THE BIG PUSH HOME

Since we'll be crossing the International Date Line, we have 2 Mondays back-to-back and this is the first of them. Makes up for the Saturday we lost en route. It was the low water mark when, out of boredom, we turned on the TV this morning. Then, pretty smooth sailing when we got to the port for the 3 1/2 hour flight to Aukland. At least there will be no more customs or luggage to manage until we get home. Relief. We wait in Aukland for 3 hours but are very used to finding amusements in airports. I get out all of our Australian and New Zealand money and manage to rid myself of all but a few coins. Ron said he knew I could do it! We've arranged for a row with only 2 seats in it, same as we had from Sydney to Aukland. An added blessing since the very large plane is only about 1/3 full. Ron and I part company for the sleeping portion of our flight when I move to an empty row. Our flight is very bumpy almost THE ENTIRE TIME. Sometimes we cannot even read or work Sudoku, let alone drink anything. I have to talk myself out of being a little sick. The cabin lights go on unceremoniouly at 8 A.M. L.A. time (5 A.M. to us) because it's time for breakfast whether you are or not. Gotta' fit it all in before we land. Funny sitting in my own little row. It's the longest I've been away from Ron for almost a month and we're still friends and getting along amicably. What more could you hope for? This ends my travel blog for Australia and New Zealand. Look for the further adventures of Ron and Jane in May when we go to Vancouver and on an Alaskan Cruise. We are very lucky. Love to you all, Jane

WINDING DOWN

We have a good night and hang out until we go to the airport for the trip back to Sydney. We just ponder and wonder at the crazy route home but when we're using frequent flyer miles so the options are limited. Here's another good one for you. Each person leaving New Zealand must pay a $25 departure fee. You go to the Bank of New Zealand window located in a handy spot next to customs, and get the necessary sticker on your boarding pass. No sticker, no go. I don't know what happens to people who spend all their money (kids) and have just enough to get home on. Too bad, I guess. We have a smooth trip to Sydney and give it a go to see if we can fly straight to LA from Sydney and avoid the trip back to Aukland. As Aunt Ginny says, "If you've got the money, you can take the train." Common sense won out when it was about $600 to change. On to our hotel in Sydney.

Going Back

It's National Election Day in New Zealand and we are on the road back to Christchurch. Unfortunately, our delightful room on the sheep ranch was located right next to the communal living room/kitchen where the other guests began to congregate as we settled down for the night. They had a remarkably good time for a few hours but I was too tired to get up and join them and they made a little too much noise for me to sleep. A quandry, but that's what sleep medication is for. We didn't do much stopping between Twizel and Christchurch but we did enjoy seeing the countryside in sunshine and greatly approved of warming up a bit once we got back to the city. We decided to take it easy today with no driving. We took a stroll and discovered the Antarctic Center where we found various treats and I got a very nice fleece jacket. Could have really used it a week ago. Apparently, the elections here are always held on Saturdays. The Labour Party has been in power for the past nine years and are likely to be booted. (They were.) Lots of posters on the roads but not many people seem to be talking about the election. Quite unlike the nationwide furor in the US. The Kiwis seem to save that kind of passion for the All Black, the national football team. It's a rough game, rugby, ith no padding or helmets. Ouch!

THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN

For tonight, I have my eye on a B&B that's on a working sheep ranch, but I've put Ron on notice. No private bathroom, no deal, charm notwithstanding. He spent an hour or so talking with Thomas this morning about all the goings-on at his property and found out that when T. came to New Zealand, he bought a horse, rode it all over the county, living off the land for elevan months. "Oh, I could never do that!", per Aunt Sonia. More to the point, wouldn't want to. We left Glenorchy and sped along to Queenstown and Starbucks. Yes! We realized that since we left home, we've seen nary a coffee maker. It's either instant or the one-cup-at-at-time espresso method. We've finally gotten the ordering down. We're long flat black or is it flat long black? Poor Ron has a pretty long haul today driving through the middle of the South Island. We stop several times, the most productive of which is at a merino wool shop where Ron buys socks and wonderful fleece-lined slippers and I get some yarn and a great Ice Breaker brand tee-shirt of the lightest washable wool. Nice goods. Back on route, I spot a fabulous river and tell Ron to slow down and I realize there is a bridge and a bungy-jumping platform. I say, "Trun, turn!", and we see it's free viewing and, sure enough, some freakazoid is getting ready to jump. Keep in mind it's 40 degrees around 9 A.M. and he's wearing shorts and a tee shirt and will be jumping into a river bed, dunking optional. We get some great photos. The jumper opts out of the dunking, but has to grab a long pole that's extended from the rubber rescue boat awaiting him on the river. This is done while he's hanging upside down. Post jump, he's lowered into the boat and unceremoniously dumped onto the dock from which the poor bastard walks back up the hill in his skimpy clothes to where the rest of us have been observing his foolhearty ass in our warm jackets and hats. We get along to Twizel (long I) and check out the B&B. There is an unobstructed view of Mt. Cook from our lovely room with an attached bath and, because we are not staying for breakfast, our rate is reduced to about $60 US. Big bargains on rooms, if not foods. We drive up to Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park, enjoying the unbelievably blue water in the adjacent Lake Pukaki. The closest to the color I've ever seen is Lake Louise. The turquoise color of this and other lakes in the region result from "rock flour", sediment from a stony-bottomed glacier that passed through, leaving us the richer for it. At the Park Visitor Center, we decide on one of the walks that takes us across a long suspension bridge over a raging river. Although there is no one behind us, a guide on the other side sees fit to being over his 4 charges so that we meet mid-way. The guide has on a backpack as do we, and the bridge is definitely not made for passing. Idiot! Mt. Cook is almost 12,400 feet in elevation and is well-covered in snow when we're there. Maybe always. We walk on the Hooker Valley Track. Our walk reveals a few birds, an ice-blue glacier, and lots of friendly trekkers. The only places we've felt even a little crowded are in the cities, and we mostly have the outdoors to ourselves so long as we arrive before or after the ubiquitious tour buses. We go to Twizel, population 1015, in search of food but find open only 2 fish and chips places which smell strongly of old cooking oil. We find a nice coffee shop where the owner is willing to make us pizzas even thought it's a bit before the dinner hour. We head back to Omahau Downs and our lovely room. Here, at 8:30 P.M., the sun is illuminating Mt. Cook and his brothers. The sheep seem to have left our front yard. Perhaps they've found a windless area for the night. Hope so.

