Four Seasons In One Day

I have been terrible about blogging, I know. When my journey is winding down I always kind of fall apart myself and there's no energy to describe a time so rich and full of adventure. But my post on Indonesia will come. It was remarkable.

We flew into Perth and spent several weeks with Dad. It was so so so wonderful to see him, after so many years. We had a grand time. Other than a brief side trip to the Kalbarri National Park, eight hours north, we stayed in Perth for the duration of our Western Australia visit. On this journey to Australia it was all about family for me.


The beaches in Perth are the nicest that I've seen in the world. On days when the temperature climbed above 100 degrees we visited the beach every day. We'd bring George, the dog, and he'd grandly display his neurotic tendencies while we played with the ball. (The video is one of George in the car as we drive towards the beach) On lazier days, when George was sleeping at home, we would float on our backs and let the salty waves dance our bodies out to sea and back to shore. It was hard to leave Perth and harder to leave Dad.



Now I am in Melbourne with Ross. Seriously lazy days. It has been typical Melbourne weather with 100 degree days bordering 70 days. Let me tell you my body is not used to 70 degree days! It feels frigid to me! On the Saturday before Easter we went on a decadent chocolate shop tour that I mapped through the city. We have been sloths but this trip about visiting family and that is being accomplished if nothing else is.

why does it always end like this?

my plane leaves in a few hours. of course i am panicked. i feel like i'm forgetting something. everything. my head is racing. i always feel like this until i get to the airport and then, when it's out of my hands, i relax. by tonight i'll be in thailand.

yesterday i went to rottnest island with dad. this is where his father was held as a pow in ww1 when he was fourteen. it is a gorgeous, reef bordered island and we spent all day just exploring the sand dunes and beaches, imagining my grandfather walking these sands 90 years ago. it was a beautiful day. it was surreal to be with him on that island, searching for a link that i knew almost nothing about just weeks ago. i think i learned things that i have been trying to learn for twenty years.

I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year.
After all I am alive only by accident.
-Plath

I have less than one week left in Australia.

Currently I'm in Perth, staying with dad. This weekend we went to the Margaret River area, a few hours south of the city. It was a bit damp, but a lovely area brimming with vineyards, breweries, chocolate factories, cheese makers and, further out of the valley, bordering the divinely ultramarine waters of the Indian ocean.

The week feels like it's being let down a bathtub drain. Very slowly, but you have the low gurgling to remind you that soon it will be empty and you'll soon be uncovered and chilled. While it's nice to see dad after such a long time he always makes the experience so basic. To him, it seems as if I'm returning after a school term or holiday. As if I come and go often and not, as it is, that we see each other hardly ever. He has been uncovering information about his father, who died when Dad was five. He was fifteen when he sailed into Australian territory as crew of a German merchant ship. He was captured as a Prisoner of War, though the ship was unaware WWI had even begun. He was held in Australia, first near Perth on Rottnest Island and then near Sydney. Until recently I hadn't even known my grandfather's name. Not because it was hidden or kept as a secret, but only because his side of the family doesn't discuss the past. My father's family is darkly veiled for no particular reason. Losing your father so young must make it difficult to understand the true role a father plays to a child. How does your small mind piece together the equation of family when only half the puzzle exists?

Also, I wonder if parents who have separated see their children as the glimmers or blatent characters of their former partners. And because they have lost the love for one another does seeing that similarity in their children make them lose pieces of that love? I wonder if this happens, though no thoughtful parent would admit. I wonder if this happened with my parents.

maybe the dingo ate your baby

Adelaide has nothing to mention, except that they are a bit stuck up by the fact there were no convicts involved in their settlement. I spent one night here and caught the famous Ghan to Alice Springs. It's an overnight train and was surprisingly comfortable. I spent a good deal of the night awake in the lounge car, watching the Simpsons and Lord of the Rings DVDs with a couple who had brought a Playstation 2. What champions! When the sun finally rose in a burst of splendor only the desert can muster, I was up instantly. Back in the lounge car I watched the dry, flat land radiate mile after mile. The seemingly immutable characteristics of the vast desert are actually in constant transformation. I am fascinated by the countless colours; the greens, greys and golds of the spinifex grasses and shrubs, the striking blue of the sky, often cloudless, the blackened trunks of bush-fired trees and the rich, burnt umber of the mysteriously fertile earth.

