As I write this, I’m in my posh hostel near Sydney’s central train station. I shelled out big bucks for this four-bed dorm: $45. I thought it would be worth it, but, like so many things in life, I’ve had better experiences with the cheaper option. Regardless, I’ve had a few days in Sydney to wind down the trip and get some last-minute sight-seeing and shopping done. Yesterday morning I went for a run in the Royal Botanical Gardens which hug the bay adjacent to the opera house. The gardens themselves are absolutely spectacular. I felt like I was in another world and it was easy to imagine just how epic these gardens were when they were first planted well over 100 years ago. Rose and succulent gardens, towering palms and bamboo, ponds and fountains surrounded by ducks and parrots; there’s even a small rainforest! And as the path gently slopes towards the ocean the soaring walls of the opera house become visible.
Sunday morning, we went out for breakfast in Seddon (the neighbourhood to which Evan and Beth have moved) with Robbie (Evan’s mom) and her partner Frank. Although the weather was cold and windy- I said it felt like Canada- we had a wonderful time and discussed everything from terrorism and war to the ancient Mayan culture of sacrifice. Great Sunday morning talk. Then the goodbyes began and they didn’t end until later that afternoon when I boarded my flight for Sydney. Saying goodbye to Evan was hard; he really is one of my closest friends but it was made easier by knowing I’ll see him next summer. He and Beth are coming over for my wedding and a Canadian road trip.
Evan took me to a footie game (Australian rules football) Friday night at the huge Etihad Stadium, across from Melbourne’s harbour front. Although Evan’s team, the Hawthorne Hawks, lost badly I still wore my brown and gold team scarf he bought me with pride. The game was pretty fantastic. It’s hard to describe the sport- a cross between football, soccer and rugby, players rapidly hand punt the ball between each other and kick it through the goal posts to score points. Tackling of all sorts is allowed and if the ball hits the ground play doesn’t stop. It looked incredibly brutal and I saw many heads getting bounced off knees and hips but these guys are tough and nothing seems to faze them. These players are the most fit I’ve seen and run up and down the huge field constantly with only one twenty minute and two shorter breaks in game play. There are no time outs but player substitutions are allowed. The game is also extremely graceful. Players leap in the air with the accurateness of a ballerina to catch the football and bend the ball sideways and through the defence as they kick the ball down the field to team mates.
The better part of Saturday was spent at the park with Beth’s family. They were throwing a surprise 40th birthday party for Uncle Sean, who hates surprise parties and any kind of fuss being made over him. The family kept it low-key but he looked slightly unimpressed when he arrived and found 40 people and food for 100 taking over a corner of the park. The weather was foul; windy and cold but it didn’t rain and we had a cricket match all afternoon. I partnered up with Evan and learned the basics of the game which I compared to baseball and was told by several different people that it’s much more complex (and superior) to baseball. Note to self: Don’t ever say anything that could be construed as negative to Aussies about cricket.
Beth’s grandma and mom took great pride in preparing heaps of food, setting the tables with pretty flower arrangements and even walking around the party with appetizers on platters. Their attention to detail and to the happiness of their guests was beyond impressive. And despite the weather, the day was awesome. Beth’s family are very unique and quite funny. Long-time family friend Quinton had a bad car accident in his youth, resulting in a brain injury which enables him to be completely honest with everyone. He never holds back what he thinks and spits out whatever comes to mind. Pretty refreshing if you ask me. We chatted all afternoon on the cricket field and he told me I have man feet (they’re size 10) but he meant it in the nicest way possible. By the end, we were all a bit tipsy from the copious amounts of wine and Beth’s mom stared at Evan and I for awhile and declared we look alike.
We planned on a big night out for my last night in Melbourne but after we got back to the new house, we all decided a glass of wine on the couch would suit us better. Definitely getting old...
And now it’s home-time- my favourite part of the day in elementary school. At the end of a trip I like to reflect and consider the good and bad and what the whole experience meant to me. This trip has been overwhelmingly positive and I think that is largely due to being with Dane, and later, Evan. Last year in Central and South America I felt lost and purposeless and couldn’t understand why I was even travelling- especially without Eric. This trip has been considerably different and it all makes such a big difference on with who I spent my time. The attitudes of those around me can have a huge influence and I wasn’t in the right mind-set last year.
Along with all of the gorgeous places we’ve seen and cool things we’ve done together, I think Dane and I are closer than we ever have been and I’m sure it will remain that way. Going to see Evan nearly three years after I’d last seen him solidified our friendship because we both realized we will always be close, no matter how far apart we live or how often we see each other. Friendships like this are very hard to come by and must be treasured. Spending time with his and Beth’s family was also a treat and an honour and I would be happy to do it all over again.
So, in closing, I’m so excited to go home and see Eric (and family and friends of course!) that I can’t sleep but I’m also enormously appreciative of this trip I was able to take and all that it has brought me.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
A road trip with my other brother- Wednesday, February 24 to 26
The Great Ocean Road is one of Australia’s most famous drives and is aptly named for the huge amount of breathtaking beauty that can be seen in a short distance. The road winds around northern cliffs, forest and rivers. To the south, white surf crashes into the rocks and blue ocean laps at endless beaches. I met a few people who were disappointed with the drive. They apparently thought “great” describes the length of the drive. The stretch of road that follows the curves of the shoreline is only about 100 km long but it’s the stops along the way and the incredible scenery that make the road great.
Evan and I set out early Wednesday morning for a little brother/sister companionship. We took a long walk and had a great talk on the beach of the famous surf town, Torquay. We followed that up with a hearty Aussie brekkie in a beachside cafe, then a little factory outlet shopping at the surf shops, which started the day perfectly. High on my list of priorities for this road trip was to see Bells Beach, the surfing capital of Australia and where it all began. The beach is home to some epic breaks and draws top-notch international competitors for its annual surf comps. Besides being famous for the surf, the beach isn’t too hard on the eyes either. The coarse sand is a dark golden colour, with streaks of black. The beach is flanked by high orange cliffs topped with green shrubs. Surfers walk out to the break over rocks topped with a soft and slightly slimy, bulbous sea plant.
The highlight of the day, however, came after lunch in Lorne, a lovely seaside town in the middle of the most scenic part of the Great Ocean Road. We had been told that an area near Kennett River was good for spotting koalas and headed off the highway onto a dirt track into the eucalyptus trees (the only type of leaves they eat come from these trees.) Right away I saw a chubby grey bum resting on a tree branch. Koalas usually sleep for about 20 hours a day so we were very lucky that this one was awake and having a stretch and a scratch. He was also very close to the road, enabling us to get a good look at his cute little face. We ended up spotting five more in the trees and a few kookaburras as well (a native Australian bird.)
I took over the wheel for the next part of the drive while Evan had a nap- brave guy! I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to driving on the wrong side. The drive turned inland and, I thought, was equally as scenic as earlier. Now we wound through valleys and pastures and around hairpin turns that were necessary for the ever-changing landscape.
We arrived at the site of one of Australia’s big tourist attractions, the Twelve Apostles, as the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky. I love the light the sun casts late in the afternoon- the way it makes the water sparkle and gives a warm glow to everything. While there’s no longer twelve apostles (towers of rock left free-standing in the ocean after they eroded away from the main cliffs) they are still a magnificent sight. Huge orange cliffs line the beach and the five or six apostles are staggered throughout in contrasting and powerful shapes and sizes.
We ended our perfect day by finding an excellent (and cheap) B and B in a little town called Port Campbell. Dinner was Evan’s favourite pub meal: Chicken Parma (Parmesan.) It doesn’t top my list of things to eat but when in Rome...
Thursday morning we visited The Arch and London Bridge. Both are fantastic examples of erosion and The Arch has been perfectly carved from the bottom of a cliff by the ever furious sea. London Bridge was passable several years ago but fell, stranding someone on the ocean end of the rock. The contrast this morning between the yellow and orange cliffs and the blue ocean is staggering. It’s overcast today but the colours are still unbelievable. I would love to see what this all looks like on a sunny day.
The rest of the day we spent with Evan’s dad and step-mom on their acreage near Daylesford, a lovely town famous for its natural mineral springs and for being the gay town capital of Australia. Jos (Evan’s dad) and Monique are both from Holland and quite happy on their little piece of bush land paradise, called Majellum. They rent out their guest house to couples on vacation and offer massage therapy. Their house is open and airy and made of mud brick. Monique’s daughter Anna (12) arrived home from school and we all went into Daylesford for a walk around the lake and an informal tour from Jos. Then it was time for a bbq- the Aussie summer staple and always with sausages, burgers, fried onions, salad, wine and great conversation. A recurring topic is the worm in Evan’s arm. Earlier that day Monique squeezed Diego out of Evan's arm. All I heard was a blood-curdling scream as Diego and a bunch of blood flew at her. He’s much bigger than we thought and has two little black fangs. Internet research revealed that he’s actually a screw worm fly and is a type of maggot- one of the only types that feast on live flesh, instead of dead animals. When animals become infested with the larvae (female screw worm flies can lay up to 500 eggs at a time) they are generally consumed within a week. Pretty disgusting.
As the sun began to set, Jos informed us it was the perfect time for a roo walk and told us which pastures were the best in the area for spotting them. Anna was our tour guide and we went for a long walk down the road without seeing anything but a rabbit. On the way back it was nearly dark and we returned to a pasture close to the house and saw them. Six or seven roos bounded along at the far end of the pasture, close to the tree line. They bounced for a little ways, then stopped, then bounced away again. The pasture was a golden yellow colour and their outlines under the now visible moon were graceful. Yet another image I’ll always carry of this beautiful country. I could hardly believe my luck over the past two days.
We left Friday morning after loading up Evan’s furniture that his dad had been storing. Now that I’ve met both of Evan’s parents I can really see where he gets a lot of his personality traits from. His compassion and open-mindedness comes from his mom Robbie. She’s by far one of the warmest and caring people I’ve ever met. Evan’s dry, sarcastic humour is from Jos- a funny man who comes across as serious until you see the twinkle in his eye. And it’s been a great honour to meet both of his parents and spend some time with them. I definitely feel like part of the family now, as I’m sure Evan did when he was in Canada.
Evan and I set out early Wednesday morning for a little brother/sister companionship. We took a long walk and had a great talk on the beach of the famous surf town, Torquay. We followed that up with a hearty Aussie brekkie in a beachside cafe, then a little factory outlet shopping at the surf shops, which started the day perfectly. High on my list of priorities for this road trip was to see Bells Beach, the surfing capital of Australia and where it all began. The beach is home to some epic breaks and draws top-notch international competitors for its annual surf comps. Besides being famous for the surf, the beach isn’t too hard on the eyes either. The coarse sand is a dark golden colour, with streaks of black. The beach is flanked by high orange cliffs topped with green shrubs. Surfers walk out to the break over rocks topped with a soft and slightly slimy, bulbous sea plant.
The highlight of the day, however, came after lunch in Lorne, a lovely seaside town in the middle of the most scenic part of the Great Ocean Road. We had been told that an area near Kennett River was good for spotting koalas and headed off the highway onto a dirt track into the eucalyptus trees (the only type of leaves they eat come from these trees.) Right away I saw a chubby grey bum resting on a tree branch. Koalas usually sleep for about 20 hours a day so we were very lucky that this one was awake and having a stretch and a scratch. He was also very close to the road, enabling us to get a good look at his cute little face. We ended up spotting five more in the trees and a few kookaburras as well (a native Australian bird.)
I took over the wheel for the next part of the drive while Evan had a nap- brave guy! I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to driving on the wrong side. The drive turned inland and, I thought, was equally as scenic as earlier. Now we wound through valleys and pastures and around hairpin turns that were necessary for the ever-changing landscape.
We arrived at the site of one of Australia’s big tourist attractions, the Twelve Apostles, as the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky. I love the light the sun casts late in the afternoon- the way it makes the water sparkle and gives a warm glow to everything. While there’s no longer twelve apostles (towers of rock left free-standing in the ocean after they eroded away from the main cliffs) they are still a magnificent sight. Huge orange cliffs line the beach and the five or six apostles are staggered throughout in contrasting and powerful shapes and sizes.
We ended our perfect day by finding an excellent (and cheap) B and B in a little town called Port Campbell. Dinner was Evan’s favourite pub meal: Chicken Parma (Parmesan.) It doesn’t top my list of things to eat but when in Rome...
Thursday morning we visited The Arch and London Bridge. Both are fantastic examples of erosion and The Arch has been perfectly carved from the bottom of a cliff by the ever furious sea. London Bridge was passable several years ago but fell, stranding someone on the ocean end of the rock. The contrast this morning between the yellow and orange cliffs and the blue ocean is staggering. It’s overcast today but the colours are still unbelievable. I would love to see what this all looks like on a sunny day.
The rest of the day we spent with Evan’s dad and step-mom on their acreage near Daylesford, a lovely town famous for its natural mineral springs and for being the gay town capital of Australia. Jos (Evan’s dad) and Monique are both from Holland and quite happy on their little piece of bush land paradise, called Majellum. They rent out their guest house to couples on vacation and offer massage therapy. Their house is open and airy and made of mud brick. Monique’s daughter Anna (12) arrived home from school and we all went into Daylesford for a walk around the lake and an informal tour from Jos. Then it was time for a bbq- the Aussie summer staple and always with sausages, burgers, fried onions, salad, wine and great conversation. A recurring topic is the worm in Evan’s arm. Earlier that day Monique squeezed Diego out of Evan's arm. All I heard was a blood-curdling scream as Diego and a bunch of blood flew at her. He’s much bigger than we thought and has two little black fangs. Internet research revealed that he’s actually a screw worm fly and is a type of maggot- one of the only types that feast on live flesh, instead of dead animals. When animals become infested with the larvae (female screw worm flies can lay up to 500 eggs at a time) they are generally consumed within a week. Pretty disgusting.
