posted by Alea @ 19:32
4 comments
posted by Alea @ 19:31
0 comments
2/21/07 5:26PM
Dear everyone,
It?s been a long time since I?ve been able to write, so this is a very long
one. It was meant to be read in pieces, as I have written it, but it is
beginning to turn into a book. Pardon if some of the stories are cut off -
I've been writing in bits and pieces, and I am often interrupted in the middle.
It is quite a different experience having a computer along. But enough of
that, I hope you enjoy. Accompanying pictures will come in just a few more
days. G'day mates!
xoxo,
Alea
--
The animals in their cages seem very crowded and it makes me a little sad. I
see them trapped in such a confined space and not able to get away from
disturbances or noise. Some of them did seem pretty happy ? particularly the
cockatiels and similar birds, who were very social and appeared very at home
with their close friends. I?m not so sure about the koalas, the wallabies,
or the other birds who had no room to fly. I would rather see the animals in
the wild anyway. Where a glimpse accompanies excitement and the feeling that
your actions will make an impression on the creature that will affect its
reaction. Apart from the birds, I am surprised to find the strange animals so
animal-like. They are not as different as my impressions. That is, I feel a
quality in the movements, in the structures ? the fur, the joints, the
carriage ? that is just like any other warm blooded animal. They are not
invincible. They have the same soft-bodied limitations.
--
When I arrived in Honolulu, it was dark. I could not see the city or Waikiki.
I could barely make out where Diamond Head must be. The smell was instantly
familiar, as was the feel of the air. But the city was black. And when I left
again, the air was still black, the city still hidden under the sky. As we
drove to the airport, I could pick out familiar places, but the incessant sun
was still missing. Only as we checked in and walked the long curved road out
to the very end of the open air terminal did the bright yellow light appear,
and in full form. The rest of Honolulu will be there still when I return.
And while I sat there next to my sister, learning about cellular structures of
lungs and the vagueness of causes of and contributions to asthma, the rest of
Honoloulu was getting ready for the Probowl. They didn?t quite start
drinking right after we were dropped off at 6am, but the tailgate party was on
it?s way, for the game that started at 3.
--
Arriving in Sydney, we could see the opera house flying over, a harbor full of
sailboats, and hundreds of little red roofs in the outskirts. My mind was
surprised to find it so bright out when we opened the slat over the plane
window. I wasn?t sure if it was supposed to be night or day. It was clearly
day, and a summer day at that. The sun felt very close. Inside the airport, we
walked through a maze of nearly empty hallways that took us right through the
open duty free shop before arriving at the immigration booths. We walked
nearly straight through and down to the luggage carousels, where we dumped our
pile of carry-ons to wait for the rest of the luggage. And that?s when we
were inspected by the cutest little beagle dog, what seemed like a sniffer in
training. It passed over us, but found some dry fruit in the luggage next door
and was quite excited to explore the findings, though it was held back and given
it?s own treat.
Nearly as soon as we walked up to the baggage claim, we saw the bags coming
around. But as we pulled them off, Kelsa realized that the bag that looked
like here duffle wasn?t quite right. On inspection, it was in fact somebody
else?s bag that looked exactly like hers. We joked that we needed to watch
people walking away and that the guy who owned this bag was going to get a
surprise when all he had to wear was a couple bikinis and a bunch of women?s
clothes. As everyone found there luggage and the carousel became empty, it
became evident that somebody had mistaken Kelsa?s bag for theirs, just as we
had mistaken it. With no luggage booth in site, we scrambled around to find
someone to help. Then we spotted the luggage guy taking the last bags off the
claim and appealed to him for a plan of action. Upon recognizing the
situation, he told us to sit and wait here for ten minutes while he ran off to
track it down. And that he did. An announcement was made immediately over the
loudspeaker, and then he disappeared. But only a few minutes later, back he
came with an Australian in tow. The guy had already made it through
immigration, and apologized profusely for taking the wrong back. We were just
glad to have the luggage and thanked the luggage man for averting a longer
disaster, just as he scolded us for not clearly marking our bag.
Immigration itself was quick and easy, and as we exited to the international
lounge, we recognized the Probowl on the big screen and wondered if we?d
catch a glimpse of Nate in the stands. We didn?t see him, as we walked by
but I marveled that it was still going on more than 10 hours after we had been
dropped off. It seemed more like 24 hours difference. I was wide awake like
I?d gotten a full night?s sleep and it was only mid-morning (we arrived at
4pm). I was fully ready for the 3 hour drive north to Port Stephens.
The night before, we?d reserved a rental car and decided to be adventurous.
