTRcjcfxou3ZAp0i0WDUFzUsplnymiAaTcMDZO2M1d1sIdbnPYwNAwbuUN9VwrIQOwmiJ5K5Pm/s1600-h/Sunset.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBqxVSA7x_tAFRL_ByKVWTT0ozEzq9f8kv9TbpLOzyQIBD6vhi-feEHwkYw4BR8OwUJGTRcjcfxou3ZAp0i0WDUFzUsplnymiAaTcMDZO2M1d1sIdbnPYwNAwbuUN9VwrIQOwmiJ5K5Pm/s320/Sunset.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363803056494172818" /></a><br />The next morning, we got up at 5:45 am to see the rock at sunrise. It was well worth dragging ourselves out of our warm sleeping bags into the cold desert dark. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxI-sUj2sycHawq4nJhAsJ7ZlbX1NPbH_Q98yGuk49p52jcPrp6y0mfZvfIl37LPNur_sklnqOkuGuZc95UI_hg8NmhiZ760ryk2RUYQ5hquTRA_SvFXepILUyfTA7at-ce0IuqSQ-WhZc/s1600-h/Sunrise.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxI-sUj2sycHawq4nJhAsJ7ZlbX1NPbH_Q98yGuk49p52jcPrp6y0mfZvfIl37LPNur_sklnqOkuGuZc95UI_hg8NmhiZ760ryk2RUYQ5hquTRA_SvFXepILUyfTA7at-ce0IuqSQ-WhZc/s320/Sunrise.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363803051538433074" /></a><br />We then visited the cultural centre, run by the aborigines, which tells the stories their ancestors passed on for thousands of years about how a giant red rock came to be standing alone in the middle of the desert and about all of the markings on the rock. The cultural centre also asked that you think about the spiritual meaning of the rock to their community before choosing to climb Uluru. As we hiked around the rock, we came upon the spot where people climb, and again there was a large sign asking people to “make good choices.” Sadly, in the 3.5 hours that we hiked around the rock, we probably only saw about 15 people, but there must have been about 300 people climbing the damn thing.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2_AANh_VrUXPwHZ9QR9OzgTcO05RQ7q6k5QVUy2GJlH_wFbJNGRhkl2iIaDK5QF7bpS_t4JoubEwU2yjr-8apZSX-Pa_FoVKyatyrVaoPEJTa4LZLybX9XiACTJJxkhUwUvk43HJ7OPk/s1600-h/Side+of+Uluru.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2_AANh_VrUXPwHZ9QR9OzgTcO05RQ7q6k5QVUy2GJlH_wFbJNGRhkl2iIaDK5QF7bpS_t4JoubEwU2yjr-8apZSX-Pa_FoVKyatyrVaoPEJTa4LZLybX9XiACTJJxkhUwUvk43HJ7OPk/s320/Side+of+Uluru.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363803041528332850" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvXhg9rE-nYO9WIErV0ZsqvvhqcyGnf9OxVBdfI4nII2p45fyPTshvFCmKRoFCCkEYhSFlV2bgRwrGKu9vBlHCmSPvfj8sieYwPbT6efkJHeCJV71UH3cix1iJ1kWQ1_w9Ukjwdk1figI/s1600-h/Side+of+Uluru+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvXhg9rE-nYO9WIErV0ZsqvvhqcyGnf9OxVBdfI4nII2p45fyPTshvFCmKRoFCCkEYhSFlV2bgRwrGKu9vBlHCmSPvfj8sieYwPbT6efkJHeCJV71UH3cix1iJ1kWQ1_w9Ukjwdk1figI/s320/Side+of+Uluru+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363803034843467394" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99tBXh6aUkOirduFraNK9AqDBbwEktT13e_0H9BXtopNVt08IAhoxChygRn2IpIRj4YTQAY9Lt76FbG1QC7GWRuRtucT5kJis80i8u3MxLJgpqKIk5QMGWTg23J9cKtM88bZwQHc8zFlz/s1600-h/Rock.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99tBXh6aUkOirduFraNK9AqDBbwEktT13e_0H9BXtopNVt08IAhoxChygRn2IpIRj4YTQAY9Lt76FbG1QC7GWRuRtucT5kJis80i8u3MxLJgpqKIk5QMGWTg23J9cKtM88bZwQHc8zFlz/s320/Rock.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363801725748287474" /></a><br />After circumnavigating the rock, we drove over to The Olgas, which is basically a pile of smaller (but still giant) red rocks. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ45_pSbFVurOGejYLbOclDHMJLiz5TkRql-xpPuiEb8cdh4U924hCbxsPw_6IDYqfKR0-OTt8K0_RxBzFc6_7Y6RRClzRBXNOxnb_A4EFYAUDHqn31PcgRl3lyGfpGT7HEfwT1SeNIVVh/s1600-h/The+Olgas.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ45_pSbFVurOGejYLbOclDHMJLiz5TkRql-xpPuiEb8cdh4U924hCbxsPw_6IDYqfKR0-OTt8K0_RxBzFc6_7Y6RRClzRBXNOxnb_A4EFYAUDHqn31PcgRl3lyGfpGT7HEfwT1SeNIVVh/s320/The+Olgas.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363801744896277762" /></a><br />The last thing you want to do in the outback is to drive after dark given the very high odds of coming head to head with a kangaroo, which does bad things to your vehicle even if you aren’t an extended-height Land Cruiser. Therefore, we did a quick sprint of a hike through The Olgas before hitting the road to drive as far toward Kings Canyon as we could before sunset. That night we camped in a roadside rest area, and the full moon had the eeriest blue ring around it.<br /><br />Next morning we sped over to King’s Canyon, where we were able to get a new spare tire. From the time we got of the train in Alice Springs, we kept running into a French girl and a Belgian girl. When we saw them on the hiking trail at King’s Canyon, it was probably our fifth encounter. We decided to stop fighting fate and hike together. By the end of the hike we were old friends and had agreed to meet up again in Sydney. So far, we’ve had drinks with them twice since we’ve been back!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFUVdDkQ6lIcry_ho-8TyIpr7vJEJf0qroeGWiuJURb1eMqTdjywDObYkgh_WDIVU3LyTjHGF1cqBYLvWlO5yOV8tdfipi4DnDAL3vK47fqgPQPTASyyP3gMQqWshUKkcEXl1kiu1L640/s1600-h/King's+Canyon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFUVdDkQ6lIcry_ho-8TyIpr7vJEJf0qroeGWiuJURb1eMqTdjywDObYkgh_WDIVU3LyTjHGF1cqBYLvWlO5yOV8tdfipi4DnDAL3vK47fqgPQPTASyyP3gMQqWshUKkcEXl1kiu1L640/s320/King's+Canyon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363801718759226258" /></a><br />That afternoon, armed with our new spare tire, we braved the unpaved roads again. After four hours of intense bouncing, we were happy to arrive in Finke Canyon just before sunset. In the morning, I drove down the most intense 4 km of 4WD track that I’ve ever been on, with lots of coaching and support from Dylan. After a quick morning hike, we returned to Alice Springs to return the Land Cruiser and re-board The Ghan. I almost had a fist fight with the car rental guy, who made me drive up the road to put an extra $2.83 in fuel in the tank, but Angela restrained me, and we made it just in time. Some people just shouldn’t be given even small amounts of power.<br /><br />We were able to shower on the train, which was a blessing for everyone around us, even though our clothes still smelled, and we were able to turn our seats to face each other again. This time, I found a lovely spot to sleep just outside the toilet curled up behind a trash can.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-23077389327093362212009-07-29T01:35:00.000-07:002009-07-29T01:38:23.219-07:00Day 13: The Ghan<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8X9aICrW-vj9uJ00AqujvktUc5N6e0SEStIAs0etK4PMSB_HrKYreLChfdiYrmSMkg_k2Ok27gWOsda94tHFZpxfPu4IGRIeu6aV5BoAslqNtVY3UGndYvAAWLZD3OTfo6Fd6yFnj52N/s1600-h/The+Ghan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8X9aICrW-vj9uJ00AqujvktUc5N6e0SEStIAs0etK4PMSB_HrKYreLChfdiYrmSMkg_k2Ok27gWOsda94tHFZpxfPu4IGRIeu6aV5BoAslqNtVY3UGndYvAAWLZD3OTfo6Fd6yFnj52N/s320/The+Ghan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363798483199633490" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbz1TvwaZaglOymn-Wc0nP51p4f-0zYt8LhdmWAyTK8nQszvzveLbx7MNL-8UmEE5RMlXVwsWs-Bpuz3K6gXHYc3mhEeneumxUlGyXl4JGukleTxHnRjSWbX1G8WdWrm7xroOCFFyU6zk/s1600-h/The+Ghan+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbz1TvwaZaglOymn-Wc0nP51p4f-0zYt8LhdmWAyTK8nQszvzveLbx7MNL-8UmEE5RMlXVwsWs-Bpuz3K6gXHYc3mhEeneumxUlGyXl4JGukleTxHnRjSWbX1G8WdWrm7xroOCFFyU6zk/s320/The+Ghan+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363798476498902274" /></a><br />The Ghan is the train that runs north to south, bisecting Australia. It such a famous train that people came out to see us depart. We might have felt like movie stars, but we were sitting in Red Class, which entitled us to seats…and not much else. There wasn’t even a lounge or bar car where we could play cards. Fortunately, we met a really nice family from Perth who coordinated with us to turn two sets of seats to face each other. That evening, they shared their lollies and contraband port with us while we all played Yahtzee. I knew Eric couldn’t be right that only my sister and I like that game. <br /><br />During that first day, the train stopped for 5 hours in Katherine, the most depressing sh*thole of a town I’ve ever seen. Now, it didn’t help that it was so hot that we were melting on the sidewalk, but the composition of the town being primarily destitute aborigines didn’t help. You can only see so many shoeless children before feeling quite sad. We retreated to the pub immediately and stayed there until we could reboard the train.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-55667720209388815322009-07-29T01:32:00.000-07:002009-07-29T01:35:34.624-07:00Day 12: Darwin<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCzoEAVZytfKgXMYC3JpK3Zxct8mVVQf_0Zi1Tz79egyI5fkR1EYrlCk7SYzB7ZxcQSx-1tvb-NFu2M8slPvb40NJEVXpm-I5uepl2eI5uFOsQfi85_ocBwpiWgJUPtgGG5xcfVD94Ulg/s1600-h/darwin+restaurant.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCzoEAVZytfKgXMYC3JpK3Zxct8mVVQf_0Zi1Tz79egyI5fkR1EYrlCk7SYzB7ZxcQSx-1tvb-NFu2M8slPvb40NJEVXpm-I5uepl2eI5uFOsQfi85_ocBwpiWgJUPtgGG5xcfVD94Ulg/s320/darwin+restaurant.