As the sun began to set, Jos informed us it was the perfect time for a roo walk and told us which pastures were the best in the area for spotting them. Anna was our tour guide and we went for a long walk down the road without seeing anything but a rabbit. On the way back it was nearly dark and we returned to a pasture close to the house and saw them. Six or seven roos bounded along at the far end of the pasture, close to the tree line. They bounced for a little ways, then stopped, then bounced away again. The pasture was a golden yellow colour and their outlines under the now visible moon were graceful. Yet another image I’ll always carry of this beautiful country. I could hardly believe my luck over the past two days.
We left Friday morning after loading up Evan’s furniture that his dad had been storing. Now that I’ve met both of Evan’s parents I can really see where he gets a lot of his personality traits from. His compassion and open-mindedness comes from his mom Robbie. She’s by far one of the warmest and caring people I’ve ever met. Evan’s dry, sarcastic humour is from Jos- a funny man who comes across as serious until you see the twinkle in his eye. And it’s been a great honour to meet both of his parents and spend some time with them. I definitely feel like part of the family now, as I’m sure Evan did when he was in Canada.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Reuniting with an old friend and a tour through wine country- Wednesday, February 17 to 19
Evan and I first met three years ago on an exchange program in Bangkok, Thailand. We became fast friends and, along with a tight group of other exchange students, spent almost all of our free time exploring Thailand’s incredible islands and northern regions. Later that same year (2007) Evan came and stayed with my family for two weeks in Saskatoon and everyone fell in love with him.
During our exchange we fended off a few questions about being more than friends but what people didn’t understand is the thought of anything romantic makes us both sick. Ours is strictly a relationship based on friendship and we call each other brother and sister. We picked up right where we left off and it was like we had just seen one another yesterday. I think it’s a testament to our friendship that things haven’t changed and we still get along so well. I’ve been meaning to visit his home in Melbourne for a long time; especially after hearing how incredible the city is and felt my Australian journey couldn’t end better.
Evan, his girlfriend Beth and mom Robbie met me at the airport and took me straight out to Robbie’s house in Healesville, a town in the Yarra Valley wine region, about an hour east of Melbourne. Robbie made me feel completely comfortable and right at home. The first thing she did was thank me for taking care of Evan in Canada (he had been going through a bit of a rough time then) and sending thanks to my mom for treating him like a second son.
We spent most of the next two days sitting in Robbie’s beautiful back yard visiting and telling stories, with a bit of cooking and wine drinking thrown in. Beth’s a pretty magical person and the perfect counter-part for Evan’s dry sense of humour. She’s just as good as throwing out sarcasm and jokes to keep you on your toes and is incredibly intelligent. I told Evan he’s lucky to have her and he agreed wholeheartedly.
Later on Thursday afternoon we went for a drive in the gorgeous Yarra Valley out to the De Bortoli vineyard for a two hour wine, port and cheese tasting session. The Yarra Valley is even more picturesque than the Hunter Valley, north of Sydney, which Dane and I visited. The rows of grapes go on for miles over the hills and each row is flanked by a rose bush which enables the growers to quickly tell if there is disease or a bug infestation. It’s amazing the valley recovered as well as it did after the horrific Black Saturday fires on February 7 last year. The fires spread at impossible speeds of over 100 km/h and flames jumped up to 20 km. Robbie pointed out the swaths of land that were literally cleared by the fire and farms along the way that were spared and those that were lost. The fires were completely unpredictable and people were told to evacuate but then found the only roads out were blocked by fire or fallen trees. Robbie evacuated her own home as did many of her friends and neighbours. She told me about one of her co-workers battling the fires with her husband, fighting to save their property and about another woman who lost everything. Robbie said when she evacuated her own property she was in such a panic that she didn’t know what to pack or bring and ended up not bringing much of anything. She said in moments like that all that really matters is you and the people you care about. Possessions take a back seat. Most everyone is on bush fire alert in Australia, especially here in Victoria where they have been suffering a drought for about ten years. Beth said her mom keeps a basket by the door with important papers and documents to take with her in case of a fire- something I’ve never thought of preparing at home.
Friday we made a trip over to the Healesville Sanctuary, which is famous in Victoria for its conservation programs, animal hospital and wide array of native Australian animals. I got to see a demonstration with one of my favourites- the wombat- and also saw several platypuses for the first time. Wombats are pretty cool creatures. They have a big, round bum that has a wide plate of bone, enabling them to ram and crush creatures that try to come in their holes and eat them. They’re independent and like to be alone and walk with a distinctive waddle. The platypus is a playful, pretty little thing and we watched one easily for ten minutes while it flipped around and around with a long leaf, catching it and then stopping to see if we were watching.
Then it was back to Melbourne and I went off to stay with Jenna, who is dating Beth’s brother Jesse. Jesse is in Vietnam on an engineering internship and Jenna was more than happy to take me in. Evan and Beth have been staying with Beth’s sister until they find a house to rent (they recently returned from a long trip in Central America.) And now it’s time to explore Melbourne- the city I’ve heard so much about and have been told I’ll love. We’ll see...
During our exchange we fended off a few questions about being more than friends but what people didn’t understand is the thought of anything romantic makes us both sick. Ours is strictly a relationship based on friendship and we call each other brother and sister. We picked up right where we left off and it was like we had just seen one another yesterday. I think it’s a testament to our friendship that things haven’t changed and we still get along so well. I’ve been meaning to visit his home in Melbourne for a long time; especially after hearing how incredible the city is and felt my Australian journey couldn’t end better.
Evan, his girlfriend Beth and mom Robbie met me at the airport and took me straight out to Robbie’s house in Healesville, a town in the Yarra Valley wine region, about an hour east of Melbourne. Robbie made me feel completely comfortable and right at home. The first thing she did was thank me for taking care of Evan in Canada (he had been going through a bit of a rough time then) and sending thanks to my mom for treating him like a second son.
We spent most of the next two days sitting in Robbie’s beautiful back yard visiting and telling stories, with a bit of cooking and wine drinking thrown in. Beth’s a pretty magical person and the perfect counter-part for Evan’s dry sense of humour. She’s just as good as throwing out sarcasm and jokes to keep you on your toes and is incredibly intelligent. I told Evan he’s lucky to have her and he agreed wholeheartedly.
Later on Thursday afternoon we went for a drive in the gorgeous Yarra Valley out to the De Bortoli vineyard for a two hour wine, port and cheese tasting session. The Yarra Valley is even more picturesque than the Hunter Valley, north of Sydney, which Dane and I visited. The rows of grapes go on for miles over the hills and each row is flanked by a rose bush which enables the growers to quickly tell if there is disease or a bug infestation. It’s amazing the valley recovered as well as it did after the horrific Black Saturday fires on February 7 last year. The fires spread at impossible speeds of over 100 km/h and flames jumped up to 20 km. Robbie pointed out the swaths of land that were literally cleared by the fire and farms along the way that were spared and those that were lost. The fires were completely unpredictable and people were told to evacuate but then found the only roads out were blocked by fire or fallen trees. Robbie evacuated her own home as did many of her friends and neighbours. She told me about one of her co-workers battling the fires with her husband, fighting to save their property and about another woman who lost everything. Robbie said when she evacuated her own property she was in such a panic that she didn’t know what to pack or bring and ended up not bringing much of anything. She said in moments like that all that really matters is you and the people you care about. Possessions take a back seat. Most everyone is on bush fire alert in Australia, especially here in Victoria where they have been suffering a drought for about ten years. Beth said her mom keeps a basket by the door with important papers and documents to take with her in case of a fire- something I’ve never thought of preparing at home.
Friday we made a trip over to the Healesville Sanctuary, which is famous in Victoria for its conservation programs, animal hospital and wide array of native Australian animals. I got to see a demonstration with one of my favourites- the wombat- and also saw several platypuses for the first time. Wombats are pretty cool creatures. They have a big, round bum that has a wide plate of bone, enabling them to ram and crush creatures that try to come in their holes and eat them. They’re independent and like to be alone and walk with a distinctive waddle. The platypus is a playful, pretty little thing and we watched one easily for ten minutes while it flipped around and around with a long leaf, catching it and then stopping to see if we were watching.
Then it was back to Melbourne and I went off to stay with Jenna, who is dating Beth’s brother Jesse. Jesse is in Vietnam on an engineering internship and Jenna was more than happy to take me in. Evan and Beth have been staying with Beth’s sister until they find a house to rent (they recently returned from a long trip in Central America.) And now it’s time to explore Melbourne- the city I’ve heard so much about and have been told I’ll love. We’ll see...
Monday, February 22, 2010
A yoga retreat on Bribie Island Friday, February 12 to 14
It’s Valentine’s Day weekend (and Chinese New Year coincidentally) and Tanya is officially done her practicum in Adelaide and is flying out to Brisbane to meet Dane on Saturday. What a perfect time for me to jet off and let them spend a weekend together. A company based in Brisbane was offering a weekend yoga retreat on Bribie Island (just north of the city) and I thought it would be a perfect mini-holiday where I just might learn something new.
I really had no idea what style of yoga it was but soon found out after a delicious vegetarian Friday night dinner and our first yoga session. Anthony, the instructor, learned tantric yoga from a master in India and spent several years there with his partner, the lovely Nina. I’d always thought tantric was hippy mumbo-jumbo and involved having sex for hours on end. While tantric sex is one facet of the school, the yoga aspect focuses more on the spiritual practise of yoga and seeks to connect the body through asanas (yoga postures) and the mind. Anthony combined physically challenging yoga sessions, where poses are held up to seven minutes (a lot different from the fast forms I’m used to back home) with meditations, lectures, group activities and videos. It turned out to be an incredibly enlightening and empowering weekend, and I also had a ton of fun with all the great people at the retreat.
Friday night was the first foray for many of us into meditation. I’d done a bit of it in China four years previous on a study-abroad program, but was definitely out of practise with the art of thinking about nothing. It’s surprisingly difficult. And Friday, February 12 was a very auspicious night for meditating, according to Anthony, because the astrological calendar only aligned in such a way once a year. Apparently the universe is much more receptive and accessible all night. It would be a 50 minute meditation and I was a bit scared I wouldn’t be able to sit cross-legged for that long. It’s important to keep your spine straight during meditation so the energy flows correctly. Anthony told us to concentrate on the chakra (energy source) above our heads and let the music move through us. I’m not sure how long I had been sitting there but I felt myself falling into a trance. I could feel energy pulsing above my head and eventually at the sides. It then moved in waves through the middle of my head and down my chest. The feeling is indescribable. I then began to see flashes of white light but it was incredibly hard to stay focused and the sensation didn’t last long. Combined with my sore butt, I tried to re-focus but it’s definitely a process. The experience was undeniably powerful; something I have never felt.
As we were going through the various teachings of yoga Anthony mentioned many principles taken from Lao-Tzu, the founder of Daoism. This brought me back to the time I had spent in China and what I had learned and seen there from this great, ancient master. China had been a deeply spiritual time for me, the first time in my life I had ever felt truly connected with a higher power. Whether it was a connection with Daoism or Christianity I cannot say and I don’t think it really matters either. What did matter was the effect the teachings had on my internal self. Like so many of us, I struggle to find time to do all of the things I want to do and continuing a spiritual practise is one of those. When I returned home from China, I kept reading and learning but it soon fell by the wayside as school and work took its’ toll. What I heard Anthony saying this weekend brought it all back to me and the importance of spirituality in my life. Combining these spiritual aspects with the magnetic, de-stressing effects of a yoga practise is perfect for me.
Before we all left on Sunday, we had a love meditation which many later affirmed was the highlight of the weekend. We all sat in a circle and took turns in the center. Our goal was to send love to whoever was in the center through our heart chakras. As people rotated into the middle I concentrated all of my energy on my heart and felt it began to get warmer and felt a line of energy leave my body and go to the person in the centre. When it came my turn to receive, I was astonished. My heart began burning and I felt waves of energy pushing me in all directions but I remained steadfastly upright. The emotion of that moment was overwhelming and while talking to others afterwards, learned that many felt like crying joyous tears when they left the circle.
This all may sound like New Age crap and let me assure you, I’ve always been wary of kooky sounding alternative therapies but after what I felt in that meditation circle, I can honestly say there is more to being a human being than purely the physical body. We are surrounded by energy fields and are capable of transmitting them to others and using them within our own bodies for healing purposes. The great yogis can make their bodies levitate (another event I witnessed in China at a Daoist temple on the sacred mountain Hua Shan) and have cured everything from broken bones to cancer. The power of the mind should never be underestimated and can work wonders where modern medicine cannot.
And as for the spiritual side of it all- it’s all very simple really. When we become more focused on seeking internal peace and happiness and less focused on external forces, such as material possessions, then we will find true happiness. Everyone wants to be happy but who is really happy? The man with the big house and fancy car or the man who feels completely fulfilled and is sure of his purpose in life.
Realizing one’s purpose is another key to happiness. We were all sent here for a reason- nothing is an accident and there is a divine purpose for all of us. Whether we reach that purpose or not is up to us. No one wants to realize on his or her deathbed that they’ve wasted their life or have not done the things they wanted to do.