I arrived into Alice Springs and the heat slapped me violently as I hopped off the train. The carriage had been deceptively cool but outside was nearing 38 degrees celsius. The airconditioned bed at the hostel was like a cradle and I was out as soon as I hit the pillow.

The next day I was off on a camping trip to the cherry-candy centre of Australia, Ayer's Rock. We drove off at 6:30, twenty clueless backpackers and our guide, Darren. I sat up front with an insane Chilean, who reckons there are more aliens living in Chile than anywhere on earth, a German interested in learning about the prostitution in Thailand and a sheep-loving Welshman (enough said there). Up first was a 5km walk through King's Canyon. Darren says this canyon is larger than the Grand Canyon, but I could never get out of him in which way. I think it may have just been an American/Australian-mine-is-bigger-than-yours. The canyon was a humbling spectacle. The wind at the summit almost pushed us over as we marvelled over the height of the drop.

That night we turned off the main road and plowed through some bush to get to our "camping site". I use this term loosely as it was just a clearing in the middle of NOWHERE. We unrolled our swags (a small mattress inside a body bag), opened our sleeping bags and laid down to sleep beneath the undisturbed mural of a billion stars. This would have been the most beautiful sight and the most peaceful sleep of my life if I hadn't been absolutely terrified about the spiders that live without care in the bush. I was awake with eyes wide for most of the night. We were up at 5am.

We spent the day exploring the Olgas (Kata Tjuta). This collection of massive sandstone globes lies a few miles from Ayer's Rock (Uluru). The colours, shapes and sheer size of these rocks was incredible. We climbed and hiked through a small portion of the Olgas, maybe a quarter of the total area, but it took us about four hours!

As sunset approached we pulled up to the carpark to cook our dinner and all gathered around for the best view. There were masses of people, so I slipped off and walked down the road until I was alone. I turned off the main road and into the bush. Then I was in solitude, Uluru before me. The rays of the sun illuminated the huge monolith and it melted from one red hue to the next. The sky was transformed behind it, like an infinite canvas. As the sun set it faded into silhouette and the stars began to descend.

On the way to camp, Darren turned on some disco music, a strobe light and put up a mirror ball. Oscar showed us his enigmatic way of dancing, which was mainly just a lot of hitting his ass. Around the campfire we sang, toasted marshmallows, listened to guitar strumming and watched the fire, trancelike. We awoke from another night of terror at 4am. Like prisoners we loaded ourselves onto the bus, filthy and tired. But as soon as we arrived back at the Uluru viewpoint all that misery disappeared. The sun crept up to our horizon, brightening the sky, and was suddenly upon us in a great flash. It was a spectacular sight. When we had all washed up as best we could in a rest area sink, we headed over to the rock itself. It is a 9.4 km walk around the base. I only hope I have the opportunity to do this walk again. It was phenomenal. When you see photos of Ayer's Rock it seems smooth and simple. But it's a complex of caves, rock piles, valleys and ridges. And you can not understand the enormity of the thing until you are beneath it. I took some photos, but I don't think they can be fully appreciated without the personal experience. I did not climb to the summit because it is viewed as disrespectful by the local people.

After we left the park we prepared to leave Oscar and Andreas (Chilean and German, respectively) at the airport. After all their entertainment it was quite a sad farewell and we all slapped our asses at them through the window as we drove away. We made one stop on the way back to Alice Springs to ride camels. What sweet and comical creatures! It was a unique ride, the height and speed of the animals surprised me. It was a great way to end a remarkable journey to Australia's red centre.