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363797738936433266" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFu3xV2w0-xlloOT0OjHnWdLndqFFE7MaLGczcoDlrH_kURz1AOFYOP4eTX9KEMaP__mQIqPwqu5zPqvwFY-NYafprMF63jigaTMYBPTvt4pbmCY1B_afNjXeu_TZZZUfNy-9Aw7ITLyA/s1600-h/darwin+pools.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFu3xV2w0-xlloOT0OjHnWdLndqFFE7MaLGczcoDlrH_kURz1AOFYOP4eTX9KEMaP__mQIqPwqu5zPqvwFY-NYafprMF63jigaTMYBPTvt4pbmCY1B_afNjXeu_TZZZUfNy-9Aw7ITLyA/s320/darwin+pools.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363797726901641938" /></a><br />Sadly, Eric had to jump ship at this point and return to work. At least he was on a domestic flight to Sydney, which allowed him to carry on the numerous bottled goodies we had purchased at the distillery. Unfortunately for the rest of us, we were on a flight terminating in Singapore after dropping us in Darwin, requiring some quick baggage shuffling as we were suddenly travelling on an international flight. The only thing we couldn’t squeeze into the pack was the four litre bladder of wine we’d taken out of its box. I decided to try to sneak it through the x-ray scanner – at least the lady seemed to find my attempt amusing. <br /><br />I was more concerned when my name was called over the loudspeaker several minutes later, and I was escorted back through security to the ticketing desk to explain why I had explosives in my checked baggage. Why is it that we immediately feel a mixture of guilt and fear that we’re about to be in a bad movie when these things happen? Apparently, tent poles look much like fireworks through an x-ray machine. Despite the fact that when shown the photo I immediately identified them as tent poles, which seemed reasonable given that they were in a giant hiking backpack, I was asked to unpack the whole thing in front of a crowd.<br /><br />We had thought Cairns was uncomfortably warm, but it had nothing on Darwin. The public swimming area is open and at capacity year-round, because you start to sweat the moment you exit the front door. That night, Angela and I had to take a dip in the hotel pool just to stop sweating before we went to bed. The sea surrounding the Northern Territory, which houses Darwin, is off-limits to smart swimmers due to the presence of man-eating crocodiles. With many Queensland beaches off-limits during parts of the year due to box jellyfish, I was beginning to realise how lucky I was to live in New South Wales where the water is merely cold instead of deadly. <br /><br />Aside from the heat, the other noticeable characteristic of Darwin and the Northern Territory is the presence of aborigines. Most months in Sydney, I won’t see a single aborigine unless I go down to Circular Quay outside the Opera House and see the man who is always playing the didgeridoo. Sadly, most of them do not seem to be very prosperous, mostly hanging out in public parks or outside supermarkets.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-33857910481278623012009-07-29T01:13:00.000-07:002009-07-29T01:31:45.240-07:00Days 9, 10, and 11: CairnsOur first day in Cairns, we rented an eensy-teensy clown car and drove north to Cape Tribulation, where paved roads give way to the jungle. Angela suggested that we attend an exotic fruit lecture, which I rejected as sounding, “f&cking awful.” Youth trumped experience here, and it was actually very interesting. This couple purchased the land without any idea how to use it and then hit on the idea of scouring the globe for exotic fruits they could grow for sale in local markets. He now consults with the UN and other organisations trying to introduce new crops to tropical, third world countries.<br /><br />Along the way to and from Cape Tribulation, we stopped at open air markets, rainforest boardwalks, and scenic beaches. We were even lucky enough to see a family of cassowaries, an endangered bird species that can slice a human jugular with a wicked claw on his foot. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJllVSIY0OS7dSdV98VKCYZ-dTGsYBZCcJbaeF_1Y2iexMkDfqQkLzQBuz6djnc7aT5coQIvb5H9wiYcBUiwpdSz2UgkD4VIZf9NJFUmnHJtQTkUlRvwyd7QX41QnCS6iYMu_uV0ALJAB/s1600-h/Cassowary.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJllVSIY0OS7dSdV98VKCYZ-dTGsYBZCcJbaeF_1Y2iexMkDfqQkLzQBuz6djnc7aT5coQIvb5H9wiYcBUiwpdSz2UgkD4VIZf9NJFUmnHJtQTkUlRvwyd7QX41QnCS6iYMu_uV0ALJAB/s320/Cassowary.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363794748514241714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOr05dresuIh9ypsFQ09QNr5mh5IljaS8Ou7U6JUXW8v4djkPU3emYh1StM2G7cn1j4B3oLvGr1d28WfbPm6Vpc4ShyzXfxC-RKG4zZK2aqn-YrZi0qWC_k59EOvT-wazb6R2A7HoW0q9/s1600-h/Stingers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOr05dresuIh9ypsFQ09QNr5mh5IljaS8Ou7U6JUXW8v4djkPU3emYh1StM2G7cn1j4B3oLvGr1d28WfbPm6Vpc4ShyzXfxC-RKG4zZK2aqn-YrZi0qWC_k59EOvT-wazb6R2A7HoW0q9/s320/Stingers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363796304157000370" /></a><br />The next day, Angela’s birthday, we boarded a catamaran at 8 am for a day trip to the Great Barrier Reef. On two scuba dives we saw giant clams, Nemos, and a baby sea turtle. Sadly, the Reef is dying quickly, and since we were taken to popular tourist spots, we didn’t see many spectacular colours. That night we took Angela out for a meat festival at a Brazilian place in Cairns. Lord, that was a lot of meat. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfC2VWVaS-YeO3q-Gi0JVtVwsWZAd1bIin5GE5SHDYXiOb0OL3653IZPQhw58MMlAlA-LNGq29B5HJl1Jp_4LSSo9OpQCa9BQ7Y86ZjPFlVWhOWCYpd20-cJKFargnn2Gyh3Gw3t9yIUp/s1600-h/Angela+on+Boat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfC2VWVaS-YeO3q-Gi0JVtVwsWZAd1bIin5GE5SHDYXiOb0OL3653IZPQhw58MMlAlA-LNGq29B5HJl1Jp_4LSSo9OpQCa9BQ7Y86ZjPFlVWhOWCYpd20-cJKFargnn2Gyh3Gw3t9yIUp/s320/Angela+on+Boat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363793866750782786" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0JSQ8ridgMoPIEos0ex6MGPfws9LFOIL00tvjQFOSNen_PBwq5PeW_NBr4CquKaLjXA82ik9ekbn7D93D1OzVqwnvn6Kz67vori908gRpsMffatkjsy8EZ5GwXLmTH11frERiLQEai8LL/s1600-h/Swimming.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0JSQ8ridgMoPIEos0ex6MGPfws9LFOIL00tvjQFOSNen_PBwq5PeW_NBr4CquKaLjXA82ik9ekbn7D93D1OzVqwnvn6Kz67vori908gRpsMffatkjsy8EZ5GwXLmTH11frERiLQEai8LL/s320/Swimming.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363793859993621970" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFowHZWxlY4a_mhv1DQJM5Xrby64XxTOAa0EjERwFzj5nupDQOJPJDSk2RDDfPEfzsqusc7qi9NBTscvYxPXHRbb5ydvqpLvadvI5xbnymPPnA88ejnHBXvyCYTqZYxgk6yps2rK0iuTd/s1600-h/Nemo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFowHZWxlY4a_mhv1DQJM5Xrby64XxTOAa0EjERwFzj5nupDQOJPJDSk2RDDfPEfzsqusc7qi9NBTscvYxPXHRbb5ydvqpLvadvI5xbnymPPnA88ejnHBXvyCYTqZYxgk6yps2rK0iuTd/s320/Nemo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363793849309308018" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuuv8IQGYY-O0jNq03pmAsfgGS9MDIeTO4LcvMEbZlGykJ1AehKAQBKN6fZG2qqeOZGezGEx6JEsHiKgXc3RXFbSIzbyIgS-G8x3gt2JY5XFB2f_RA1ycl8L8HFDV3DOLjOx2vwSZDq9i/s1600-h/Coral.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuuv8IQGYY-O0jNq03pmAsfgGS9MDIeTO4LcvMEbZlGykJ1AehKAQBKN6fZG2qqeOZGezGEx6JEsHiKgXc3RXFbSIzbyIgS-G8x3gt2JY5XFB2f_RA1ycl8L8HFDV3DOLjOx2vwSZDq9i/s320/Coral.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363793840184654978" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdFJs1cYSI1XwkAhAlXRqk3i1Oc8aAwVRiDThuk0H0axP0UeGyKFvbMlesbr1jVDx5aoU-W24U6J9d5iZgfD38Tn-811J2_ErLZ5MTnf2z_v1707x7ccNlfa0CcPdnXTx-garMJ_Dz9cd/s1600-h/foursome.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdFJs1cYSI1XwkAhAlXRqk3i1Oc8aAwVRiDThuk0H0axP0UeGyKFvbMlesbr1jVDx5aoU-W24U6J9d5iZgfD38Tn-811J2_ErLZ5MTnf2z_v1707x7ccNlfa0CcPdnXTx-garMJ_Dz9cd/s320/foursome.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363794762893029746" /></a><br />On our last day in Cairns, we rented another clown car and drove south into the mountains. We visited a fruit distillery, which was in a corrugated metal shed but had a friendly host willing to let us taste all of his wares (after which we were all a bit drunk), a biodynamic dairy (we’re still not sure what this means except tasty cheese eaten at a picnic table under their trees), and a number of waterfalls on our way to Paronella Park. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsktazZCfMc7B58xFHDT99WI3kq-Eikya2ejTX0bxugQbQNMTKEpRqK6EK3VVAayGIqmdsVaM0yjIHM138ueZ7QRoRDJoXXJwCL_vPO7G-9ZbXuK8q74Z5JPkcm5rcaN3nVabF5hz6Kkh3/s1600-h/Distillery.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsktazZCfMc7B58xFHDT99WI3kq-Eikya2ejTX0bxugQbQNMTKEpRqK6EK3VVAayGIqmdsVaM0yjIHM138ueZ7QRoRDJoXXJwCL_vPO7G-9ZbXuK8q74Z5JPkcm5rcaN3nVabF5hz6Kkh3/s320/Distillery.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363794754655604002" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfbAgC6rXrliBEp5YdkyBCHayuAeJfSQnmBvq2elyzl_1FXMTsULLbKKy9QrLt13kuPQbiNCUgLelwt0MCBsuulkC6QKHHLf1eEb47S-tByD19x_DF2hkEBS4TMUONXzeqD3u_C9NYH85/s1600-h/Near+Cairns.