What is really important to people? We watched a video with Dr. Dyer, a famous American psychologist and author, on his findings of the spiritual yoga practice. He interviewed a large group of men and women, before they started the practice and asked them to rank what was most important in their lives. Number one for the men was wealth, followed by respect and accomplishments. After a few months of the spiritual yoga practise, Dr. Dyer interviewed the same men. Number one this time was inner-peace, something never even mentioned the first time around. Other values, such as family and honesty made the list and previous notions of wealth and prosperity were abandoned.
Number one for the women at the beginning of the study was family, unsurprising since women are always taking care of other people and often gain fulfillment through the needs of others. Independence was second, very important for many women. Another high ranking value was physical appearance, also unsurprising since women are so often judged by their appearance. During the second interview, the highest ranking value among the women was self-love. Women so often forget to love themselves in the quest to love and nurture everyone else. Inner peace and self-fulfillment were also there. It’s worth thinking about how much better a mother, wife, daughter, sister and grand-daughter you can become when you love yourself first.
I really had no idea what style of yoga it was but soon found out after a delicious vegetarian Friday night dinner and our first yoga session. Anthony, the instructor, learned tantric yoga from a master in India and spent several years there with his partner, the lovely Nina. I’d always thought tantric was hippy mumbo-jumbo and involved having sex for hours on end. While tantric sex is one facet of the school, the yoga aspect focuses more on the spiritual practise of yoga and seeks to connect the body through asanas (yoga postures) and the mind. Anthony combined physically challenging yoga sessions, where poses are held up to seven minutes (a lot different from the fast forms I’m used to back home) with meditations, lectures, group activities and videos. It turned out to be an incredibly enlightening and empowering weekend, and I also had a ton of fun with all the great people at the retreat.
Friday night was the first foray for many of us into meditation. I’d done a bit of it in China four years previous on a study-abroad program, but was definitely out of practise with the art of thinking about nothing. It’s surprisingly difficult. And Friday, February 12 was a very auspicious night for meditating, according to Anthony, because the astrological calendar only aligned in such a way once a year. Apparently the universe is much more receptive and accessible all night. It would be a 50 minute meditation and I was a bit scared I wouldn’t be able to sit cross-legged for that long. It’s important to keep your spine straight during meditation so the energy flows correctly. Anthony told us to concentrate on the chakra (energy source) above our heads and let the music move through us. I’m not sure how long I had been sitting there but I felt myself falling into a trance. I could feel energy pulsing above my head and eventually at the sides. It then moved in waves through the middle of my head and down my chest. The feeling is indescribable. I then began to see flashes of white light but it was incredibly hard to stay focused and the sensation didn’t last long. Combined with my sore butt, I tried to re-focus but it’s definitely a process. The experience was undeniably powerful; something I have never felt.
As we were going through the various teachings of yoga Anthony mentioned many principles taken from Lao-Tzu, the founder of Daoism. This brought me back to the time I had spent in China and what I had learned and seen there from this great, ancient master. China had been a deeply spiritual time for me, the first time in my life I had ever felt truly connected with a higher power. Whether it was a connection with Daoism or Christianity I cannot say and I don’t think it really matters either. What did matter was the effect the teachings had on my internal self. Like so many of us, I struggle to find time to do all of the things I want to do and continuing a spiritual practise is one of those. When I returned home from China, I kept reading and learning but it soon fell by the wayside as school and work took its’ toll. What I heard Anthony saying this weekend brought it all back to me and the importance of spirituality in my life. Combining these spiritual aspects with the magnetic, de-stressing effects of a yoga practise is perfect for me.
Before we all left on Sunday, we had a love meditation which many later affirmed was the highlight of the weekend. We all sat in a circle and took turns in the center. Our goal was to send love to whoever was in the center through our heart chakras. As people rotated into the middle I concentrated all of my energy on my heart and felt it began to get warmer and felt a line of energy leave my body and go to the person in the centre. When it came my turn to receive, I was astonished. My heart began burning and I felt waves of energy pushing me in all directions but I remained steadfastly upright. The emotion of that moment was overwhelming and while talking to others afterwards, learned that many felt like crying joyous tears when they left the circle.
This all may sound like New Age crap and let me assure you, I’ve always been wary of kooky sounding alternative therapies but after what I felt in that meditation circle, I can honestly say there is more to being a human being than purely the physical body. We are surrounded by energy fields and are capable of transmitting them to others and using them within our own bodies for healing purposes. The great yogis can make their bodies levitate (another event I witnessed in China at a Daoist temple on the sacred mountain Hua Shan) and have cured everything from broken bones to cancer. The power of the mind should never be underestimated and can work wonders where modern medicine cannot.
And as for the spiritual side of it all- it’s all very simple really. When we become more focused on seeking internal peace and happiness and less focused on external forces, such as material possessions, then we will find true happiness. Everyone wants to be happy but who is really happy? The man with the big house and fancy car or the man who feels completely fulfilled and is sure of his purpose in life.
Realizing one’s purpose is another key to happiness. We were all sent here for a reason- nothing is an accident and there is a divine purpose for all of us. Whether we reach that purpose or not is up to us. No one wants to realize on his or her deathbed that they’ve wasted their life or have not done the things they wanted to do.
What is really important to people? We watched a video with Dr. Dyer, a famous American psychologist and author, on his findings of the spiritual yoga practice. He interviewed a large group of men and women, before they started the practice and asked them to rank what was most important in their lives. Number one for the men was wealth, followed by respect and accomplishments. After a few months of the spiritual yoga practise, Dr. Dyer interviewed the same men. Number one this time was inner-peace, something never even mentioned the first time around. Other values, such as family and honesty made the list and previous notions of wealth and prosperity were abandoned.
Number one for the women at the beginning of the study was family, unsurprising since women are always taking care of other people and often gain fulfillment through the needs of others. Independence was second, very important for many women. Another high ranking value was physical appearance, also unsurprising since women are so often judged by their appearance. During the second interview, the highest ranking value among the women was self-love. Women so often forget to love themselves in the quest to love and nurture everyone else. Inner peace and self-fulfillment were also there. It’s worth thinking about how much better a mother, wife, daughter, sister and grand-daughter you can become when you love yourself first.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Driving Fraser Island- Tuesday, February 9 to 10
After numerous discussions on the pros and cons of having our own transport on Fraser Island, Dane and I decided to spring for a 4WD Toyota Hilux truck whom we aptly christened “Bruce.” It turned out to be a great decision and wasn’t that much more expensive than taking an organized two-day tour. And we had that ever-important sense of freedom; something we’ve become quite accustomed to on this road trip!
Fraser Island is the largest sand island in the world. At 120 km long, you could spend weeks exploring it. We only had two days and set out a rough itinerary that would lead us past the major tourist attractions and a bit off the beaten path. The beaten path on Fraser is most definitely beaten. A 4WD is the only way you can get around the island because rough, off-road sand tracks traverse the inland sections. The quickest and easiest route is on the eastern beach. However, you can only drive on the beach three hours either side of low tide and have to be careful of wash-outs and soft spots.
We took a short ferry ride over and started out down the never-ending strip of beach. It was quite romantic, seeing the ocean crashing in out Dane’s window and large, shrub-covered sand hills out mine. A few unbelievably skinny dingoes wandered past and we didn’t see a whole lot else for the next 60 km. We made a short stop at the Maheno shipwreck, an old ship that was being pulled to Japan in a cyclone and broke loose. Maheno’s now rusty remains ended up on Fraser’s beach.
Our goal was Indian Head, about 90 km north from the island’s southern tip (where we exited the ferry.) The track ends not far after Indian Head and all the roads are closed on the island’s western shores due to soft sands and conservation areas. Ocean swimming is also off-limits on Fraser as sharks frequent these waters.
The lookout from Indian Head was incredible. It’s always such a great feeling to stand on a cliff and survey the lands around you. The point is composed of sheer rock faces and looking straight down made me a bit queasy but the view was well worth it.
Heading back down the beach, we planned on making a stop at the famous, crystal-clear spring known as Eli Creek then heading to our campsite, Central Station, which is 10 km inland from the beach track. We only had about another hour or so until we had to get off the beach or risk Bruce getting carried into a big wave (an event that would definitely ensure we didn’t get our damage deposit back!) We saw a sign posting to Lake Allom and decided to check it out but soon realized that driving on the inland roads was slower going than expected. The top speed manageable hovers around 20 km/h. We were probably not going to make it back out to the beach and down to Central Station before the tides came in. I surveyed the map and realized there are several inland 4WD tracks that would lead us, in a very roundabout way, to our camping destination. Feeling better, we set off on a journey, relaxed with the knowledge that we would make it to our campsite one way or another.
The drive ended up taking us about seven hours. By the end, our bums were tender to say the least and Dane had gotten loads of practise traversing logs, holes, steep climbs and deep sand. The road led us through dense, green rainforest on a steep, dug out track which turned into pine tree forests, then scrub land. Bruce climbed up to the island’s high point and brought us safely back down closer to sea level. We stopped at a lookout for a massive sand blow and heeded warnings of dangerous dingoes in the area. We stopped to cook dinner right on the track because there was really nowhere else to do it and batted off horseflies the size of my thumb. We met one other vehicle the entire time and tried not to think about how long it would take someone to find us if Bruce broke down. And we listened to country tunes blaring out of Dane’s PSP.
We arrived with a whoop of excitement at Central Station around 10 p.m. and promptly set up our tent. While most of our bedding and pillows had gotten wet from a spilled water container, we were just happy to have made it to our destination. I used to sleep on the ground while camping with friends but haven’t had the luxury of doing so in quite a few years and I can’t say my body thanked me for it. I awoke in the morning to see that we were surrounded once again by the gorgeous, towering trees of a rainforest. It looked sunny overhead but it was extremely hard to tell through all the foliage.
We arrived at Lake Mackenzie, Fraser’s most popular place and for good reason, first thing in the morning. The lake is an indescribable shade of blue and the water is the clearest I have ever seen. The bottom is covered in silky white sand which does little to disguise your toes which can be seen easily through the water. I decided to swim across the lake and loved looking down at my hands paddling through the indigo depths at the lake’s center. I’ve never seen water like this before and we stayed a few hours until the tourist buses started to pour in.
Next stop was Lake Wabby, a deep water-hole home to catfish and turtles. On Wabby’s north-eastern side, a massive sand blow is slowly encroaching on the water at a rate of 3 m per year. After, we headed for Eli Creek and walked along the clear stream that leads out to the ocean, taking photos and watching for water snakes.
Unfortunately, the trip had come to an end and we had to get back down to the southern end of Fraser before high tide and with enough time to catch the ferry. We both agreed Lake Mackenzie was the highlight of the trip and that renting the reliable Bruce was the best decision.
Fraser Island is the largest sand island in the world. At 120 km long, you could spend weeks exploring it. We only had two days and set out a rough itinerary that would lead us past the major tourist attractions and a bit off the beaten path. The beaten path on Fraser is most definitely beaten. A 4WD is the only way you can get around the island because rough, off-road sand tracks traverse the inland sections. The quickest and easiest route is on the eastern beach. However, you can only drive on the beach three hours either side of low tide and have to be careful of wash-outs and soft spots.
We took a short ferry ride over and started out down the never-ending strip of beach. It was quite romantic, seeing the ocean crashing in out Dane’s window and large, shrub-covered sand hills out mine. A few unbelievably skinny dingoes wandered past and we didn’t see a whole lot else for the next 60 km. We made a short stop at the Maheno shipwreck, an old ship that was being pulled to Japan in a cyclone and broke loose. Maheno’s now rusty remains ended up on Fraser’s beach.
Our goal was Indian Head, about 90 km north from the island’s southern tip (where we exited the ferry.) The track ends not far after Indian Head and all the roads are closed on the island’s western shores due to soft sands and conservation areas. Ocean swimming is also off-limits on Fraser as sharks frequent these waters.
The lookout from Indian Head was incredible. It’s always such a great feeling to stand on a cliff and survey the lands around you. The point is composed of sheer rock faces and looking straight down made me a bit queasy but the view was well worth it.
Heading back down the beach, we planned on making a stop at the famous, crystal-clear spring known as Eli Creek then heading to our campsite, Central Station, which is 10 km inland from the beach track. We only had about another hour or so until we had to get off the beach or risk Bruce getting carried into a big wave (an event that would definitely ensure we didn’t get our damage deposit back!) We saw a sign posting to Lake Allom and decided to check it out but soon realized that driving on the inland roads was slower going than expected. The top speed manageable hovers around 20 km/h. We were probably not going to make it back out to the beach and down to Central Station before the tides came in. I surveyed the map and realized there are several inland 4WD tracks that would lead us, in a very roundabout way, to our camping destination. Feeling better, we set off on a journey, relaxed with the knowledge that we would make it to our campsite one way or another.
The drive ended up taking us about seven hours. By the end, our bums were tender to say the least and Dane had gotten loads of practise traversing logs, holes, steep climbs and deep sand. The road led us through dense, green rainforest on a steep, dug out track which turned into pine tree forests, then scrub land. Bruce climbed up to the island’s high point and brought us safely back down closer to sea level. We stopped at a lookout for a massive sand blow and heeded warnings of dangerous dingoes in the area. We stopped to cook dinner right on the track because there was really nowhere else to do it and batted off horseflies the size of my thumb. We met one other vehicle the entire time and tried not to think about how long it would take someone to find us if Bruce broke down. And we listened to country tunes blaring out of Dane’s PSP.