We chose the stick shift, knowing that we?d be dealing with a backwards on
the wrong side of the rode. This meant shifting with the left hand instead of
the right. But as we were relieved to realize as we got in, the pedals were in
the same order and not reversed. I was navigating as we pulled out into the
airport roads and nearly scraped the cars pulled over on the edge to the left.
I?m sure my moment of panic didn?t help Kelsa?s driving at all, but how do
you communicate in a situation like that? I guess you don?t. I wasn?t
quite as scared as we drove down the proper road next to the ocean and passed
so closely to the people entering and exiting their vehicles (don?t open that
door any wider!), but it started to rain heavily on and off, a tropical
downpour. And the puddles in the left lane became impassable. But not before
the lane switch was attempted, when the decision to stay in a lesser puddle
shot up a wall of water just as we passed a pedestrian on the grassy (so sorry,
Mr. pedestrian. Watch out, American driver!). I make fun, but Kelsa caught on
extremely quickly and was driving like a native by the time we hit the freeway.
By that time, I had gotten my navigating legs as well, after mistakenly taking
us south out of the city for several miles and turning us around through the
backstreets to bypass Sydney from the outside. Only the lane changes remained
difficult, and that was done well with a little help.
And not long after we left Sydney, we began to hit the national forests. And
they were beautiful. We drove along parts of ocean, islands, lakes, and
inlands, where vast stretches of soft trees looked like we?d reached the
forest of Jurassic Park. Many cars were parked here and there alongside the
freeway and I wondered if they were stopped for a walk in the forest or a
picnic lunch.
That first day was amazing as we drove away from the city. We soon entered
Kangaroo and Koala country. And though we did not see any, we began to
recognize the Eucalyptus trees. There were plenty of cows and horses, and many
birds and open fields. But not yet the strange ones for which this country is
so well known.
--
2-13-07
Finally, I am sleeping through the night. Perhaps my body got tired of not
enough sleep and didn?t care when it slept anymore. At 8 hours difference, a
nearly fall asleep at 6pm when back home, I have stayed up far too late. I can
no longer hold my eyes open, but then I only nap. The first night I woke up
thrice in intervals, all before the sun came up. The group of us naturally
woke up early and walked out to see the sunrise over the golf course next door.
By the second night (last night), I hadn?t been sleeping in days, and when I
could no longer stay awake, I slept through to daylight.
This morning, we went out to the backyard and found ourselves exploring the
outback. We hiked through the trees just a few meters before we found a dirt
road to walk on through the woods. Gigantic spiders filled the air, and we
carried sticks in front so that we would not come directly face to face with
one by accident. The tiny ones have shiny silver abdomens, as if they were
carrying a tiny silver bullet on their backs. Others were fat, over an inch of
just bodies, and still others had thinner bodies with legs that made them three
inches long. The webs were classic shaped, strung high up on the path. They
glimmered in the sunlight if you caught them in the right direction.
And that?s about what was happening when David (my brother-in-law) stepped on
a giant ant nest. The nest itself was small and hidden under a clump of grass,
but the ants were enormous with long protective appendages sticking out of the
front of the head. Luckily, they did not turn out as vicious as the ants in
Zanzibar. Though they bit a stick that my father used to inspect them, David
did not seem to suffer the same fate. Creepy crawly, but no painful welts or
permanent attachments. David kept threatening to scream like a girl, but no
such luck, he managed to hold his own against all of the Australian beasts.
Throughout the walk, we saw many more ants especially ? red ones, black ones,
yellow ones ? some big, some small. We saw grasshoppers and a skink, bees and
big black and white birds. And near the end, I heard some noise as I saw
something move across a swampy area. Looking closely, I though I saw something
that might be larger than what we had seen. I couldn?t quite trace the
movement, but as I scanned the area, I suddenly saw a kangaroo take one big
jump through the bushes and I heard the brush crunch as it flew quickly out of
sight. We did not see it again, but now I can say I?ve seen a ?Roo in the
wild. Still no koalas, but we?re still hoping.
--
Port Stephens is a small peninsula, or rather a large bay about 3 hours north of
Sydney. It is known as a good place for seeing whales and dolphins, and there
is a large area at the tip that makes up Tomaree National Park. On the ocean
side of the park, there are a set of beaches, some of which you can only reach
by hiking. But the one we went to, called Fingal Bay, is a marked surfing
beach (lifeguard patrolled) with plenty of parking only a beach stair down from
the parking lots. Still, it is more remote than the typical tourist beaches in
town, and even the parking lot seemed comparatively empty and remote.