I am beginning to empathize with those who crave the desert. When they are drowning in the world they crawl on dry knees to the hot, dusty, flat earth. It is level enough here to see in all directions. You are fooled into believing that you have a clear vision that gives you control of your environment. But the desert is brutal and always the one in control. Maybe there's the comfort. I'm still working it out, being an ocean-girl.

On to Perth 5th October.

It's Been Awhile

So I've been a long way since I wrote last. What I mean is a great distance has been covered. Also, I'm a year older. Funny how that all happens in a day here. No build up. No celebration. Just a passing. Just a calender mark off. Just a day closer to home.

I spent a lovely week in Melbourne with Ross and Yoko. We ate good food, met good people, danced. Ross and I walked to Middle Park and took photos outside the house where we were babies. It was a beautiful day. For all the reasons a day can be.

Today was the Great Ocean Road. It is all those things. The wind blows with amazing force along the Southern tip of this country. It's like being hit in the face with Antarctica. The shrubs are low and clustered. They all have a hard shell, but beneath it they are fragrant and soft plants. Very familiar. The combination of the salty, wet breeze, the unending expanse of ocean, the fierce vegetation, the screaming of the wind all made me think of Winter Harbor, a Northern Hemisphere mirror of this very shore.

I know what you Want the Magpies have come

This seems like an innocent enough lyric. But right now in the western suburbs of Sydney, Australia a strange magpie ritual is taking place. It is nesting season. This means that a protective magpie will swoop at anything it feels poses a threat to the nest and any subsequent baby magpies. Now I had the unfortunate opportunity to witness such an attack at the park last week when a nasty old bird dove towards the head of my two-year-old charge, Cassie. She was just standing there watching the bird calmly and still, when it swooped at her and then continued to swoop as the toddler ran screaming to me. Since this nesting period lasts more than a month and has just begun, I can only imagine the horror that is to transpire in this peaceful mountain town. Imagine me: trying to hang up laundry. Jumping with every magpie caw. Wearing a baseball cap backwards with sunglasses resting on the brim. Hoping that if a bird does dive bomb me it will go for the back and not the FACE! Has anyone seen that movie about THE BIRDS? I am living in that movie.

Spent the weekend in Sydney. Simone has a friend living in Mosman who, unfortunately, decided to go camping, but fortunately, agreed to lend me her keys and posh lifestyle for a few days. Staying in Mosman is like staying in a sun-drenched Hollywood condo. It's like living on Beacon St. Or on the Thames. It's like being in a room overlooking Central Park. It's like...I don't know. It's just great. Sydney is the most beautiful city in the world. Instead of trains, buses or taxis, you can explore the city on ferries. And amidst the beams of lemony sunlight you watch the picturesque harbor unfold as you hop from one wharf to the next. The illustrious opera house rises as you turn from the bay and then the harbor bridge looms above you. Insane, bridge-climbing tourists dot the summit with their silhouettes. And in front of you is circular quay where all ferries come and go and the city begins to breathe.

Sydney makes you feel beautiful by association.

And though I was tempted, in the envelope of this luxury, to just stay in my silk-sheeted bed eating chocolates and delivered Thai food, or listening to tragic/funky/popular/danceable music, or sitting on the veranda eavesdropping on nearby neighbours gossiping from the fifth storey window of their 3 million dollar hillside homes, I actually managed to DO quite a lot. There was the Taronga Zoo, which houses any kind of animal you could possibly imagine. As the sun started to set, just before I called it a day and left, the koalas woke up from their 22 hour nap and started to frolic. I took a starlit ferry back to the city where I went to a concert (Mum). I took a walk around Neutral Bay and Mosman to do some painful window shopping. Spent hours exploring Darling Harbor. Went to the aquarium where they have an understandable obsession with "Finding Nemo". Visited the Chinese Gardens (a tranquil oasis in surprising bloom). Wandered through Chinatown. Trudged over the bridge (on the footpath, not over the top). And even found the moments necessary to enjoy choc, Thai food, good music and nosy veranda relaxation. I'm pretty good at filling my day with all the productive activities required to balance my languid delights. I think travelling is my thing. I am the queen of voluntary exile. Now, how to generate income this way...?