We arrived with a whoop of excitement at Central Station around 10 p.m. and promptly set up our tent. While most of our bedding and pillows had gotten wet from a spilled water container, we were just happy to have made it to our destination. I used to sleep on the ground while camping with friends but haven’t had the luxury of doing so in quite a few years and I can’t say my body thanked me for it. I awoke in the morning to see that we were surrounded once again by the gorgeous, towering trees of a rainforest. It looked sunny overhead but it was extremely hard to tell through all the foliage.
We arrived at Lake Mackenzie, Fraser’s most popular place and for good reason, first thing in the morning. The lake is an indescribable shade of blue and the water is the clearest I have ever seen. The bottom is covered in silky white sand which does little to disguise your toes which can be seen easily through the water. I decided to swim across the lake and loved looking down at my hands paddling through the indigo depths at the lake’s center. I’ve never seen water like this before and we stayed a few hours until the tourist buses started to pour in.
Next stop was Lake Wabby, a deep water-hole home to catfish and turtles. On Wabby’s north-eastern side, a massive sand blow is slowly encroaching on the water at a rate of 3 m per year. After, we headed for Eli Creek and walked along the clear stream that leads out to the ocean, taking photos and watching for water snakes.
Unfortunately, the trip had come to an end and we had to get back down to the southern end of Fraser before high tide and with enough time to catch the ferry. We both agreed Lake Mackenzie was the highlight of the trip and that renting the reliable Bruce was the best decision.
A day on Lady Elliot Island- Saturday, February 6
Australia’s Great Barrier Reef is one of those fabled, almost mythical places in the annals of travel that a person feels he or she must visit at some point in life. While I had always thought it would be an incredible experience, I was wholly unprepared; a state some may argue is the best way to experience a new place. No preconceptions or expectations.
We took a small chartered flight out to Lady Elliot Island, a 16 km long haven for 100 species of birds at the southern tip of the reef. The island is surrounded by hard coral (not the colourful, soft varieties you see on postcards but denser and darker) and its’ beaches are littered with white bits of dead coral that’s been washed ashore. When we first got to the island, I have to admit I was less than impressed. It didn’t fit my idea of a tropical island and the smell of bird poop was overwhelming in the open-air facilities for day-trippers.
Our tour included a short tour on a glass bottomed boat which turned out to be not all that special because it mostly looked like a washing machine below us. As soon as Dane and I hopped off the boat however, for our first snorkelling expedition of the day, my mind was quickly changed. We hadn’t been in the water two minutes when a giant, green-backed sea turtle swam by. We swam with her and touched her massive shell, while admiring her smooth, graceful movements through the water. We were both smiling at each other through our masks, unbelieving this surreal moment. She slowly swam down to the ocean floor and came to rest under a large coral shelf, obviously tired of being touched by strangers.
The day only got better and we spent the entire afternoon exploring just one small area of the reef surrounding the island. It was a humbling experience seeing the underwater world and all of its valleys, caves and trenches and not realizing before just how epic it really is. And we are only at the tip of the Great Barrier Reef! Just imagine a week-long scuba expedition- it’s mind boggling the things one would see; I could’ve stayed out there for days on end.
The fish in the reef system embody every colour and shape possible and some of them even combine asymmetrical colour patterns, combined with odd shaped heads or tails. Some swim sideways and some swim in great schools together while others are obvious bullies on the playground and whip through the smaller fish nipping at their fins.
The stillness and the complete quiet under the water is also startling. It is so silent that if you’re watching and listening close enough you can hear fish biting at the coral. I thought I was losing my mind until I followed one large teal blue, purple and yellow guy around as he gnawed off bits from the coral with his white teeth and I could hear a short crunching sound.
Besides all the fish there’s also manta rays near Lady Elliot and are the emblem for the island. We were directed out to a particularly good area to spot them and after about half an hour of swimming around we saw one on the ocean floor below us. Its great black fins curved up and down gently as it skimmed the bottom and seemed to scoop up fish with hooks in the front. Not long after I saw another turtle, though much smaller than the first. The young turtles are often skittish and I kicked my flippers too hard trying to get closer to it and it darted off into the water.
We fought the waves and current back on shore only to realize it was 3 p.m. and we were due to fly off the island in less than an hour. Dane decided to enjoy the view from the shore for awhile and I raced back in the water. Not long after I returned, I spotted a grey shark with a recognizable black-tipped fin on his back. Knowing he was a harmless reef shark I followed his erratic swimming patterns, watching as fish cleared a path for him. When he quickly turned in my direction I was honestly a bit scared. He swam off and I didn’t follow him.
Just as I was gearing up for the swim back, I saw another small turtle. I followed her slowly and she swam in great big circles. I never got close enough for a pet but just watching her was enough.
Leaving the water, I was getting my bag ready to walk back to the main area and stopped to look at the water. The beach that I had previously passed off as unattractive now looked absolutely gorgeous as the lowering sun lit up everything with a luminous sheen. And knowing the wonders that lie in the waters beyond the beach made it that much more special.
Leaving Lady Elliot, I got a great window seat as Dane had elected to sit up front with the pilot. From the air the island is absolutely gorgeous and the reef is clearly visible in dark patches all around. The water begins as a pale teal at the shore line and progresses through varying shades of turquoise until it gets deeper and turns into an indigo blue. Watching from the plane, I spotted a few sharks and a group of dolphins and relished in one of the best experiences I’ve ever had.
We took a small chartered flight out to Lady Elliot Island, a 16 km long haven for 100 species of birds at the southern tip of the reef. The island is surrounded by hard coral (not the colourful, soft varieties you see on postcards but denser and darker) and its’ beaches are littered with white bits of dead coral that’s been washed ashore. When we first got to the island, I have to admit I was less than impressed. It didn’t fit my idea of a tropical island and the smell of bird poop was overwhelming in the open-air facilities for day-trippers.
Our tour included a short tour on a glass bottomed boat which turned out to be not all that special because it mostly looked like a washing machine below us. As soon as Dane and I hopped off the boat however, for our first snorkelling expedition of the day, my mind was quickly changed. We hadn’t been in the water two minutes when a giant, green-backed sea turtle swam by. We swam with her and touched her massive shell, while admiring her smooth, graceful movements through the water. We were both smiling at each other through our masks, unbelieving this surreal moment. She slowly swam down to the ocean floor and came to rest under a large coral shelf, obviously tired of being touched by strangers.
The day only got better and we spent the entire afternoon exploring just one small area of the reef surrounding the island. It was a humbling experience seeing the underwater world and all of its valleys, caves and trenches and not realizing before just how epic it really is. And we are only at the tip of the Great Barrier Reef! Just imagine a week-long scuba expedition- it’s mind boggling the things one would see; I could’ve stayed out there for days on end.
The fish in the reef system embody every colour and shape possible and some of them even combine asymmetrical colour patterns, combined with odd shaped heads or tails. Some swim sideways and some swim in great schools together while others are obvious bullies on the playground and whip through the smaller fish nipping at their fins.
The stillness and the complete quiet under the water is also startling. It is so silent that if you’re watching and listening close enough you can hear fish biting at the coral. I thought I was losing my mind until I followed one large teal blue, purple and yellow guy around as he gnawed off bits from the coral with his white teeth and I could hear a short crunching sound.
Besides all the fish there’s also manta rays near Lady Elliot and are the emblem for the island. We were directed out to a particularly good area to spot them and after about half an hour of swimming around we saw one on the ocean floor below us. Its great black fins curved up and down gently as it skimmed the bottom and seemed to scoop up fish with hooks in the front. Not long after I saw another turtle, though much smaller than the first. The young turtles are often skittish and I kicked my flippers too hard trying to get closer to it and it darted off into the water.
We fought the waves and current back on shore only to realize it was 3 p.m. and we were due to fly off the island in less than an hour. Dane decided to enjoy the view from the shore for awhile and I raced back in the water. Not long after I returned, I spotted a grey shark with a recognizable black-tipped fin on his back. Knowing he was a harmless reef shark I followed his erratic swimming patterns, watching as fish cleared a path for him. When he quickly turned in my direction I was honestly a bit scared. He swam off and I didn’t follow him.
Just as I was gearing up for the swim back, I saw another small turtle. I followed her slowly and she swam in great big circles. I never got close enough for a pet but just watching her was enough.
Leaving the water, I was getting my bag ready to walk back to the main area and stopped to look at the water. The beach that I had previously passed off as unattractive now looked absolutely gorgeous as the lowering sun lit up everything with a luminous sheen. And knowing the wonders that lie in the waters beyond the beach made it that much more special.
Leaving Lady Elliot, I got a great window seat as Dane had elected to sit up front with the pilot. From the air the island is absolutely gorgeous and the reef is clearly visible in dark patches all around. The water begins as a pale teal at the shore line and progresses through varying shades of turquoise until it gets deeper and turns into an indigo blue. Watching from the plane, I spotted a few sharks and a group of dolphins and relished in one of the best experiences I’ve ever had.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
A prolonged stop in Rum City February 3 to 5
Bundaberg (affectionately known by locals as Bundy) is situated on the coast, half way between Airlie Beach (the famous jumping-off point for the Whitsunday Islands) and Brisbane. Dane and I stopped here on our way north to the town of 1770. Bundy is famous for a few things, first and foremost in my eyes, their 2 km long turtle nesting beach, Mon Repo. We had to wait until nightfall, because both the grown mothers lay their eggs and the hatchlings later emerge from the sand under the safe cover of night.
We embarked on a tour of the Bundaberg Rum factory (one of the other main things for which Bundy is famous.) The tour was fascinating and took us through the huge holding tanks where they store the raw, incredible smelling molasses, to the fermentation process where the cleaned molasses is mixed with water and yeast to produce 76 % white rum. That product then goes through various stages, including two-year storage in 65,000 litre oak vats until we have the famous, 36% Bundaberg amber rum. Each vat is worth about $6 million retail and they have 300 on the property. It’s a huge operation and Aussies love their rum. The government takes about $4 million in taxes from each vat explained our tour guide and then taxes the consumer again on each bottle purchased.
Best of all, we got two free tastings at the end and since Dane isn’t one for rum, I got four drinks! I used them all on the exclusive coffee-chocolate-vanilla-caramel rum liqueur (which has a name better than my wordy description) that they produce only twice a year because of the products complexity, so I wasn’t nearly as tipsy as I might have been if I’d tried straight-up rum.
The highlight of our prolonged stay in Bundy was by far the Mon Repo turtle experience. We waited for about two hours and around 9pm Ranger Shane gathered our group together and took us down the beach, in complete darkness, for an “event.” Rangers and volunteers patrol the beach around the clock and had found one of the 1600 nests that were laid this year ready to hatch. We gathered around it in circle and watched as tiny baby turtles burst to the surface. They were gathered into a small turtle corral until we could all help them get down to the ocean. They emerged frantic, scrambling over top of each other and moving as fast as possible on their strong, little flippers. They come out at night because predators will easily scoop them up in the day light. After breaking out of the egg, the turtle will eat the remaining yolk and start the two-day dig to the surface (the mother buries them about 60cm deep to keep them safe). Once they reach the surface, they head for moonlight on the horizon which guides them to the ocean where they will ride the Pacific current all around the world, with some eventually returning to this very spot in 30 years to repeat the life-cycle.
Ranger Shane gave us explicit instructions not to use our torches our cameras. The turtles are easily confused by light and have been taking off down the beach because of the lights of a nearby development are tricking them. That’s why they need our help and after Shane passes around two for us to hold and touch we line up and form a column for the turtles to scuttle down on the first leg of their epic journey. Torch-carriers stand in the middle, lighting up the way to the water. It’s absolutely incredible to watch these tiny creatures dash for the safety of the water. Even a footprint in the sand becomes an obstacle for the little guys but they all eventually make it. Then comes the hardest bit. They have to make it past the waves and will often get swept back to shore three times before they can swim out far enough. After that, they have to contend with the other creatures in the ocean that will see them as a tasty appetizer. Not many of them make it to maturity; that’s why the females lay so many eggs (300-400 in a season) and why the rangers work here is so important. 95% of the turtles on Mon Reps are loggerheads and are endangered. The other species that visit this beach are classified as vulnerable.
After we’ve helped the hatchlings, we go back to the nest (fletch) and watch as Shane counts all of the shells to determine the success rate. 86 turtles made the journey down to the beach and 37 were under-developed and never hatched; a high number according to Shane. One egg was eaten by a crab and Shane pulled a few weak ones out who didn’t manage to climb out on their own. He was up to his armpit in the fletch and it was astounding to think of how long it must take the mother to dig it with her back flippers and deposit her eggs.
One of the reasons the hatchlings needed our help that night is that the moon was covered by clouds. As we were preparing to leave the clouds parted and a gorgeous, nearly-full silvery moon appeared over the ocean. It lit up the white foam of the waves and the beach and made me want to sit out there all night. I wondered if the turtles could see it in the ocean and if it was guiding them out to safety.