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfbAgC6rXrliBEp5YdkyBCHayuAeJfSQnmBvq2elyzl_1FXMTsULLbKKy9QrLt13kuPQbiNCUgLelwt0MCBsuulkC6QKHHLf1eEb47S-tByD19x_DF2hkEBS4TMUONXzeqD3u_C9NYH85/s320/Near+Cairns.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363794775224267122" /></a><br /><br />Now, let me just say that Paronella Park has the best marketing I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, it couldn’t quite live up to its hype. Essentially, a quixotic Spaniard dreamed of building a castle and chose to do so in rural Queensland near the sugar plantations where he’d made his fortune. He then opened it up as a recreation centre with pools, tennis courts, and a cinema for the local people. It was lovely, but I was expecting the Taj Majal after reading their brochures. Having driven so far, though, we stayed for both the day and night tours.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN15KzdVOpTZrQIBq_0vB9id7_676RxWd4bbNQS_N7mT4poKEKkWlwV8L_W4OsbDyIcGAgbqUHpcQ75nJ_uAdzNoFgBytTmPyy_sasAJ0r64zym1yIi_i8WYHNdIEzNtbHTDraYtn-o6sT/s1600-h/Paronella+Park.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN15KzdVOpTZrQIBq_0vB9id7_676RxWd4bbNQS_N7mT4poKEKkWlwV8L_W4OsbDyIcGAgbqUHpcQ75nJ_uAdzNoFgBytTmPyy_sasAJ0r64zym1yIi_i8WYHNdIEzNtbHTDraYtn-o6sT/s320/Paronella+Park.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363796291883919138" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkURHvBYx3wLcFGlXe6zygr_uX8t_jzkzN6D0shhPhBZ4hodw-qDWJKSjZb9GAenN0ZV4kgOpt7s7VLKXXzyJd39nN365giVaWkMtBbcZ6sjUbrdFASlpRrskj4TFHTsRwnEqRib1nY0-3/s1600-h/Paronella+Fountain.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkURHvBYx3wLcFGlXe6zygr_uX8t_jzkzN6D0shhPhBZ4hodw-qDWJKSjZb9GAenN0ZV4kgOpt7s7VLKXXzyJd39nN365giVaWkMtBbcZ6sjUbrdFASlpRrskj4TFHTsRwnEqRib1nY0-3/s320/Paronella+Fountain.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363796286978327650" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NWxYUkJMafO2On_DWREuXzbDWy4lUeOdSxGsGKZxFSy8dmxPGFnZJp__zS5gjJpVS8THUw7DiWiAng2-6GI3gCmesWdyTAjmqin2Ss-MxY0KLJIxwqvRyB2eGlUtloOxSjJA2KDYuhKC/s1600-h/Paronella+Park+by+day.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NWxYUkJMafO2On_DWREuXzbDWy4lUeOdSxGsGKZxFSy8dmxPGFnZJp__zS5gjJpVS8THUw7DiWiAng2-6GI3gCmesWdyTAjmqin2Ss-MxY0KLJIxwqvRyB2eGlUtloOxSjJA2KDYuhKC/s320/Paronella+Park+by+day.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363796276171536674" /></a><br />Our last night in Cairns we went to local brewery. Two American Naval ships were in town, and the 4th of July was only a couple of days distant, so the entire place, like much of the town, was draped in American flags. Given how much Australians pick on Eric and I for being American, he found it a little gross that they were pandering so much to the shore leave dollars. I thought it was kind of nice that the sailors felt so welcomed (especially by ladies in very small skirts that we saw on the streets) but could see his point. <br /><br />On another point Eric and I agreed: we were too old for Cairns. It very much had an MTV Spring Break Beach Party feel, which has felt more slimy than electrifying since I was about 19 years old. The hostel where we were staying, like most hostels in the town, gave us vouchers for a free dinner each night at a pub up the road. After our adventures each day, we were generally pushing the 9:30 pm expiration time for our vouchers and the 10 pm start of the cheap beer special, when the place turned into a giant, throbbing meat market. Now, I’m generally told I look young for my age, but even if I could pass for 26, I’d be an old lady in this place. I felt like everyone was staring at me thinking, “Granny go home.” Would have helped if I’d brought underwear that could double as a skirt or skintight pleather pants or something.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-86180219438192724882009-07-29T01:01:00.000-07:002009-07-29T01:03:55.307-07:00Days 7 and 8: The SunlanderMost of day 7 was actually spent re-supplying and hanging out at a nasty bus station waiting for transport to the train. (If you ever think the US has the monopoly on white trash, come to Australia.) The only real highlight was spending 30 minutes in a tiny town called Maryborough, so called because PL Travers, author of Mary Poppins, was born there. Bet you didn’t know she was Australian.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3cb-2302RiZSV0Gxh90kha5ePoqmBnoLAXE572ysT87CiUpXOfd3aYP1vD3vHrTL9i9iJuI4SKw7-aASqx7weSl0-nHfsUwPsP0WbwdlC5YWl0w2i9lniwfCR8lU7JX1JWqmsWU4Uwq6l/s1600-h/Mary+Poppins.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3cb-2302RiZSV0Gxh90kha5ePoqmBnoLAXE572ysT87CiUpXOfd3aYP1vD3vHrTL9i9iJuI4SKw7-aASqx7weSl0-nHfsUwPsP0WbwdlC5YWl0w2i9lniwfCR8lU7JX1JWqmsWU4Uwq6l/s320/Mary+Poppins.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363789552039084146" /></a><br />By the time we boarded the train that evening, we were glad to have a sleeper car and to only to have to interact with humanity in the bar car, where beer was just $5. Almost the entirety of day 8 was spent drinking and playing cards on the train, of which I won’t bore you with any details (which I don’t really recall anyway). At about 8 pm that night, we stepped off in Cairns and experienced hotter, more humid mid-winter weather than we could ever have imagined existed.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-75802828409373646362009-07-29T00:15:00.000-07:002009-07-29T01:01:01.889-07:00Days 4, 5, and 6: Fraser Island<div>We ferried over to the Fraser Island in the rain and proceeded to see all of the renowned sights on the touristy eastern side of the island through the drizzle (they were crap). The main attraction of Fraser Island for most guests is that the entire eastern side of the island is a huge, hard-packed beach on which you can drive, and indeed land airplanes. There’s nothing so disconcerting as seeing signage indicating that your road is also a landing strip.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUUNEHQaOCVrQD-MvRJDtrS1ctVkeqoGjLCsWB9fvw2hBXxwOsEXJo-6T9E0Haoea4AfAQ_aPL1RwMq4OU4C_dlrxG4gxjttPQXWYJgJjTFxwGo5DYiTP9IXY1CWPyLUESUwH-bZtdd1-/s1600-h/Aircraft+Landing+Area.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363780912047877986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUUNEHQaOCVrQD-MvRJDtrS1ctVkeqoGjLCsWB9fvw2hBXxwOsEXJo-6T9E0Haoea4AfAQ_aPL1RwMq4OU4C_dlrxG4gxjttPQXWYJgJjTFxwGo5DYiTP9IXY1CWPyLUESUwH-bZtdd1-/s320/Aircraft+Landing+Area.jpg" /></a><br /><br />By 3 pm, we were done in with the rain and looked in at the K’Gari aboriginal campsite to seek refuge. While the large, open-air huts had been rented out to another group of 6 or 7 Irish boys, they agreed to let us stay with them. Our aboriginal hosts had agreed to demonstrate playing the didgeridoo that evening, but by 9 pm most of us had consumed several litres of wine each and were not musically inclined. Starting drinking at 3 pm may not have been our best idea, but there’s not much to do in a hut in the rain. We did learn that only men are allowed to play the didgeridoo, although there are large plastic tubes that women can play. We were also warned against whistling at night or spitting in the fire, although no further explanation was given.<br /><br />The camp also had a mostly-friendly dingo. Fraser Island is filled with dingos, and there are signs everywhere showing small children being whisked off by packs of dogs.<br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363780933057348898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2guFjOuexA36iWG37QS7dIwwsZESIDuTCx3xPidMdl_pauf36bVCke3Ojbpn1irtcGO2J5R8Fe_dVpluFNTQ7vFsMdkB_SKUNwRnBC-XMDz3tGHXmKWM50a3K5HoC76Hgqnggz9ZvjKLB/s320/Dingo+means+dog.jpg" /><br /><br />Next day we took off to see the forbidden west side of the island. Along the way, we saw lots of scribbler gums. The larvae of this animal are laid inside the tree and eat their way out, creating these weird patterns.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyzkk3NYfRGxEU86uROsKLCl8e6J7QGdUEgomPLpEy5_mk6x8vAxjy3aJKKaq9TARDSzq_uS6w-WN5lnHRl73rgpOvM8CJgEHhjBahmv8uGwLTSATcmf-QG1stQP8apkuR9b6Gs1osq7OJ/s1600-h/scribbler+gum.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyzkk3NYfRGxEU86uROsKLCl8e6J7QGdUEgomPLpEy5_mk6x8vAxjy3aJKKaq9TARDSzq_uS6w-WN5lnHRl73rgpOvM8CJgEHhjBahmv8uGwLTSATcmf-QG1stQP8apkuR9b6Gs1osq7OJ/s320/scribbler+gum.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363788197001104130" /></a><br /><br />The 4WD rental companies only allow their vehicles to be taken on the touristy, eastern beach; because others are more rule-abiding, we had the entire beach to ourselves. We made a picnic lunch and hiked an hour up the snow-white beach past thousands of suicidal sea slugs gasping their last breaths. Back in our campsite was a freshwater river emptying to the sea with a rope swing. As the sunset, we took turns swinging out into the water, swimming down the river a bit, and circling back for another turn. It was just idyllic. That night we drank wine and ate cheese as we watched the sun set over the ocean and then cooked by headlamp on the tailgate.