Finally Caffeinated

Anybody else think like I’m dropping the ball on maintaining this blog? I perpetually feel a step behind. For example, we visited Adelaide two days ago and even though we had a smashing time, I still haven’t reported on it. To the great relief of all five people tracking these scintillating events, I traced the problem to a tragic lack of caffeine. A sister affliction to anemic salt in the food, the caffeine deficit has been insidious and pervasive. Gee, I feel like a nap again. This chair is sooo comfortable I can’t get up. Why can’t I open my eyes? I’ve been out of bed three hours now. My head hurts. I heard what you said and I’ve put it on the list to process later. Nine o’clock? Time for another 10 hours in the sack!! From Princess’ point of view, this is a smart tactic. Why risk hordes of caffeinated old people trying to frenetically cut rugs on heaving decks? After all, there is only one physician aboard. The salt thing is similarly strategic: everybody is calmer with lower blood pressure! Luckily, I brought caffeine tablets and things are looking up.

Adelaide is a gorgeous city. The cab driver called it a big country town and that seems apt. No traffic jams, no buildings over 30 stories, friendly denizens, an expansive central square with my favorite decoration: a fountain. We arrived on a sparkling day and caught the train into town – a 40-minute ride with 20 stops. We immediately headed for the central market, which resembled Reading Terminal on steroids: it’s about twice as big, more crowded, more variety. We purchased a picnic lunch from The Stinky Cheese Shop (they have less draconian import laws in Oz, so the French cheese is made with raw milk and is much tastier), bread, fruit and vegetables (they sell Amazonian carrots here – huge, psychedelically orange, smooth-skinned and delicious. They’re almost like Disney’s idea of carrots). The Greek-style yogurt with berries didn’t make it out the door, since we devoured it on the spot. We did manage to save some Australian olives for later, even though they’re delectable also.

Upon exiting the market, we worked our way down the cab queue meeting, greeting and attempting to convince a cabbie to take us to the Cleland Conservation Park up in the Adelaide hills. It took six tries (three “I don’t know where that is” falsehoods, one “I won’t negotiate, we must use the meter” and one “I’m only driving this cab for three days” – not a great confidence booster, that last). The sixth, a transplanted, entrepreneurial Indian whose parents own two Dunkin’ Donuts franchises in Chicago, agreed for a very fair price to drive us there, wait for three hours while we communed with kangaroos, and then deliver us back to our ship.

The hills outside Adelaide had beautiful views of the downtown and surrounding dry bushland, enhanced by the clear air and startlingly blue sky. The park allows visitors to wander among the animals when it’s safe. So, we purchased some pellets and hugged kangaroos for several hours. They come in all sizes: from that of a large housecat to 6-feet or so. I knew kangaroos are ubiquitous in Australia, and the nationals speak of them like pests that endanger car trips (in fact, Ozzies seem rather put out about sharing their land with animals- most citizens have negative views on the wildlife). But nobody mentions how SOFT they are. The ones we saw were friendly, gentle animals that ate decorously out of our hands and liked having their tummies scratched. Their fur is like short rabbit fur – warmed by the sun, it’s impossibly downy. I rubbed one six-foot fellow’s tummy and he rolled over on his back with all four feet waving in the air (two ridiculously short front legs and two huge powerful back legs – it’s a strange combo). Laura observed that their calves, for wont of a better word, are merely skinny bones powered thick rubber bands. They just don’t seem sturdy enough for all that bouncing.

We also saw dingos, koalas (yes, asleep – lack of caffeine in Cleland is a problem, too), echidnas (three of them eating with audible smacking sounds what looked like dog food but surely must be Purina Echidna Chow), wombats (upright this time – they look like really big, squarer guinea pigs and eat much the same diet), a kookaburra (sitting in a gum tree!! And they really do sound like they’re laughing). We observed a Tasmanian devil and it looks rather like it’s been constructed from spare used parts: front legs are too long for the back legs, the fur is scruffy and dull, the eyes are too small and the ears are chewed. We visited the meerkats, who have figured out zoo living for fun and profit: hear the visitors outside the den, discuss with chirps whether it’s time to eat, exit, stand on hind legs and look as cute as possible while assessing the chances of being fed, then give up shortly and go back inside to sleep until the next possibly gullible group of humans happens by.

We fed the emus also, though two heatedly disagreed right in front of Adam. He was holding a handful of feed when one emu approached. Another ran up and they both eyed the food, then squared off balefully. The feathers on their necks erected, they made low drumming noises and in a flash, leapt up and smacked each other hard in the chests with their enormous feet. Adam stood frozen in shock and they ran off drumming furiously – like two kids, winning the argument took precedence over nutrition.

Finding the ship was a bit of a challenge at the end of the day, and the cabbie was getting nervous even though I assured him it was too big to miss. Plenty of time for him to tell us that in Oz one should never rely on the three Ws: work, weather and women. He also lamented the high taxes he pays to support families with children, who, according to him, receive extensive govt support. The ship loomed up in front of us eventually and he almost drove off the road. “Holy shit!!” he said. “THAT’S a BOAT?” Yeah, we said you couldn’t miss it.

Once on board, we watched the departure process, which was complicated by a very stiff wind and some late arriving passengers. I asked a nearby employee, “What happens if passengers return late?” He told me they rarely leave without someone and will wait up to a half-hour if somebody is missing. He did say, however, that they had left people behind in several cases. Next port, we won’t worry so much about being back on the dot – if we’d stayed just a bit longer at Cleland, we could have cuddled a koala. They look even softer than roos.