We’ve had to find various ways to fill the days, stuck in the rain, waiting for our trip to Lady Musgrave Island. We checked out the Bert Hinkler Aviation museum and it turned out to be an informative and interactive experience. Hinkler revolutionized many aspects of early aviation and set numerous world records, one of his most famous when he set the long distance, non-stop flight record by flying from Sydney to his mother’s home here in Bundaberg in under 9 hours in the 1920s. Hinkler set around-the-world flight records, was the first to cross the Atlantic, served as a gunner in WWI (living through that is a feat in itself) and invented numerous designs and the first amphibious aircraft. He unfortunately perished on another record attempt in the Italian Alps at the age of 40 and his life was nothing short of amazing.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mind the rain but I do realize there’s nothing I can do about it and we have to make the best of the situation. We scheduled a cruise out to Lady Musgrave Island for Saturday to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef and explore the gorgeous, tiny, white-sand island. We discovered Friday morning all the roads leading to the small, isolated community of 1770, where the cruise leaves from, are closed. The water is 2m above the bridge and two Korean tourists nearly died yesterday when they tried to cross the bridge and their car became fully submerged. The two swam out and clung to a tree branch until they were rescued. Everyone in town is part laughing at their stupidity and part angry that their tax dollars have went to saving people that disobeyed the “road closed” signs. Regardless, our station wagon definitely won’t be crossing any flooded bridges so we’ve had to cancel our cruise and have decided to book a day trip to Lady Elliot Island. It’s a bit pricier but that’s because we get to fly there, something Dane and I are both looking forward to. The island is meant to be even more beautiful than Musgrave and is also at the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef and surrounded by live coral.
We embarked on a tour of the Bundaberg Rum factory (one of the other main things for which Bundy is famous.) The tour was fascinating and took us through the huge holding tanks where they store the raw, incredible smelling molasses, to the fermentation process where the cleaned molasses is mixed with water and yeast to produce 76 % white rum. That product then goes through various stages, including two-year storage in 65,000 litre oak vats until we have the famous, 36% Bundaberg amber rum. Each vat is worth about $6 million retail and they have 300 on the property. It’s a huge operation and Aussies love their rum. The government takes about $4 million in taxes from each vat explained our tour guide and then taxes the consumer again on each bottle purchased.
Best of all, we got two free tastings at the end and since Dane isn’t one for rum, I got four drinks! I used them all on the exclusive coffee-chocolate-vanilla-caramel rum liqueur (which has a name better than my wordy description) that they produce only twice a year because of the products complexity, so I wasn’t nearly as tipsy as I might have been if I’d tried straight-up rum.
The highlight of our prolonged stay in Bundy was by far the Mon Repo turtle experience. We waited for about two hours and around 9pm Ranger Shane gathered our group together and took us down the beach, in complete darkness, for an “event.” Rangers and volunteers patrol the beach around the clock and had found one of the 1600 nests that were laid this year ready to hatch. We gathered around it in circle and watched as tiny baby turtles burst to the surface. They were gathered into a small turtle corral until we could all help them get down to the ocean. They emerged frantic, scrambling over top of each other and moving as fast as possible on their strong, little flippers. They come out at night because predators will easily scoop them up in the day light. After breaking out of the egg, the turtle will eat the remaining yolk and start the two-day dig to the surface (the mother buries them about 60cm deep to keep them safe). Once they reach the surface, they head for moonlight on the horizon which guides them to the ocean where they will ride the Pacific current all around the world, with some eventually returning to this very spot in 30 years to repeat the life-cycle.
Ranger Shane gave us explicit instructions not to use our torches our cameras. The turtles are easily confused by light and have been taking off down the beach because of the lights of a nearby development are tricking them. That’s why they need our help and after Shane passes around two for us to hold and touch we line up and form a column for the turtles to scuttle down on the first leg of their epic journey. Torch-carriers stand in the middle, lighting up the way to the water. It’s absolutely incredible to watch these tiny creatures dash for the safety of the water. Even a footprint in the sand becomes an obstacle for the little guys but they all eventually make it. Then comes the hardest bit. They have to make it past the waves and will often get swept back to shore three times before they can swim out far enough. After that, they have to contend with the other creatures in the ocean that will see them as a tasty appetizer. Not many of them make it to maturity; that’s why the females lay so many eggs (300-400 in a season) and why the rangers work here is so important. 95% of the turtles on Mon Reps are loggerheads and are endangered. The other species that visit this beach are classified as vulnerable.
After we’ve helped the hatchlings, we go back to the nest (fletch) and watch as Shane counts all of the shells to determine the success rate. 86 turtles made the journey down to the beach and 37 were under-developed and never hatched; a high number according to Shane. One egg was eaten by a crab and Shane pulled a few weak ones out who didn’t manage to climb out on their own. He was up to his armpit in the fletch and it was astounding to think of how long it must take the mother to dig it with her back flippers and deposit her eggs.
One of the reasons the hatchlings needed our help that night is that the moon was covered by clouds. As we were preparing to leave the clouds parted and a gorgeous, nearly-full silvery moon appeared over the ocean. It lit up the white foam of the waves and the beach and made me want to sit out there all night. I wondered if the turtles could see it in the ocean and if it was guiding them out to safety.
We’ve had to find various ways to fill the days, stuck in the rain, waiting for our trip to Lady Musgrave Island. We checked out the Bert Hinkler Aviation museum and it turned out to be an informative and interactive experience. Hinkler revolutionized many aspects of early aviation and set numerous world records, one of his most famous when he set the long distance, non-stop flight record by flying from Sydney to his mother’s home here in Bundaberg in under 9 hours in the 1920s. Hinkler set around-the-world flight records, was the first to cross the Atlantic, served as a gunner in WWI (living through that is a feat in itself) and invented numerous designs and the first amphibious aircraft. He unfortunately perished on another record attempt in the Italian Alps at the age of 40 and his life was nothing short of amazing.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mind the rain but I do realize there’s nothing I can do about it and we have to make the best of the situation. We scheduled a cruise out to Lady Musgrave Island for Saturday to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef and explore the gorgeous, tiny, white-sand island. We discovered Friday morning all the roads leading to the small, isolated community of 1770, where the cruise leaves from, are closed. The water is 2m above the bridge and two Korean tourists nearly died yesterday when they tried to cross the bridge and their car became fully submerged. The two swam out and clung to a tree branch until they were rescued. Everyone in town is part laughing at their stupidity and part angry that their tax dollars have went to saving people that disobeyed the “road closed” signs. Regardless, our station wagon definitely won’t be crossing any flooded bridges so we’ve had to cancel our cruise and have decided to book a day trip to Lady Elliot Island. It’s a bit pricier but that’s because we get to fly there, something Dane and I are both looking forward to. The island is meant to be even more beautiful than Musgrave and is also at the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef and surrounded by live coral.
All alone in the big city ... Sunday, January 24 to 28
Well, it’s not that big. Under two million. Just big enough to give me plenty to see and do for a few days while Dane visits Tanya in Adelaide. Brisbane, better known by locals as Brissie or Brisvegas (Aussie’s have a shortened version of almost every word I’ve discovered) curves around a gorgeous river and is about 20km west of the coastline. Here’s where the Gold Coast stops and cosmopolitan urbanity begins.
First on the list is actually getting into the city and finding my hostel after I’ve dropped Dane at the airport. It should have been relatively easy- it’s on a main street of a main artery into the city but it’s not. Construction and poorly marked detours hinder my progress and the 20-minute drive takes me more than an hour. Negotiating driving on the wrong side of the road is bad enough but throw in a strange city and no one to read the map for you and it could be catastrophic. Luckily for me (and fellow Brissies) it’s early Sunday morning.
As I set out on foot to explore the city I relish in the old familiar feeling returning to me. It’s the feeling of anxious and happy anticipation I get whenever I’m in a new city, particularly one that I’ve heard good things about. The thrill for me lies in walking down unknown streets and seeing, listening, smelling, touching and to a point, tasting all that the city has to offer. Brisbane did not disappoint me.
I filled the next four days with tours of the art galleries, historic buildings and walks through the South Bank Parklands (which even have their own man-made beach and pool!) street markets and Botanical Gardens. I sample an array of the ethnic cuisines on offer and try out a few drop-in yoga classes.
GoMa, or the Gallery of Modern Art, was by far the best I’ve been to. While the contemporary art gallery in Sydney confused me, GoMa inspired me. The sixth annual Asia Pacific triennial exhibition was on and it was absolutely amazing. Works from all over the Asia Pacific region were on display, including a group from North Korea- a first for Australia. The North Korean artists brought in huge murals that extolled the government, teamwork and workers in factories.
Some of my favourites included a Chinese wooden house that had been rescued and rebuilt after the Mekong River flooded thanks to human intervention. A Japanese artist showcased how we are coming to view things in pixels in the digital age and used a stuffed elk (which he bought on an Internet auction) and covered it with various sizes and shapes of glass balls which magnified certain portions of the majestic animal.
My hostel (backpackers they call it down under) is situated in the heart of the west end, just on the other side of the river from the CBD (central business district). It’s bohemian over here; everyone sells organic this and organic that and the smell of patchouli wafts around street corners. One day for lunch I tried the vegetarian buffet up the street and my plate is piled high with delicious curries and the like, none of which I can remember the names for.
One day for lunch, I meet up with two guys from the hostel and we share a few plates from a Chinese dining house that looks exactly like the dining rooms in China. Dan is from Ontario and Ollie is from Finland and plays in a death metal band. Both are interesting and have some great perspectives on the differences found in Australia from our homes but I’m really a loner at heart and after lunch go my own way.
Australia Day fell on Tuesday and celebrations were planned throughout the city, including a street dance party that began at 11 am at one of the bars near downtown. I headed out at night to watch the fireworks and ended up meeting a great couple who had met eight months earlier in a small outback town. The two fell for each other and ended up travelling together ever since. Jillian is from Taiwan but had lived in Calgary for several years. Chris is from Turkey but became an Australian citizen five years ago thanks to his stepmother. Both had great, mixed accents and both were equally humorous and passionate. Chris took us to his favourite Turkish restaurant- one of the only ones in town worth eating at in his opinion and proceeded to order a feast of traditional Turkish food. They both told me about their homes and cultures and we talked well into the night. I learned the techniques in preparing meat (helal) for Muslims properly and learned why Taiwanese have such bad sex (they are too obsessed with work and food).
I also spent my fair share of time hitting the summer sales at the Queen Street Mall, a famous Brissie shopping district. I figured I’d earned it after sleeping in the car for the last three weeks and all the money I’d saved!
And before I knew it, Thursday morning had come and Dane was waiting downstairs in the backpackers after a sleepless night with seven other noisy, messy dorm-mates. I was glad to see him and I took him for an abridged tour of the city. We hopped on one of the sleek City Cat ferries and for $6 rode it for an hour or two up and down the city’s main river, gawking at gorgeous houses and marvelling at the huge bridges.
First on the list is actually getting into the city and finding my hostel after I’ve dropped Dane at the airport. It should have been relatively easy- it’s on a main street of a main artery into the city but it’s not. Construction and poorly marked detours hinder my progress and the 20-minute drive takes me more than an hour. Negotiating driving on the wrong side of the road is bad enough but throw in a strange city and no one to read the map for you and it could be catastrophic. Luckily for me (and fellow Brissies) it’s early Sunday morning.
As I set out on foot to explore the city I relish in the old familiar feeling returning to me. It’s the feeling of anxious and happy anticipation I get whenever I’m in a new city, particularly one that I’ve heard good things about. The thrill for me lies in walking down unknown streets and seeing, listening, smelling, touching and to a point, tasting all that the city has to offer. Brisbane did not disappoint me.
I filled the next four days with tours of the art galleries, historic buildings and walks through the South Bank Parklands (which even have their own man-made beach and pool!) street markets and Botanical Gardens. I sample an array of the ethnic cuisines on offer and try out a few drop-in yoga classes.
GoMa, or the Gallery of Modern Art, was by far the best I’ve been to. While the contemporary art gallery in Sydney confused me, GoMa inspired me. The sixth annual Asia Pacific triennial exhibition was on and it was absolutely amazing. Works from all over the Asia Pacific region were on display, including a group from North Korea- a first for Australia. The North Korean artists brought in huge murals that extolled the government, teamwork and workers in factories.
Some of my favourites included a Chinese wooden house that had been rescued and rebuilt after the Mekong River flooded thanks to human intervention. A Japanese artist showcased how we are coming to view things in pixels in the digital age and used a stuffed elk (which he bought on an Internet auction) and covered it with various sizes and shapes of glass balls which magnified certain portions of the majestic animal.
My hostel (backpackers they call it down under) is situated in the heart of the west end, just on the other side of the river from the CBD (central business district). It’s bohemian over here; everyone sells organic this and organic that and the smell of patchouli wafts around street corners. One day for lunch I tried the vegetarian buffet up the street and my plate is piled high with delicious curries and the like, none of which I can remember the names for.
One day for lunch, I meet up with two guys from the hostel and we share a few plates from a Chinese dining house that looks exactly like the dining rooms in China. Dan is from Ontario and Ollie is from Finland and plays in a death metal band. Both are interesting and have some great perspectives on the differences found in Australia from our homes but I’m really a loner at heart and after lunch go my own way.
Australia Day fell on Tuesday and celebrations were planned throughout the city, including a street dance party that began at 11 am at one of the bars near downtown. I headed out at night to watch the fireworks and ended up meeting a great couple who had met eight months earlier in a small outback town. The two fell for each other and ended up travelling together ever since. Jillian is from Taiwan but had lived in Calgary for several years. Chris is from Turkey but became an Australian citizen five years ago thanks to his stepmother. Both had great, mixed accents and both were equally humorous and passionate. Chris took us to his favourite Turkish restaurant- one of the only ones in town worth eating at in his opinion and proceeded to order a feast of traditional Turkish food. They both told me about their homes and cultures and we talked well into the night. I learned the techniques in preparing meat (helal) for Muslims properly and learned why Taiwanese have such bad sex (they are too obsessed with work and food).