Many children were playing in the water, and adults. We saw a few sandcastles
as we walked by, considering where to land. But the neat thing about Fingal
Bay is that the bay is formed by a large island-like land mass that is
connected to the mainland only at low tide. Seeing this, we immediately set
out for a more remote beach spot, much nearer to the sandy connection point.
Unfortunately, it was nearing high tide ? as the Australian fisherman advised
us on the walk. We would not be able to get to this land mass. But still it
drew us closer. We wanted at least to see it and walk up to the water on the
other side. We could see the sand pathway, it seemed so doable.
So we chatted and walked and walked, and the occasional surfer passed us by with
only his board and his swim trunks (running to seemingly the same place, but
disappearing into nowhere around the stretch of water-covered sand). Kelsa
discovered little limpet shells formed in the shape of stars, and we began to
examine the sand more closely as we walked by.
All along, and increasingly so, we came across blue creatures washed up on the
shore. Most of them looked like baby sea anemones, some with their tentacles
splayed across the sand like a flower. There were so many of these anemones
that I wondered where they were living ? there were no rocks nearby. Did
they live on the bottom of the ocean? But the scary ones were the jellyfish.
Same as the ones in Hawaii, these were the Portuguese Man O? War. The small
ones blow in with clear bodies and a single long blue string attached ? the
part that you really want to stay away from. If encountered in the water,
these creatures will wrap their tentacle around your arm or body and leave
welts like a tattoo for several days. Not life threatening at this size (watch
for the box jellyfish for that), still they were too numerous to tempt us to
swim in the ocean today.
Just before the tip of sand reached out to the island at the edge of the bay,
there was a set of mini sand dunes, slowly fading under the water but keeping
the ocean separate from the bay. Here is where we stopped and placed down our
towels.
The dunes were small and rolling. They were perfect for running around and
exploring. Passing over several, I could see the ocean clearly on the other
side and I spotted the surfer destination. Several boards bobbed in the water
and others walked down the beach to some bigger waves at the other end. On the
island, I could see a trail, but the sand bridge was covered by ocean washing
over. It looked wadeable, but maybe not for long. A surfboard could get you
over if the current didn?t get strong enough to wash you far away.
In the books, they say that wetsuits and skin suits are good protection from the
jellyfish. The sting will not penetrate even a thin layer.
--
The theme of our trip is ?Little Miss Sunshine.? David has volunteered to
be grandpa, and I think Kelsa is Olive ? or maybe that?s David too. I
believe both have made a run for a moving minivan as we head off to a new
destination or stop to drop off a video. Nobody has been left behind yet, but
the car alternates between silence, arguments over how to give directions (some
of us want to know exactly where we?re going, and some of us like to get lost.
The driver wants precise directions even if we?re going in circles), and in
depth conversations about medical procedures, brains, neuro-manipulation, and
poisonous insects.
And then there?s the WOW conversation. That?s World of Warcraft for the
uninducted. I no longer get completely lost in the conversations of orks,
elves, bear mounts and dragon pets, but that?s my cue to go do the dishes or
make some lunch.
--
Today was a day at the dunes. We decided to try one of those combination tours
to see the dolphins and the sand dunes. And I?m glad we did, because the
dune tour was fabulous. Our guide was a local Australian who knew everything
about the area and like to hang out with the retired squatters on the beach.
But I jump ahead of myself. Showing up for the tour, we joined a couple of
quiet Japanese women and our guide in a marked SUV and headed out across the
sand on public access dunes. The going was lumpy, but our guide was a good
driver as he seemed to enjoy getting through the difficult terrain. He advised
us not to try it on our own unless we were willing to pay the $150/hr fee of the
one beach rescue tower that would be willing to come and get us from the next
town over. (But then again, ask any friendly local land they could lend a
hand). 98% chance you?d get bogged in the first time out.
And the guide was full of stories and facts, local knowledge and ministrivia
throughout, much of which I will not be able to recall. The first stretch was
beach and birds, including a White Breasted Sea Eagle (if the collective
recalls correctly) and diving birds, all searching for fish. This was leading
up to the big dunes where we?d try our hand at sand boarding. The area at
the first part of the tour was the sight of a big portion of the dune that had
been removed and shipped to Hawaii for beach sand after it began to take over
the local roads that lead in and out of the peninsula. Before that, it was the
sight of the filming of some of the fight scenes in Lawrence of Arabia, and,
according to our trusty guide, the site of a commercial filming every other
weekend.
