Back in Toronto

Back in Toronto and looking forward to seeing all. You will not be tested on the contents of my blog.

There is one last adventure I will have to share verbally, as it involves things that should not be posted. Now, doesn't that sound interesting?

Thanks to all of my loyal readers.

Cheers,
Colleen

Cute Fight!





Located 90 minutes drive south and east of Melbourne, Phillip Island contains four parks: the Koala Conservation Centre, Churchill Island Heritage Farm, the Nobbies Centre and the Penguin Parade.

The island is a not-for-profit organisation that generates revenue through its ecotourism activities.

On the bus tour I took, our first stop was the farm. It was a farm. The Nobbies Centre is made up of a few nobs sticking out of the ocean with seals sitting on them. They were too far away to see with the naked eye and the binoculars weren't working.

Next up, the koalas are most certainly cute, the way they hang in trees, munching. Just check out the baby sitting on his mother's lap in the photo. But as cute as that little guy is, it's the penguins that take home the cute prize.

The Penguin Parade
Take a waddle on the wild side
Little Penguins, also known as fairy penguins, are the smallest in the world. Thus, their name. They build burroughs in the sands near shore to house and feed their young. To feed themselves and their young, they go into the sea each day. To avoid predators, they leave their burroughs before sunrise and come home after sunset. So, they're very much like us, treading off to work each day in the dark and coming home each night. For us, a commute is hell due to the number of other people doing it at the same time. For the penguins, it's the birds of prey that might pluck them as they cross the light-coloured sand. Luckily, there's safety in numbers.

 

Their need to evade predators also creates a show -- or parade -- as thousands of these little guys race across the sand twice a day. To satisfy tourist curiosity, concrete stands have been built on the beach for the show. The public is permitted to watch their evening return, making this our last stop of the tour.

 

From the parking lot to the beach is a kilometre or so of boardwalks built high enough for the penguins to travel under. As you walk down toward the stands, the burrough holes are apparent, as are pathways around and to them.

 

It was 10C the night I went, with a brisk breeze blowing off the water. From my a front seat I enjoyed the sun's light play on the occasional cloud as it set off to our right. First coral, then orange, then fading to grey. All around me, people shivered and shook, huddling to keep warm, wondering how long this would take.

Then, at 8:45pm, silver flashes could be seen in the sea foam. Next, a troop of about 20 penguins began their waddle towards us.

 

These penguins stand about 33 cm, or just up to your mid-calf. Their backs are a dark blue, their tummies white. They seem to waddle in unison as they travel, with one brave soul leading the pack.  

First one group came, then another, then another.

The Penguin Rangers (now, isn't that a great job title?) do a count of these little guys for the first 50 minutes after dusk. This helps them to estimate total population numbers. The tourists... well, let's just say we didn't last that long in the cold. But we didn't have a hutch to sit in, or Canada Goose jackets to keep us warm, did we?

As you walk up the boardwalk, you realize the show isn't just down by the water.

Right below your feet and beside you as you walk on the boardwalk, the penguins charge onward, looking for their burroughs.

The young come out to greet them, squawking for food. Sometimes the little little ones attack a passing penguin they confuse as a parent. The children may confuse the adults, but an adult penguin knows their young, so they march on.

Penguins walked right beside me. They followed me up and up and up, right by my feet. They don't seem to mind us being there, although once in a while they stop at sounds, look around, then off they charge again.

Some penguins were seen waddling up as high as the parking lot. Our bus had to stop for five minutes to let a few cross the road. I started to wonder why they would build burroughs so far away from the sea. Perhaps it's like our suburbs, with the rich penguins taking the seaside spots and the others having to commute. Poor things.

To protect the penguins of Phillip Island, human homes were purchased and flattened, the grounds planted with natural habitat. The roads are closed at dusk each night, so the penguins don't get run over. Scientists monitor them and tag the odd one to see how far they travel on their daytime journeys.

And us, we get to enjoy their nightly parade.

 

One week left

I return to Canada Friday, November 30th.

I have one adventure I still need to post and one next week that may not get online until after I'm back.

Food

Fave restaurant:
The Moat: A small restaurant tucked under the State Library in Melbourne. A warm, bookish ambience, excellent wine selection and serving staff who always smile and know their stuff.

Fave dishes:
Venison carpacio with chocolate paint, schezuan pepper, balsamic jelly, barberry and watercress.

Jamon with creamed blue cheese and tiny figs.

Fast food chains I wish we had in Canada:

Snag Stand: Gourmet hot dogs slathered in surprising ingredients.

Breadilicious / Breadtop:  Two different chains, same basic model. The store is filled with plastic boxes of pastries: Asian sweet buns filled with curried pork; Croissant wrapped sausages; Coconut buns... Walk around with your tray and tongs, pick up a few nibbles and off you go for a picnic.

Pie Face:  Salty and sweet pies for take-away. Peppered steak, curry, stews. You name it, they'll stick it in a pie.

Nando's: Portuguese chicken. Kinda like Swiss Chalet but with heat. According to their website, there is on in Ottawa.

Cool and Funky Melbourne

Some of my favourite Melbourne things.

In Melbourne Central Mall there is a large clock that looks like a pocket watch. On its backside three koalas sit a teeter totter, apparently providing the power to make it tick.

At the strike of noon, a portion of the clock descends to reveal two flutists and birds on perches. They dance as it plays "Waltzing Matilda" and people like me snap photographs.

 

  Things in Melbourne just seem to pop up overnight. This hutch made of twigs appeared next to Federation Square, for instance.

Going inside is a tactile and olfactory adventure. 