I also spent my fair share of time hitting the summer sales at the Queen Street Mall, a famous Brissie shopping district. I figured I’d earned it after sleeping in the car for the last three weeks and all the money I’d saved!
And before I knew it, Thursday morning had come and Dane was waiting downstairs in the backpackers after a sleepless night with seven other noisy, messy dorm-mates. I was glad to see him and I took him for an abridged tour of the city. We hopped on one of the sleek City Cat ferries and for $6 rode it for an hour or two up and down the city’s main river, gawking at gorgeous houses and marvelling at the huge bridges.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Paradise in Surfers? Friday, January 22 to 23
We entered Queensland and traveled up the Gold Coast on Friday. We stopped in Burleigh Heads and checked out the first day of the Hurley Burley junior surfing competition (I was later informed by locals that it’s called a surf comp- they abbreviate everything down here!) The grand prize for the five day test of skills in the waves is $25, 000 and these kids are good. People love their surfing down here; there was a new state-of-the-art pair of surf shorts from Hurley and Nike on display in one of the tents. It was enclosed in glass and marketed to the extreme.
Surfer’s Paradise (known affectionately as Surfers) is another must-see for many on the Gold Coast. Welcome to hedonism at its’ best. But Surfers, surprisingly, is more than flesh and partying. Although it’s purely a resort town, with plenty of party people, it’s got a great heart as well and doesn’t come across as snobby. Perched along an extremely long stretch of beach, all of the high-rises here are hotels or apartment buildings. The suburbs of the city consist of waterways, and similar to Bangkok or Venice, most houses are perched on inlets and surrounded by water of some kind.
We camped in the strangest campervan park. It was just outside of the downtown area but still in the middle of the city and very close to the beach. Huge buildings surrounded the pretty, treed complex and we wondered how much money this park is sitting on. A picture in the office revealed people camping here in the 1920s and it’s obvious the park has been in the family for a long time. Still, it was strange to camp in an urban jungle.
The highlight for me was the Q Tower, a new luxury condo complex that is the 20th tallest building in the world. Q boasts an elevator that takes visitors to the 77th floor lookout deck in 43 seconds. Once up there, the views are panoramic. It almost feels like you’re floating overtop the city. We spent several hours up there, appreciating both Surfers beauty and that of the ocean which stretches as far as the eye can see.
Surfer’s Paradise (known affectionately as Surfers) is another must-see for many on the Gold Coast. Welcome to hedonism at its’ best. But Surfers, surprisingly, is more than flesh and partying. Although it’s purely a resort town, with plenty of party people, it’s got a great heart as well and doesn’t come across as snobby. Perched along an extremely long stretch of beach, all of the high-rises here are hotels or apartment buildings. The suburbs of the city consist of waterways, and similar to Bangkok or Venice, most houses are perched on inlets and surrounded by water of some kind.
We camped in the strangest campervan park. It was just outside of the downtown area but still in the middle of the city and very close to the beach. Huge buildings surrounded the pretty, treed complex and we wondered how much money this park is sitting on. A picture in the office revealed people camping here in the 1920s and it’s obvious the park has been in the family for a long time. Still, it was strange to camp in an urban jungle.
The highlight for me was the Q Tower, a new luxury condo complex that is the 20th tallest building in the world. Q boasts an elevator that takes visitors to the 77th floor lookout deck in 43 seconds. Once up there, the views are panoramic. It almost feels like you’re floating overtop the city. We spent several hours up there, appreciating both Surfers beauty and that of the ocean which stretches as far as the eye can see.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Byron Bay baby! January 20 to 22
Byron Bay is one of those famous-must-see places on every backpackers list. While I really hate following the crowd, it’s easy to see why this place has become so popular. It has one of the best collections of beaches around and boasts the most easterly point of Australia at its’ south end, complete with a historic lighthouse. Add to that rainforests, a thriving organic culture, plenty of shopping, diverse restaurants, a few nightclubs and beautiful people and Byron’s fast becoming a winner in my books.
On the way to Byron, however, is a town called Lennox Head. Directly across from the town, on the coastline is a lookout point. After hiking to the top, I was graced with views as far as the eye could see in all directions. Down below, waves crashed into the rocky cliffs. It’s easy to become entranced by the ocean and watching the waves. Dane and I stood up there for a long time, appreciating the raw power of nature at her best.
Byron Bay reminds me of the island culture in Thailand; maybe that’s why I like it so much here. There’s amazing beaches if one’s willing to get off the beaten path. And a lot of women go topless here... I refrained, but only because I was with my brother. We found a secluded stretch of silky white sand perched in between the cliffs. It was probably more appropriate for a couple but we didn’t care and had fun in the surf until the jellies came out. We’ve been noticing the jellies seem to come in with the tides in the afternoon and while these ones aren’t poisonous (those are further north) they still hurt like hell.
Thursday morning we set out to hike up to the lighthouse and around the headland, with a stop at the country’s easternmost poing. The lighthouse was built in 1901, just as the shipping trade was beginning to boom in the area. The white washed structure was necessary to warn boats of the huge cliffs they faced while negotiating Byron’s shores. The partial remains of a wreck from the 1880s are still visible from the main beach.
Like at Lennox Head, the raw power of the sea becomes very apparent from up here. You can feel the booming pound of it as it crashes into the cliffs and sprays white foam. Further out to sea we can see dolphins skimming up out of the water. Surfers are out in the hundreds but can’t compete with the dolphins grace as they both try to catch waves and ride them into shore.
I met a woman with long blonde hair in the bathroom the next morning at the beach. She was washing her clothes in the sink, because, as she informed me she was a “feral” and lives in her car. I said “Oh, well so do I!” She went on to tell me that a feral person is different from a homeless person in that he or she has accepted the fact that they do not have a home and choose this way of life. She informed me of all the places in Byron you can sleep in your car overnight (Dane and I had been leaving to sleep at sanctioned rest stops because signs all over town say “no sleeping in cars.”) She also complained about the lack of public showers and said before Byron got all “ritzy and rich” there were plenty of showers. Then they all got taken out and people now complain about the dirty ferals. From the sounds of it, there’s quite a few ferals in Byron. The woman I met, who is 55, says it’s a great money-saver and is quite content. While I’m enjoying living in the car for the moment, I can’t imagine wanting to live this way for more than a few months.
On the way to Byron, however, is a town called Lennox Head. Directly across from the town, on the coastline is a lookout point. After hiking to the top, I was graced with views as far as the eye could see in all directions. Down below, waves crashed into the rocky cliffs. It’s easy to become entranced by the ocean and watching the waves. Dane and I stood up there for a long time, appreciating the raw power of nature at her best.
Byron Bay reminds me of the island culture in Thailand; maybe that’s why I like it so much here. There’s amazing beaches if one’s willing to get off the beaten path. And a lot of women go topless here... I refrained, but only because I was with my brother. We found a secluded stretch of silky white sand perched in between the cliffs. It was probably more appropriate for a couple but we didn’t care and had fun in the surf until the jellies came out. We’ve been noticing the jellies seem to come in with the tides in the afternoon and while these ones aren’t poisonous (those are further north) they still hurt like hell.
Thursday morning we set out to hike up to the lighthouse and around the headland, with a stop at the country’s easternmost poing. The lighthouse was built in 1901, just as the shipping trade was beginning to boom in the area. The white washed structure was necessary to warn boats of the huge cliffs they faced while negotiating Byron’s shores. The partial remains of a wreck from the 1880s are still visible from the main beach.
Like at Lennox Head, the raw power of the sea becomes very apparent from up here. You can feel the booming pound of it as it crashes into the cliffs and sprays white foam. Further out to sea we can see dolphins skimming up out of the water. Surfers are out in the hundreds but can’t compete with the dolphins grace as they both try to catch waves and ride them into shore.
I met a woman with long blonde hair in the bathroom the next morning at the beach. She was washing her clothes in the sink, because, as she informed me she was a “feral” and lives in her car. I said “Oh, well so do I!” She went on to tell me that a feral person is different from a homeless person in that he or she has accepted the fact that they do not have a home and choose this way of life. She informed me of all the places in Byron you can sleep in your car overnight (Dane and I had been leaving to sleep at sanctioned rest stops because signs all over town say “no sleeping in cars.”) She also complained about the lack of public showers and said before Byron got all “ritzy and rich” there were plenty of showers. Then they all got taken out and people now complain about the dirty ferals. From the sounds of it, there’s quite a few ferals in Byron. The woman I met, who is 55, says it’s a great money-saver and is quite content. While I’m enjoying living in the car for the moment, I can’t imagine wanting to live this way for more than a few months.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Paradise by the sea- Yamba and Angourie- January 18 to 20
I keep a mental list of my favourite places in the world, both those at home and those discovered abroad that are both beautiful and have made me very happy. I’ve added to the list after spending a few days in Yamba and Angourie.
Yamba is perched at the tip of the coast line, about a two-hour drive north of Coffs Harbour. The drive there takes us through orchards, sugarcane plantations and pastureland and follows the curve of the Clarence River. Angourie is a small village, accessible via Yamba and is further south. At Angourie’s southern end is the Yuraygir National Park and the village winds around one of the most famous surf breaks in all of Australia. Gordon Merchant, the founder of Billabong, grew up here and has built a gorgeous mansion for his family on a cliff overlooking Angourie’s beaches.
Both places are magical in their own ways. Neither place has to try very hard to attract people, and are popular with vacationing Aussies. The region is home to several different beaches so Dane and I tried out the surf in a few spots. Also on the agenda was a walk around Angourie Point and a trip to the Blue Pools where you can join fearless local kids and dive off a huge cliff. I have to admit, I stood at the top and contemplated it for quite awhile before Dane talked me into it.
This is one of those places that’s so completely laid back you wonder how anyone gets any work done. And maybe no one does work around here. It’s one of those perfect spots to spend the days lazing away in the sun and surf and the water is that gorgeous turquoise colour that cameras can never fully capture. I’d come back for a holiday anytime- maybe I’ll meet Mr. Merchant and he’ll offer me a guest room!
Yamba is perched at the tip of the coast line, about a two-hour drive north of Coffs Harbour. The drive there takes us through orchards, sugarcane plantations and pastureland and follows the curve of the Clarence River. Angourie is a small village, accessible via Yamba and is further south. At Angourie’s southern end is the Yuraygir National Park and the village winds around one of the most famous surf breaks in all of Australia. Gordon Merchant, the founder of Billabong, grew up here and has built a gorgeous mansion for his family on a cliff overlooking Angourie’s beaches.
Both places are magical in their own ways. Neither place has to try very hard to attract people, and are popular with vacationing Aussies. The region is home to several different beaches so Dane and I tried out the surf in a few spots. Also on the agenda was a walk around Angourie Point and a trip to the Blue Pools where you can join fearless local kids and dive off a huge cliff. I have to admit, I stood at the top and contemplated it for quite awhile before Dane talked me into it.
This is one of those places that’s so completely laid back you wonder how anyone gets any work done. And maybe no one does work around here. It’s one of those perfect spots to spend the days lazing away in the sun and surf and the water is that gorgeous turquoise colour that cameras can never fully capture. I’d come back for a holiday anytime- maybe I’ll meet Mr. Merchant and he’ll offer me a guest room!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Rafting on the Nymboida- January 17
Yesterday we finished the Waterfall Way drive and found ourselves in Coffs Harbour; a beautiful port city with gorgeous beaches. Conveniently there was a man renting surfboards right beside the beach so I took Dane out and taught him the little I’ve learned about surfing. He caught on straight away (as they say in Oz) and we spent several hours in the ocean, taking turns on the big board.
Last night there were wallabies in the field where we’d parked the car. About 30 of them hopped around eating grass and staring at us. We thought they were roos at first but learned they were their smaller relatives. Equally as cute and strange looking, they must have very supple spines to be constantly hunched over or hopping. I took some pictures of them and a woman came over and angrily informed me that “they’re wild animals, not pets.” Ok, thanks tips.
I woke up several times in the night and caught glimpses of them in the moonlight and a few were still around when we got up in the morning.
It was time to inject some adrenalin into our road trip, especially for Dane. He thrives on high-action activities and has never tried white water rafting. We’d heard good things about a company in Coffs Harbour called Liquid Assets Adventure Tours so we booked a tour on Saturday and set out early Sunday for a two-hour drive up into the mountainous rainforests surrounding the coast. The Nymboida is not easily accessed by road and when it rains, no one can get a raft down to the river. The road we took was bumpy and wound up and down through the trees until the river came into sight.
The tour turned out to be the best I’ve ever taken. I first rafted in Austria and later again in Thailand and while both were incredible, they could not compare to the scenery, companionship between the people on our boat and the rapids on the Nymboida River.
The rapids were a level three, quite high on the scale for how rapids are classified. Our guide, David, gave us an initial safety and paddling lesson and told us the river is very technical. That means we have to approach each rapid section just right or we’ll get stuck or worse in the rocks. Dane and I jumped in the key rowing positions, right at the front of the raft and were told we’d have to work as a team to set the rowing pace for the rest of the boat.
David was right about the river. He had a complex series of forwards and backwards paddling set up for each rapid section and often had one side of the boat jumping against the other. He obviously knows what he’s doing because our boat didn’t get stuck once in the rocks and although we ran into some very high cliffs at fast speeds, we laughed the whole time while we watched the other boats on the tour work their way out of awkward spots where they were hung up on rocks.