Sand boarding was quite fun. We each sat on our own snowboard shaped piece of
wood with a little foot stopper near the front on which to brace our heels. The
boards were waxed before each run and our hands trailed behind for balance and
to keep us from veering off to the side, which would cause us to wipe out and
tumble down the dune. Much like sledding, we raced down the steep dune and
then ran up again for another go. At the very end, we ran down to the bottom
on the steepest hill and played at the bottom, trying to slide on our feet on
the smaller slopes until the vehicles came down to pick us up. The most
amazing thing about driving on the dunes is the near vertical drops that the
vehicle takes going forward down the hill. The guide warned us that turning
would make us roll, but straight down was perfectly fine. It?s a little
scary to see the ground coming at you head on in a car. But I could get used
to that.
Back in the car, heading straight down the dunes, it was back to the beach again
for a couple of kilometers. Then back again away from the ocean, there appeared
several small tin shacks. These were the squatter houses. But they were
official squatter houses. Grandfathered in on this aboriginal land, these last
few shacks were allowed to be maintained but not rebuilt. The shacks could be
passed down to next of kin or by way of will, but could not be sold. Populated
by retired fishermen (one of which was the mayor of tin town, pop. 4), the only
other way to take over a hut is to live in a local town for over 10 years and
to get on the list to inherit a shack if it was not otherwise inheritable. And
maintenance involved digging out the shack every time the dunes tried to take it
over, building up to 1 meter a day in a storm. Here is where you?ll see the
picture of us all jumping up into the air, just in front of the tin shacks -
one of the many fun details that was well lead by our excellent guide. Mad Max
and the Thunderdome was partially filmed by these huts.
On our way yet again, we passed more birds and a set of whale bones that was
buried when the small whale was beached. This turned out to be a much better
solution than the guys who decided to dynamite a giant whale on the Oregon
coast, spreading rotting whale blubber for miles and causing big chunks of
whale to rain down on the area, denting several cars, but luckily not hitting
any people. The whale bones were just coming back up out of the sand, as
happens with many bones and artifacts in the dunes. The aboriginals made piles
of shells on top of their waist which helped the organic rubbish to compost
quickly. For the most part, only the shells were left, and we could see
several piles of shells that were up to 10,000 years old. And one day, our
guide had come across an even more impressive sight ? the full skeleton of a
giant, 16 foot kangaroo that seemed to have died in a brush fire. Originally,
the skeleton was fully intact, but in the period of just a few days of being
uncovered, many of the bones disappeared, the site desecrated by passersby.
The aboriginal council did not want anything done about the bones, and so they
were left to whatever fate they happened upon. When we stopped, there were
several bones scattered around, and our guide unburied some hidden teeth to
show us the sheer size of this fossil before returning them to the sand. Can
you imagine a 16-foot kangaroo? I didn?t know that ancient Australian
?mega-fauna? even existed.
The shells that covered the ancient compost heaps are called pipi shells. They
are clams that still live under the sand at the edge of the ocean. A bird
called and oyster catcher digs the pipis out of the sand and takes them up to a
dry spot on the dune and lays them in a circle. As the pipis dry out, they open
up and the birds can come back for an easy meal. Stopping by the edge of the
ocean, the guide showed us how to stand in the lapping surf and dig down with
our heels to find the pipi. At just under ankle depth, you would hit something
hard, like a rock in the fine sand, and then you could pick it up with your hand
and rinse it. After each of us had a chance to collect a couple of pipis, we
set them in a circle where the water would reach them. When the waves washed
over them, they let loose their tight protective grip and came out. Like a thin
snail, they were tan-colored, but wavy and thin, with shells on their sides.
The pipis quickly upended themselves and dug back into the sand, disappearing
quickly.
?Drinking kills
Driving skills?
?Stop
Revive
Survive?
?don?t be a tosser??
(Australian road signs)
--
2-16-07 (Boston time)
This morning the debate is the theory of ice ages and the reality of movies
where land freezes over, where the earth slows down, where currents and
climates change, and how to run from a tidal wave. Over pancakes, the
conversation turns quickly to books and dreams, to Warcraft and books to
exchange. As I sit here writing, Warcraft takes over and they all plan quests
and discuss the various details of rogues and lockboxes and whatever else those
things do.
We have made it to Cairns after a day of travel in which we split and
re-connected. Jayna and David flew from Sydney, Kelsa and I stopped by
Brisbane for several hours, and Dad flew with just a short stopover, spending
most of his time in airports.