Melbourne is having a music festival at present, and they've taken over an abandoned buiding, named it "Where?House" and thrown in a bar, cafe, some eateries and a concert hall. I saw someone dressed like Jack White there. Hrm.

RMIT university building has a digital motif made of what look like metal triangle cut-outs. These cuts out are coloured differently and angled, giving the impression of enlarged pixels, as if it's made of an oversized computer screen. From each perspective the colours change. Each darkened section in the image below is a balcony space with tables where students can study. Inside and outside intermingle in many ways, in this building. The front foyer has a coffee shop that is open to the public surrounded by neon green tables anc alcove. Off to one side is a triangular area open to the sky featuring palm trees. Glass walls expose lecture halls or student learning centres, which then have glass walls to the street. It is a building full of vibrant colours with neon green, red, blue and lots of black. I also like the way the whole facade frames an older Victorian structure beside it.

 

 

 

Adventure's End

Outback Adventure - Part 7
On the start of our trip, the van felt full of possibility.

Now it felt claustrophobic with our bags and their contents thick under our feet.

A drying towel over the back of a neighbour's seat was sending out wafts of mouldy smells. My swimsuit sat damp on the top of the backpack between my legs.

We were looking worn and dirty, too. My ankles were spackled so thickly with red sand they looked sunburt. And if I described how my scalp felt... well, you'd probabaly stop reading.

In the sun department, I seem to have won the sunscreen war. My arms received some tan, the hairs a blondish hue, but no skin was indelibly harmed on this adventure.

On the trip back, our guide Mark pointed out that if we wanted to kill someone, this would be the perfect place in the world to do it. All that's here is sand, rocks, insects and sky. In fact, he went on, many people have been murdered here and never found. We all nodded with feigned interest and concern.

The clan gathered at a saloon named Bojangles with Mark that night, all of us sparkling clean. Some of the girls even wore dresses. It was a lovely evening, but the clan in the city is not the clan in the bush.

I plucked out my iPhone, took it off Airplane mode and re-entered reality.

King's Canyon

Outback Adventure - Part 6
Another 4 am wake-up call and off we went to King's Canyon.

The first incline of our last hike at King's Canyon is nicknamed "Heart Attack Hill." With our requisite 1 litre of water bottle apiece, we stepped up and up and up.

The canyon peaks look like a series of domes made of pancake layers of red rock. It is as if many years ago giants were covered in mud and the wear of time, wind and water have left their bald heads standing.

We were taken through fossil-encrusted valleys, along the edge of a gorge and down into The Garden of Eden, a hidden valley with prehistoric plants and a singular water pool.

We walked across river beds that would have been full of fish where air now stood all around us. In thinking back to that time where water covered these surfaces, I could imagine the pillows and cushions of rushing rapids banking off a rock outcrop over here, spinning into eddies in a hollow there. The splashing spray of falls, both huge and small.

We scaled the cliffs up and down on precarious (to me) steps. At one point we were up in the heavens, seeing the red pancake heads go on to forever. Next we were at the edge of a cliff that fell away 500 metres into trees.

I said "Wow!" so many times, I think I wore out the "w" on my tongue.

Three hours later it's 10 am we were finished our last hike. It felt like 3 in the afternoon.

Remember how it rained the night before this hike? Given that, do you see anything odd in this picture?
Like perhaps, the wee puddle of water left after a good hour of drenching? This earth is like a sponge.

 

Desert Storm

Outback Adventure - Part 5
P O P   Q U I Z !

As mentioned at the beginning of my journey, when was the last time it rained in Alice Springs?

a) October
b) August
c) June
d) April

If you guessed April, you win a prize!

It is a desert-ish place, so rain is not a common thing. Thus, the river beds full of nothing but sand.

So, imagine our surprise and delight  at seeing the the distant sky polka dotted with clumps of black clouds trailing vertical tendrils of rain and spitting lightning. We were driving toward our next hiking destination, Kings Canyon. At first, the clouds seemed quite far off, then water droplets pinged the van window and we stopped to pull a hole-dotted tarp over our swags. We also gathered some fire wood for a camp fire. Yes, we were optimists with a holy tarp (not religious).

(Sorry. Bad pun, couldn't help myself.)

At the camp we had a swim and set up camp. We were just picking out our swag spots around the campfire when the sky changed. A black wall enveloped the distant mountain range and rolled toward us, growling and shaking the earth.

As you can see in the photos here, one minute kinda cloudy, the next... uh oh.

In "Uh Oh" camping moments, everyone jumps to action. The swags were tossed into the shed, towels and clothes were stripped off the trees where they were drying, the barbecue pulled under the tarp.

None of this activity ceased the enjoyment of a beer, as you can see Ian (from Taiwan) doing above right. A camel wandering around nearby seemed to be smiling as he continued his grazing.

As if on cue, when all was put away, the rain began to fall. But "rain" and "fall" are too mild for what we were experiencing. All around us machine gun bullets of water blasted from the sky, one minute from the north, then the south, then the west. We stood laughing as we watched the show.

Rivers began to flow between our feet, so shovels  re-arranged the sand and directed the streams around us.

After a good 30-minute downpour, the clouds moved off and we re-commenced making dinner. The fire was built up, our potatoes were wrapped in foil and tossed in, kangaroo sausages and emu burgers were thrown on the barbie, and our evening returned to normal.

Just as we were bedding down, another downpour commenced. Some moved into the van, others into the shed, several of us moved under the tarp and I fell asleep to the insistent howls of wind, the swag hood flipped over my head as ants bit my right hand.