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSuQwsTSH5QQLUBOST4L3nRcqgZq5I87jvA1LCdGUGmCOtlyWzmMwGEbJh_i54M9j2e5xOebVm_ikZ6u6N8wVavJ0g-l4DIO8L6tAxk3xB5Q9x-ZD9iNiGhLgsS59PWdVUszo8pCJLoQpd/s1600-h/Rope+Swing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSuQwsTSH5QQLUBOST4L3nRcqgZq5I87jvA1LCdGUGmCOtlyWzmMwGEbJh_i54M9j2e5xOebVm_ikZ6u6N8wVavJ0g-l4DIO8L6tAxk3xB5Q9x-ZD9iNiGhLgsS59PWdVUszo8pCJLoQpd/s320/Rope+Swing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363787998060710402" /></a><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9MMNlO150TmJMRewRsyh_AbaCAukyLLghxnRZwK5BGkGgHl8QHKoNA7Xd6v8qiw4kx0W4_J37jy75Nkk0fQSzDN7p3nesZIP7rpevwMkvD3Uwl08rUeN-Yx-jbhJ5RX_AxnLI8p3znGo/s1600-h/Mary+and+Eric+on+the+beach.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363782564831138578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9MMNlO150TmJMRewRsyh_AbaCAukyLLghxnRZwK5BGkGgHl8QHKoNA7Xd6v8qiw4kx0W4_J37jy75Nkk0fQSzDN7p3nesZIP7rpevwMkvD3Uwl08rUeN-Yx-jbhJ5RX_AxnLI8p3znGo/s320/Mary+and+Eric+on+the+beach.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_z26u4jyvD-rzPVmJ5obpQEgopIh5xlnz8c2-R3Jdf7-2K-SyFe1veRUmWNlEHgSAZ6aSR-At-NIfUKcoVLgBJ-E6WnICTLeN-DdBqfgMOmkjQTfOBO6n_OD0iPNaR8cUVuPqMmzu533U/s1600-h/Eric+on+the+beach.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363782555432913762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_z26u4jyvD-rzPVmJ5obpQEgopIh5xlnz8c2-R3Jdf7-2K-SyFe1veRUmWNlEHgSAZ6aSR-At-NIfUKcoVLgBJ-E6WnICTLeN-DdBqfgMOmkjQTfOBO6n_OD0iPNaR8cUVuPqMmzu533U/s320/Eric+on+the+beach.jpg" /></a><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 229px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363780945243044706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij9321WSpGT_AEh94JG4U6r7-iEqgNYVs_UoY1c-JVXL7QLCI0ri1GgYeE-ICQ2kofdWkQR-93erNP0DNp5cHME3ULG8fbysvTxRaaIyTe8HOq_nWlH0TyQZdZVT_3ZZGhibhHQNbxGCWG/s320/Dylan+and+Angela+on+the+beach.jpg" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilO0I_u0Vki5hgzOuDeWPZCDarwb00ainoyJLhnwQ1M9brJmFBydiISZkQA43a3zyklcDVWbYyee6Y2b7tjAaoB5zfgj1vvSTN1z-Kes0PoWf1PFHPBxBQxiIlq478REGuUCSLY-XtFnx6/s1600-h/Cooking.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363780927421883122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilO0I_u0Vki5hgzOuDeWPZCDarwb00ainoyJLhnwQ1M9brJmFBydiISZkQA43a3zyklcDVWbYyee6Y2b7tjAaoB5zfgj1vvSTN1z-Kes0PoWf1PFHPBxBQxiIlq478REGuUCSLY-XtFnx6/s320/Cooking.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Our last day on the island, we drove on tracks through the middle, which took us past a number of the freshwater lakes. I should mention that the sea surrounding Fraser Island is so shark infested that you are strongly advised against swimming in it. Hence the popularity of the freshwater lakes! The water in the lakes is so fresh and clear that you can safely drink it.<br /><br />That night, we had been told by our hostel owner in Hervey Bay to camp outside the Kingfisher Bay resort. After a frantic dash to and fro around the resort, Eric and I decided just to get a hotel room. Since we hadn’t showered since Brisbane, it was about time anyway. We were boarding a train for 26 hours the next day, so I’m sure our fellow passengers appreciated our splurge. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-76607359584188254782009-07-29T00:14:00.000-07:002009-07-29T00:40:02.283-07:00Day 3: Tilt Train to Hervey Bay<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2S3r4nTyRO6bVLLVcr-_jBX0uKXSn6X7Mtz-Mx4Up7z9-S-fSUcfimhcBHXPxj5qLiMjhVPkQXo1wGjI7Q_uoWTXjgBEammZq5WmWsHgtz34rzcTgtBbW8UntYdCio5ThcK4G5f4nKyH/s1600-h/Our+Hostel.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363783344567094082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2S3r4nTyRO6bVLLVcr-_jBX0uKXSn6X7Mtz-Mx4Up7z9-S-fSUcfimhcBHXPxj5qLiMjhVPkQXo1wGjI7Q_uoWTXjgBEammZq5WmWsHgtz34rzcTgtBbW8UntYdCio5ThcK4G5f4nKyH/s320/Our+Hostel.jpg" /></a> Our hostel in Hervey Bay </div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="left">The next morning we hiked through the rain to the train station with our giant packs. Unfortunately, we had quite a long walk to the Mango Tourist Hostel on the other end as well. The hostel owner was a riot. He asked us how we planned to travel to Fraser Island and what we intended to do there, interjecting, “That’s unfortunate,” at each step as he told us how we’d gone wrong with our planning. Not sure what he thought we could to correct things at that point. According to him, the best and most economical way to see Fraser Island was by private yacht. Uh, yeah. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-80401979514305719922009-07-28T23:50:00.000-07:002009-07-29T00:47:13.147-07:00Days 1 and 2: BrisbaneWe began our trip in Brisbane, which is about an hour’s flight north of Sydney on the east coast of Australia and is the gateway to tropical Queensland. Although not far from Sydney, Brisbane is often a few degrees warmer and more humid. Brisbane is the capital of the state of Queensland and the third largest city in Australia with a whopping two million people. I hate it. It seems to be rather too crowded for a city of its size. However, it was Angela’s favourite city in Australia. This is only because she hasn’t been to Perth.<br /><br />Like most travellers, we realised just hours after leaving home how many things we had forgotten. Angela needed some flip-flops, or thongs as they are called here (which I still find difficult to say in public). We popped into a surf shop on the main outdoor shopping district, and Angela began her quest for the perfect plastic shoe. Dylan, impatient after a few minutes but not abandoning ship as Eric had already, came up to Angela with a brown pair he had found, slapped them down, exclaimed, “Problem solved!,” turned on his heel, and left. Upon inspection, these were actually the ugliest flip-flops in the store and not even Angela’s size. But the catchphrase of our month-long adventure had been born! Problem solved!<br /><br />On my visit to Brisbane for work about a month earlier, which was over a weekend, I had taken a cruise up the river to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, opened in 1927. The Mirimar, launched in 1934, was originally the only way to get to the sanctuary, and it has made daily trips there since, with occasional breaks to assist with world wars and such. I had learned when I took the boat the first time that she was soon to be retired, and one of the two nights we were in Brisbane was to be one of her final river cruises. The first night of our vacation, we sat on the back deck of the boat downing bottles of red wine and watching the sunset as old-timers reminisced about their times on the boat around us – an auspicious beginning for our trip.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363776472926310242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaANe1r7dkOxo7Fo_2pkVZ4sQLyaE7zyZFl5B_waCiICSJc6E5UvgjBgeBTUXMNEts1qKJx_8dgK855BjTOvvuQRvgyFp3gxTwC-nW5Ndj4LilzpJS6D6nd_Lv-mLIEPY0WRxpxIUG1e8R/s320/Brisbane+skyline.jpg" /><br /><br />We stayed at the Kookaburra Inn, a lovely hostel with lots of outdoor patio furniture where we could gather to consume more wine, play cards, etc. The next day we went to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, where we learned that girls like koalas (cute) and boys like raptors (deadly). At least there was something there for everyone! <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyfv-frEgbNM4_lvI8NOTK5uk5k8Bfu3CccTCjJLA9QWBFmhwwOf-usSfpK4MV9TUnOUF6VSQa842Mc6SOCKiqw98On3Q1gE0anUOQOf1Y7EjM0tFKgI1Vuki0Vke9C-k3y9cFdGkxDtz/s1600-h/Mama+and+Baby+Koala.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363776488064663970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyfv-frEgbNM4_lvI8NOTK5uk5k8Bfu3CccTCjJLA9QWBFmhwwOf-usSfpK4MV9TUnOUF6VSQa842Mc6SOCKiqw98On3Q1gE0anUOQOf1Y7EjM0tFKgI1Vuki0Vke9C-k3y9cFdGkxDtz/s320/Mama+and+Baby+Koala.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZou1yquV0SS5R-7IcJIna7FNeY-1wnJTB1Zfig-F2F1Ig-Psrdr-Kd5vJHXvZgnRkpGJTYGvNvfHz8v9vD-DDBHdzf9YBEI24QZBLtH-Yp2ksGcVyjZ_0cz35CWzPtHlynSm6u2eqhtOj/s1600-h/Hey+mom.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363776485679290818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZou1yquV0SS5R-7IcJIna7FNeY-1wnJTB1Zfig-F2F1Ig-Psrdr-Kd5vJHXvZgnRkpGJTYGvNvfHz8v9vD-DDBHdzf9YBEI24QZBLtH-Yp2ksGcVyjZ_0cz35CWzPtHlynSm6u2eqhtOj/s320/Hey+mom.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-E5Jr7rk09Cr-r7JVxy4SLFivB5xuLIK0FZyonQHNLzwMJWdNR2dCEfDjXKcF8Zy4MF0iBC8wr-AiY-tpYqwOFUL7BecJEpA2f8HqRWxOz-y2jSf9hc0Qv4lxzuqLORQHehn06swBdbP/s1600-h/Eric+and+Licky+Roo.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363776479778762786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-E5Jr7rk09Cr-r7JVxy4SLFivB5xuLIK0FZyonQHNLzwMJWdNR2dCEfDjXKcF8Zy4MF0iBC8wr-AiY-tpYqwOFUL7BecJEpA2f8HqRWxOz-y2jSf9hc0Qv4lxzuqLORQHehn06swBdbP/s320/Eric+and+Licky+Roo.jpg" /></a><br /><br />That night, I tried to find my way back to The Valley, where my colleague had taken me on my previous visit for my birthday dinner. Instead, I managed to drag us into the sex district, which was interesting but considerably less appetising. Clearly, it was time to leave Brisbane.