Cairns is the land of bugs. The climate is tropical, and as soon as we climbed
into the car and rolled down the windows, we were invaded by a bunch of
harmless looking gnats. A few were flitting around the car as we rolled up the
windows and took off, but then Kelsa started feeling them bite. ?ow! What?s
that? The stinky gnats are biting me. And they itch!? But the gnats were
also very slow and as soon as you felt one bite, a swat at the bite would
result in a little black smudge. If you weren?t quite that fast, the result
was a big red smudge. It made me wonder how such a little creature could eat
that much. The little black gnats didn?t last long, and they never seemed to
make it to the front seat. But this is just one more piece of evidence to the
theory that everything in Australia is more poisonous and aggressive. Even the
?harmless? gnats bite.
The other fun insects so far are the green-rumped ants. I don?t know what
kind they are, but there is a huge colony on the gate to the lagoon pool. As
you go to open the gate, they rear up on their back legs, making a full 90
degree angle with their bodies and looking straight at you. The lagoon pool is
a beautiful garden of palm trees and flowers, surrounding the water, complete
with waterfalls down from the giant hottub (or cold tub, in this case) and a
beach-like gradual entrance next to a covered area with lounge chairs). No lap
pool at this one.
--
we will now be interrupted by a short bout of swimming?
--
In Port Stephens, the tennis court was not grass like at this one. Kelsa and I
played doubles opposite our dad ? a starter lesson after years of hardly
playing at all. It?s good to have someone to teach you who enjoys just
hitting the ball around.
And in Port Stephens, every evening at dusk, the birds would go wild. It became
a storm of loud chattering, centered around a nearby tree full of parrots and
other birds. Inside, it was quiet, but as soon as the door was opened or when
you stepped outside, you were inundated by the socializing sounds of the birds.
They were marking the sunset, revealing themselves, and marking the wonder of
wild creatures noticing something I am not aware of, making me curious. I want
to listen as if I might be able to understand what they are saying if I pay
attention for long enough.
Not so much with the dolphins we saw. As a package with the dune tour, we went
out on a dolphin cruise. We saw some dolphins, four or five of them. There
was even a chart that labeled some local dolphins by their names (next to the
underwater video camera). But they were used to tourist boats and didn?t
much care or bother to come close or swim away. They seemed to peacefully
coexist but no longer interact. You could also sit in a net behind the boat,
dragging your bottom through the chilly water (chilly especially as it was a
cool afternoon on the windy water and getting cloudy). But instead, David
befriended the captain and tried his hand at driving the boat as we dragged
people behind in the net. The captain seemed a bit lonely or bored in his
isolated cabin, and he was happy to chat with us. He was glad to hear we were
staying in the area for several days as most tourists seem to run up from
Sydney for a single day and do a whirlwind tour of the dunes and the dolphins.
That evening, four of us drove off to find the one winery in Hunter Valley that
was also a brewery. The Bluetongue Brewery. Hunter Valley is an area just over
an hour from Port Stephens, inland from the bigger coastal town of Newcastle.
Roundabouts after roundabouts passed by, ever turning in circles. But as we
approached the valley, the views changed entirely. The scenery became the
French countryside, or Western Massachusetts on the hills near Amherst. An
entirely different beauty, more relaxing than the coast. Like a movie, it was
the peaceful countryside. The roads became backroads with rolling fields and
the farms were pleasant, smooth colors and quiet corners as if time was frozen.
We found the brewery easily with its large, easily recognizable form. The large
white brewing cylinders lined up next to each other in the middle of a field
near the road. Pulling in, even the parking lot was pleasantly quiet. The
breeze was soft and the water flowed gently from a replica water pump into a
small pond filled with duckweed. The duck seemed to be half buried in the
ground as she swam around in the duckweed, parting it only as she swam into it
and leaving it to close behind her as she reached in to find a bite of food.
This we watched from the window of the restaurant after doing a beer tasting and
choosing our two favorites. The most unusual was a strongly flavored alcoholic
ginger beer that was light and watery but for the spiciness of the ginger. It
reminded me strongly of tea. The other five ranged from the old traditional
bitter to the modern classic flavor and from dark and sharp to smooth and
strong. I noticed once again that beer is difficult to taste. Those that seem
pleasant at a sip are not the same as the ones I?d want to drink a glass of.
Those that would be good with food are not the ones I?d drink alone. We
chose the two darkest to share and brought them in to share in accompaniment to
the food.
The food. This area was winery area first of all, and as such, the restaurant
employed a French style chef who knows how to balance taste. The food was a
wonderful exploration of tastes as we shared a smattering of different dishes
from appetizers to dessert. They started us with warm rolls and fresh breaded
and fried beans with a pesto dip, while preparing our meal. We were the only
ones there at first and the chef seemed to be warming up on us.
