I like traveling by sea. Weather systems march briskly by – if it’s raining over there, it’s undoubtedly sunny a little farther on and you can appreciate both states within minutes of one another (for Laura’s science unit, we’re learning change of state; we’re investigating the many many meanings of the phrase). Seafaring also lends unparalleled views of clouds. So much variety in color, form, size, contrast, rate of change, etc. – they go by as if they’re stuck on fast forward.
It was very rough after we left Adelaide for two days at sea. Crossing the Great Australian Bight has been as expected for southwestern Oz: stormy, damp, howling, bleak, etc. I now see it was dumb to bring only one long-sleeved shirt and I might have to throw it away when the weather warms for good. On our last trip across the North Pacific in winter, we experienced similar rough conditions and had to anchor our glasses to the table, take care not to fall out of bed and so on. Then, we had the dining room to ourselves since most passengers were busily worshipping the porcelain god, driving the porcelain bus, doing the Technicolor yawn, tossing cookies, whatever your preferred euphemism. Not so this sturdy bunch, many of whom are Australian. I suppose the seasickness gene has been bred out of their stock – those who were susceptible died long ago on the endless voyages from England. I might not be so happy with the high seas if I were traveling in a smaller boat. It’s an odd sensation as it is. One second you might lift right off your feet and the next you weigh several tons. It’s entertaining to watch people lurch by, bouncing off walls, staggering from side to side, waving their arms for balance, etc.
We visited Fremantle yesterday, late into port by 4 hours due to the bad weather the previous two days. Unfortunately, this meant we couldn’t go to Rottnest Island as planned. Rottnest is an 11 km-long island with gorgeous beaches, coral, fish, cycling, and to top off the experience, adorable little furry creatures that approach visitors for tidbits. In sum, just our kind of island. Oh well. We went to Cottlesloe Beach near Perth instead (we skipped Perth proper, since we had tired of big cities, dried up botanical gardens and traffic). The day was clear and sparkling and the water, though cold, was the same. We did some snorkeling right off shore and saw a surprising variety, even though the guard had warned us we might see hammerheads. Then the heavy equipment arrived: a three-week long art exhibit was being… hung? Planted? Uh, I guess, installed that day. Thirty sculptures were to be strung along the strand, and they ran the gamut: a group of larger than life emus made of recycled tires, a 20-foot-high pyramid glazed in glittering green and emitting a (probably unplanned) chemical odor under the hot sun, a clear orb anchored about 100 feet offshore that would glow after the sun went down, a group of candy lifesavers about the size of truck tires. Apparently, there had been a wildly popular sculpture installation pioneered at Bondi Beach that positioned sculpture as an accessible art that meshes with life instead of being separate from it. It had grabbed the public’s fancy and opened opportunities for sculptors across the country, so the idea was being adapted to other beaches.
I approached one guy wandering around inside a burned out shipping container, planning to ask why he thought that ugly hulk was art. Glad I held my tongue, since he was the artist. Would you like to see pictures? Go to www.garo.com.au. Anyway, he affably told me that the view from inside the container across the beach and water toward the many shipping vessels was meant to make us reflect on whether we really needed so many consumer items. He was also trying for a shipwrecked container ethos, hoping that one day shipping containers would be obsolete, and that beachcombers would “discover” his work like Charlton Heston in Planet of the Apes discovered the Statue of Liberty (only they’d be happy, unlike Charlton). “Oh, you mean we used to have those on our planet?” From his tone of voice, burning out the container was the most fun he had creating the sculpture. I’m taking a vote: are there any men who aren’t secret pyros? I didn’t think so. He asked where we were from, were those my kids, etc., and like most others, asked if our kids had school holidays right now. Nope, we just took them along anyway. He said, “Now I feel pretty stupid. I didn’t bring my 7-year-old to see my first publicly exhibited sculpture because I didn’t think he could miss a day of school.” I told him Mark Twain’s quote: “I never let my schooling get in the way of my education.” No offense to those teachers out there…
Before I close on this short note, I have to apologize for not replying to emails. Our internet connection via satellite is very unreliable. One of the most challenging requests for our tenuous connection is replying to emails. Often I think a reply has been sent, only to be asked, “Are you sure you want to close this window? Your last action may not have been completed.” WHY NOT?? You’ve had PLENTY of time at 75 cents a minute!!