In other news: Jordan and Simone are home from the hospital today. He is still sleepy, but absolutely gorgeous in his tiny ways and faces. Also, on an unrelated topic, my tickets have been changed yet again. I am flying from Perth to Bangkok on the 19th October and to London on the 22nd November. Mark your calendars and JOIN me, people. In addition to Thailand, I'm planning on hitting Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam and possibly Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia (just the archipelago in the north).

Once there was a boy who came to stay

He had a formal, gold-stamped invitation but there were complications. First there was trouble with his transport and somehow the dates were mixed up and he arrived earlier than he had expected. The door opened expectantly and lovingly and he entered in his best, brilliant red suit. Quietly. Softly. Sleepily.

Though his manner suggested otherwise, it was actually quite startling for him. He checked his map and directions. Surely this couldn't be right. He had spent the last few months tucked in a cushy suite in a posh location near Sydney and suddenly he realized how different this journey was going to be. He decided to rest. Just silently relax, regroup, maybe spend a few days at a spa, having all his needs tended to. Time rolled blissfully by. There were guests, of course. He was a very important person and his visit was greatly anticipated. But he just couldn't bare all the attention and slept on.

There were voices that he definitely knew from somewhere. Many whispers and queries "Is there anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, Mr. Konemann?". And gentle caresses. Songs. Wishes blew about his bed furiously and often. He was beginning to think that with all this love and (strangely familiar) presence surrounding him it might be alright to wake up. Just maybe he would open his eyes and peek out at this new land. Harsh, noisy, bright, cool and foreign it was. He closed his eyes for just a moment more.

And we all waited patiently for him.

sounds like a personal problem

There is a man. He wears a set of paper bags and stands on his box. He says to beware; "The Portuguese fires are burning", "The Vegas strip is flooding", "The big apple is dark". He tells me to seek shelter in the arms of Jesus. Then he says that word: Armageddon. Certainly I am in the midst of a battle between my good and evil parts. I don't think this is what he means though.

People walk by and laugh at him. He is so different. He is mad in their eyes. Or maybe we are mad; trying so desperately to live our lives out of a catalogue, to be normal and straight and successful. So afraid to make a discovery that will lead us down a path we're not already on, we wander in disguise. Schizophrenics unable to vocalize our dreams. Left in our mad worlds with the appearance of utter normality. Pretending is the most subtle insanity. Ah well, as Simone says "sounds like a personal problem to me". Guess some will work through it and others will never realize it's an issue.

On a less morbid note, Simone is going into hospital this Wednesday to have the baby. It is becoming terribly exciting. But I am becoming increasingly aware that time is slipping past. It's almost my birthday! I only have two months left in Australia! I will be home in three months! I have been gone for nine months! It's all so incredible to me.

By the way, my dates for Thailand are the 24th October to the 25th November if anyone is interested in joining me.

"the tragedy of these people was that nothing in their lives had really bitten deep at all..." -Last Tycoon, F. Scott Fitzgerald

No, this is not at all a statement about the family I'm living with.

It just blows my mind that there are people out here, in a vast, dangerous, entrancing, gorgeous, exhilarating country such as Australia, and they have no idea that they are blessed. It completely escapes them that they are in the midst of an adventure, whether they're here to work, travel or remember. Whether they saved for three years to get here or meant to book a ticket to Melbourne, Florida and ended up in this red-brick oven. At every moment there is a choice to be free, even if chained to obligation. These children are half a WORLD away from everything they have grown amongst and into. As if possessing the particular demands of an orchid they refuse to bloom in unfamiliar territory.