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-31118436451119210972009-04-18T17:44:00.000-07:002009-04-18T18:12:44.843-07:00Easter<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitO8tksJ3HA7ID_jsZZwj38dDs9hU0obpOL7FYKVQ8sVWdKjvcUUBm3G1xP8OSuam6PB2j-trueCH4k01yR_MbL956YXO1qw00jv8jc1pssbucy6tzoKkuDrv4D4R0FJLOwuJ6cqGR-9Vk/s1600-h/pink+piggies.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326199790122350738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitO8tksJ3HA7ID_jsZZwj38dDs9hU0obpOL7FYKVQ8sVWdKjvcUUBm3G1xP8OSuam6PB2j-trueCH4k01yR_MbL956YXO1qw00jv8jc1pssbucy6tzoKkuDrv4D4R0FJLOwuJ6cqGR-9Vk/s320/pink+piggies.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyfYqiJn2zE7AA5PRIzq-1_ye1EiSFEIyXmC7bRA88cAO8BvBWB4K0Ar60Gm0_MOVyyl4KMSZdC_mxAxDQdRjNaczjoTtAQ9VToWmvGrxDLPyUrZ7jqxo_ZUhHdXiWvrrcnLGicblpUC0/s1600-h/one+pink+piggy.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326199786551159298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyfYqiJn2zE7AA5PRIzq-1_ye1EiSFEIyXmC7bRA88cAO8BvBWB4K0Ar60Gm0_MOVyyl4KMSZdC_mxAxDQdRjNaczjoTtAQ9VToWmvGrxDLPyUrZ7jqxo_ZUhHdXiWvrrcnLGicblpUC0/s320/one+pink+piggy.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZA4Ze1OR7vHsafBWa-c5StjEdtZp22CU4D83xQQanpPzyoeiq-eGMyk9xMUO3GFtcrz5qHxGcAwJkGIuuAgCPDy5KrEgG14w02Vv1lx11iImtGl8QDnVzfw9lp5OvbJ52hpAd5sJOmztZ/s1600-h/Mama+pig+and+babies.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326199780844479730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZA4Ze1OR7vHsafBWa-c5StjEdtZp22CU4D83xQQanpPzyoeiq-eGMyk9xMUO3GFtcrz5qHxGcAwJkGIuuAgCPDy5KrEgG14w02Vv1lx11iImtGl8QDnVzfw9lp5OvbJ52hpAd5sJOmztZ/s320/Mama+pig+and+babies.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicq2iOuWghsrOM40gksASWBF3m5UqvVlgYrSG0nbIbTlx5WaAsIEO1W4TM2ay7VirgU-ccaaOkdhQL-vjpsxxrb73wFeq60WSYGtCuirBbZTAS1LpVzBtx4eyponhWjdlYjhD2p8xqhdo/s1600-h/Mary+and+baby+cow.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326199776205797858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicq2iOuWghsrOM40gksASWBF3m5UqvVlgYrSG0nbIbTlx5WaAsIEO1W4TM2ay7VirgU-ccaaOkdhQL-vjpsxxrb73wFeq60WSYGtCuirBbZTAS1LpVzBtx4eyponhWjdlYjhD2p8xqhdo/s320/Mary+and+baby+cow.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Easter here is a four-day weekend, which is good given that Eric and I have both been putting in 12+ hour days at work for the past several weeks. In Australia, public holidays are taken very seriously. Even the grocery stores aren't open. Even the bottle shops aren't open! Nothing to do but go surfing. While Friday was my worst surfing day EVER, to the point that I decided I should just sell the damn board and my wetuits, Easter Sunday was AMAZING. Eric has finally moved up to a shortboard, which he bought at our local auction house and repaired, so I inherited his much nicer, longer board. My board before was basically a mass-produced piece of crap from China that weighed about as much as I do. The surf was pretty small but I was catching waves and even beginning to travel down the wave a little bit instead of riding straight toward the shore. I think surfing must be one of the most frustrating sports to learn, but it really is elating when it goes well.</div><br /><div></div><div>On Easter Monday I went to the Royal Sydney Easter Show. Don't let the word "royal" fool you; it was basically a bogan (white trash) state fair type event. I was disappointed that I couldn't get a view of the racing and diving pigs or the sheep shearing, but I did get to pet some cute animals. I love the sleeping piglets in the picture above; they were part of the "pat a pig" exhibit and were clearly left exhausted by their work.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326201657354573090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 99px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikt6RFJlEU0mn13xiyqYqeRFQhkVl-hTxJ7X2tW4LXqivuUz_uRukgLtRHc-bsKlOPde95Tec2m06e-vJmvai6Jb_MLVc4zYQoiILuSxpS1dxzA-MWf2kWjRDsfsop8Nf5BsUSsl0qA8dP/s320/Watson's+Bay.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326201659262512914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOH2L3IMeNENfZpvM5QucdL5fiwUFAjqjyV_O5ArzpAwL1U5HEuQu6UtHHkYWpsbjYimTopUIXIJitXg99EZ3fpssIeOEolNz9h58b_Lk8pB4_MOhTJ-J_8XuBCMJiaDBy551enmbtmRPZ/s320/South+Head.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326200895368813554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 135px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8k25RpV9_9on2JElVXjBaN36R_Y3JBxLsrXNcQdZP3Isl9-Zn0vz3Het6hvDoe9iyiJ9qPzPHu7WUCihe_RMUKzfhefl8Ci4kaswV3cATQbe2Zp7ENE5YwHTiUNkqj1DXUAohczIxDP-L/s320/180px-WatsonsBay0131.jpg" border="0" />Yesterday, I took the ferry over to Watson's Bay to meet friends for a hike to South Head (picture above) and fish and chips by the harbour. Then we went over to the Surry Hills festival. Rough day. I love the fact that public transport regularly involves ferries here. It's always beautiful on the harbour, and it's the cheapest way to spend some time on the harbour. If you look at this <a href="http://maps.google.com.au/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=sydney,+nsw&sll=-25.335448,135.745076&sspn=36.525069,56.25&ie=UTF8&ll=-33.863716,151.240025&spn=0.066424,0.109863&z=13">map</a>, you'll see why we have so many ferries in Sydney! Eric and I live in the bottom left corner of this map, and I work in Circular Quay, which is where the Opera House is located. </div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-63473638330998868772009-02-24T12:38:00.001-08:002009-02-25T12:42:38.946-08:00Sydney weekendFriday night, we met up with friends at our favourite neighbourhood pizza place. The weird pizzas here are finally growing on me. Australians don't feel constrained by our traditional American pizza toppings. You can (and should) try a tandoori chicken pizza. The place appears to be run by actual Italians, so I certainly wouldn't question their judgement. (FYI - judgement is spelled with that extra "e" here, the way it should be) Across the street from our pizza joint is a bottle shop, so we can run over and buy fresh beers as needed. The pizza place, like most restaurants, is BYO. They'll even provide glasses and a bottle opener. After stuffing ourselves with pizza, we walked up the street to Sydney Park and hiked up the highest hill in the city that offers an amazing view. I should state that I jog up this hill regularly, so it's not THAT high. Sydney is just really flat.<br /><br /><br />On Saturday Eric went sailing as usual, so I set off into the city. I hit the (free) Art Gallery of NSW first, arriving at the same time as a bus of Asian tourists. I'll never understand the compulsion to take a picture of every piece of art in the museum. As I was texting Eric about how ridiculous it was, a nice Asian girl asked me to take her picture. She was standing against the wall with a giant grin, and I asked her whether she was hoping for her picture with the large painting to the right or the four small paintings to the left. She didn't care; it was obviously all about the art. Not that my purposes for visiting the museum were all that high-minded. Secretly, I was there to finally purchase the bracelet I've been lusting after since we had girls' night at the Monet exhibit. (Check out Zoe Bonbon, the French jewlery maker: <a href="http://www.zoebonbon.com/beads_bracelet/bracelets_boules_paillettes-c-10_38.html?osCsid=1bd8e0f0ac07e539d7d98c204a78f65c">http://www.zoebonbon.com/beads_bracelet/bracelets_boules_paillettes-c-10_38.html?osCsid=1bd8e0f0ac07e539d7d98c204a78f65c</a> I got one in bright orange!)<br /><br /><br /><br />From there, I moved on to the (free) State Library of NSW to see the Bondi Jitterbug exhibit before it closed. Check out the really cool pictures of people doing bizarre things at Bondi beach back in the 1930's: <a href="http://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/events/exhibitions/2008/jitterbug/index.html">http://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/events/exhibitions/2008/jitterbug/index.html</a>. The exhibit included movies of the surf life saving clubs wearing their crazy beanies doing maneuvers on the beach and people surfing on giant wooden boards.<br /><br /><br /><br />After a nice chicken pannini and a flat white at a cafe, I spent an hour wandering around the Rocks Markets. Each weekend, open air markets are open in neighbourhoods all over Sydney. The Rocks area is the original Sydney settlement and a short walk around Circular Quay from the Opera House, so it's a bit touristy, particularly when a cruise ship is docked in Circular Quay (which is most of the time in summer).<br /><br /><br />Next, I treated myself to a movie in the nice cinema at Circular Quay. It's amazing that you can actually get used to paying $15 to see a matinee. I saw The Reader, which was sufficiently depressing to lead me to wander around the Botanic Gardens in the drizzle for an hour. Even in the nasty weather, there was a wedding every 65 feet. You couldn't throw a rock without hitting a bride. All of the bats in the park were getting ready for the evening, stretching their wings to try to dry them before setting off. Pretty cute.