Like the scenery, it was a long, slow, pleasant meal filled with good
conversation. Discussion was long and natural on a range of topics and slowly
built to a lively debate in the car on the way home. The stars were numerous
and we could see the Milky Way on that warm, sweet evening as we walked to the
car. It just seemed perfect out.
--
2-19-07
Diving is swimming around on the bottom like you could hold your breath for 45
minutes. It is pretty amazing. As a kid, I always liked to spend most of my
time in a swimming pool under the water. Jayna, Kelsa, and I used to play
around doing somersaults and standing on our hands when we weren?t trying to
launch J from our shoulders as we stood at the bottom of the pool. The crawl
stoke is also much less boring when you can keep your head under the water and
watch the fishies as you zoom by with flippers (snorkeling). Under the water
at the great barrier reef, I saw 2 sharks and a whole school of clown fish.
The sharks were very small, about 3 ft each , and swam away from us as we got
near the bottom. To my surprise, I felt no fear. The effect of size was
something I had grossly underestimated. I was more afraid of the rays with
their big bulging eyes sticking far up above the sand, their bodies half
covered by the pale yellow bottom, but their black and white tails sticking out
menacingly. I was very careful not to land on the bottom if I didn?t look
several times first. The other fish I don?t want to land on is a spiny
creature ? like a lionfish, but something else here ? whose spines are hard
enough to pass through a boot and are deadly poisonous if too much gets in you.
This creature sits on the bottom, hidden like the color of the sea floor. I saw
one once in Waikiki. At wading distance, that will get me out of the water.
The little ?Nemos? were in a large sea anemone. Their coloring was a very
dark orange, not helped by the overcast and rainy water. Underneath the sea
also seemed foggy, but with a good distance for visibility (10m). Snorkeling
along the edge of the coral, I started to reach the interesting stuff as I got
a good distance from where the boat was parked. The giant branches of coral
sat on the bottom like blue barked trees that had fallen in a windstorm. A
really big, dark friendly fish swam by in the depths and another big pair of
trumpeter-like fish swam right upon the surface.
As a child, I was afraid of nearly anything in the water. I remember going to
Hawaii when I must have been 5 years old, and I wouldn?t go in without a
windowed floaty mat between me and the fish. And as I grew up, I never liked
swimming in an ocean or lake where I couldn?t see the bottom or where
something might touch me in the water. I didn?t like to swim above the
seaweed. I wouldn?t want to swim if I saw a tree that had fallen in and sat
there decomposing. If there were fish, I didn?t want to see or feel them.
All of that was an deep dark hiding place for unknown creatures. You?d never
know if something down there might bite.
Snorkeling inches above the coral, I get a similar feeling. I do not mind the
fish so much anymore, but I wouldn?t want to brush the coral. As long as I
can see it, it does not bother me. Up here, the thing that occurred to me was
a comparison to surfing. As the waves crashed against the reef out 200 yards
from where I swam, I thought about riding them and how they tell you not to
dive in if you are near a reef, but to spread out your arms and legs so you
don?t tear yourself up on the coral. But I also thought of all the creatures
I had been seeing and how many of them I would not want to encounter while
surfing. All of them, I did not mind at all right then, but I wouldn?t want
to see a shark, no mater how small. I would not want to encounter branching
coral sticking up to puncture me or rays or scary, poisonous-looking fishes.
I learned to dive in Boston, just a couple of months ago - in November. Going
out for my certification dives, I wondered if I really wanted to know what was
under me when I surf. No need to worry on that account, visibility turned out
to be around 5 ft. I could barely see the person next to me. And low
visibility under the water when you barely know what you?re doing is scary
for an entirely different reason (people sometimes have to remember to look at
their bubbles to figure out which way is up ? not necessarily easy or obvious
at the point when you realize that you don?t know. Luckily, I have never been
that disoriented and I?ve never completely lost sight of another diver).
I?m told that visibility in Gloucester can be very good, and you will see
tons of lobsters an crabs, but it somehow seemed fitting that the water was
filled with blurry bits of seaweed and clouds and that the temperature was cold
enough to make me lose feeling in the bottom of my foot for 20 minutes after I
left the water. (It is also no fun to walk around on a foot that is so cold
that it cannot feel the ground).