Even though we're in a young country, you can feel the ancient past of the eucalypt trees, dusty soil, coral coast and rainbowed stones. The land should belong to the first people who existed here, in spirit before body. They call the moment in history before we needed bodies or farms or words The Dreamtime. If you want to believe, it's possible that this is all still a dream. Maybe we are living in a story, and when we close the book the Europeans will still only be socializing and lunching and parading in Europe. Maybe the bushwalkers are still the only ones on this continent, souls taking only what they need from this land. Looking up, into the stars that inspired the origin of questions, it seems natural to wonder.

In spite of all the negativity from fellow travellers, I feel like I'm sending roots through this ground, through the centre of the earth. When I come home I want to be international in a non-starlet sense. I want to grow anywhere.

Just a Spoonful of Sugar

I'm a nanny again.

Last night whilst I was wandering around the foyer of the YHA I spotted a handwritten want-ad. It requested IMMEDIATE assistance on the homefront. I grabbed it, called first thing in the morning, met with the family mid-day and left early afternoon with a job! There are two beautiful girls; Holly (4) and Cassie (1). Simone is also about 35 weeks pregnant with a third child. I'll be living with them in Leura, a charming village in the Blue Mountains next to Katoomba, for three to five weeks. I'm actually excited at the whole prospect. I'll be on a routine, making money, living with a lovely family, spending time with children, exploring the Blue Mountains at a leisurely pace, experiencing the real Australia. These are all good things.

Tonight I went to have a listen of Jodi Martin. She's a folk singer from Ceduna (one of the prime spots to witness the solar eclipse that happened earlier this year). I thought she was really talented. She plays a variety of stringed instruments and I was impressed with her skill. She's a wonderful songwriter, but her lyrics were sometimes lacking. You know that annoying habit Alanis has of mushing words into a line so brimming with syllables that thoughts are seeping out uncontrollably? Jodi does that sometimes. It always throws me off when a singer does that. It was so nice to be at a folk concert though. Comfortable. Familiar.

Learn Something New Everyday

Okay, let's get you up to speed. Bellingen was too beautiful to resist an extended stay. But after three nights, I was cold through to my BONES. Even still I enjoyed myself. Michael Hubbard, the young-slide-guitar-playing-genius, who performed at the Cool Creek Cafe, was gorgeously talented. After the show I walked down to the river where I attempted to cross over to Bat Island. It was pitch black, however, and impossible but the starlit walk was still invigorating. That night I went to stay in a community in the Thora valley. I slept in a caravan on the river's edge. Talk about getting back to nature. These people live in such peace. One woman lived in a house made out of the bamboo she collected from the forest topped off with a VINE ROOF. Amazing. I rode back into town with them for the markets. It was just such a great experience.

From Bellingen I travelled south to Seal Rocks. This is a transparent township on the coast, blink and you'll miss it. But it was the most stunning, pristine ocean scene I have ever witnessed. I stood on a snowy white sand dune above the bluest ocean, surrounded by red cliffs topped with velvety green vegetation, for at least two hours. People were milling about far below me, but I was alone. I sat as the sun drifted down my back, casting haunting shadows towards America. That night we built a fire between dunes and the group from the bus just talked, roasted bananas and marshmallows and looked at the green, orange and pink stars that shot across the sky.

After a night in Sydney I jumped on a bus for the Blue Mountains. The oil from the gum trees lifts into the air and creates a hazy, blue hue from a distance. Just outside of the city limits the mountains rise like indignant shoulders. This nature isn't going without a fight. It's been here, battling for millions of years. I read about a type of pine tree that's just been discovered in a Blue Mountain canyon. It was thought to have become extinct 65 MILLION years ago. It has needles, but they hang on fronds, like a palm tree. It's trunk is alive and textured, like a tall, lanky pine cone. It exists nowhere else in the world and has been hidden in this miraculous maze of mountains for all of man's time on earth.