Well, at least it was ants and not red-back spiders.

Next up, our hike at Kings Canyon.
 

A Hike at Kata Tjuta

Outback Adventure - Part 4
The stars were still sparkling when Mark roused us at 4am. As the swags around me shivered to life, I blinked up at the rising moon and the Southern Cross in the spot Bjorn said it would be.

Cereal, coffee, tea and juice were quickly consumed and our swags lashed to the top of the trailer. Twenty people accounted for in the van Mark turned to us and sang, "Everybody ready to see some more big rocks?" Of course we responded in the affirmative and off we headed to see Kata Tjuta.

Located 25 km east of Uluru, Kata Tjuta is made up of a number of intertwining globules of rock that are both similar and different to Uluru. After a twenty minute drive, our van pulled into a parking lot full of buses. Bjorn sped up a path of red sand first, focusing his large camera, a black camera bag bumping on his back with each step.

Click, click, click, click, click.

We arrived at a viewing perch full of another murder of tourists. Or at least, that's what Kate and I decided a bunch of tourists should be called: A murder of tourists.

From the perch we could see Uluru in the distance at right and Kata Tjuta straight ahead as the sun began to rise behind us.

What did I sign up for, some kind of buddhist retreat? All this sun rising and setting. Next we'd be using our swags as yoga mats and shaking scorpions off our wrists as we did downward facing dog on the sand dunes.

I'm sorry; I'm making this sound very commercial. Parts of it certainly are, such as these run-ins with other groups. But the hikes, the nights at our campsite, are all about us as a group and the experience we share in this unique place. And even at this perch, I must admit that the sun rising over Kata Tjuta is spectacular.



Panorama of Kata Tjuta with and without tourists.

The mounds of Kata Tjuta wrap in around and beside each other, a chorus singing to the sky. As we admired and clicked, our four guides chatted off to the side. One of them, nicknamed Ausie Guide by our group, was quite the character. A man's man with thick black hair that sprouts in thick curls out of every follicle. His head of hair is kept like a massive mop, pointing in every direction. He wore beige shorts so tight and short you could see his substantial cojones and associated plumbing in iMax 3D. He wore socks high up on his knees above elephantine hiking boots and spoke with a voice that reverberated through the desert dunes. For the guys it was man-love, as they couldn't stop talking about this guy for the rest of the trip.

As the sun finished rising we were ushered back to the van, counted again and off we headed for our hike.

Kata Tjuta isn't made smooth sandstone like Uluru. These rock formations are composed of conglomerate, a rock consisting of boulders and small stones of varying rock types cemented together by a cement-like sandstone. We begin the Valley of the Winds walk, a 7.4km circuit that will take about 3.5 hours. From the carpart we follow one path uphill, our ankles teetering across the uneven footings, then down the valley and around in between the folds of rock.


Two adult kangaroos and one joey graced us with their presence at the first lookout then sprinted off into the bush.



Colleen at Karingana Lookout with
her precious bottle of water. It's windy!

We walked down the steep steps into valleys and across creek beds then up to the Karingana Lookout, where the picture of me was taken. Then we went down to the Valley of the Winds, which is named quite appropriately. As in, it was windy.

It was at this point that my camera card got full and I was doing the on-the-go delete game, where you have to decide which photos of rocks to keep and which to delete. Tough going! Otherwise I would have pictures of this valley. Perhaps even a panorama from all angles. But it wasn't to be for this hike.

In part 5 of this adventure, we got a very special surprise! I'll try to get it up in a couple of days.

 

Australian Camping

Outback Adventure - Part 3

The trailer pulled by the van held more than backpacks. It was a seemingly magical box, as each of its three doors - back, and two sides - held surprises. There were two coolers (esky in local parlance*), a full scale barbecue; pots and pans; cups, plates and cutlery; cleaning bins and products; enough food for 21 very hungry people for 3 full days (9 meals); and on top, 21 swags.

We pulled up to our campsite for the night in the dark and were given a lesson in how to unroll and roll a swag.


A swag is a canvas sleeping bag with a plastic bottom, a light mattress and a flap that you can flip over your head in the case of a light rain - highly unlikely given where we were. Inside we found a sleeping bag and a light pillow.

Our swag lesson complete, the group set to camp. It turned out we had a great group in that everyone took on a role to help out. No complainers or whiners or stick-in-the-muds.

The three Brits who had moved to San Francisco to work for Yahoo! set up the barbecue and cooked the food. Elvis from Zimbabwe and Rachel from England chopped veggies. Kate from Ireland who now lives in London, set up the buffet. Bjorn, an astronomer, pointed out stars.

Within an hour a chicken stir fry was hot on our plates and the questions began.

So, we're sleeping out under the stars, right? What about snakes? Spiders? Dingoes? Man-eating ants?

Yes, you're sleeping under the stars, Marc told us. He also told us that he would sleep on the camping table, which made some of us nervous.

Yes, there are snakes. This area is home to the second most deadly snake in the world. But they won't bother you unless you bother them. Yes, there are spiders. This area is home to the second most deadly spider in the world, the red back. There's probably one sitting under the bench right now. But they won't bother you unless you bother them. Dingoes? Yes, and they'll steal your shoes whle you sleep if you're not careful. Ants? Yes, they're everywhere. Ants are the most organized creature on the planet. They may take it over one day.

I sprayed the deet-based bug spray, Bushman's, on the ground around my swag and put my shoes in at my toes. It was warm, but dry, the scent of eucalyptus swept past with each breeze, and stars I'd never seen before sparkled in the sky. It wasn't long before I was asleep.