LORD OF THE RINGS COUNTRY

We're getting a little road weary and beginning to think of home. A leisurely departing because we faced a coat of ice on everything when we got up this morning. Brrr. We waited for the much-appreciated sun and got some nice coffee and scones and we were set. It was a lovely pastoral drive to Queenstown which is surrounded by 3 stunning mountain ranges, including The Incredibles. Don't you love it? We got around town with a simple map and set out on a walking tour in sunlight. That and a little warmth were so welcome after a few days of gloom. We walked along the Marina and the Queenstown Gardens where we encountered people playing frisbee golf. On to the Skyline Gondola which went, literally, straight up a mountain. I wisely sat facing the mountain, waiting to get the view until we were up top. It's a lovely city on a lake. On the way down, Ron and I both sat facing out, but the opposite seat blocked the downward view so it was perfect for me to look straight out. Okay, that's 3 things I've done on this trip at high altitude. Ron says he's proud of me. From Queenstown, we drove to Glenorchy which sits on beautiful Lake Wakatipu. This area was one of the prime Lord of the Rings locations. We took a walk on the Glenorchy Trail. Backpacking on what they call Tracts is a national passion and an important tourist industry. We saw a preponderance of German backpackers here and in Australia where they also seem to camp a lot. Brave, they are. I admire it but don't want to do it. I will leave it for John and my daughters. The place we're staying, Little Paradise Lodge, was recommended by the Lonely Planet tour book. The place accommodates 11 people and has largely been created by Thomas, its owner. The 5 acre grounds are a garden with brooks, water falls, and so many trees and plants and flowers you can hardly believe it. The thatched-roof buildings contain Thomas' hand-carved furniture. Ron and I went through a gate from the house garden onto a landscaped hillside area with a lovely pond. Suddenly, there came a flurry of wings accompanied by loud and insistent squawking. A large and very fat goose with a wide-open beak was boring down on us with a particular mean look in it's eye and, sure enough, went right for me, grabbing a beakful of my pants leg. No skin, fortunately, but picture me frozen while Ron warded the beast off. It turned to bite him for his trouble, but he batted it away and I hightailed it out of the line of fire. We continued to wander with me carefully close to an exit gate at all times. I let Ron take care of photographing the huge tom turkey and the impressive peacocks on the grounds. We stayed inside the house with a bathroom shared with the owners, the only downside. Our room had hcairs covered iwth hides, a handmade coffee table and huge carved headboard. A very very big fabric wall hanging was boardered with live ivy with more ivy coming out of the cneter. On of the chairs hada vine coming out the back of it too. I found it quite odd, but it certainly did have the desired effect of bringing the outside in. There was nothing on my bed but sheets and a comforter. Good one. You could look around the place for hours, but we went off on an excursion to see the surrounding area which was quite interesting but a little uncomfortable for me since it all took place on dirt roads and, at one point, across a little stream that I am happy to report was shallow. I am not that adventurous in a rented vehicle. Before settling in, we had to go into the very tiny town to seek food and money. No versatel in the town, but the shopkeeper gave us cash back to pay for our room since, unbeknownst, Thomas did not take credit cards and we had little cash. Ah, small town living.