<br /><br />Sunday, Eric and I drove down the coast until we found a beach with decent surf. I'm trying to legitimately catch waves instead of just riding the whitewash, and it's really frustrating. Waves go so much faster when you catch them at the top, and I can't seem to pop up to standing when my board is moving Mach 5.<br /><br />We had time for a quick shower and a bite to eat when we got home from the beach before heading to The Domain for Tropfest, the largest short film festival in the world. We brought a couple of bottles of wine and met up with friends who told us that the event typically attracts about 100,000 people. It was a lovely evening to lay on a blanket in the park, and some of the shorts were really good.<br /><br />It's amazing how a really active weekend like this one leaves you feeling more replenished sometimes than laying about.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-22278424825970625532009-02-12T12:42:00.001-08:002009-02-12T12:53:32.244-08:00Surfboard repair<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQsEzP_jtJYcajq9VaAzSLimWg3vaXOblD2i_czsQwO46zPkNjRvl4Z5QW_qFjMCz7WsHE5DceHoBD_oEUGZts1aZKp5gP6xmgeTryPcg9qxR-9AqytotYK_5gbXbmtQ5qvRMIBxadGa-8/s1600-h/David+working+on+Deb%27s+Kayak+01.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302014740875044530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQsEzP_jtJYcajq9VaAzSLimWg3vaXOblD2i_czsQwO46zPkNjRvl4Z5QW_qFjMCz7WsHE5DceHoBD_oEUGZts1aZKp5gP6xmgeTryPcg9qxR-9AqytotYK_5gbXbmtQ5qvRMIBxadGa-8/s320/David+working+on+Deb%27s+Kayak+01.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0B5KBpqk2Wvea2l4qlfr5W_LRJ_O8s2exJMdMWziiBbznaaVXX80rKuUBpcX3Qkl8XCEofaQaqooEpA4LA24Edx2F88jfU5JO3LJSiH1QsgTFGWPfYJ5trs4mj2ZruoA02121pe0f15Jk/s1600-h/David+%26+Eric+working+on+Deb%27s+Kayak+01.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302014728330484482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0B5KBpqk2Wvea2l4qlfr5W_LRJ_O8s2exJMdMWziiBbznaaVXX80rKuUBpcX3Qkl8XCEofaQaqooEpA4LA24Edx2F88jfU5JO3LJSiH1QsgTFGWPfYJ5trs4mj2ZruoA02121pe0f15Jk/s320/David+%26+Eric+working+on+Deb%27s+Kayak+01.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHId51LYAjI1lwMvAbzY3ya268sm-xLGTWDBBkx34v8DP0geQnUR9fki5PBIyn-rRc-ufhWfsXQG0zXp93pqhfsagQfvDTvMt0zXdPb0ycj85Ym-3y-g_NE20TC0Yq0sU6QaBcwMmItOr/s1600-h/surfboard+repair.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302014724067905938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHId51LYAjI1lwMvAbzY3ya268sm-xLGTWDBBkx34v8DP0geQnUR9fki5PBIyn-rRc-ufhWfsXQG0zXp93pqhfsagQfvDTvMt0zXdPb0ycj85Ym-3y-g_NE20TC0Yq0sU6QaBcwMmItOr/s320/surfboard+repair.jpg" border="0" /></a> Tuesday night I met Eric down in Cronulla for our regular after-work surf. However, we were getting a little taste of winter after two weeks of the hottest weather we've seen in Sydney. It was really windy, freezing, and raining, and the waves were huge. Eric found us a little cove that was a bit more protected, and we decided to give it a go. Eric and I both took off on the first wave and COLLIDED. We untangled ourselves and continued surfing for about 30 minutes until I was exhausted with getting tumbled. It was just too rough. There were some nice serene moments in the interim, though, staring out to sea through the rain. Getting the crap beat out of me in the rain still looks good compared to work. Anyway, when we got back to the car, we started examining the damage we'd done to each other. It was extensive! At least we did it to each other and not some Bra Boy. To make a short story much longer than it needed to be, Eric wanted me to be sure I let Dad know that the kayak repair skills he taught Eric in Minneapolis are coming in handy -- turns out surfboard repair is pretty similar!</div><div> </div><div>Wednesday I had to fly down to Melbourne for work. The fires have been all over the news, but I didn't realise just how close to the city they are. I didn't see any smoke until we were well into our descent. The client I was meeting with has lived in Melbourne her entire life and was talking about how each place we hear about on the news is somewhere she and her family have memories. Her partner owns a holiday home in that area, and he's been allowing displaced people to stay there. On the flight home, the flight attendants were collecting donations for the families who've lost their homes, which the airline was matching. That's pretty amazing in these tough financial times.<br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-55550117300968837962009-02-09T13:19:00.001-08:002009-02-09T13:19:57.716-08:00Random notesI’ve thought of it many times but kept forgetting to share this on the blog. For the Obama inauguration, our Irish Chairman sponsored breakfast for everyone who wanted to come in and watch the events on our projector in the boardroom. Over half of the office turned up, and I don’t think it was just for the Egg Mc Muffins! The amazing thing is that we couldn’t have had an event like that in our office in Minneapolis. In fact, all of the political discussions that went on in the office throughout the US election would have been banned under HR guidelines in the US. Outside of our office, Obama-mania was every bit as pervasive. From the election to the inauguration, Obama’s face was on the front page more times than I can count, and you heard people talking about him in the street everywhere you went. You still see lots of Obama bumper stickers, t-shirts, and posters, and a house near us prints out his speeches and pastes them to the side of their house.<br /><br />On another random note, we read in all of the books before we came about Australians’ tendency to shorten words, but we didn’t realise how often that crept into daily speech. A few examples that we hear all the time:<br /><br />Mc Donald’s = Maccers<br />Hols = holidays<br />Brekky = breakfast<br />Sunnies = sunglasses<br />Arvo = afternoon<br />Convo = conversation<br />Salvos = Salvation Army<br />Doco = document<br />Ute = SUV<br />Milko = milkman<br />Postie = postman<br />Fireie = fireman<br /><br />One of my coworkers, whose last name is Chaplin, is known as Chapo to all of his friends. <br /><br />Since I love all that is “cute,” I find all of this quite endearing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-63836646716804478902009-01-26T00:15:00.001-08:002009-01-30T19:15:47.355-08:00We had a 3-day weekend and you didn't: Australia DayThis weekend was our first Australia Day weekend. For a little background, I turned to Wikipedia:<br /><br />Australia Dayis the official <a title="National Day" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Day">national day</a> of <a title="Australia" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australia">Australia</a>. Celebrated annually on 26 January, the day commemorates the arrival of the <a title="First Fleet" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Fleet">First Fleet</a> in 1788, the unfurling of the British flag at Sydney Cove and the proclamation of British sovereignty over the eastern seaboard of Australia. There have been significant protests from the <a class="mw-redirect" title="Indigenous Australian" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indigenous_Australian">Indigenous Australian</a> community. Many Indigenous Australians see Australia Day as a celebration of the destruction of Indigenous culture by British colonialism. Since 1988, "Invasion Day" protests have been held supporting this view.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Fascinating - and we thought it was just an excuse not to go to work!