* "esky" = eskimo? If anyone knows, leave a comment.

Uluru

Outback Adventure - Part 2

Alice time is one and a half hours behind Melbourne, half an hour behind Brisbane. My laptop was set to Melbourne time, my phone picked up Brisbane time, while the clock radio on the bedside table said a half hour earlier.

Welcome to Wonderland! If I was time zone dyslexic before, now I was truly spinning.

A van stopped in front of the hotel at 6:20 Brisbane am / 5:50 Alice am. A tall, slender man jumped out and introduced himself as Mark. An hour later, the van held 18 adventurers from around the world and the van headed into the outback for a 3-day, 2-night camping trip, complete with Australia swags and lots of  barbies (barbecues, that is, not the dolls).

As we drove, I soon learned why I saw river beds from the plane. The river beds are there, but they're full of sand, not water. The centre of Australia receives approximately 150 mm of rain per year, on average. Mark told us that it hadn't rained in this area since April.

The trees are desert oaks, their seeds germinated by intense heat, either by the sun or fire. On germination, roots reach down until they find the water table and then the plant begins to grow. The Oz desert runs in a cycle of drought, fire, rain and then more drought. The fire part is natural, and used to be started religiously by the aboriginals. When this was stopped, the brush fires became uncontrollable, so recently controlled burns have started again.

We drove four hours (450 km) through a landscape of brush, sand, insects and sky. Then, Uluru (Ayers Rock) appeared on the horizon.

You've seen the image of Uluru in movies, on t-shirts and in music videos for good reason. This rock is one huge mother of ancient sandstone.

Imagine a rock scarf three times as large as Centre Island in Toronto and rising to the top of the main pod of the CN Tower. That is the scale of Uluru. It is made of velvety folds of red rock descending toward you, striped black where water falls when it does rain.

It is a sensuous presence, undulating up, down and over. One side features pock marks, including a section that looks like a cross-section of a human skull, complete with brain. Folds hold the dark marks left by rain water and deep concave pools formed by eons of wind and water. I feel as if I am walking around a single being. There are similar rock formations in the red centre of Australia. Either because of this seeming singularity of Uluru, or because the aboroginals do not share their stories and mythology of the other places, Uluru gets all of the screen and tourist time.


We were first taken to the cultural centre, where we learned about the local aborigonals, the Anangu, their laws and the dream time, when Uluru and the people were created.




Uluru, our Emu Run Van (right) and shade hut.

Discouraging a climb of Uluru is a repeated theme of the materials for cultural, environmental and safety reasons. Uluru is a sacred site to Anangu. Climbing it is arduous, damages the sandstone surface, and has led to 38 deaths.

I went into one room and sat to watch a video of a woman dancing in traditional costume. Her breasts were exposed, painted with white stripes. The subtitle read, "Please replace the lamp." The video changed to two men dancing with spears and the subtitle remained. The video changed again to some children. Same subtitle.

Back in the van, I said, "You know, because of that subtitle, I thought the videos were all about oil lamps. But I'm thinking it was an instruction to change the lamp in the projector." Laughter erupted as everyone share how they had the same realization.

Due to the extreme heat, most of our group took brief strolls in specific points around the rock, resting in the shade areas sipping water. Flies buzz around our heads, but not the biting variety. Just regular house flies, but a lot of them. The couple from Chicago managed to walk the 10.6 km around the base of Uluru in the blasting, mid-day sun.

At sunset the true nature of the industry known as Uluru becomes apparent, as bus after bus arrive at the Sunset Viewing area. A long line of tables covered in white linen are set with sparkling wine glasses, surrounded by plates of cheeses and fruits. Of the 700 or so lined up to watch as the sun made its way down, some were seated in comfy chairs, other lined up along the fence.

Our camping group had sparkling out of plastic camping glasses, which was fine by me. As we enjoyed our snacks and wine, my guess is that 1400 photos were taken per minute. We were there for an hour and a half, so you do the math. Keep in mind, I'm probably underestimating.

At 8pm we packed up and headed for our campsite for the night and dinner. But that's for another post.

 

 

Colleen in Alice-land

Outback Adventure - Part 1 

It's a two and a half hour flight from Melbourne to the red centre of Australia. Out the plane window I saw the curvy tendrils of river beds, the telltale greens of trees and foliage. The colour palette is made up of red ochres, sage greens and mustard yellows, echoing the colours of aboriginal paintings. 



 

 

Image source

Tuesday, November 6 is a statutory holiday in the state of Victoria. The holiday is for a horse race called the Melbourne Cup. The locals get quite revved about this event. Girls buy dresses, shoes, fascinators, spend a day at the spa in preparation. Then everyone gathers for a day of fashion, betting, drinking and one 2-minute horse race. I was more interested in seeing the country than a drink up, so I booked the Monday off and headed out for a 4-day adventure.

Most of the Australian population lives along the vast coast line. And who can blame them, with beaches like I saw at Noosa. Everything in the middle is desert-ish. The emptiest place in the world. An easy place to hide a body, I was to learn.

And yet, what is it with the river beds?

With its outdoor cafe and canope covered walkways, the Alice Springs airport reminds me of a resort. The musky scent of eucalyptus is in the air. Heat presses on my shoulders like five pound weights. The wool jacket, so necessary in Melbourne, is now a burden.

Downtown Alice is... well... small. Much like the one-horse northern Ontario towns of Cochrane or Espanolla, it's made up of few streets. There are a couple of malls a few bars and not much else.

Aboriginals pad the streets aimlessly. Some sit, cross-legged on the grass, their dark eyes focused on some sad interior place.