Travel: one large exercise in discovering what I can and can’t control. I can either be upset or sanguine that something didn’t go as planned and the outward results are identical; the only real cost is to myself. It reveals the dichotomy between what I expect/want and what is really necessary. It develops patience – though I’m beginning to think that I’ll never be patient, ever (on my deathbed, I’ll wonder WHY I’M NOT DEAD ALREADY!!) because one spends so much time getting someplace instead of being there. I can hope for one thing and get another: I stand on deck waiting to depart, feeling impatient that nothing is happening, then have my ears shattered by the ship’s horn right over my head. Oh, yeah, I guess waiting wasn’t so bad. I like being reminded of these things, but I can see why some people hate to travel.
We did eventually leave Fremantle and what an event it proved to be. Hundreds of cars lined the jetties waiting to see the ship leave, and people crowded every space along the wharf. They all screamed and hollered and flashed their lights and whistled. I guess not much happens in western Australia on a Tuesday night.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
No Worries, We're Upgraded, Mates
Did I mention that Jeff and I, though we only paid for a cabin with a view of a cozy lifeboat, were upgraded to a cabin with a balcony? We’ve experienced all kinds of weather conditions outside: sunny, being sprayed thickly with ocean water, calm and balmy, so windy that it blasts the hair off one’s head, smoky due to the Danish heavy smokers next door, gazing upon the most colorful double rainbow we’ve ever seen, etc. Actually that last we viewed from the deck after throwing down our ping pong paddles and rushing outside, scaring a large group of old people peacefully drinking beer. But when you can see four rainbow ends at once, rushing is called for even if outrageously expensive alcohol spills.
The kids weren’t upgraded, which means that two adolescents who want to sleep all the time in the best of circumstances are effectively staying in a cave. No matter what time we wake them up, they appear at the door blinking and cranky as if it’s the middle of the night. The ship’s food has been delicious and varied –fish, frog’s legs, many vegetables and fruits, an array of desserts - though our appreciation is dimming by the day. We couldn’t get enough for the first 24 hours (since we’d been economizing before that by not eating much) then we weren’t quite so hungry the next day, and now, though we admire everything, we mostly stick to salads and fruits and a bite or two of dessert. With all the hiking in ports, going up and down endless stairs and walking to and fro (gosh, I thought the library was at this end of the ship, but now I realize I’m turned around), we’re becoming pretty fit. Not so most others, as the spa assures us that passengers gain 1-2 pounds PER DAY on average. Scary. Or good marketing for the “Cellulite Detox Program – lose 8 inches in one session!” Further enticements for the program include “Free arm application.” But I already have two.
Should be fun to roust the kids out of their den tomorrow at 7 a.m. to visit Hobart, Tasmania. Tasmania used to be the butt of jokes in Australia, for some weird reason (ha, ha your island is smaller than ours) but people are now wise to the scenic beauty and wildlife it offers and it’s a popular vacation destination. Hobart was the second settlement in Australia and received the worst of England’s worst criminals, including batches of women convicts who committed heinous transgressions in England such as stealing a fork. These roustabouts built a small settlement: 17 pubs and three houses. Only kidding about the ratio, but Hobartians drank a lot back then and evidently still tipple extensively today.