But Australian waters are an amazing experience compared to those cold, cloudy
dives. The water is warm enough that I wear nothing but my bathing suit and
the diving gear. The lightness as I wander is what really lets me feel like a
kid in a swimming pool. I do not get cold over the 45 minutes I am at the
bottom. I can see and explore, though I am bound by the distance of my guide
and fellow divers. The giant clams are just like the ones at the aquarium in
Honolulu. The jellyfish are nowhere to be seen.
--
The creatures here all seem poisonous or deadly, but people seem to survive all
right. It just takes a little care and some familiarity with the dangers. The
box jellyfish are lining the shore up here in the north during this season.
Only one or two people die from their stings every year, but nobody swims from
October through March. According to the sand dune tour guide, a sting must be
treated within an hour if the person is to survive. The affective area
immediately starts dieing and the skin has to be cut away so it will not keep
spreading.
--
Australian domestic flights are terribly cramped. They are worse than the US by
far. I?ve lost the couple of inches in which I can see the screen of my
laptop while I am barey typing in a cramped manner. In the US, at least I get
to choose between the two. Not only that, but they make you buy everything
here ? no free drinks or snacks at all. I must say this is the worst cramped
flight I?ve been on. There is no way I could lean forward to sleep ? I
wouldn?t fit. The people in front of me are leaned back as far as they can
go, and my own seat won?t budge because I?m sitting in front of the exit
row on top of the wing.
Cairns is a pure tourist destination. There is little to do there that is not a
big tour or a big attraction. As the guidebook says, they ?have no shame?
about being a tourist town. And it?s right. That?s what it is, and there
seems to be no conflict over it. No locals tired of tourists, no division of
?real life? and tourist life. Cairns is in fact a very small town, with
hardly a downtown area. We drove through to the docks for the reef tour and
the city consisted of two long rows of tourist shops, a hotel casino with a
large, neat looking bio dome, a few small hotels, and a regular parking lot.
The rest was pretty much the outskirts.
Never tiring of animals, three of us left the small city for some countryside
and small town attractions. It was a relief driving out of the spread of near
nothingness and into new territory. The smaller towns seemed more like regular
life and the small shops and buildings were the places of Australians going
about their own lives ? the banana plantation with attached banana store, the
bakery where we bought more meat pies and pastries for dinner, and even the park
we found by following the signs from the highway out into the country.
The park was designated by the ?Boulders 6km ?? sign? that we decided to
follow. The signs were well directed, though there was hardly a turnoff in the
country road we followed. And when we arrived at the park, it was pouring
rain. A group of young adolescents and a giant tour bus was there. The kids
were in their matching shorts and t-shirts, perhaps a school group; some of
them were running around and playing in the rain, kicking a soccer ball or
lying in puddles. The rest were crowded under the small shelter off to the
side. All were having a good time being soaked to the bone.
Across the small field filled with wet children, there was our trailhead. The
paved path was partially flooded in places, but not so much to prevent us from
stepping through the small streams. It was truly raining in the rainforest.
Alongside the trail ran a muddy river. It was the kind we always peered into
for signs of large logs which might turn out to be crocodiles. The swimming
signs in the park seemed to indicate that this was very unlikely, but in croc
territory, you may never know.
Later, on the croc farm, we were told of the origin of several of the farmed
crocs. Trouble animals were sent to places like this, away from the people
eating possibilities and into the people?s eating possibilities. Alas, I
think most crocs would be sold for their skins, but I did see croc on the menu
at nearly all our eating stops. One large salt water crocodile was fished from
a nearby swimming pool. Another was found on a fish farm, much to the terror of
the fish farmers who were wading chest deep in the ponds. The crocs sit
silently under the muddy surface waiting for a meal to walk by. The one you
do not see will be the one that gets you. A splashing at the edge of the water
and vibrations from walking will tell a croc from up to 500m away that there is
a creature there, and probably how big and how many. The croc will sit there
waiting, and when the splash is big enough or the creature steps into the pond,
the croc will strikes swiftly and suddenly. It will jump out of the water,
twisting sideways, jaws first, and grab ahold of the prey on the shore. We saw
it demonstrated with rakes and bits of chicken at feeding time. Even the
keepers were afraid to enter the lair of many of the crocs. One they would not
step foot inside, but threw in the chicken to the mother guarding her nest.
Others, they remained very wary, with rakes outstretched in hopes that the
instrument would enter the mouth before a body part.
At the kangaroos, outside the crocodile pens, it hit me. I saw them hopping
towards us, I saw them eating the bread like a human, and I turned to the
camera to get a video. I had trapped myself into the future, into the past.