After a dinner of kangaroo at the Red Ochre Grill, I get to bed at 9pm, hoping I don't sleep through my alarm and miss my 5:45 am pick-up. I think this is early. Ha! 5:45 is sleeping in compared to what I'll go through over the coming mornings.

In this country apparently, adventure is an early riser.

A 'Get Your Goat' post

You know the feeling when spring has truly sprung? The quality of the air changes, ever so slightly. The heat of the sun lingers on your skin and your muscles seem to relax into it. The air is freshened with the purfume of many flowers. The coat you once wore so comfortably now swelters.

Birdsong sounds lighter, as if it's now in celebration. Or perhaps it seems lighter because there's more of it.

Your footsteps feel lighter. A walk that just one week ago seemed to last forever is now a joyful stroll, as you can't help but notice how everything all around you is coming to life.

Yes, spring has indeed come to Melbourne! This city may be windy, cold, rainy and weepy sometimes. But this past weekend, it was spring!

To celebrate, I took a tram out to Port Melbourne. So much like Ahsbridges Bay, I saw people playing beach volleyball. In a walk to a sculpture garden, I spied a marvel in the next photo. Now, before you read the text below, I want to you try and find what's so special about the tree picture.

 

If you look really careful, can you see little yellow dots in the tree? I've got a prize for anyone who can guess!

 

The excitement was too much for me. I found a spot on the sand and lay down.

What is it about beach sand? As soon as you lie down and ease your body into it, tension just seeps out in one whoosh.

I heard the girls taking pictures of themselves doing carwheels on one side of me and a woman with her non-compliant dog on the other. It was all just there, as the sunshine and the warm sand took me to that place called "Ahhhhh!"

All those back in Canada will get their revenge for this post. My return to mid-winter is going to really hurt. Feel free to laugh.

A Beachy Weekend

I make a lot of odd connections in this post. Perhaps it's a sign of my journey becoming... well... let's just say two months of touristing is enough. That does not mean I'm not going to take every opportunity I can to enjoy myself. Which leads us to these interconnected bits and bites.

Travelers luck touched me when I was invited to spend last weekend (Oct. 20 & 21)  in the beach community near Noosa on the Sunshine Coast.

The pictures I took of the beach sucked, so here's a pic of the beach that I stole from a website:


Isn't it gorgeous? To the organization that owns the above photograph; you're linked and you're welcome!

Didn't swim there. In fact I have not been in the ocean yet. A book I read about Australia warned about all of the dangerous things in the water. Deadly things. Squiddy things that wrap their jelly tendrils around your legs and inject a poison into your body that is considered the most painful substance in the world.

(shivers)

I'll get myself in there at some point. I swam in Nova Scotia; if you can swim there you can swim anywhere.

My hosts were not only hosting me. Their expansive property is also home to a few hungry Kookaburra birds. These birds would fly up to the balcony railing and take any food proferred. They ram the food against the rail as if killing it, then eat it in one gulp.

You've probably heard of Kookaburras before in the children's song:

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry, merry king of the bush is he
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
Gay your life must be

The Kookburra song was written by Marion Sinclair for a Girl Guides of Victoria (Australia) contest way back in 1932.

Where woman blow and men thunder

Okay, now we're going to get a bit complicated.

Do you remember the song "I Come from the Land Down Under" by the Australian band Men at Work? Well, apparently, the flute portion of that song is so close to the tune of Kookaburra, the owners of the copyright took Men at Work to court. And they won. They won 40-50% of the royalties the song earned since it was written in the late 70's. That is, millions of dollars.

Thing is, the flute aspect of the song was an improvised portion done during recording. If you're interested in that kind of things, here's more on this very strange and sad Copyright Lawsuit.

Monsters under the bed?

My host looked in on me as I was preparing for bed Friday night. I asked if I should close the door to outside. She said, quite casually, "You can leave it open but you might get a visit from the python."

"Python?" I asked, forcing a tight smile on my face.

"Yes, he lives in our attic," she said, as if this was perfectly normal. "He only comes out at night. Kills the mice."

"Oh," I said with a squeak, thinking I might stay up for a while... or perhaps I didn't need sleep at all. Stupid habit, really.

She noticed my distress and closed the door for me. We checked under the bed. I felt five years old again, looking for monsters.

There was no python under my bed. So why, as I read my book, did I hear the occasional slither?

Eumundi Market

On Saturday my hosts took me to the Eumundi Market. Eumundi, a small town near Noosa, is taken over by an outdoor market on Saturday and Wednesdays.

 

 Wait a second! That paragraph does the place no justice at all!

 

You gotta understand: the entire town becomes a market! No guff. The streets are taken over by stalls E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. There are food stalls, jewellery, silk scarves, essential oils and ginger beer stalls. People being massaged behind that curtain. A woman having her fortune told at that table over there. A woman being cartooned by an illustrator. Wow, he's good!

 

Every turn you take, another laneway of stalls opens up. Another assortment of beautiful earrings made from scrabble tiles or old typewriter keys, colourful bowls, carpets and clothing you wish could fit into a suitcase.

 

Christmas secret: I got my niece a present at this market. I'd show you a picture, but I'm pretty sure you'd let the secret out, and that would ruin it.

 

In the afternoon we headed out to Noosa Beach for a stroll along the shore.

 

We ran into five barefoot brides with their maiden entourages and the groom being dragged from here to there for photos. After bride number three, I told my hosts about my nine-bride day on The Rocks. I asked if they had any ideas for what you get when you see the 10th bride in one day. We all agreed: you get to go the reception! The question is then, do you get to choose the reception you go to?