Late next day – We debarked expeditiously this morning to wander around Hobart by foot, though low clouds obscured Mount Wellington, which looms over town. A Hobart goodwill ambassador at the port told us straight away that we wouldn’t see any Tasmanian devils. They’re mostly nocturnal, but she says they do wake up sometimes in the middle of the day to gnaw tempting sheep ankles or just snarl irritably. They’re also happy to clean up Tasmania’s extensive roadkill and, should it be necessary, the infrequent murder victim. Somebody missing? Find that person fast, or else there’s not much left and the forensics staff is disappointed yet again. Murders on a tiny island seem farfetched, but Tasmanian pubs, like those in Sydney (we know this from the Sydney newspaper) become violent on a somewhat regular basis. Hey, if 3 out of 4 of your ancestors had swum ashore from shipwrecks, you might have a dim view of life, too. From the Maritime Museum, we found out that hundreds of ships have wrecked around Tasmania over the years; captains often preferred to shoot the prisoners or leave them to sink in heavy irons instead of helping them to shore.
On the other end of the spectrum, today’s front page story in the Mercury (Voice of Tasmania) concerns the city-wide search consuming large swaths of time for both officials and citizens…seeking the beloved stuffed rabbit lost by Emily, who is five and can’t spare a single bunny from her extensive personal warren. I am not making this up, to quote Dave Barry. Other weird written matter seen about town:
- Grace removals (apparently a trash company, but still, so close to Lent and all)
- Maritime paraphernalia that promises to “absorb two to three times the oil of competing socks.”
- “Legacy puddings available now.”
- Hot Dry Rocks (a geothermal energy consulting firm that is very literal)
Otherwise, we ate excellent Hobartian tiger prawns that measured 9 inches from head to tail. We also picked up the big big jar of Vegemite, since Adam has taken a liking to “the world’s best source of B vitamins.” Most of the world, however, prefers to find B vitamins just about anywhere else. IMO, Vegemite looks and smells exactly like what we cleaned out of our dog’s ears.
The kids weren’t upgraded, which means that two adolescents who want to sleep all the time in the best of circumstances are effectively staying in a cave. No matter what time we wake them up, they appear at the door blinking and cranky as if it’s the middle of the night. The ship’s food has been delicious and varied –fish, frog’s legs, many vegetables and fruits, an array of desserts - though our appreciation is dimming by the day. We couldn’t get enough for the first 24 hours (since we’d been economizing before that by not eating much) then we weren’t quite so hungry the next day, and now, though we admire everything, we mostly stick to salads and fruits and a bite or two of dessert. With all the hiking in ports, going up and down endless stairs and walking to and fro (gosh, I thought the library was at this end of the ship, but now I realize I’m turned around), we’re becoming pretty fit. Not so most others, as the spa assures us that passengers gain 1-2 pounds PER DAY on average. Scary. Or good marketing for the “Cellulite Detox Program – lose 8 inches in one session!” Further enticements for the program include “Free arm application.” But I already have two.
Should be fun to roust the kids out of their den tomorrow at 7 a.m. to visit Hobart, Tasmania. Tasmania used to be the butt of jokes in Australia, for some weird reason (ha, ha your island is smaller than ours) but people are now wise to the scenic beauty and wildlife it offers and it’s a popular vacation destination. Hobart was the second settlement in Australia and received the worst of England’s worst criminals, including batches of women convicts who committed heinous transgressions in England such as stealing a fork. These roustabouts built a small settlement: 17 pubs and three houses. Only kidding about the ratio, but Hobartians drank a lot back then and evidently still tipple extensively today.
Late next day – We debarked expeditiously this morning to wander around Hobart by foot, though low clouds obscured Mount Wellington, which looms over town. A Hobart goodwill ambassador at the port told us straight away that we wouldn’t see any Tasmanian devils. They’re mostly nocturnal, but she says they do wake up sometimes in the middle of the day to gnaw tempting sheep ankles or just snarl irritably. They’re also happy to clean up Tasmania’s extensive roadkill and, should it be necessary, the infrequent murder victim. Somebody missing? Find that person fast, or else there’s not much left and the forensics staff is disappointed yet again. Murders on a tiny island seem farfetched, but Tasmanian pubs, like those in Sydney (we know this from the Sydney newspaper) become violent on a somewhat regular basis. Hey, if 3 out of 4 of your ancestors had swum ashore from shipwrecks, you might have a dim view of life, too. From the Maritime Museum, we found out that hundreds of ships have wrecked around Tasmania over the years; captains often preferred to shoot the prisoners or leave them to sink in heavy irons instead of helping them to shore.