Fiordlands National Park and Milford Sound

We weren't QUITE prepared for three inches of snow and temperatures of less than 30 degrees this morning, but we rallied with 2 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of pants, and, in my case, both of my heavier jackets, a wool scarf, gloves and a wool hat. Thus reinforced, we're off to Milford Sound at 6:30 A.M. before anything in Te Anau has opened. It's snowing, sleeting and raining on our 2-hour trip, but the roads are clear and we meet virtually no one en route except a few snowplows. We don't stop becuse it's too misty to see much and because we want to arrive without rushing. Once there, we have breafast - brewed coffee - so happy - and stroll to the boat docks to check in for our short trip. We've seen so many waterfalls coming down the mountains during our drive and expect more once we cast off. When I spot a break in the clouds, I sing "Blue Skies, Smiling at Me", to which my hero listens stoically. Our boat is fine with a capable young guide. We freeze our asses off. It rains, then snows. We're almost through Milford Sound to the Tasman Sea when the sun comes out for awhile and it's so beautiful. We see some Fiordland Yellow Penguins indiginous to this small area and lots of seals. We go under 2 large wateraflls in our boat and one of the crew collects glasses of water for us to drink. The water has a bit of a brown tinge because of tannin from the leaves, but it's cold and wonderful. I stay on the bow and don't see Ron for an hour. He's inside the wheelhouse with the captain, all nice and warm. Grrr. The cruise was worth it. After 2 1/2 hours, I have a hot bowl of soup and we start back for Te Anau. We stop to walk across a swaying footbridge, drive to see a little store and museum that you can't believe that anyone else finds let alone patronizes, and check a few places for hikes that we simply cannot make ourselves do. Too cold and we are unwilling to be uncomfortable. Age, and all. At one of our stops, a Kea parrot picks us up. This is a large olive gray parrot with bright red under its wings. It immediately hops onto our side mirrors, hangs out, tries to steal Ron's keys, etc. Hilarious. Looking for a handout, to be sure. It follows us a few miles down to our next stop, flying first on one side of the vehicle and then the other. Crazy. It finally abandons us in a small car park where it spots 2 or 3 cars and potential prospects for treats. What is it with me and the birds? Gotta' be Ron. Back in Te Anau, we lay our plans for the rest of the trip plus we call sister Laura for election results. A big WOW on that one.

TO THE MOUNTAINS WITH YA'!

It's November 4, election day to us, but it won't happen in the US until tomorrow. Here in New Zealand, we leave Invercargill without a hitch but, alas, without breakfast. But I could have kissed Ron's feet when he came back before I was even out of bed with a darn-near decent cup of brewed coffee from a near-by business. Lucky since not much opens early here. We made our way along the southwest coast seeing wonderful waters both calm and wild, the sky with surprises around every corner, rain, clearing, mist and clouds. We've got it all in one micrclimate. We get out our hats and warmest jackets to be ready to jump out of the car any time we see something to be explored such as NZ's longest suspension bridge. Looks like it held cars at one time, but not now. We walk from one side to another over the river and finally see one other group of travelers who've stopped, but mostly we are alone. We reach Te Anau in the early afternoon and are pleased to be in one place for 2 nights in a row and right across the street from a very large and very pretty lake. We reject any lake activities - it's too cold - but we do take a long walk on the lake short to the Fiordlands National Park office and beyond to a bird sanctuary where, sadly, the birds are in cages. It's very nicely maintained and spacious, but we are not keen. We walk home via the Park office to check tomorrow's weather at Milford Sound where we will take a boat cruise through the fiords to the Tasman Sea. Snow tonight??? Gulp. No chains. We walk to town, look around, and select a place for dinner that is run by Italian immigrants. Interesting people. By the time we get home, it's raining in ernest. I refuse to walk back for dinner because by that time it's a deluge and in the low 40's. We're happy to turn on our heated mattress pads which have been standard issue since we left Christchurch. What does that tell you?

DUNEDIN TO INVERCARGILL

We decided to skip any city exploration because 1) it’s a big place; 2) we get lost; and 3) our alternative is the intriguing Otago Penninsula. Dunedin, Celtic for Edinborough, is the South Island’s second largest city. I have to ask people to pronounce things very slowly so find out it’s Dun–KNEE-din. I also asked people about the New Zealand versus the Aussie accent. Australian speech is broader and a bit more harsh. I could hear if after they pointed it out to me. And the large Scottish influence gives way to many idioms containing a WEE bit of something. Charming. We’ve encountered such friendliness from people on the street and I am always thinking about our own people in comparison. We urbanites have a very different and fast-paced life style and deal with a density of population that can erode some of our better qualities. We go on to Otago Penninsula, up the middle road in order to see both the ocean and the Harbour. It’s rewarding and mystical with the overcast burning off a bit as we go. We continue to the Taiaroa Head, site of the Royal Albatross Center. If it’s windy at mid-day, you may see some birds in flight, but just now, because it’s mating season, the Center has only live TV viewing and there is no ability to see the actual birds. We get lucky and do see a bird on the ocean, but he was very far off in the distance. Still, there were 2 fat seals, lots of nesting cormorants, some beautiful black kelp, and wonderful sea views. We talked to some Aussies on holiday who helped us spot all the action, including the Albatross. Did you know that they can sleep while flying? We’d seen the Yellow Penguin reserve on the way up, so we returned there, hoping to take a walk around. Since it’s private property (belonging to a sheep farmer who became an advocate of the yellow-eyed penguins), we take what turns out to be a private hour-and-a-half tour. It was fabulous! The place consists of a series of paths covered by a roof and allowing viewing through slats on the sides at certain points. Otherwise, the paths’ exteriors were bordered by shrubs and plants. All of this keeps the human visitors out of the penguins’ way and most importantly out of their visual field. They are terribly shy and don’t like to be around other penguins when nesting, let alone human beings. At this time of year, most of the penguins are sitting atop their nests, which they’ve built into little “A” frame cottages supplied by the farmer. They like the same locations each year and all have been named and tracked over the years by the Reserve’s staff. We see one male sitting on the nest and the female standing nearby, checking out her feathers. She, the slacker, is supposed to be out at sea feeding herself so that the mate can take his turn in a day or two. We see several more penguins in their nests over the grounds and then happen upon a juvenile lounging at the manmade lake while another adult has a swim. It was a pretty awesome experience to see these rare birds. Lunch is at Glenfallock Woodland Garden, which is just as delightful as it sounds (the place, not the food). We leave Otago for our several-hour journey to Invercargill, seeing storybook hillsides and what Ron thinks may have been tens of thousands of sheep. Our route takes us occasionally to the coast and across many rivers and one-lane bridges that are common here. We’re tempted whenever we see signs for waterfalls so do take a hike to see two particular beauties. Then, we take a turn off to Curio Bay. We are so lucky! It is spectacular! The wave roil, spray and crash and the currents are crazy. It’s very chilly and windy, but we can hardly tear ourselves away. Food and shelter must be gotten, so off we go. Invercargill is at the tip of the south island so we are half-way around in our journey and will now head inland. The town is easily negotiated so we find a delightful apartment where the proprietor doesn’t even bother to take our credit card. She said the morning would be fine. Her husband later told Ron that it might snow tomorrow! New delights.