 

 

The Melbourne Hook

Melbourne has a fantastic tram system called Yarra Trams (named after the Yarra River). They are designed so there is no need to step up to get on them, and many streets where they run, such as Swanston Street, are devoted to trams and cars are discouraged from traveling.

So important are trams to moving people across the city that they have employed a turn style called the hook turn.

From Wikipedia:
A hook turn is a traffic-control mechanism where cars that would normally have to turn across oncoming traffic are made to turn across all lanes of traffic instead..... (Prior to turning, they ) keep the middle of the road free for trams or other special uses.

How does this work? Here are the steps (translated to driving on the right)

1. If you need to turn left, approach and enter the intersection moving to the right side of the road. In some intersections there is a little well of space so you can get out of all lanes of traffic.  
2. Remain at the position until the green light on the road you are facing turns red.
3. Turn left.
4. Cars on the cross road yield to hook-turning traffic before commencing through the intersection.

I imagine that hook turns would discourage people from picking a route where they need to perform a left (or in Melbourne's case a right) turn. Meanwhile, they give trams and other cars the right of way, making travel on them faster.

There's no getting around it, they are confusing at first. People from other states have gotten into trouble driving here when they don't follow the rules. But for the most part, they do seem to keep things moving.

The Great Ocean Road

Sunday, October 14, a van stopped in front my hotel at 7:20AM. Bleary-eyed and blinking, I crawled in, ready for adventure.

A few pick-ups later, the van was full with 13 of us on board. Off we headed South and West of Melbourne toward the Great Ocean Road.

We went through Geelong to just past Torquay where we stopped at a golf course where kangaroos are known to hang.

Kangaroos like golf courses. Lots of nice grass, trees to hang out under. We spotted a group who stared at us from across the green. Then we headed off to Bells Beach for a breakfast of Vegemite, crackers, Lamington cakes and tea.

Lamington's, I was told, came about when some guy named Lamington (duh) came up with the idea that one could coat dry old cake with chocolate and coconut and they'd become palatable. The jam thing is, apparently, a later addition. Kinda makes sense.

 

After watching middle-aged men surf for a bit, we headed down to Kennett River to see if Koalas would honour us with their presence. We did spy a couple, but they weren't the type looking for paparazzi opportunities. The birds, however, were acting like Hollywood hopefuls. Just see that bright-coloured gal who landed on my hand for some bird seed.

Back into the van we trundled and further down the Great Ocean Road to just past Princetown to see the 12 Apostles, pictured here:

 

 

Gobsmackingly stunning vistas, great ocean waves breaking, the call of gulls, sand beaches that go on forever. If it weren't for the crowds clammering behind me, I could have stood there for days just watching the ebb and flow of water, clouds and sky.

A little ways down the cost, near Port Campbell, is a place called Loch Ard Gorge. This gorge was named after a famous ship that wrecked nearby, the Loch Ard, on it way to Australia from Ireland.

Only two people survived this shipwreck: Tom Pearce, a ship's apprentice and Eva Carmichael, a young Irish woman. Both were 18.

 

Tom Pearce watshed ashore in the gorge first, then rescued Eva after hearing her cries for help.  Pearce climbed out of the gorge to raise the alarm to locals who rescued Eva as well.

 

The charm of the situation didn't go unnoticed, as suggestions were made that the two might have a romantic interest. Tom did propose to Eva, but she turned him down. She decided instead to return to Ireland to be with her remaining family.

 

But there's some lovely irony to the story's. Many years later, Tom became a ship's captain. On a journey from Australia, his ship wrecked near a small town in the south west of Ireland. At the time, it was common for all locals to come out to assist when such a thing occurred. And who was in that Irish town? You guessed it; Eva. She was married, with three children. But still, one begins to wonder if somehow those two were meant to be together.

 

Melbourne Meetups!

Thank goodness for the website Meetup! If you aren't familiar, Meetup is a website where people post activities and invite others to tag along. In Toronto I belong to Toronto Weekend Adventurers Meetup that goes on day hikes. In my travels I've discovered that Australia, particularly Melbourne, is awash with Meetups.

One Meetup friend in Melbourne, Amanda, seems to go to two Meetup events a day. If it's not tea, it's a walk, drinks at one club or dancing at another.

The other interesting thing about these Meetups is they seem to attract a middle aged audience. Amanda invited me to see an 80s band at the The Royal Albert Hotel in Port Melbourne, and when I arrived at 8:30 on a Saturday night, the place was packed with people aged 40+ (well... 45+ okay?). Not only that, but when the band got up to play, the dance floor filled to the brim immediately.

 

We were fat, we were over 40, but we were up there hoofin' it. I even got to Pogo!

 

The only drag: I had to leave at midnight or I'd pumpkin. You'll learn the reason in my next post. 

 

What time is it?

Today is Thursday. I think. Or is it Wednesday?

Working across two zones skews your internal clock. At 5pm my time, Ireland is just coming on. Fredericton starts around 10pm.

And not only that, things aren't straight forward in Australia, either. Due Daylight Savings Time, Melbourne is one hour ahead of Brisbane. My time zone dislexia is having a field day.

The only constant is sleeping time. Every waking minute is up for grabs. As I like to say, it's a 'role' not a 'job.'

The key to keeping sane is to always have a destination and a list. If I have the information in my metaphorical knapsack, I'm fine. But in some cases, I have so many topics, tasks and roles on my plate, I end up asking someone who calls me, "Can you remind me what this is about?"