And along with all the great rafting, we got to jump off a ten foot cliff, float down the river on our backs, drink from fresh spring water streams and fall down waterfalls. The trip ended with a wonderful BBQ lunch where three huge goanna lizards prowled, looking for food and licking the coals of the fire with their long tongues.
David definitely made the tour. As well as being smart and calm (he has 23 years experience on three different continents) he knows a lot about the Nymboida and pointed out interesting erosion areas and wildlife along the way. He’s the operations manager for Liquid Assets and while older than the rest of the guides, he easily told stories from his youth and we discussed various topics pertaining to Australia’s culture during the downtimes on the river. Dane thought the rapids could have been bigger but thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Last night there were wallabies in the field where we’d parked the car. About 30 of them hopped around eating grass and staring at us. We thought they were roos at first but learned they were their smaller relatives. Equally as cute and strange looking, they must have very supple spines to be constantly hunched over or hopping. I took some pictures of them and a woman came over and angrily informed me that “they’re wild animals, not pets.” Ok, thanks tips.
I woke up several times in the night and caught glimpses of them in the moonlight and a few were still around when we got up in the morning.
It was time to inject some adrenalin into our road trip, especially for Dane. He thrives on high-action activities and has never tried white water rafting. We’d heard good things about a company in Coffs Harbour called Liquid Assets Adventure Tours so we booked a tour on Saturday and set out early Sunday for a two-hour drive up into the mountainous rainforests surrounding the coast. The Nymboida is not easily accessed by road and when it rains, no one can get a raft down to the river. The road we took was bumpy and wound up and down through the trees until the river came into sight.
The tour turned out to be the best I’ve ever taken. I first rafted in Austria and later again in Thailand and while both were incredible, they could not compare to the scenery, companionship between the people on our boat and the rapids on the Nymboida River.
The rapids were a level three, quite high on the scale for how rapids are classified. Our guide, David, gave us an initial safety and paddling lesson and told us the river is very technical. That means we have to approach each rapid section just right or we’ll get stuck or worse in the rocks. Dane and I jumped in the key rowing positions, right at the front of the raft and were told we’d have to work as a team to set the rowing pace for the rest of the boat.
David was right about the river. He had a complex series of forwards and backwards paddling set up for each rapid section and often had one side of the boat jumping against the other. He obviously knows what he’s doing because our boat didn’t get stuck once in the rocks and although we ran into some very high cliffs at fast speeds, we laughed the whole time while we watched the other boats on the tour work their way out of awkward spots where they were hung up on rocks.
And along with all the great rafting, we got to jump off a ten foot cliff, float down the river on our backs, drink from fresh spring water streams and fall down waterfalls. The trip ended with a wonderful BBQ lunch where three huge goanna lizards prowled, looking for food and licking the coals of the fire with their long tongues.
David definitely made the tour. As well as being smart and calm (he has 23 years experience on three different continents) he knows a lot about the Nymboida and pointed out interesting erosion areas and wildlife along the way. He’s the operations manager for Liquid Assets and while older than the rest of the guides, he easily told stories from his youth and we discussed various topics pertaining to Australia’s culture during the downtimes on the river. Dane thought the rapids could have been bigger but thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Waterfall Way- Tuesday, January 12 to 14
The Waterfall Way is rumoured to be one of the most scenic drives in New South Wales, if not Australia. It begins in Armidale, New England, about two hours inland and winds its’ way through four national parks and several towns, ending at Coffs Harbour on the coast.
We began our trip early in the morning on Tuesday, while the air was still cool and a mist hung over the rainforest as the road climbed higher and higher. The curves of the road hug the landscape so well that we are constantly slowing and negotiating another turn. Dane says he wishes we were in a sports car and not a station wagon.
First town along the way is called Walcha and we went into a shop called Brady’s Saddlery, where we met 84-year-old Tom Brady who still hand sews kangaroo leather stock whips. He shows us pictures of himself in his youth, racing dirt bikes and riding bulls. Laughing at himself, he says he was too stupid to know any better but we reassure him that’s what being young is all about. He even takes us out back for a whip cracking session and it’s pretty humorous to watch him continuously loop the long whip over his back and crack it in the air. We both try to imitate him but fail miserably.
Our first waterfall is called Apsley Falls, within Oxley Wild Rivers National Park. It spills over the tallest gorge I’ve ever seen, creating a rainbow at the bottom. The park houses several other beautiful falls, including Wollombi Falls, which is apparently Australia’s second highest sheer drop. The gorges in the park are incredible and reveal thousands of rock layers. Now I wish I’d paid more attention in geology class so I could remember how this process happened.
The travel brochures were right; the drive is definitely scenic. Opportunities abound for taking detours, one of which leads us through farms comparable to English country squires. Even a moss-covered chapel completes the storybook vision. The only way we can tell we’re in Australia is the red dirt road.
Exploring Armidale could take days. The town is home to numerous cathedrals, museums, restaurants and cafés. Even a Harvard-reminiscent private school looms behind a gated fence and perfectly manicured lawns.
Lots of great hiking trails and lookout spots for the various falls in all of the parks means we got some exercise and a reward at the end of the climbs. The views from the tops of the gorges are amazing. Not only can you look straight down from a terrifying height, you can also look out across the landscape for miles.
The wildlife in this area is pretty amazing too. A bright red parrot landed in a tree beside our campsite this morning and we saw a rock wallaby, which looks like a small kangaroo, jumping along in the grass on our hike to the Wollombi Falls. And last but not least, a very large black snake was on the hiking trail. I nearly stepped on it but it never moved. We met a couple later who thought it was deadly and called it a red-bellied black. They also said there was a chance it was a harmless python (I didn’t think pythons were harmless); regardless they were seasoned “bushwalkers”- that’s what they called hiking here- and said they’d never seen such a large snake on the path before. We had to return on the same trail and it was still there, though moved off to the side. And it definitely had a red belly. It wasn’t interested in biting us, because it slithered off the path when we got close. The episode was still enough to prompt Dane to bring out the snakebite kit and we both read the directions.
We continued our drive back towards the coast on Thursday through a fairy-tale land of pretty cows and lush, green pasture on the way to a small town called Dorrigo. Thanks to a high amount of rainfall each year, Dorrigo is known as the “prime breeding and fattening land for cattle.” West of Dorrigo is perhaps the prettiest waterfall I’ve ever seen. Not extraordinarily tall, but it’s triple tiered and framed by rainforest. A clear swimming hole has been formed at the bottom and high rock walls curve around the sides before the water is taken down a narrow river carved in the trees.
Bohemian-chic Bellingen is the next town on the drive before we reach the coast. I really love the small town way of life that I’ve seen thus far. Each town has a main street filled with different shops selling everything one could need for the day. A bakery, butcher, fruit and veg, pharmacist and hardware store are always found and often several different restaurants and coffee shops serving far from basic fare for the foodies. I imagine this must have been (in some respects) what small-town Saskatchewan would’ve been like when my parents and grandparents were growing up. People here congregate and chat with their neighbours in one central meeting spot, the main street.
In Central America, I watched how villages came to life at dusk. As the day cools off, people begin coming out of their houses and sit outside to talk to one another and play cards. In Saskatchewan we don’t have this luxury for most of the year, but even in the summer we keep to our own space and our own families most of the time. You’d never see everyone on a street sitting on their front porch or walking around talking to all of his or her neighbours. And for those who live on farms, a trip to town is rarely the social occasion it once was. Going to town was a big deal for my grandma. Before she left, she would put on lipstick and give herself a foot bath. She loved going for the mail or groceries, and to have a chat and coffee with her friends.
Is our current lack of communication a bad thing? Or just different? Are we losing a function necessary to the success of humanity? Or are we fostering new forms of communication through technology? Whatever the answer is, I don’t know it. You will always learn something by observing how the people in countries different from your own communicate with each other and how that compares to your own ideals.
We began our trip early in the morning on Tuesday, while the air was still cool and a mist hung over the rainforest as the road climbed higher and higher. The curves of the road hug the landscape so well that we are constantly slowing and negotiating another turn. Dane says he wishes we were in a sports car and not a station wagon.
First town along the way is called Walcha and we went into a shop called Brady’s Saddlery, where we met 84-year-old Tom Brady who still hand sews kangaroo leather stock whips. He shows us pictures of himself in his youth, racing dirt bikes and riding bulls. Laughing at himself, he says he was too stupid to know any better but we reassure him that’s what being young is all about. He even takes us out back for a whip cracking session and it’s pretty humorous to watch him continuously loop the long whip over his back and crack it in the air. We both try to imitate him but fail miserably.
Our first waterfall is called Apsley Falls, within Oxley Wild Rivers National Park. It spills over the tallest gorge I’ve ever seen, creating a rainbow at the bottom. The park houses several other beautiful falls, including Wollombi Falls, which is apparently Australia’s second highest sheer drop. The gorges in the park are incredible and reveal thousands of rock layers. Now I wish I’d paid more attention in geology class so I could remember how this process happened.
The travel brochures were right; the drive is definitely scenic. Opportunities abound for taking detours, one of which leads us through farms comparable to English country squires. Even a moss-covered chapel completes the storybook vision. The only way we can tell we’re in Australia is the red dirt road.
Exploring Armidale could take days. The town is home to numerous cathedrals, museums, restaurants and cafés. Even a Harvard-reminiscent private school looms behind a gated fence and perfectly manicured lawns.
Lots of great hiking trails and lookout spots for the various falls in all of the parks means we got some exercise and a reward at the end of the climbs. The views from the tops of the gorges are amazing. Not only can you look straight down from a terrifying height, you can also look out across the landscape for miles.
The wildlife in this area is pretty amazing too. A bright red parrot landed in a tree beside our campsite this morning and we saw a rock wallaby, which looks like a small kangaroo, jumping along in the grass on our hike to the Wollombi Falls. And last but not least, a very large black snake was on the hiking trail. I nearly stepped on it but it never moved. We met a couple later who thought it was deadly and called it a red-bellied black. They also said there was a chance it was a harmless python (I didn’t think pythons were harmless); regardless they were seasoned “bushwalkers”- that’s what they called hiking here- and said they’d never seen such a large snake on the path before. We had to return on the same trail and it was still there, though moved off to the side. And it definitely had a red belly. It wasn’t interested in biting us, because it slithered off the path when we got close. The episode was still enough to prompt Dane to bring out the snakebite kit and we both read the directions.
We continued our drive back towards the coast on Thursday through a fairy-tale land of pretty cows and lush, green pasture on the way to a small town called Dorrigo. Thanks to a high amount of rainfall each year, Dorrigo is known as the “prime breeding and fattening land for cattle.” West of Dorrigo is perhaps the prettiest waterfall I’ve ever seen. Not extraordinarily tall, but it’s triple tiered and framed by rainforest. A clear swimming hole has been formed at the bottom and high rock walls curve around the sides before the water is taken down a narrow river carved in the trees.
Bohemian-chic Bellingen is the next town on the drive before we reach the coast. I really love the small town way of life that I’ve seen thus far. Each town has a main street filled with different shops selling everything one could need for the day. A bakery, butcher, fruit and veg, pharmacist and hardware store are always found and often several different restaurants and coffee shops serving far from basic fare for the foodies. I imagine this must have been (in some respects) what small-town Saskatchewan would’ve been like when my parents and grandparents were growing up. People here congregate and chat with their neighbours in one central meeting spot, the main street.
In Central America, I watched how villages came to life at dusk. As the day cools off, people begin coming out of their houses and sit outside to talk to one another and play cards. In Saskatchewan we don’t have this luxury for most of the year, but even in the summer we keep to our own space and our own families most of the time. You’d never see everyone on a street sitting on their front porch or walking around talking to all of his or her neighbours. And for those who live on farms, a trip to town is rarely the social occasion it once was. Going to town was a big deal for my grandma. Before she left, she would put on lipstick and give herself a foot bath. She loved going for the mail or groceries, and to have a chat and coffee with her friends.
Is our current lack of communication a bad thing? Or just different? Are we losing a function necessary to the success of humanity? Or are we fostering new forms of communication through technology? Whatever the answer is, I don’t know it. You will always learn something by observing how the people in countries different from your own communicate with each other and how that compares to your own ideals.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Wines and Dunes- January 10 and 11
I met Dane yesterday at the Gosford train station, about two hours north of Sydney. Excited, we traded travel stories and updates from home. The heat is unbearable, as I’m not yet adjusted, so we found a beautiful beach as soon as possible. I ran into the water, both for my love of the ocean and for the welcome chance to cool off. My first taste of Aussie camping followed. Since campsites don’t usually come with picnic tables or any of those luxuries we cooked dinner on the hood of our Holden Commodore station wagon and set up a bed in the fold-down backseat. Two girls sat in their car all night drinking beer and eventually fell asleep under the huge yard light they’d parked under. Is this normal here?
On Sunday we drove into the Hunter Valley Wine Region which is inland and north-west of Sydney. On our way to the first vineyard, we stopped for an ice-cream; it’s only 10:30 a.m. and already scorching. I saw a sign for a free horse whispering demonstration at a horse farm and vineyard up the road so we investigated. What followed was far from a demonstration and more like a lecture on the ways of people and horses from a lovely old cowboy named Diamond Porter. While he rambled a lot, he did make some good points. He said because humans are predators and horses are prey, our instincts are different which can make it difficult for the dim-witted humans to understand the horse. Humans use punishment as a means of getting what they want and while this will incite a reaction in a horse, it’s not the reaction that you want. Horses don’t understand punishment, according to Diamond. Horses have been doing their thing for many thousands of years before humans started messing with them and it’s our job to try and understand their herd mentality and communicate with them, rather than work against them. He also told me claustrophobic horses hate to be stabled and also hate to be alone. He said the happiest horse is one with a large pasture, plenty of water, shade and a caring owner who challenges his or her horse everyday with new lessons. I couldn’t agree more.