Omaramu to Dunedin

We slept in. So cozy in our down comforters and we awoke to a bright blue and blessedly windless day. A gift. We made an itinerary but first hit the bakery. Treats! Then, we went to Janet Frame's house in Omaramu. I tink her story is so poignant. Did you see Jane Campion's version of her autobiography, Angel at My Table? I recommend her books and the movie. Omaru's Public Garden, first opened in 1876, provided a great morning walk. Ron announced that he prefered them to the gardens in Christchurch. They were quite different - more rustic and very quiet. A beautiful place and with the expected plethora of rhoddies. We came further into town and took a short ride on a small diesel railroad which wends down to the harbour near the famous blue penguin colony. These come to shore only at dawn and dusk, which we knew, but couldn't quite deal with the too early and too late time frames. The train ride was about 1/2 hour which included a stop along the water. A staff member must have felt kindly toward Ron because she asked if he'd like to see a blue penguin sitting on her egg. She comes back yearly to this small spot and it was quite thrilling to see her. The species is quite rare. Back in town, we walked through the historic district with its elaborate building faces from the early 19th century and saw the shop owners in Victorian costume. I so wanted some of the carvings made from Omaramu rock (sandstone containing many fossils) but these were far too heavy to lug home. I did consider it, though. We happily spotted a cafe featuring a $10 lunch and a live piano performance which entertained us throughout our meal. Two charming ladies sat at the next table, obviously long-time friends, who were so proud when they ate the flowers decorating their desserts. I complimented them on the adventure to which one replied that she might have to go home and eat some of her pansies, it was so tasty! We left for Dunedin, Edinbourough's original name. The people here are proud of their Scottish heritage. We forego the congested and confusing town for the moment and luckily drive by one of the hotels suggested in my guide book. We check in, wash a few loads of clothes and tend to other necessities. Time to rest.

We Start in Christchurch

Our room last night was hot! Help from the maintanence man and opening the window helped, but Ron and I were both sluggish this morning after a poor sleep. We're beginning to feel a little crispy. Ron's stomach isn't right but he soldiers on and we set off for central Chirstchurch and the very impressive Anglican Catherdral there. En route, we pass over the River Avon which I think must be as charming as its namsake. I would love to go punting down the river - a 30-minute ride - but Ron's not keen, poor thing. We visit the cathedral and then on to the public gardens which are stunning. The rhododendrons are riotous and brilliant and other bloomers are equally beautiful. It's sping and I cannot believe how vibrant alll the colors are here. We go into the rose garden which will soon be in full bloom, but even now there are some stunners. The swifly flowing Avon boarders the entire garden. Then back to the car for a frustrating hour of trying to find the proper road to take us south. I told one poor shopkeeper that I was near tears after so many erroneous attempts and she looked so stricken. As it turned out, she won the prize for the most cogent instructions and we were off. New Zealanders are not a curt or hasty people. They enjoy conversation and aren't much for the short response. Disucssion always seems to be savored and if there are 2 of them, even more so. We are off, stopping in Ashburton for lunch and notice that the entire town is bustling, and there are no motel vacancies. People are streaming into one area of town and when we ask, we are never able to find out why except that these are "Ashburton Days". Indeed. We traveled today on the coast and inland over one of the few flat plains areas on New Zealand's south island. We're spending the night in Oamarhu - also bustling - so it took us awhile to find a place. we landed in a brand-new motel that opened the day before and we were obviously the first ones to use the room. We even had a French press for our morning coffee. Happy travelers. Very chillly here. I broke out my big wool scarf and hat to walk to dinner.