I'm beginning to understand why executives find assistants so useful. As long as you have someone to push you to the next meeting with the right piece of paper in your hand, you're okay.

I think it's 1:18pm my time. Back to work. And just a sec, here.... what am I doing now?

 

On the road again

Today I return to Brisbane. Meeting a new hire, checking in with a client and perhaps meeting another for the first time.

I've been invited to spend the weekend on the Gold Coast. Then to Sydney for 2 days.

The upside down factor has become natural. It no longer seems odd to me that it's getting warmer, rather than cooler. That the kids just finished a Spring break.

I am most definitely with Kangaroos. I love how they lounge under trees together. How they sit up and look at you, just watching. How they hop along. They are both majestic and fun, a great combination.

What does seem odd is that people are not permitted to own cats. I'm not sure if it's just in some neighbourhoods or places, or if cat ownership is a nation-wide thing.

When cats were first brought her, some got out the door. Like all animals or plants released in Australia, they thrived. They killed things. Lots of things, especially birds. I believe that this is the only reason that would keep me from living here. Well, that and the fact that my family isn't here, or my friends (although I am making new ones!).

Birds, a shipwreck and new friends will be the topics of my next posts. If only I can find time to get the photos off my camera.

The Melbourne Gaol

I was arrested last Saturday night. Yes, I was.

Me and rag tag group of tourists, including young children, were lined up with girls on one side and guys on the other, the webs between our fingers were searched, we were taught how to say, "Yes sir!" and then thrown into holding cells. For fun.

Yes, another rockin' afternoon at the Melbourne gaol.

According to Wikipedia:
The Melbourne gaol was constructed starting in 1839, and during its operation as a prison between 1845 and 1924, it held and executed some of Australia's most notorious criminals, including bushranger Ned Kelly and serial killer Frederick Bailey Deeming. In total, 135 people were executed by hanging."

The gaol is now open to the public where you can walk through the the old cells, learn about the fine art of hanging, see where Ned Kelly died and get arrested. For fun.

After putting women in one set of holding cells and the men in others, the "Officer" said good night, told us to expect a breakfast of gruel at 7am and turned off the light. The room became dark and cell phones flickered to life. I was tempted to update my Facebook status, "In Jail!" But what would the neighbours say?

In addition to getting arrested for fun, you can participate in a dramatization of the Ned Kelly trial in the old court house.

Who is Ned Kelly?
Before I arrived in Australia I did not know about the famous bushranger known as Ned Kelly.

Depending on who you talk to he is either a merciless killer or a folk hero. Back to Wikipedia:

"Following an incident at his home in 1878, police parties searched for him in the bush. After he killed three policemen, the colony proclaimed Kelly and his gang wanted outlaws.
A final violent confrontation with police took place at Glenrowan on 28 June 1880. Kelly, dressed in home-made plate metal armour and a helmet, was captured and sent to jail. He was convicted of three counts of capital murder and hanged at Old Melbourne Gaol in November 1880."

Apparently Mick Jagger played Ned in a film of the tale.

The Melbourne Gaol also has artists from the local college do installations. Such as the clown in a cell, shown at right.


 

Lessons learned from business travel

Here are some of the lessons I've learned that make business travel easier:

1. Pick your air travel to coincide with your hotel check-out/check-in time or you end up sitting in a cafe with your bags falling on the floor around you. You buy a coffee for each half hour of free internet access. You end up over-caffeinated going through security and everyone looks at you as if they think you're on drugs.
2. Pick a hotel both for its location and its internet service.
3. Shoes take a lot of room in a suitcase. Try to bring as few as possible. Running shoes are useless unless you actually go running every day. As in really go running.
4. Classic outfits work best, with a few things to spice it up.
5. Continuing on the clothing theme: you only need 2 of everything. More is overkill unless nothing matches. And if nothing matches, you have to go shopping.
6. Use one credit card for business expenses, the other for your per diem expenses. Keeps things nice and straight forward.
7. Be nice to the hotel staff. If they like you, they help you.
8. Pick up packets of salt, pepper and sugar when you see them. You never know when they'll come in handy.

On the Rocks

A pub tour of the Rocks


"So original, it's criminal."
Harts Pub website 

Harry is a mad man with a plan, when it comes to showing off Sydney. I was ready for a long day of walking, talking, eating and drinking. Are you ready for an extra long post?

Gird your loins, here we go!

Harry and I met at Wharf 6 at noon. He led me uphill. Really uphill. Gasping for breath uphill, until we arrived at Harts Pub.

Harts Pub is the home of Rocks Brewing Company:

Our mission is to provide Sydney with  an experience different to any other pub. Serving Australia's best hand crafted beer,  rotating through our 12 taps, there will always be something new to experience.  

If it had been open I'm sure I would have learned that it is a quaint old pub made up of rooms and poky hallways. Unfortunately it was closed. We stopped to catch our breath while pretending to admire the building.

Up the hill and around the corner into Shangri La, where Harry whisked me into the elevator. He tapped the topmost button and... it wouldn't light. Unfortunately, the rooftop restaurant does not open until 5pm. Oh well. Here is the view I didn't see, poached from the hotel's website:

We ambled down the street to The Australian, a pub with outdoor bistro seating.



Here we enjoyed crocodile, emu and kangaroo pizza with ginger beer. True, alcoholized ginger beer. Yummy.

The crocodile tasted chicken-ish, which apparently means it was farmed. True crocodile has a fishy taste. The emu and kangaroo were slathered in marinating sauce, making it hard to discern unique flavours. But I have crossed a boundary and eaten of the native animals. My transformation has commenced.