I am staying in Katoomba, a very New England style town. They are having "Yulefest" right now. Feasts and Christmas-type celebrations. It's a fun time to have stumbled upon. Tomorrow I'm opening another musical door when I see Jodi Martin perform at the Clarendon Hotel. She's meant to be a rising star and her face has been plastered on posters all down the east coast. I will let you know how it goes. Aside from that I am doing countless bush walks which all lead to awesome views of the canyons, cliffs and mountains. The colours change with every minute, as the sun moves and clouds gather or dissipate. I know how lucky I am to be witnessing all this beauty.

"On a night like this I can actually hear the happiness inside me" -Rowan, my little sage

Quickly

In Sydney, finally. Tomorrow I head off for the Blue Mountains. There is a lot to catch up on, even though it's only been two days! It will all come soon. Right now I'm off for an early night in King's Cross.

Lost the Plot?

"When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don't even understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child just out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favor from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of you life.

At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive."

from "The Pilgrimage" by Paulo Coelho

Currently I'm in Bellingen, home of David Helfgott. (For those of you uncertain who that brilliant mind is please rent "Shine".) It's laundry time and I'm enjoying the bliss of being a sloth with a book and some leaf-filtered sunshine.

Tonight I'm out to discover some local acoustic talent at the Cool Creek Cafe. This place is relaxed and alternative. The people walk slowly, even if they have a place to go. The shops are enveloped in the felt creatures and garments of crafty Steiner mothers. The windows all offer yoga, meditation and tribal drum experiences. Bright, rainbow birds sing determinedly. I miss home.

Into the woods
To get the thing
That makes it worth
The journeying.

Not quite out of the woods with this sickness yet, but I'm getting there. From Bargara I travelled south to Mooloolaba. I stayed the for three nights as it was another good place to rest and they gave me my own room (it's good to be a travel agent). I took a day trip to Noosa, which is lovely. It reminds me of Winter Park (where I used to live in Florida). Unfortunately if you don't have a gold card there isn't a ton to do. Couple this day with my rereading of The Orchid Thief and you've got me feeling a bit homesick for Florida, something I never thought I'd be.

On the way out of Mooloolaba we stopped at an animal sanctuary. There were sweet, sleepy little koalas, some with babies in their pouches, wombats pacing in their enclosure and red kangas, some also with joeys in pouches. We got to hand feed them, which was really special. They look so reminiscent of my little kitty! I guess that's why I named him "Kangaroo Paw".

I've stayed the past two nights in Nimbin, which is a really relaxed and beautiful place to chill out. It's called the drug capital of Australia (humourous with their population of about 200). Last night when I went out, after being offered dime bags from four people from the age of 60 down to 10, I saw why. Regardless, it is a great community with a candle factory, interesting book store, wonderful organic cafes and a spectacular sunrise view from my bedroom window. Tomorrow I head south again...

now i know how a roasted chicken feels

I've been incredibly sick the past few days. I think it's the flu, which seems to be going around here. I am in Bargara, just south of Airlie Beach trying to recuperate. I was supposed to leave for Hervey Bay today to head out to Fraser Island, but now I think I will skip that all together. My whole body is just aching and I slept for maybe two hours last night. It was horrible. My head was dizzy with one of those fevers that you think "My head is just going to explode. My brain is surely frying." Nightmare.

Other than that... this resort is a beautiful place to rest. I'm staying in my own apartment, which is marvelous. There's even a sauna here. Movie channels and miso soup. A certain cure.

I miss my own pillow and the opportunity of a bath.

Back from Paradise

I'm astounded by how quickly the salt and sand have washed from my hair and skin. How quickly this experience has been washed from my body (never from my mind). From crystalized and sun-stained to smooth and bronze.