Departing Australia

We leave for the Melbourne Airport in what we think is plenty of time but realize we've got no map of the city with us (in the luggage or tossed?) I've spent halt the trip trying to round up all my shit. I need: 1) a better system; and 2) lots less shit. We land in the middle of Melbourne's rush hour grid lock where I managed to get several hapless drivers to roll down their windows in order to beg directions. People are remarkable tolerant. Ron gets sick of it and boldly exits the freeway. I am horrified. We find a small shopping center and I go in with pen and paper seeking anyone who looks like they live here. Just such a person provides excellent directions that take us back against traffic, Lord be praised, only 5 minutes and we're put right. Now the dreaded International Terminal. Horrors are appropriate, it being Holloween. I did not realize that it was celebrated here as at home. Things go better than expected and wer are in fine shape to wait in many lines for you're not quite sure what. Ron says baaaahhh. He's practicing sheep for when we get to New Zealand. Goodbye Australia! A bit more hell in Aukland although we find helpmates who guide us along to ensure that our luggage gets to Christchurch. We wait for the shuttle to the domestic terminal for over 1/2 hour but talk the whole time with a man who answers with dispatch any questions about the country: population, ethnic breakdown, and immigration trends. Excellent man. After too long a wait, he makes up his mind to walk the 20 minutes to the domestic terminal so that we grab a cart and tell him to wait up. I love a decisive man. He and Ron talk en route and I am happy to walk along, singing the praises of my fleece-lined hoodie. Now off to Christchurch and tomorrow we explore New Zealand.

The Great Ocean Road

I woke up after a complex dream wherein John had planned a big birthday celebration for Caroline that must have had to do with all the aranging that takes place daily when you travel on your own. Odd. We are very much looking forward to our trip along the Great Ocean Road just south of Melbourne and use every bit of daylight for the 185 mile jaunt. The GOR starts in Tourquey, home of Bell's Beach, the famous surfing area. Because of some intermittent rain, I was balancing a brelly as I took photos at this beach. From there, we go through Angelsea where you can see kangaroos grazing on the golf course. We had started the day in heavy jackets, jeans and boots, but I had to change into shorts, tee shirt and flip flops. Good one. We explored a bit at Lorne, seeing the beautiful Erskine Falls and got our exercise climbing back up the steps from the bottom falls. Between Lorne and Apollo Bay, Ron pulled in to a little rustic cafe (me with semi-sinking heart as I'd fancied the Laguna Beach-like atmosphere in Lorne for food.) The propreitor asked if we'd stopped for the koalas. What??? She said, "Oh, yeah, just up that road(pointing, and start looking right away." We were beside ourselves. When I was still inside, I glanced over to see a red and green parrot dive-bombing Ron. The woman said, "Oh, they think everyone has seeds!", at which point her husband beckons me outside instructs me to put seed on my outstretched flat hand, and, you know it, I've got birds! I know my sisters are laughing now since I've a little thing about birds. These King parrots were quite fun but I was glad I had my jacket on. Ron put his seed in the crown of his hat, so had had birds along for our walk. It was wild. The man then runs over to tell us there's a koala in a tree just there so we walk over and, sure enough, there is the little guy. A short walk yielded 2 more koalas, one with a baby. Wonderful to watch them reach for leaves and the baby to venture out a bit . Ron's telephoto lens was doing great work. Pictures to follow. The final treat was seeing a kookabarra perched not on the old gum tree, but waist high on a rail next to the restaurant. We leave the ocean to follow the road inland through the Otways and the Great Otway National Park. With the usual luck, we stumble upon Hopetoun Falls, an absolutely lovely place where we meet an older couple, also enjoying the area. Good conversation on the fly. we are looking for a place call Mait's Rest which we do find, but see an alternative hike we like better. We manage directions from a passerby who kindly provides us a map of the park. It's a huge place. Our friend with the map suggests a bitumen-surfaced road as a short cut so we leave the highway and find ourselves alone for over an hour. Our rewards include spotting a wallabye that stopped and stared at us but not long enough for me to retrieve the camera. That thing should have been at the ready. We are looking for our hike which we don't find, but we do arrive at the Otway Fly, which we've also planned to visit. You pay a fee, walk briefly through the rainforest and start on a 2,000 foot long steel canopy walkway that's 75 feet above the forest floor. The mesh walkway sways although there are nice handrails, my best friends at height. Leaving my comfort zone entirely, Ron and I climb a spiral tower which, at the top, is 140 feet tall and sways. Descending was much better than climbing because I could not see the spaces between the steps. Yikes. We return to the ocean at Port Campbell National Park to see the Twelve Apostles, large and impressive limestone pillars close to the shore in Hawaii-blue water. Thre are no longer 12 of them since at least one's fallen to erosion. Still, they are worth the trip. Treacherous water here. No swimming although it looks so inviting and would offer respite from....the flies! They're baaaackkkk. We have to skip a trip to the Otway Lighthouse that I hated given up, but there is just time for a quick supper and to get back before dark. My hero has come a long way with the wrong-sided driving, but a mountain road with wrong-sided driving in the dark? We cannot be cruel. We take an alternate route for our last bit, but Ron comes through and we're spot on getting back to the hotel. The man has been very intuitive on this trip.

Big City Melbourne

We start early to the airport only to find all the Qantas check-in stations closed and no one at the car rental desk. Small town. I head to Cafe Alice for some brekkie - muselix with fruit and yogurt. My favorite. The Aussies don't sweeten like we do, which quite thrills me. Ron buys a small didgeridoo and I'm keen on it and would like to start blowing it right here. We have a pleasant flight to Melboure, get a brand new Kluger (Toyota) for my hero to drive and SCORE - get a free tank of gas! We drive to Goolang as a jumping off point for our trip on the Great Ocean Road in the morning. Did I mention that it's cool and breezy here? Ron loves it. betwen him driving hundreds of miles and the oppressive heat, he's been worked. Better, now!