<br /><br /><br /><br />Friday night, Eric and I went to one of his co-worker's birthday celebration at a local pub. While no one can really explain why, schnitzel is on the menu at just about every restaurant in Sydney. Schnitzel, by the way, is basically just meat beat until it is very flat, breaded, and fried. This pub was famous for its large schnitzel portions, so Eric and I decided to have a go at the cheesy schnitzel. I wanted to have Eric hold his hand next to the schnitzel in the picture below for reference, but he was already sufficiently embarassed that I was photographing our dinner. I believe the cheesy chicken schnitzel below actually served as six meals by the time all was said and done. At $18, this is the best value in Sydney. I think there's a reason that Australia has just overtaken the US as the fattest country in the world, although the Australians still like to make fun of fat Americans and our gargantuan meal sizes. <div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295514453711553938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxWc-rB9WOc78XS0xdxDbzMKp8Je_YqJHC5o3a0SzD_rI2Cj1fyGJZjwdu2lk-jOmwMSWf0k_Ux3lOQSMH7nKVQuw8b_xXXZl__DO6Lfzy2MQzVUOdrHnVADklDWOeLd1WFeVVe3wod3J/s320/Giant+Schnitzel.jpg" border="0" />Saturday morning, Eric and I drove the 3.5 hours to Canberra, a really lovely drive through the countryside. Amazingly, we only saw a couple of dead kangaroos. After arriving, we visited the National Australia Museum and then went to the National Film and Sound Archives for a movie in their courtyard under the stars. The courtyard was filled with fresh lavendar, we had really comfy deck chairs, and the bar supplied us with wine and cheese -- it was devine. </div><div></div><div> </div><div>Sunday we visited the markets in the old bus terminal, where I bought a sweater made from leftover yarn in cotton factories for $40 (second best value in Australia). Then we went to the visiting Degas exhibit at the National Gallery, which was about 1,000X better than the visiting Monet exhibit I saw at the art museum here in Sydney. For $18, the Monet exhibit in Sydney had two small rooms of paintinings. For $20, the National Gallery had a full-size Degas exhibit. To be clear, all of the museums themselves are free; the only fees are for the special exhibits. This is really nice because it allows you to pop in for an hour without feeling guilty if you don't see the entire museum. Following that, we visited the Old Parliament House and the National Portrait Gallery, but our brains were a little too full from all of the learning. I did learn, though, that Kevin Rudd's ancestors were both convicts who came over with the First Fleet. His great-great-great-great grandmother (or whatever) was convicted of some crime so heinous at age 10 that she was sentenced to death. At the last minute, her sentence was commuted to deportation to Australia, which was pretty much seen as the same thing.<br /></div><div>Clearly it was time for beer, so we moved on to the lawn of the New Parliament House for the Australia Day Live festival. Canberra is a very small city, but almost 30,000 people turned out to demonstrate their patriotism and love of bad pop music played live. Before the music, though, K-Rudd was onhand to present the Australian of the Year Awards: Young Australian of the Year, Senior Australian of the Year, and just plain ol' Australian of the Year. It was kind of surreal to realise that the head of state was up on the stage at what was essentially a holiday celebration in the middle of nowhere. It's surprising how much access Australians have to their Prime Minister. He's on the news all the time taking unscripted, pointed questions, and apparently he walks around Canberra every morning and allows people to come up and chat with him. I got within about 30 feet of him to take the picture below. Behind him you can see my favourite newscaster, who made fun of the Pope's shoes on live television.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295514445930633698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4rk_ELC8CcJ-YoptN4j31-IwgxB90UZ7KmlYbZpP0755i_V9KnCWI6sygPnuz0HcNy8jBF9cSl-id_i9hdqUvYIAzgBp93gxh5D1xmpga-HHVftKMgPYBhzAFo70yPj1Rdb9cu7Je1gN/s320/3+Aussie+Amigos.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295514446834164578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HsGflqNN3SJn4ayOoPasnG_-MfMpBdYMdOU-4h2HxBA6euadwmyEFcR54wmNUCHxUcto-teOmTzkEXyHiu_HL7vnKPAaJ-0vM81i9kmuY-zGTXx_Th1aR9hrngd8djSpErEs1dZTil2t/s320/Aus+Day+Live+Crowd.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295514452272340530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 195px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpjlTWq6LEVe4BkR5efexewwx4RmAEqL5dXmktnK-QGHb2BoINbNIZ_GAkce72AGEHbB2xiOlufdF1uHFPUFOYpHITQPRMXg2LkO6WWbtwR2aa45_v9CDFUVhrcWHW1t0TTmjcFbOGqGr/s320/KRudd.jpg" border="0" /><br />On Monday, which was actually Australia Day, Eric and I hit the War Memorial before driving back to Sydney. The memorial itself is quite impressive, as is the museum housed within the memorial, and the view is one of the best in Canberra. In the bottom picture, you can see down the Mall to the Old and New Parliament Houses. The Old Parliament House is the white building in front, while the New Parliament House and it's weird metal arch sits just behind it. The little bit of water that you see between the War Memorial and the Parliament Houses is an arm of Lake Burley-Griffin, the lake around which much of downtown Canberra is built. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295514827382554738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIgEv0lR1GFdvBjoxNElaxuxVj3SxMlnA8rEuzd_VjdIAyP41xkTYMjjOzvEk5GioDZB32bM30FjUfm-BeWYLCNBbnFuj8qeOmozpFkGCDD_nTiUg52eMEwM5vB0c7LwZ2ImsgzKFmV0n/s320/War+Memorial+2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295514831274772210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfOlburiGuRdbHGKrE879fdz9KMlezXKwPL10hFzUaW2Mj_GSPurrwGEbQHckUrvaltygjdhSuG0xW2_1iRt_6V_MDTeA3R382qTjKtNJDJmDeWHOex6Teh3gzxV5kGKy6_RZ3S3p6_pp/s320/War+Memorial.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295514821994761522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 294px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHvul8P_xZLEo1d2da7XfwSm94dZ00q4UodR2pIW92umeR0YiLhpE2LwfBYvAdZ_kFIFvsH5lRgyGic956u9rOU6E7K0p-4hAFIEpytNT4ZS1hqz4JFtM8416K0Vj0EDcIgkzyQvIvEpqd/s320/Parliament+from+War+Memorial.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-24171291589668868922009-01-15T02:47:00.000-08:002009-01-15T03:08:53.806-08:00Eric's pictures from Seven Mile Beach/Jervis Bay<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJgbn5ofW5tlbpnNkqcxC4EzTPfz42-LkC5BfoVKruQPQm_n3EQvp9SdgJHlGmaVh78bOBSgqv_GgB3R-s1LAbf_NZ8Vm6aeMK9vj0MLNTG3RbHrQtfsVT74yHFevhKfyrEX5XZwy7jAe/s1600-h/Mary+and+Eric.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291475505269425362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJgbn5ofW5tlbpnNkqcxC4EzTPfz42-LkC5BfoVKruQPQm_n3EQvp9SdgJHlGmaVh78bOBSgqv_GgB3R-s1LAbf_NZ8Vm6aeMK9vj0MLNTG3RbHrQtfsVT74yHFevhKfyrEX5XZwy7jAe/s320/Mary+and+Eric.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kNq-_uYs2_v6p1vqtoKAgzQbhqtCW5tPwt8wF6QWOY9X_cocqYbjGaTYieZPKwoWGsY63ULi4vns3n9pCeZsHnISzBEs-Bmiq-QqfgOTeBBnVJ5bk5mGaz_jY77Bd08BjVvbeTqnDCUn/s1600-h/10012009(004).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291475148961314162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kNq-_uYs2_v6p1vqtoKAgzQbhqtCW5tPwt8wF6QWOY9X_cocqYbjGaTYieZPKwoWGsY63ULi4vns3n9pCeZsHnISzBEs-Bmiq-QqfgOTeBBnVJ5bk5mGaz_jY77Bd08BjVvbeTqnDCUn/s320/10012009(004).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZnCHDQIPZ2oGI_RTFs526FdAcGP90FYGMnOeZvVhEdf_KCkqUy6e_7yUfVuzJxwA9Nwozm3eX05XwdKIpKwJ3rafMgyTxO7gEX42aAG7Yl8avcgnipTdM5WlQS_WDPaZ75Y7fkNj8w8X/s1600-h/More+Sun+on+Water.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291475141418285474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZnCHDQIPZ2oGI_RTFs526FdAcGP90FYGMnOeZvVhEdf_KCkqUy6e_7yUfVuzJxwA9Nwozm3eX05XwdKIpKwJ3rafMgyTxO7gEX42aAG7Yl8avcgnipTdM5WlQS_WDPaZ75Y7fkNj8w8X/s320/More+Sun+on+Water.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOzsyjUaMvwSrhhYSRNtVpUsVQuOsWBicYPX9SH65Otnjgz3E8GWXMq6QaXc2HIxjgbIWvWzPG_PqILXhLVbsXE7cxvtpfdawgoJ2Evfoxqt2j4SjQERMzUEEYUGPWNmuRh1ZKzKs2hAr/s1600-h/Green+coast.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291475144415971938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOzsyjUaMvwSrhhYSRNtVpUsVQuOsWBicYPX9SH65Otnjgz3E8GWXMq6QaXc2HIxjgbIWvWzPG_PqILXhLVbsXE7cxvtpfdawgoJ2Evfoxqt2j4SjQERMzUEEYUGPWNmuRh1ZKzKs2hAr/s320/Green+coast.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgocLalQve5xA26MNdzTQRK-4LywEMMrspYR6DYDQET43Sl1-0owSJT4rdwX1p4Q0_8rAo4LppC9a-6u1bjeECbx_ma2q2yfyRLiwV81uU4_ti5IEYcgJuJeKamOD4L52K1g5NjugYlYu50/s1600-h/Beach.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291475135568137090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgocLalQve5xA26MNdzTQRK-4LywEMMrspYR6DYDQET43Sl1-0owSJT4rdwX1p4Q0_8rAo4LppC9a-6u1bjeECbx_ma2q2yfyRLiwV81uU4_ti5IEYcgJuJeKamOD4L52K1g5NjugYlYu50/s320/Beach.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Yeah, it sucks here. No idea why anyone would ever come visit us...Seriously guys, the American dollar is kicking ass over here -- buy a ticket!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-61639884523423098102009-01-10T23:35:00.000-08:002009-01-12T23:21:58.265-08:00Seven Mile Beach and Jervis Bay<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEwhM5xrU3USmfkLQkAtyvDSYvCiOBlDzawXTFxAOviJ4vk4p07Ab91f8GdwFeMmemOLP0MsgCl6k1z_gtLh6_Shs2_H-3XBDQGR5o2pVML2JWmMkSKTQJpxqLt6DoWrO2lLo4gnGJGB7/s1600-h/Campsite.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289937203768935586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEwhM5xrU3USmfkLQkAtyvDSYvCiOBlDzawXTFxAOviJ4vk4p07Ab91f8GdwFeMmemOLP0MsgCl6k1z_gtLh6_Shs2_H-3XBDQGR5o2pVML2JWmMkSKTQJpxqLt6DoWrO2lLo4gnGJGB7/s320/Campsite.jpg" border="0" /></a>Eric and I drove the two hours down the coast to Seven Mile Beach Friday afternoon after work. While we've come to expect less than a return to nature from our Australian camping experiences, the campsite above was still a little disappointing. Little did we know that the ambience would be enhanced after dark by the psychotic lady in the cabin across the road parking her car in our "campsite," leaving her sun-like porch light on all night, and shrilly screaming about what a loser her husband was until 3 am. At daylight, Eric and I wearily took down the tent and vowed never to return, despite the fact that we had already paid $85 to utilise this patch of grass next to the road for two nights.