On the other end of the spectrum, today’s front page story in the Mercury (Voice of Tasmania) concerns the city-wide search consuming large swaths of time for both officials and citizens…seeking the beloved stuffed rabbit lost by Emily, who is five and can’t spare a single bunny from her extensive personal warren. I am not making this up, to quote Dave Barry. Other weird written matter seen about town:
- Grace removals (apparently a trash company, but still, so close to Lent and all)
- Maritime paraphernalia that promises to “absorb two to three times the oil of competing socks.”
- “Legacy puddings available now.”
- Hot Dry Rocks (a geothermal energy consulting firm that is very literal)
Otherwise, we ate excellent Hobartian tiger prawns that measured 9 inches from head to tail. We also picked up the big big jar of Vegemite, since Adam has taken a liking to “the world’s best source of B vitamins.” Most of the world, however, prefers to find B vitamins just about anywhere else. IMO, Vegemite looks and smells exactly like what we cleaned out of our dog’s ears.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
We finally managed to have an intelligible conversation via Skype (the company;s slogan: “Everybody in the world can talk!” Yup, as long as it's one at a time) with my mom and dad. Following that, we scraped off our stinky hotel miasma and boarded our boat. The kids were insanely happy: Free food! Trash TV! Pools! Ping Pong! Our own room!! For those teachers reading this blog, I do want you to know that Adam is proceeding apace with his American Political Systems homework, Laura has conquered the matter unit in science and begun her geometry, and we're all learning French 3, since Jeff accidentally left home without his French CDs.
We left the kids to their glee and, having successfully smuggled the scotch aboard, Jeff and I got off the boat to find a liquor store and test the smuggling limits. So far we haven't found it - we reboarded with three bottles of wine. Our travel agent sent a nice gift: 2 vouchers for valpolicella, one for each adult. When we tried to redeem both that night, they looked askance, because what we thought was 2 glasses was actually 2 bottles. We saved the second voucher.
Sydney Harbor was a spectacular port to sail away from, even though we left at night. The pilot boat followed right alongside, ready to whisk away the highly remunerated pilot as soon as he'd safely steered us through the right lane (yes, it's very well paying - $175,000 AD - but the hours are hell: our Melbourne pilot boarded at 4:30 this a.m. about 2 miles out to sea to guide us into Melbourne port, and he had get up, fire up the boat, and motor out to meet us before that). Prior to Melbourne, we spent a day at sea eyeing our fellow passengers. They're mostly older and very few children are aboard. Since the weather is warm, sizeable lounging bodies surround the outdoor pool and most of never seem to test the pool temperature. Jeff says the scene reminds him of the Axiom, the spaceship in Wall-E. Three of us swam in NoseBreak Pool - the indoor pool in which Adam broke his nose on our previous voyage. It was sloshy in an exciting way, like a very small wave pool at a water park, but we were very careful.
Melbourne is a nice little city a tad smaller than Sydney but not quite so picturesque. It has cooled down quite a bit since the deadliest wildfires in the state of Victoria, but they are still fighting them: the situation is forecast to get much worse again over the next several days as the heat returns and the wind picks up. We talked to a local who told us that in one burnt area, the only house that survived was one in which the homeowner had burned his own bushland several years ago as a precaution. The judicial system hauled that fellow into court right after he lit up and fined him $100,000 AD plus court costs for his apparent folly, though a groundswell of support has begun recently to overturn his fine. In visiting some areas of the botanical gardens that are planted like the land that burned, you can see how much very dry tinder builds up in a relatively short time - old leaves, dead branches.