Leaving Ulurhu

Up a little after 4 A.M. for a sunrise at Ulurhu which, sadly, lonly resulted in light being cast onto the rock. No color to speak of. We waited for half an hour just to make sure we hadn't missed anything, but there was no dawn spectacular. I think a bit of weather, wind or dust swirls would have made for more drama, but we had a cloudless and calm day. We just couldn't abide another pircey buffet breakfast so we headed out with only instant coffe under out belts. Later had my first Australian pastie and they are damn good. At least I got vegetarian, but I am sure my cholesterol is up ten points and I am not even going to be adjacent to a scale until I've been home a few weeks and can put things to rights. NO MORE BUFFETS! we decided to hit the casino back in Alice in the afternoon with temperatures over 100 degrees, but it was mercifully dry. The place had no tables open, just some really odd slots that we never did figure out. So we lost a few bucks and were sufficiently amused. We walked to town for a look around and just happened upon a shop selling digeredoos where we were in time for a free 1/2 hour lesson. It was so much fun. There's a lot to it and I have to say I'd like to learn but am not sure I have enough motivation to practice. Maybe I could learn and perform at the yoga studio! One of my teachers blows the dige over us while we're in savasana (resting pose) which I've alwyas loved. We bought a CD featuring the shop owner playing that Ron will use for our photographic slide show. Good day.

Ulurhu - Ayres Rock

Wow - great drive from the Alice to Ulurhu. Damn near 5 hours and, for the last two, a gradual uphill climb. Open country. There was so much road kill that I started a tally: 25 kangaroos, 4 steers, and 1 horse. Hard country for man and beast. I was happy that my hero took it easy. Once here, we did the usual "stop and ask" then found our place. We went immediately to Uluhru and the Park's Cultural Center. Since 1985, the land has been owned by the "First Australians" (there was even a "hand back" ceremony) who lease it back to the governtment. The park is run jointly by the Aborigines and the National Park Service. We took the Kuniya Walk at the park with an Aborigine guide. They are called Ananju in this area. There was also an intrepreter since the guide spoke in her native language and we laughed because the intrepreter was Japanese with heavily accented English. It was very interesting to hear her speak effortlessly the language of the native guide and then report to us in really well-spoken English. When I talked with her, she said she's been working with these native peoples for less than a year, but see seemed quite fluent to me. Our walk featured discussions of Tjukurpa (chool-orr-pa) the people's religious heritage, and stories surrounding Kunya Piti, a woman python who is very sacred to the people. We learned about her legend and saw cave paintings which are done to instruct future people about important life skills - finding water holes, etc. We learned how the woman gather bush tucker (boosh tukka) but didn't try any that were displayed! The Arnangu people do not want tourists to record their voices or to photograph them without their permission. Our native guide (and her visiting sister) wer fine with photos when they were finished speaking. They also kindly posed for us at the end of our walk. They were obviously fond of our Japanese guide and talked easily with her throughout the walk. Note: I wore hiking boots while our guide, Alice, was barefooted. I liked seeing the native people here, on their own land, where they seemed at home and comfortable. They have homes with modern conveniences fairly near the park buildings, but not within sight of anything else. We caught a ride on the tour bus back to our car so got a nice narration from the bus driver and a ride around the rock. We stopped once at the climbing area which is maintained for those who feel compelled to scale to the top. That day, the rangers had closed the climb because of high temperatures. After Kakadu, we were unfazed by the hot dry heat. Plus, we got mosquito netting to fit over our hats before we even started our walk. Smarties. We were not exactly styin', but we felt pretty darn proud of ourselves for conquering the invasion of the crazy-making fly swarms. The Park people practically beg the tourists not to climb Ulurhu as do the Aborigines, but, of course, many do climb. It's a sacred place for the natives, as are many of the areas around the rock. These they ask you not to photograph. A little respect here, people! We drove on to the sunset viewing are but didn't find any of the dramatic color changes we'd seen in the guidebooks, perhaps because there was no dust and no clouds to make things spectacular. For dinner at the lodge, we opted to barbeque our own dinners and yes, to have all that heat fly up in our faces. No wonder Ron told me to grill my own veggie burger! I ended up with a rather soggy patty but ate it anyway. We talked to some interesting people who'd just visited her sister who taught the Aborigines and kept at it until our weariness led us to bed.

