In Australia and not dead yet

There must be 50 ways to be uncomfortable on a plane.



Two days after the most swanky New Year's eve party, I was on my 9 hour flight to Sydney, still recovering from gorgeous buffets, oysters, sashimi, flowing Champagne, wicked desserts, an entertainer, a live band and fireworks over the harbour. The Hongkong Cricket Club -no obligation to talk about cricket- had a lot to answer for : a fantastic venue and an unforgettable moment to share with Gwendoline, her partner Jason and their friends. The cherry on the Dim Sum.
No tearful farewells. We'll see each other again soon. I am not on the other side of the earth any more.

I had booked extra leg room at no extra cost, just near the emergency exit, rejoiced in the stretching and evacuating potential and ate all my toy airplane food. It was looking good. I then spent the night wriggling in a variety of half supine combinations and juggling with pillows and blankets, learning fatalism and discovering muscles and tendons I didn't know existed. I had just resigned myself to not sleeping at all when the stewardess woke me up with breakfast and the news that we were almost there.

Australians' secret glee

Words have been trotting in my head for the last weeks, all temporarily exiled by the enchantment of continuous discovery. I can't ignore their clamour any more and will reluctantly postpone going out into Canberra's blazing heat for today. From the word go, at Maggie and Allen's Sydney suburban house by the park, I discovered nature was everywhere. Indigenous myna birds, cockatoos, kookaburras, butcher birds (they sound lovely though have appalling manners, it seems), crested pigeons and others I am forgetting. At the Botanical gardens, I had to defend my cupcake against the encroachment of a greedy ibis and saw sci-fi plants and gumtrees with peeling bark.

That was enchantment number one.  Enchantment number 2 was realising that southerlies bring cold weather, that it is recommended for a house to face north and that the moon waxes from left to right instead of right to left. Enchantment number 3 is being tumble-soaked by the powerful waves on Manly beach and spotting pelicans fishing by Manly Sailing Club. That was just the first days.
Ok, I could list enchantments but it would be tedious.

Still, bear with me... A Goanna climbing up a tree, a blue-tongue lizard under a log and Bell Miner birds chiming in the Border Ranges rainforest where I had gone for a retreat. The racket of cicadas. Tree ferns, Antarctic beeches and strangler figs.

A guard of honour of grey kangaroos on either side of the road at David and Helen's home by the sea and the same little fellows munching grass behind the house every evening, like a flock of alien sheep. An emu in the neighbour's garden. There is no doubt his ancestors were dinosaurs. A display of rainbow lorikeets in the tree by the veranda. Anemones in rock pools and blue swimmer crabs,  pincers at the ready. Seals dozing on rocks like big furry slugs and shearwater birds at Montague island.

 Magpies begging food from Helen's hand in Canberra. Yellow crested cockatoos, Galah birds.... On a wet (yes, wet) trip to Tindbinbilla park, the trail of bubbles left by a platypus in the water and the wonderment at the appearance of this shy and rare creature. Koalas sleeping high up in the fork of gum trees.


And no, in case you were wondering, I didn't see sharks, venomous snakes, salt water crocodiles or the number of lethal spiders lurking ready to pounce on the unsuspecting foreigner/tourist/townie. And that in spite of dire warnings.

There is a secret glee, a good-natured smugness in Australians when issuing worrying information.  'Now careful when you go to the beach. A number of people get drowned every year.' (Sydney) And, 'OK guys, there are two first aiders on this rainforest walk. We have compression bandages for snakes bites, etc, etc...'. (Border Ranges National Park). As you start to tread gingerly, alarmed by every sinuous branch fallen on the path, you can't help noticing that some other participants (Australians) are walking bare foot. Or, 'Careful, when you get to the top, there will be leeches.' (OK, not lethal but gross). 'Last time, I was bleeding all the way down, haha. They inject you with an anticoagulant, you know.' (Gulaga mountain, south of New South Wales). 'Ah, and there will be ticks.' Ugh..... 'But those don't give you lyme disease, they paralyse you.' Sigh...

 This being said, I almost got carried away by the rip at Potato Point and have collected a fair amount of mosquito, ant and bull-ant bites. Not to forget the aforementioned leeches. They got me. Don't walk with sandals.

This afternoon, the sprawling suburbs of Canberra are ghostly in a hot dusty wind that hides the snowy mountains. Not snowy now. My friends have welcomed me like family. Laughter around the dinner table, bouncing grandchildren, board games, afternoon naps, cool beers, fish and chips by lazy inlets, swimming in jade and turquoise waters... We have rekindled an old friendship and created new memories to share when we see each other again.
In the Border Ranges, I have made new friends, from Adelaide, Melbourne, Perth, Darwin... 'Come and see us we have a spare room!'

Until arriving in Canberra's end of January's blazing heat, I would have declared that this continent is very green and mild, with lush grass and thick forest. After crossing the Great Dividing Range, it is the bush, gum trees sparsely dotted on miles upon miles of dry grass...an awe-inspiring vastness whispering in your ears.