The vineyards were absolutely amazing. Rolling, green hills are spotted with cows and vines. Plenty of tropical trees line the driveways to the often ostentatious wineries. First stop was at one of my favourites, Rosemount, which makes the best Riesling. Lindeman’s also shares the cellar with Rosemount; I didn’t realize the two were connected but was happy for the coincidence. Moving along, we made a stop at Tyrell, which sits atop a tall hill overlooking large parts of the valley. Walking through the cellar, complete with the vats and huge oak barrels, I eventually tasted my new favourite Riesling. A touch sweeter but more delicate and fruitier than Rosemount, I wish I had bought a bottle to savour further.
The Hunter Valley is an intoxicating place. Roads wind through the regions’ more than 150 wineries and a person could spend weeks here and not get to them all. To top it off, tastings are free in the Hunter; all you need is a designated driver and a car and you’re all set! Luckily for me, Dane doesn’t like wine- it was a perfect day. We topped it off with a stop at a large dairy and bought some delicious soft cheese. On the way out of the Hunter, Wyndham Estates, the founder of Australian Shiraz, can be found at the end of a winding road which stops at the famed vineyard, complete with its own heli-pad. By that time of day, it was much too hot to even think about sampling their beautiful reds but I was equally content with a tour through their trophy room, which houses wine awards piled ceiling high from around the world.
Time to head back to the coast and we hit a gorgeous, sheltered inlet beach at Hawks Nest. A large, conical headland graced the south end and I later learned that Aboriginals were taken there and slaughtered in the 1830s. Many parts of this country house tales of a brutal history and I couldn’t help but think how this same tale is true in so many other countries: civilized Europeans come to a new land and meet savage natives and savagely dispose of them.
We camped in Myall Lakes National Park, a sacred place and home to many tribes. Monday morning we explored the huge sand dunes bordering the ocean. They’re steep enough to slide down and I imagine this must be what the desert feels like. This place is called Dark Point and it was a meeting ground for ancient tribes. A fenced-off area contains a “midden” where evidence of feasting areas and burial grounds were found.
The problems afflicting Australia’s Aboriginal population are severe and can be compared to those of Canada’s First Nations people. Both groups had their own distinct cultures and ways of life prior to Europeans landing and both were and are controlled, discriminated and murdered in varying degrees.
Here, many live in the outback in less than desirable conditions and the racism is undeniable, just as it is in Canada. Dane tells me that petrol in the outback is dyed and does not smell. It’s hard on vehicles but there’s a big problem with Aboriginals drinking the noxious substance.
The way I see it, we should never forget history or its’ lessons, we must also remember we cannot live in the past. In order to succeed, we must all look to the future and live in the present. We cannot blame our failures on those who came before. We have to communicate and try to understand the others’ different way of looking at the world. I think that’s where the major problems lie in both Canada and Australia.
On Sunday we drove into the Hunter Valley Wine Region which is inland and north-west of Sydney. On our way to the first vineyard, we stopped for an ice-cream; it’s only 10:30 a.m. and already scorching. I saw a sign for a free horse whispering demonstration at a horse farm and vineyard up the road so we investigated. What followed was far from a demonstration and more like a lecture on the ways of people and horses from a lovely old cowboy named Diamond Porter. While he rambled a lot, he did make some good points. He said because humans are predators and horses are prey, our instincts are different which can make it difficult for the dim-witted humans to understand the horse. Humans use punishment as a means of getting what they want and while this will incite a reaction in a horse, it’s not the reaction that you want. Horses don’t understand punishment, according to Diamond. Horses have been doing their thing for many thousands of years before humans started messing with them and it’s our job to try and understand their herd mentality and communicate with them, rather than work against them. He also told me claustrophobic horses hate to be stabled and also hate to be alone. He said the happiest horse is one with a large pasture, plenty of water, shade and a caring owner who challenges his or her horse everyday with new lessons. I couldn’t agree more.
The vineyards were absolutely amazing. Rolling, green hills are spotted with cows and vines. Plenty of tropical trees line the driveways to the often ostentatious wineries. First stop was at one of my favourites, Rosemount, which makes the best Riesling. Lindeman’s also shares the cellar with Rosemount; I didn’t realize the two were connected but was happy for the coincidence. Moving along, we made a stop at Tyrell, which sits atop a tall hill overlooking large parts of the valley. Walking through the cellar, complete with the vats and huge oak barrels, I eventually tasted my new favourite Riesling. A touch sweeter but more delicate and fruitier than Rosemount, I wish I had bought a bottle to savour further.
The Hunter Valley is an intoxicating place. Roads wind through the regions’ more than 150 wineries and a person could spend weeks here and not get to them all. To top it off, tastings are free in the Hunter; all you need is a designated driver and a car and you’re all set! Luckily for me, Dane doesn’t like wine- it was a perfect day. We topped it off with a stop at a large dairy and bought some delicious soft cheese. On the way out of the Hunter, Wyndham Estates, the founder of Australian Shiraz, can be found at the end of a winding road which stops at the famed vineyard, complete with its own heli-pad. By that time of day, it was much too hot to even think about sampling their beautiful reds but I was equally content with a tour through their trophy room, which houses wine awards piled ceiling high from around the world.
Time to head back to the coast and we hit a gorgeous, sheltered inlet beach at Hawks Nest. A large, conical headland graced the south end and I later learned that Aboriginals were taken there and slaughtered in the 1830s. Many parts of this country house tales of a brutal history and I couldn’t help but think how this same tale is true in so many other countries: civilized Europeans come to a new land and meet savage natives and savagely dispose of them.
We camped in Myall Lakes National Park, a sacred place and home to many tribes. Monday morning we explored the huge sand dunes bordering the ocean. They’re steep enough to slide down and I imagine this must be what the desert feels like. This place is called Dark Point and it was a meeting ground for ancient tribes. A fenced-off area contains a “midden” where evidence of feasting areas and burial grounds were found.
The problems afflicting Australia’s Aboriginal population are severe and can be compared to those of Canada’s First Nations people. Both groups had their own distinct cultures and ways of life prior to Europeans landing and both were and are controlled, discriminated and murdered in varying degrees.
Here, many live in the outback in less than desirable conditions and the racism is undeniable, just as it is in Canada. Dane tells me that petrol in the outback is dyed and does not smell. It’s hard on vehicles but there’s a big problem with Aboriginals drinking the noxious substance.
The way I see it, we should never forget history or its’ lessons, we must also remember we cannot live in the past. In order to succeed, we must all look to the future and live in the present. We cannot blame our failures on those who came before. We have to communicate and try to understand the others’ different way of looking at the world. I think that’s where the major problems lie in both Canada and Australia.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Sydney In A Day- January 8, 2010
In order to feel like you’ve really gotten a handle on all Sydney has to offer, you most certainly need more than a day. And until you’ve had the chance to sample a few wines and different ethnic cuisine offerings, you can’t really say you’ve “seen” Sydney. On that note, I definitely need to return to that gorgeous, sun-kissed place before I leave Australia.
I had one full day in Sydney; not counting my first jet-lagged stupor of a walk-about day which basically consisted of getting totally lost. My usually keen sense of direction is confused and reversed down under. I was off to meet Dane, my brother, who had already been in the country for several weeks, on Saturday. He had dropped off his girlfriend, Tanya, in Adelaide for her nursing practicum and was quickly getting bored and lonely.
I could have wandered Sydney’s central business district (CBD or city centre) for days. Any kind of food from any country you could want is all available along with delicious, fresh seafood. Shops selling unique books, clothes, gifts and organic items invite further exploration at each turn. Open air markets sell Ugg boots at a price that is making me contemplate taking home a pair (and I don’t even really like them.) And the wine! The wines are incredible. Whole shops are devoted to strictly independent Australian vineyards. Restaurant menus boast delectable pairings and offerings. If I had the time (and the money) I’d just sit and sample the day away.
But I had a mission. If I did one thing in this city it was to see the opera house. As touristy as it may sound, I’ve always wanted to see the famed, soaring structure. I’ve heard of Sydney’s gorgeous parks and beaches and I did make it to one museum, but the opera house was my main goal.
I came first to Sydney’s stunning harbour and Harbour Bridge. The harbour is filled with high-end hotels and restaurants. It’s hard to miss the bridge, known affectionately as ‘the coat hanger.’ It is a massive steel structure, looking more sturdy than graceful, but beautiful in a rugged sort of way. Two Aborigine men were selling CDs and playing the digeridoo. The haunting music filled the harbour and I sat with the older of the pair. He asked me where I’m from and upon hearing Canada, asked if I “ride them bulls at that Calgary Stampede.”
I rounded the corner of the harbour and caught my first glance of the opera house. I couldn’t help but laugh and smile uncontrollably as the building held me in a trance. It’s hard to imagine being put into a stupor by Swedish tiles (1,056,000 to be exact) concrete and glass, but trust me, it’s possible. The outer walls soar and curve and look perfectly at home against the blue sea and sky. The front entrance boasts a long, wide staircase and you feel like you’re walking into the sky. Even the bathrooms are architectural in this building, as the stalls follow the curves of the ceiling.
The Sydney Festival, a summer holiday mix of theatre, dance and musical performances begins tomorrow but there is a preview for one of the shows tonight at the opera house. I ended up getting the last ticket for the show.
Bale de Rua turned out to be fantastic. Complete with live percussion and a passionate singer, the show incorporated the samba and the colours of Carnival with Brazilian street-inspired hip-hop, capoeira and African dance. 14 well-muscled men and 1 woman flew through the air in mock attack mode, always smiling and often shouting out choruses for the audience to repeat.
I left smiling and was surprised to see the wharf beside the opera house absolutely packed with people. The opera bar boasts a jazz band and views of Sydney’s best on either side. The city, like so many others, just seems to come alive at night. But there’s something different about Sydney’s heart and soul. Many say it’s the perfect location or the iconic architecture. The wonderful food, wine and shopping can’t hurt either. The woman I sat beside during Bale de Rua says the people living in Sydney are very different from those in the rest of the country and I believe it. I just wonder if they know how lucky they are to have all of this at their doorstep.
I had one full day in Sydney; not counting my first jet-lagged stupor of a walk-about day which basically consisted of getting totally lost. My usually keen sense of direction is confused and reversed down under. I was off to meet Dane, my brother, who had already been in the country for several weeks, on Saturday. He had dropped off his girlfriend, Tanya, in Adelaide for her nursing practicum and was quickly getting bored and lonely.
I could have wandered Sydney’s central business district (CBD or city centre) for days. Any kind of food from any country you could want is all available along with delicious, fresh seafood. Shops selling unique books, clothes, gifts and organic items invite further exploration at each turn. Open air markets sell Ugg boots at a price that is making me contemplate taking home a pair (and I don’t even really like them.) And the wine! The wines are incredible. Whole shops are devoted to strictly independent Australian vineyards. Restaurant menus boast delectable pairings and offerings. If I had the time (and the money) I’d just sit and sample the day away.
But I had a mission. If I did one thing in this city it was to see the opera house. As touristy as it may sound, I’ve always wanted to see the famed, soaring structure. I’ve heard of Sydney’s gorgeous parks and beaches and I did make it to one museum, but the opera house was my main goal.
I came first to Sydney’s stunning harbour and Harbour Bridge. The harbour is filled with high-end hotels and restaurants. It’s hard to miss the bridge, known affectionately as ‘the coat hanger.’ It is a massive steel structure, looking more sturdy than graceful, but beautiful in a rugged sort of way. Two Aborigine men were selling CDs and playing the digeridoo. The haunting music filled the harbour and I sat with the older of the pair. He asked me where I’m from and upon hearing Canada, asked if I “ride them bulls at that Calgary Stampede.”
I rounded the corner of the harbour and caught my first glance of the opera house. I couldn’t help but laugh and smile uncontrollably as the building held me in a trance. It’s hard to imagine being put into a stupor by Swedish tiles (1,056,000 to be exact) concrete and glass, but trust me, it’s possible. The outer walls soar and curve and look perfectly at home against the blue sea and sky. The front entrance boasts a long, wide staircase and you feel like you’re walking into the sky. Even the bathrooms are architectural in this building, as the stalls follow the curves of the ceiling.
The Sydney Festival, a summer holiday mix of theatre, dance and musical performances begins tomorrow but there is a preview for one of the shows tonight at the opera house. I ended up getting the last ticket for the show.
Bale de Rua turned out to be fantastic. Complete with live percussion and a passionate singer, the show incorporated the samba and the colours of Carnival with Brazilian street-inspired hip-hop, capoeira and African dance. 14 well-muscled men and 1 woman flew through the air in mock attack mode, always smiling and often shouting out choruses for the audience to repeat.
I left smiling and was surprised to see the wharf beside the opera house absolutely packed with people. The opera bar boasts a jazz band and views of Sydney’s best on either side. The city, like so many others, just seems to come alive at night. But there’s something different about Sydney’s heart and soul. Many say it’s the perfect location or the iconic architecture. The wonderful food, wine and shopping can’t hurt either. The woman I sat beside during Bale de Rua says the people living in Sydney are very different from those in the rest of the country and I believe it. I just wonder if they know how lucky they are to have all of this at their doorstep.
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