Our pizza dispatched, I was led across the Argyle Cut to the Sydney Observatory. Surrounded by a sloping park, the Sydney Observatory is a part of the Sydney Powerhouse Museum.

Built in 1858, Sydney Observatory is Australia’s oldest observatory, and one of the most significant sites in the nation’s scientific history. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, the Observatory was essential to shipping, navigation, meteorology and timekeeping as well as to the study of the stars seen from the Southern Hemisphere. The Government Astronomers worked and lived in the building until 1982 when Sydney Observatory became part of the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences.

The sloping hills of the park that surrounds the observatory offer an expansive view of the Sydney Harbour, making it a popular wedding photography location. As we climbed the hill we came upon a newly married couple. We ran into 9 newlywed couples as we travelled about the rocks this day, each group hoisting the wedding dress and flowers into position for the perfect commemorative pics. I was disappointed we couldn't see a tenth, and wondered if we would have got a free gift if we had.

Harry with bird of paradise.

On our way down the hill I couldn't help but notice the birds of paradise growing by the side of the road. A flower only obtainable from flower shops in Canada, here it is common to see it planted in containers near buildings or at the side of the road.

How cool is that, eh? Something we can only grow in a greenhouse, as common as a geranium is to Canada.

Okay, so who the heck is this Harry guy?
Previously only mentioned as "H," I guess it's time to explain who Harry is and how I was so lucky to have such an amazing tour guide.

Back in 2007, Harry came to visit his brother in Halifax. As his brother worked quite closely with Sina, a trip to our cottage at Murphy's Cove was in order. Since my arrival, he has more than reciprocated the hospitality.

The tour continues...
Our next stop was The Lord Nelson Hotel. Any Haligonians reading will find this ironic as there is a Lord Nelson Hotel in Halifax, as well. But then again, any British colony shares a wealth of names and icons:

Argyle, Landsdowne, Queen Street, King Street, Front Street...the image of the queen on the back of our coin, the shared heritage gives us something in common.

Australia and Canada also have geography in common. In speaking to clients about the training delivery, a frequent topic of conversation is the challenge of deklvery to the outpost communities. Australia has its Gove, Canada has its Moose Factory.

Speaking of which we share similarities in strange critters, too. Australia may have its kangas, kaolas and plattterpi, but Canada has moose, beaver, loons and Santa Claus.

After a quick rest and a fantabulous pint at the Lord Nelson, we travelled under the Sydney Bridge and arrived at the Rocks Market; a laneway of stalls full of arts, jewellery, pottery, doo-dads and candles. I learned about Two-Up, an old Australian betting game involving two pennies in a wooden paddle.

What is The Rocks?

The Rocks is an area in downtown Sydney that was established shortly after the colony's formation in 1788. The buildings were made of local sandstone and build on the rocky outcrop, making adequate sanitation a challenge. It became a slum of small rooms, some cavelike hovels carved into rock walls. Several archeological digs are uncovering the old houses and the wares of the time. The photo at right shows the remnant walls of a few rooms featuring metallic furniture.

Coogee

Harry and I stopped at one last pub on this day, before heading out to borrow a car to go to Coogee. Coogee is a Sydney suburb with a beach Harry reassures me is "safe."  There we enjoyed deep fried fish while looking out at the ever-rolling ocean, a young man flying small neon kites that disappeared into the clouds, and a full moon.

What a long post! What a great, long day!

Thank you, Harry.

Digging the Snag Stand

The Snag Stand.

Haute Dogs!

Using Australia's most respected and awarded artisan butchers. Lean, low fat meats. All natural, hand crafted artisanal sausages.
 

A night in Pyrmont

Friday, September 28th. 5-ish.

I'm running across Sydney to meet up with Harry and running late, when I learn through my iPhone that a client's needs have changed. They now want two people on the project next week, not two weeks from now as originally planned.

I stand on the street outside the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel pub simultaneously tapping away at my phone and keeping an eye for Harry. I now need to arrange travel to Brisbane for Tuesday. Laptops need to be ordered. Where is the software? How can we get the contracts in place? I pace across with my head down or on the phone calling candidates we had in the pipe.

It is frustrating trying to get all of this information through on a phone where email history is limited, filling in forms or reading documents a major challenge. It's like working through the keyhole in a door.

Luckily Harry is running late. By the time he arrives and I explain about the change, and I only need to send one more email to feel I'm free for dinner.

 

The first floor room of the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel pub is a true working man's watering hole. A bar oval in the middle of the room is surrounded by open space and small shelves just big enough to hold a glass and a small plate. I'm reminded of the Toronto pubs I frequented in my twenties, such as The Cameron Hotel.

From here, Harry and I head to a small restaurant nearby, Cafe XXII. Tucked in century old cottage, with rough, exposed stone walls. The cafe has three wee rooms connected by a narrow passage. I love how you have to walk through a one-car parking garage and storage room to get to the one-room restroom. The menu blends French and Italian, as all European style cafes do here. Sometimes even the title of the restaurant will combine the two languages.

After dinner, we skip across the street a a very French pattiserie where I learn about the Australian cake, the Lamington. A block of chocolate sponginess, coated in coconut and stuffed with jam. It is excellent even if Harry says the traditional cake usually has more jam.

Harry notes that I'm not taking pictures of my food, grabs my camera and snaps a pic.

As the rain pours downstairs, we discuss the big tour Harry has planned for me the next day. We're touring The Rocks. Harry has a complete itinerary lined up, from the sounds which by the end I will be full of history, beers of various varieties and foods of Australian origin.