We visited the Melbourne Zoo today - another extremely dry place, since Victoria is suffering record droughts. Getting there was a challenge that involved riding the city's extensive tram system. We viewed many of Australia's peculiar creatures: the platypus, kangaroo, wombat, koala (BTW, Laura thought that one of our upcoming stops was Koala Lumpur). The platypus swam around its darkened enclosure madly. We learned that its eggs are an average of 17 millimeters long - I had this image in my head that they were as big as duck eggs. The koala, perpetually drunk on eucalyptus, was sleeping it off the continual hangover - the only body part we could see was his motionless haunch. The wombat was in his underground lair, on his back with all four feet in the air. He appeared bloated and dead. One of the younger zoo visitors noted that “he has poop halfway out his bum!!” That must be one very fat, somnolent, secure wombat. We viewed our first kangaroos, who were also living the good life. They snoozed under their very own thoughtfully rigged canvas canopy. When one got up, we noted that kangaroos have two speeds only: plodding and watch-out-coming-through. When moving about at a leisurely pace, they are so deliberate that they look like an arthritic arising gingerly from bed. When hopping, they become hyperefficient machines with no off button. We've also noted that they like to look in the same direction at the same time, so calling a bunch of them a “mob” fits.
We left the kids to their glee and, having successfully smuggled the scotch aboard, Jeff and I got off the boat to find a liquor store and test the smuggling limits. So far we haven't found it - we reboarded with three bottles of wine. Our travel agent sent a nice gift: 2 vouchers for valpolicella, one for each adult. When we tried to redeem both that night, they looked askance, because what we thought was 2 glasses was actually 2 bottles. We saved the second voucher.
Sydney Harbor was a spectacular port to sail away from, even though we left at night. The pilot boat followed right alongside, ready to whisk away the highly remunerated pilot as soon as he'd safely steered us through the right lane (yes, it's very well paying - $175,000 AD - but the hours are hell: our Melbourne pilot boarded at 4:30 this a.m. about 2 miles out to sea to guide us into Melbourne port, and he had get up, fire up the boat, and motor out to meet us before that). Prior to Melbourne, we spent a day at sea eyeing our fellow passengers. They're mostly older and very few children are aboard. Since the weather is warm, sizeable lounging bodies surround the outdoor pool and most of never seem to test the pool temperature. Jeff says the scene reminds him of the Axiom, the spaceship in Wall-E. Three of us swam in NoseBreak Pool - the indoor pool in which Adam broke his nose on our previous voyage. It was sloshy in an exciting way, like a very small wave pool at a water park, but we were very careful.
Melbourne is a nice little city a tad smaller than Sydney but not quite so picturesque. It has cooled down quite a bit since the deadliest wildfires in the state of Victoria, but they are still fighting them: the situation is forecast to get much worse again over the next several days as the heat returns and the wind picks up. We talked to a local who told us that in one burnt area, the only house that survived was one in which the homeowner had burned his own bushland several years ago as a precaution. The judicial system hauled that fellow into court right after he lit up and fined him $100,000 AD plus court costs for his apparent folly, though a groundswell of support has begun recently to overturn his fine. In visiting some areas of the botanical gardens that are planted like the land that burned, you can see how much very dry tinder builds up in a relatively short time - old leaves, dead branches.