The documentation of the now in order to recall memories later. I realized
then that I was missing the now. As I looked through the camera lens, I
realized how different it was from experiencing these creatures. I had been
touristed out, and I was very tired. Pictures, pictures, pictures. I would be
grateful to have them later, but get me away from them now. Where is the
balance between experiencing and remembering? I?ve been swept into a tourist
coma without realizing it, and now I have to figure how to get back out.
--
I am now north of Brisbane on the sunshine coast, and it has mostly been pouring
rain, interspersed with short appearances of very hot sun. That hasn?t
stopped us. We went to the zoo today, the home of the recently deceased
?Crocodile Hunter,? Steve Irwin. There is a memorial booklet on sale and a
wall full of pictures of the former croc-farm-turned-zoo owner with various
venomous animals. The pictures line a wall by the ?Crocoseum,? and tell of
a very enthusiastic character who liked to ham it up for the camera. He seems
to contain more spark than I would have imagined, the kind of intelligent
character that everyone would enjoy working for.
Steve Irwin?s zoo was different than any zoo I?d been to before. It had the
requisite animals in cages and petting zoos and feedings. But there was far
more emphasis on two things: human contact with animals and conservation
education. I am not overly fond of zoos. I question how animals are kept, and
I would much rather experience them in their natural habitat (similar to my
leanings to explore somebody?s everyday life while traveling instead of
looking for tourist attractions). I still question the same things here, but I
was surprised to find how much this zoo made me think and how open it was about
doing what they think is the right thing. I have no question that the people
that run this zoo want the best for animals, wild or captive, and that they are
working hard to make it happen.
Human contact. I really realized it was different when I went up to the tiger
exhibit and was nearly shocked to see two people sitting under the straw-roofed
rain cover, chatting away and playing with hay, right next to three lounging
Bengal Tigers. It was pouring at the time, and one of the tigers had just
walked up to the little platform, climbing up next to the lady and stretching
out like a housecat to be ?patted.? Yikes. Reading the literature posted
on the exhibit, I found that the tigers, along with other creatures in the zoo,
were raised with nearly constant human contact when they were young, and
continue to be exposed to people throughout their lives. People play games
with them. They say it?s easier to keep them entertained through human
interaction, and I believe that much. Some of these creatures are very
intelligent and need to use their capacity and be exposed to new stimuli.
I?ve always heard that most of these creatures are dangerous even being
raised with Man and need to be watched constantly to avoid provoking injury or
death accidentally. Apparently, nearly all the animals get human contact, as
there were keepers in the cage holding the Tasmanian Devils, in addition to the
keepers in the shows with the crocs, the koalas, and the otters. Visitors were
invited into the exhibit of Kangaroos and a selection of Koalas to feed or pet
the animals. I?ve never met such an interactive zoo.
Conservation Education. Every sign was clear, and many suggested a course of
action for the visitor: Do not buy items made from native animals such as
kangaroo, croc, and emu. Habitat loss is the largest, most important cause of
species loss and extinction ? do what you can to protect these resources.
Very clear and well done, whether or not I would entirely agree with their
stand. But I was most impressed by the final line in the dingo exhibit, a
question. The message went something like this: Purebred Dingos are dwindling
in number, and we are working on maintaining this population. It is debated
whether any black colored dogs are true dingos or only a mix, but we are sure
about the red colored dogs. The Dingo came to Australia 3,500 years ago, after
taking part in the culture of India and other parts of Asia up to 10,000 years
ago. So how long does something have to be in a place to be considered native?
(And therefore, what ? if anything - does it mean to be a purebred Dingo?) I
am impressed that they would ask a question that would reach so deep into
animal conservation and invite the visitor to form their own opinion.
--
posted by Alea @ 19:29
0 comments
2/13/07 8:30PM
Ok, this library computer is locked down and I can't transfer my latest stories
to it to send, so you will have to wait until the next connection to hear all
the latest news. But I am here in Port Stephens, AUS, and it is sunny and warm
and the rainforest is gorgeous. Yesterday, we went surfing in large, dumpy
waves at One Mile (not kilometer???) beach and tasted our second round of
traditional pies. We are having a blast:)
gotta run, lots of news in the works. I hope it's snowing in Boston for you!
-Alea
posted by Alea @ 19:28
0 comments
posted by Alea @ 19:24
0 comments
posted by Alea @ 19:12
68 comments
posted by Alea @ 22:47
4 comments
posted by Alea @ 10:26
0 comments
posted by Alea @ 11:00
1 comments
posted by Alea @ 08:33
0 comments
posted by Alea @ 14:44
0 comments
posted by Alea @ 14:17
2 comments
posted by Alea @ 09:47
1 comments