I have just spent three luscious days aboard the Matador yacht off the coast of Queensland. We spent the bright, spotless, azure days touring the WhitSundays. We hopped off to lounge on Whitehaven beach, blanketed in silica sand as light and fine as powdery snow. I was part of a small group, sleeping below deck or above as the night skies allowed, eating fresh and tasty food, snorkelling in the depths of the mysterious great barrier reef (amazed by the colour and enchanting creatures mere feet from the surface), counting the familiar constellations (everyone with their own knowledge and contribution) until we lost ourselves in the vastness of the universe and the conversation turned to something deeper. It is a trip I want to take again and again until the ocean sends me away, tosses me back onto the land. I have always been intoxicated with the expanse and haunting uncertainity in the seas. But I realize now that I have never known the water truly before now.

I am trying to keep my mind grounded now that I am back on dry earth. My legs sometimes sway and my dreams are liquid, languid and flowing. Amazing.

Boys in the Trees

The air in Northern Queensland is warm and gummy. It hangs on your skin like honey. Drapes you in toxic sweetness and heat.

I'm on Magnetic Island right now. Off the coast of Townsville. Just like New Hut on Koh Samui I'm sleeping in an A-frame hut. Tropical and lush. This morning I saw a Kookabura outside my door. He bobbed his head around like he owned the place. I guess he used to. His head looked too big for his beautifully sculpted body and neatly layered feathers. An incredibly hip bird. His fuzzy flatop slicked back like a six year old boy just out of the pool and away from mum's comb. Elvis in infancy.

Jotting down notes for my post I am sitting on an elevated level above the shore. With a perfect view of the coral reef. (That famous one) The sand is bright and light, like frosted glass, shattered. The water is a tempting ultramarine along the beach and then about 50 meters out drops off into death and darkness. Well, death for those who dare to walk too far, or life for those who make the ocean floor their home. The ocean would like you to know; it can reclaim you at any moment.

Went for a short bush walk today. Koalas dangled their arms from the trees lazily. Languid and charming little fellows. Maybe I can sneak one home...

winter?

I've spent the past week in Kuranda, which is a tropical village just west of Cairns. Steve and his daughter, Kirsty, have welcomed me into their home to help care for their animals and do a bit of yard work. They have five horses, two goats, half a dozen sheep, dozens of ducks and chooks and two dogs. It's quite a handful!

This is my first real wwoof experience (calling up a stranger to ask if I can live/work with them as part of the family) but it has been wonderful. I wandered down to Kuranda village to their bustling craft markets, walked through the rainforest, saw the world's largest butterfly and went for a lovely horseback ride.

The climate here is tropical, which I love. The trees grow and bend like canopies over the roads and all through the yard. The sky, when it's not raining, is the most brilliant unspoilt blue. I have spotted a few fat spiders, but I'm learning not to scream and cry and can actually respond with a hand swat and a "shoo". Though my heart still races and it takes me a bit longer to fall asleep than it should. Still I'm making progress.

Tomorrow it's off to Mission Beach, which I hear is sleepy and serene. Nice break. Tully is my next wwoofing stay so there will be more to report in the next week.

my life the past few days

Mud.

simple happiness

Well, even as I threatened with departure, New Zealand was good to me until the end. I spent my last night in Wellington, catching a cast discussion of the movie "Whale Rider" at Te Papa, then enjoying the unseasonably mild winter's night walking around the harbor and city streets. Instead of paying for a hostel the night before I left (since I needed to be at the airport around 3 am anyway) I went right to the airport to wait 10 hours for my flight. I like a bit of self-torturing adventure.

After 36 draining hours in the same clothing (and shoes!), I am safely and contentedly in Cairns. The weather is brilliant. Sunsets knock me off my feet. I'm staying in a little oasis right in the city center. Tuesday I'll head off in a southerly direction, hopefully stopping off to do some wwoofing before relaxing again at Mission beach.

No spider sightings yet. Everyone keep up the happy thoughts.