We visited the Melbourne Zoo today - another extremely dry place, since Victoria is suffering record droughts. Getting there was a challenge that involved riding the city's extensive tram system. We viewed many of Australia's peculiar creatures: the platypus, kangaroo, wombat, koala (BTW, Laura thought that one of our upcoming stops was Koala Lumpur). The platypus swam around its darkened enclosure madly. We learned that its eggs are an average of 17 millimeters long - I had this image in my head that they were as big as duck eggs. The koala, perpetually drunk on eucalyptus, was sleeping it off the continual hangover - the only body part we could see was his motionless haunch. The wombat was in his underground lair, on his back with all four feet in the air. He appeared bloated and dead. One of the younger zoo visitors noted that “he has poop halfway out his bum!!” That must be one very fat, somnolent, secure wombat. We viewed our first kangaroos, who were also living the good life. They snoozed under their very own thoughtfully rigged canvas canopy. When one got up, we noted that kangaroos have two speeds only: plodding and watch-out-coming-through. When moving about at a leisurely pace, they are so deliberate that they look like an arthritic arising gingerly from bed. When hopping, they become hyperefficient machines with no off button. We've also noted that they like to look in the same direction at the same time, so calling a bunch of them a “mob” fits.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Yummy lifesavers in Oz
Just got back from Bondi Beach - pronounced Bon-die, not Bondee, as we found out. Thirty minutes from town, it's a perfect, soft, sandy crescent with just a few beachgoers since it's a weekday. The ocean was angry, however, with crashing turquoise waves bearing many surfers. Waaay too cold to swim, in my opinion, which explained the wetsuits, though it was sunny and warm enough to wear swimsuits comfortably. I wandered up to the lifeguard station, since lifeguards are so prestigious here I had to see some up close and personal. Bondi lifesavers are even more famous, as they have their own reality TV series. I found two very handsome representatives manning a place that looked somewhat like an airport control tower. They nicely posed for a picture, then explained how they identify poor swimmers likely to need rescue. Apparently those who try to jump OVER the humongous waves rather than ducking under aren't very seaworthy. Far too soon, I had to depart and let them return to work. Culinary delights of Bondi include: grilled octopus on skewers (in fact, we've seen so many cooked octopi that I'm beginning to wonder if the population can bear such heavy harvests) and deep-fried Mars Bars - like deep-fried Oreos, these last are impossibly delectable and clog your arteries as you chew.
Yesterday, we visited the Sydney Opera House and were surprised to find that though its shells look pure white from afar, they are actually sheathed in a zig-zag pattern of beige and white ceramic tiles. For some reason - maybe the dumb, gullible looks on our faces, or the distraction of trying once again to stop the kids from needling each other - a bunch of young sailors visiting the Opera House commandeered us to supplement an impromptu performance of the Australian national anthem, though we know only two words in the entire song: Australia fair.
The Royal Botanical Gardens - a free activity!! - had beautiful plantings and expansive lawns. A geometric herb garden contained possibly my favorite fountain ever: a round brass ball about 4 feet high that spilled water over its entire surface, but ONLY when one stepped close to it. The roses also were numerous and colorful and smelled heavenly. The Gardens encourage visitors to enjoy themselves thoroughly by hugging trees, walking on the grass, talking to the wildlife, etc. They have a fine sense of humor here and in the city in general: the sign for the acacia, a.ka. the wattle tree (which has a fluffy bottlebrush-like bloom) contained a Monty Python quote, something along the lines of "This is the wattle, the emblem of our land. You can put it in a bottle or hold it in your hand." The city building that records births, deaths and marriages is referred to by locals as "the hatch, match and dispatch." The harbor tower, which controls all berths on Sydney's waterfront, is called "the pill."
We hiked to the top of Sydney's highest building: Sydney Tower, which free city guides refer to as "the most iconic building in Sydney" - um, don't they know the rest of the world believes the Opera House owns that title? Besides, the Tower resembles a giant gold Bed Bath & Beyond trash can on stilts. By that time of the day, we were dragging butt from jetlag, which explains our decisions to purchase kangaroo jerky in the sky-high souvenir shop and snooze with our backs against a cracked windowpane on the Tower's observation deck. Our advice: do not purchase kangaroo jerky. It has a strange, rancid, gritty taste perhaps explained by roadkill origins.
We visited a street market where we purchased potpourri in an attempt to overcome the very bothersome odor in our hotel room. Laura's antipathy toward the place continues. When I mentioned that I thought louvered bathroom doors were a pretty dumb idea in a tiny space shared by four people, she said, "Solid doors are expensive. The management spends its money instead on durian fruits for every room." For those unfamiliar with durian, it's a fruit so stinky that it's banned on public transport in most of Asia.