Off to Alice Springs - the Outback

Up early in Kakadu, a bit of coffee in the room, and time to luxuriate in the drop in room temp to 79 degrees. We have breakfast and drive back to Darwin in what Ron's named 'The Roo Killer", RK for short. Roo sightings en route back to Darwin: 4 live, 1 near-miss, 2 road kill. The animals have arough way to go on this road, and we now understand why the Utes (utility vehicles) have grates across their fronts. Sad! We get into Darwin and hava look see at the harbour. The Japanese bombed the town during WW II and we see where the Aussies built underground fuel storage tanks inot the hillsides in 1942. The town was subsequently destroyed tiwce by cyclones but has now recovered to a decent size. We take our only slightly damaged rental car back and settle in at the airport to await our flight to Alice Springs. Note: Ron was able to put back the grill and pullout the fender so that the only problems were a few scratches (which they don't care about) and one missing small plastic piece on the bumper. As with most things, it could have been worse. We fly into the Alice and note lots of red dust and scrub - a red Mohave Dsert. We got a car, Toyota Kruger, that thrills Ron. SUV witha black-up camera and other accessories he deems excellent. Good thing since we'll be driving almost 5 hours to Uluru tomorrow. The hotel is pleasant and has much-needed laundry facilities. We wash clothes and take a tour of the 3-block Central Business District where we are among a handful of Anglos. Many, many Aborigines line the sidewalks with native art spread out at their feet with almost no one paying any attention to anyone else. I would have purchased something, but the prices were the same as the store and I didn't feel comfortable looking too closely at their wares as I did not want to give false hope. The people have an extrememly distinct look and often a very pungent odor. They seem to lack any joy and rarely, if ever, made eye contact. I felt like I was intruding on them and that the whole business on the street was quite depressing. There seems to be such a huge schism between the races and cultures and very difficult to bring about any comingling.

Darwin to Kakadu National Park

We had a pricey buffet breakfast at the hotel and enjoyed the hell out of it although did avoid the baked beans and spaghetti (standard tucker for the Aussies.) After asking a few people - we'll literally approach anyone for help - we start toward Kakdu. I'm busy reading or writing after getting us going the right direction so miss the 2 dead kangaroos Ron spots on the side of the road. Hadn't seen any animals on this road, but suddendly Ron yells "Kangaroo", I look up, see nothing, but hear a sickening thump and know the worst has happened. Ron and I both felt horrible. We discussed it for awhile, trying to make it okay, but cannot. Hard. We find our lodge after a few hour's drive through country that reminds us of the Everglades. We enjoy crossing the rivers, seeing the wetlands, and being surrounded by green. This is the end of the "Dry" and what the Aborigines consider the time for pre-monsoon storms - one of six seasons they identify. At one of the visitors' centers, we get advice from the ranger and sign up for a 90-minute yellow water cruise that's up the way an hour or so. We get quite lost. We visit the Waradjian Aborigine Cultural Centre where I'd love to buy an Aboriginal painting, but don't want to deal with shipping. I content myself with a modest item that I can secrete in my luggage. At Gagadju, we board the little cruise boat and the skipper narrates throughout, stopping whenever we spot "salties" (estruarine crocodiles) and great birds, including an eagle, kingfishers, and other large and interesting indiginous creatures. Our guide was excellent, courteous, and freindly. Good folk on the boat, too. Easy to make friends. Post cruise, we decide to drive to Noulangie to take a 1.5 km walk past an ancient Aboriginal shelter and several art sites. We fumble our way there, sorely missing the excellent signage in our National Parks, and end up at the Anbangbang Shelter which is where one starts the walk to Nourlangie. Who would make that connection unless familiar, one asks. Word of the day: Intrepid. we exit the car to incredible heat - record breaking, we find out. It was 106 degrees with high humidity and the deal breaker? Swarm after swarm of small flys that immediately surrounded our heads. DEET? FUGGEDABOUDID! They could care less. I tried to spray an area around my head and step into it for some relief. None came. We walked a few feet and scuttled back to the car like the losers we were. Okay, "You got to know when to hold 'em" and, in this case, when to fold 'em. Thanks to Kenny Rogers and Joan for this bit of wisdom. I really regretted not seeing more of the park, but we got the hell out of there and drove the hour plus back to our digs. This was an interesting place with literally hundreds of raucous sulphur crested cockatoos who swooped from spot to spot on the grounds, hanging upside down from the trees and bouncing onto impossibly small branches. They were quite an entertainmnet. After a sorely needed clean-up, we had dinner. Me = baramundi, Ron = pizza. Sigh. we agreed that breakfast was always the best bet. Off to our room with an odd A/C unit that brought the room temp down to a balmy 85 degrees. The other challenges of the day have already been recounted here.

Looking Around Cairnes and leaving it behind

Our original plan would have had us in Darwin and on to kakadu National Park this morning, but Qantas had previously canceled our flight. So we set off for breakfast at the Lilipad Cafe (it was okay although I hoped for more because of the great name. Then on to the first challenge of the day: phoning home. Literally one hour later, we got through to sister Laura. A lovely treat. We checked out of our hotel and, with dispatch, made our way to the Botanic Gardens and Lakes. We knew it was time to leave since we'd gotetn adept at getting around town. A very hot, sticky day so somewhat reluctantly, I hike dutifully to the salt water lake, the fresh water lake and environs. I told Ron the place was like a larger, naturally occuring version of El Dorado Park at home. Very lush with some of the largest plants I've ever seen. We have an iced tea (no free refills) and we make a brief foray down back to the beach. We see an endless stretch of brown mud and Ron realizes that the tide is out. When it's in, the water is very brown so obviously, it's quite shallow here except where they've dredged out for the harbor. Then on the airport where we wait in the cool and relative comfort. We enter the half-empty plane to discover we've got 2 seats on the 3-seat side and that we're up against the toilets with no option to recline. The plane was far from full. We both got busy trying to figure out when we'd pissed off the ticket agent. I wondered if the flight crew had worked out an identification system wherein all the ass holes were seated in the way back. Taught by experience: Confer with the ticket agent as to where you'll be sitting before they print out your boarding pass. So off we go to Gove, a little mining town, where we were the only plane on the tarmack. Then got to Darwin at 9 P.M., where it's at least 90 degrees with high humidity. I ended up in the parking lot next to what Ron pronounced was too small a vehicle while he returned to the counter to renegotiate. Did I mention that I started to feel more and more desparate as the wait lengthened? I'm hot here! We found our hotel on only the second try and our room after only 10 minutes of searching through several complexes. Very pleasant and the grounds beautiful, but we had no time to enjoy the place. Off to bed. P.S. Here's a pip for you. The time difference between Cairnes and Darwin is 30 minutes. ?????