<br /><br />We made an attempt at surfing in what were some of the largest waves we've been out in before the little energy we'd stored in the three hours of sleep we'd gotten ran out. We decided to drive a little further down the coast to Jervis Bay, find a nice park, and pass out. Ideally, we hoped we'd find a beach that didn't look too patrolled where we could ignore the "No Camping" signs and throw up our tent after dark that evening.<br /><br />We paid our $10 to get into the Jervis Bay National Park and spent the afternoon taking little dirt roads to isolated beaches. On one little trail, Eric spotted an echidna, a cousin of the platypus that is the only other mammal to lay eggs. Imagine a porcupine with a platypus beak (<a href="http://www.giftlog.com/pictures/echidna_pictures.htm">http://www.giftlog.com/pictures/echidna_pictures.htm</a>). He was totally oblivious to us as he rustled under the leaves with his little beak looking for something tasty to eat. <br /><br />It was all very lovely, but my eyes were getting bleary from sleep deprivation by the time we reached an aboriginal village at the end of one road in the park. While the US government pulled a bait and switch, relocating the Native Americans to land that couldn't sustain much more than a family of lizards, the aboriginees have been given some of the land where they actually lived for thousands of years. We set up our tent in a big tree-covered field overlooking the ocean, and I vowed never to leave. However, we noticed as the afternoon waned that all of the non-aboriginees were packing up their gear and heading home, and the aboriginees themselves were giving us some funny looks. <br /><br />I was too afraid to ask whether we could stay because I was horrified to think we would have to leave this fantasy place, but fortunately Eric was braver. He went over to a family's campsite and asked the man whether people were allowed to stay here. The man told him that only people from the aboriginal village, like his wife, were allowed to stay overnight. Eric and I started to pack our things to go when his wife ran over and told us that it was very respectful to have asked, and they'd be happy if we stayed as their guests. I was so relieved not to have to leave and scavenge for another place to stay that I did a little happy dance. <br /><br />Well rested, we began to explore the area in the few hours before dark. There was a trail through the woods that lead down to a large beach of dead coral where we watched crabs and other mysterious sea creatures scurry about as the tide came in. A man who was fishing with his daughter called us over to see a giant ray that was sculling along the rocky shore looking for abandoned bait. He was gliding along so gracefully, but the little girl kind of spoiled it by musing that perhaps this was the ray who killed Steve Irwin. Later, this little girl and I were discussing a dead kangaroo a little ways up the beach when she hypothesised that the poor roo had also met his fate at the "hands" of the ray. I was glad we were staying up on top of a cliff as there was clearly a killer ray on the loose!<br /><br />Our explorations complete, Eric and I spent the evening sipping beer and reading our books, watching the sun set over the ocean. The weather was fine, so we didn't even put on the rain fly. It's probably the happiest I've been since we've come to Australia. Given how the day began, it was certainly a surprise.<br /><br />In the morning, we went to thank the lady for allowing us to stay. We chatted for a while, and I was struck by the fact that we share a lot of personal information with a lot of people before ever sharing our names. Is this because a) our names, as identifying information, are really precious and we tend to guard them, b) we think it sounds presumptuous to share our names, like we're starting a lifelong friendship, or c) we're just so caught up with trying to make conversation with strangers that we forget?<br /><br />Anyway, we tried battling the surf again, but I was bested by the waves. When the surf is small, as long as you can catch a wave, it's pretty easy to manipulate. When the surf is big, there's a pretty good chance the waves are going to catch you against your will and show you who's boss. I guess some days are just better than others...and this is why people who have been surfing for years still don't consider themselves "good." <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LgW6TH7jzc9E2zTqViv0gzqaaCpj34HtdayPB6JuuFGbxGsy3GeaACaoLSFZtabejxkvxKAbvfCxpCelWcdQKadXCg5JyY1lAT3kDloHid_gLok_jL2wfhNKLI7qZ6qu02SVTJqSWxAx/s1600-h/Jervis+Bay+Cliff+View.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289937201568835026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LgW6TH7jzc9E2zTqViv0gzqaaCpj34HtdayPB6JuuFGbxGsy3GeaACaoLSFZtabejxkvxKAbvfCxpCelWcdQKadXCg5JyY1lAT3kDloHid_gLok_jL2wfhNKLI7qZ6qu02SVTJqSWxAx/s320/Jervis+Bay+Cliff+View.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0JFJd9Q-OD0Pe6wuVf3YFe68ReA9rUpBydQp_p4Q8HDsW7GyJceHS3OFplQeC44mgVikZ5TcWVxfS2TkqzOpOP6bbEwiwpQIQFhh0JtS2xlk4VQwC4qvIEOcc2QjRjkZjQf6lGrnVZga/s1600-h/Jervis+Bay+Coast.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289937199051571666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0JFJd9Q-OD0Pe6wuVf3YFe68ReA9rUpBydQp_p4Q8HDsW7GyJceHS3OFplQeC44mgVikZ5TcWVxfS2TkqzOpOP6bbEwiwpQIQFhh0JtS2xlk4VQwC4qvIEOcc2QjRjkZjQf6lGrnVZga/s320/Jervis+Bay+Coast.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJErajBGbnDkjy2VBZHbvD7V6VtCQai_9A7xo_xP_i4eGXdieWkYMP-pCIqvsTKEB3LOHr29uR_JHbTPVywwunVR1brSLl-QrCKeWa0HQWux8lkrXmwiYqJCQvbWXsxC5miXAaH7Kfb5u/s1600-h/Lighthouse.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289937194618791202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJErajBGbnDkjy2VBZHbvD7V6VtCQai_9A7xo_xP_i4eGXdieWkYMP-pCIqvsTKEB3LOHr29uR_JHbTPVywwunVR1brSLl-QrCKeWa0HQWux8lkrXmwiYqJCQvbWXsxC5miXAaH7Kfb5u/s320/Lighthouse.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5945508307395028682.post-877968669540722062009-01-07T01:49:00.000-08:002009-01-07T02:02:56.377-08:00It's a tough life<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwqMHncmWPFIlci8079uL-PysgcfVM8wPKQ27jDdJ-c29isWCgiJ4h5tCyzKwnifvXNveR5F4NNg_BRXN0ojTSYE6OEOMTNVNKcJCZq04LRMHdjQr51tw9T74JuK9WuTlNJTLZBeMMdRk9/s1600-h/Cronulla+Beach.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288486903175873602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwqMHncmWPFIlci8079uL-PysgcfVM8wPKQ27jDdJ-c29isWCgiJ4h5tCyzKwnifvXNveR5F4NNg_BRXN0ojTSYE6OEOMTNVNKcJCZq04LRMHdjQr51tw9T74JuK9WuTlNJTLZBeMMdRk9/s320/Cronulla+Beach.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I went to early work yesterday so that I could leave at 4:30 to catch a train to Cronulla, the beach town an hour south of Sydney where Eric works. Eric picked me up at the train station, and we were in the water by just after 6:00. There was very little surf, but it was a beautiful evening to be splashing around in the water. I caught two waves legitimately, meaning before they broke, and I rode another wave long enough to actually steer the board. You can't ask for much more. If you look on the horizon in the picture above, you can see the desalination plant that Eric is helping to design. If you were reading this blog back in August and remember me complaining about a 19 km walk, we walked from where this picture was taken, past the plant to the end of the peninsula, and back!</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288488489383305714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiey0BF8HBj-XCky5pv1tOHo1Qpg5wkaJXlShGTnUb4UNfDvZfUI4FhMXi6MmgClwV-UXPMAmyWf1b61qUn4cMGid0Vcr3FiY8_qTb5odbWQR0DXSpWO43ziMxd2qt_2x7MlDiAqUcI1xZo/s320/Hog's+Breath+Sign.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>In the same post when I was complaining about the 19 km hike, I was also exposing the fraud that is Hog's Breath Australia. I swear they have attempted to swipe the identity of one of my favourite bars back home. However, they do have a lovely location on the water, so we decided to have dinner and a jug of beer there after surfing. Eric made me promise not to say anything, which was really difficult when the waiter asked, "Have you ever been to a Hog's Breath before?" I sputtered for a minute before Eric answered "no" for both of us. I did compose a short essay on the comment card after our meal, though. I gave them high marks for food, service, etc., but I also let them know I'm watching them...Next time I'm wearing my Hog's Breath Destin t-shirt!</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0