That's it for now. Gotta tune in to the popular reality show "Bondi Vet" about, what else, another hunky, blond Australian. Seriously, these buff dudes are everywhere and my neck is getting sore. Before I sign off, though, here's our itinerary: board our ship tomorrow - I can't wait to unpack and hope they don't confiscate the Glenlivet hidden in my suitcase - then to Melbourne, Hobart in Tasmania, Adelaide, Exmouth, Freemantle - one of these Australia stops has whale sharks in residence at this time of year - Singapore, Vietnam, Cambodia. We hop off the boat in Thailand, spend a few beach days on the Andaman Sea, head to the Malaysian Perhentian Islands (supposedly the perfect tropical paradise) for snorkeling, Brunei, Borneo for a wildlife trek to see orangutans and Sumatran rhinos, then back to Singapore and home. Final note: to those we've tried to Skype, we humbly apologize for the random hang-ups, bad connections, heavy breathing, cranky comments like, "is it working now??" and saying "what???" a million times. Unfortunately, VOIP still has some kinks.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
First stop Sydney
Leaving home was a breeze, though a crucial aquarium pump did expire at the last minute (like most modern appliances, it's fitted with a hidden unit that detects the exact moment when failure is least convenient). Our plane to San Francisco encountered roaring 100 mph headwinds and refueled in Kansas City, of all places. Travel law: once airplanes are on the ground, they tend to remain on the ground. We sat at the gate for more than an hour as passengers became increasingly hot, hungry and desperate to roam the barren stretches of KC airport cuisine. WHen we finally lifted off, US Airways quelled the restive population with...get ready for it...: FREE WATER!! Seat belts prevented cavorting in the aisles. Oh well, San Fran has historically been difficult to reach, with unfavorable winds keeping ships from entering port for weeks after months-long voyages, even though sailors could literally smell the harbor.
Nothing notable on our 14.5 hour flight from Sydney except for my thrilling conversation with a fellow Phillies phan. We relived some plays, talked about spring training, trash-talked the Mets. I'm now sorry I didn't bring a Phils hat to share the joy with the rest of the world, as this forward-thinking phan had. We experienced some bumpiness landing in Sydney due to bad weather - it had been raining for 10 days when we arrived even with the record drought conditions (uncharacteristically, it DID NOT snow when we left Philly, so the bad travel weather karma transferred).
It cleared beautifully by the afternoon, though, and it's supposed to remain nice. Warm and surprisingly awake, we threw on summer clothes, visited Darling Harbour, had some lunch, strolled around the spectacular aquarium, ate some ice cream - all crucial preparation for losing our Lonely Planet Australia guidebook, which had the directions back to our hotel. I guess I was more tired than I thought. Happily, we recovered it at the aquarium ticket desk, where I had put it down to sign the first of many many credit card receipts.
We are staying at the Y Hotel City South - we've had great luck with Y Hotels elsewhere in the world, as they have clean though small quarters, good prices and they're usually centrally located. This one is centrally located all right!! Laura took an instant loathing to the place, assisted by anemic air conditioning and strong sun through our window. We crashed at about 7 p.m., but successfully completed our fire drill a few hours later.
"What's that????"
"I don't know. It sounds like the fire alarm!"
"Did you put on the fan when you took your shower?"
"YES!"
The bathroom has a sign that says steam can set off the smoke alarm, summoning the fire dept., and slapping the offender with a $250 fine. Being cautious and blame-free, we trooped downstairs and stood outside watching extremely buff Australian firemen check out the problem. When I was in college, we loved fire alarms at night, since we got to see who was sleeping over with whom. They're not so fond of them here, as I discovered when I asked a fellow guest how long she'd known the guy she was with and if she'd thought hard about the risks she was taking. And who was the father of that baby, anyway? As we went back upstairs, Laura said, "Now you see my first impression of this place was correct." Her mood, however, might be influenced by another truism of our travels: she has a cold. Miraculously, Adam has not tossed his cookies. Yet.
I do apologize for my rather boring reportage, but I'm still pretty tired. In any case, I see the sun has come up and we're moving early enough to see the fish market at 7 a.m. More thrilling info later, perhaps. I'll write at length about functional air conditioning, I promise!
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