The Great Barrier Reef - October 23

We get up, still in the dark, and quietly go about our morning pursuits. Our little "suite" in Cairnes (Cans to the locals) has two sleeping areas and a kitchenette and a living area. We = Big Ass Petes. We start for our boat quite early (thank Mr. C. for the fact that we're always prompt) which turns out to be wise because of our many fits and starts until we find ourselves in the proper car park. Getting sufficient coingae for the meter for an all-day stay is not without challenge but, after a few pretty grim cups of coffee, all is accomplished and we are off to the pier. We spot the boat as well as the first of many adorable and friendly crew members and we board and check in. We sit and are soon joined by a kind and conversational couple from Melbourne and we enjoy the hour and a half trip to the GBR. It's cloudy but fairly warm and there's no rain and I'm feeling fine because of that little Bonine pill we popped back at the hotel. Excitement mounts as we anchor, don our fins, masks and wet suits and respond with a splash as the snokel guide yells, "The pool's open!" It was pretty spectacular to be snorkeling at the GBR. I am in the water no more than 5 seconds when something large brushes against my leg. I lower my face for a look and see one mammu fish swimming off nonchalantly. Ron estimated it at 70 to 80 pounds. Quite an indoctrination. We swim around the reef for about an hour, seeing many beautiful fish in bright array as well as some who prefer the background. The giant clams with there deep mouths for unsuspecting passers-bye are most intriguing. My only moments of unease occur when I am swimming atop some particularly close-to-the-surface coral and I wonder if I can avoid scraping my legs on it. Answer = all okay. We return to the boat for lunch after which I stretch out on the bow cushions and fall sound asleep until we anchor down the way a bit. I rouse when my new friend Anne and I go out without our husbands for the afternoon snorkel. Except for an occasional issue with water in my breathing tube, I have a wonderful and serene swim. I fell pretty blissful just to be. Ron unsucessfully tries several times to signal me that my snorkel is facing the wrong way, hence scooping up water. And I SO wantetd to look cool and not amaturish. As my Aunt May used to say, "Denied!" We head for home with Ron and I all alone on the bow. He's stretched out in front of me, asleep, and I'm cross-legged on the bench, feeling meditative. Suddenly, a literal downspout of water is funneled onto our heads from the second deck because we are plowing through the most enormous waves! At great peril to limbs, we careen from one side of the boat to the other, seeking shelter. I am slithering across the seats but Ron ends up airborne for his troubles as he crosses while upright. Sort of. My nice cap from the Hat Store in Long Beach sails off the starboard side, and we head into the boat, and yes, the word of the day is craeening! Unf'ing believeable. We zig and zag our way to our table where Anne is retching in the paper bags provided for that purpose and I see a stack of them placed near her. Not a good sign. She recovers, but only enough to be helped slowly (remember the pitches and rolls) out to the fantail where the rest of the green people have settled. Por sick bastards. Meanwhile, several of the crew cavort when there's a particularly dramatic bounce and use the momentum to leap high into the air. I barely stop myself from trying but any breakage would not enhance the trip, so I refrain. And not until we reach the inner harbour does Anne quite heaving, poor, poor thing. We bid them farewell and head home. Challenge of the day: Food, again! 1) Finding; 2) agreeing; 3) Hoping for, but being denied any quality. Did I mention that dining out is very expensive here? I make it through dinner in a stupor. I fall into bed, unable even to work a one-star (moron level) sudoku. Sound asleep before 9 P.M., both of us.

PS to Sydney

Re. the crowds of young Asians near our hotel in Sydney, Ron later determined that there was a large technical college and several other schools in the area. Mystery solved re. the age factor (no old people). Advice to Sydney travelers: Do what needs to be done to stay near Circular Quay because that's where you'll end up touring, eating, and shopping. We, on the other hand, had long hikes and constant street noise that seemed to reach it's peak between the hours of 2 and 4 A.M. The Aussies do love their beer.

OUT OF ORDER

I've got way too many papers to keep track of and realized that I'd neglected to enter our adventures in Sydney. So - her is Monday, October 20. To bed at 9 P.M. means up at 3 A.M. Still getting used to things here. So a bit of dozing, a bit of street noise, and a general givingitup around 5 A.M. when my hero goes off in search of coffee and returns with a lovely French press. Ah, bliss. We walk toward the harbour, consult various maps, and arrive at the Bridge Climb after a stop off for some above-average yogurt, muselix and fruit. Good food is a little hard to come by. Thus fortified, we join our group to climb the bridge going over Syndey Harbour. We have fun meeting 6 new friends, only one of whom is from the US. To get things going properly, I announce that I am not a lover of heights but that I'm going to project lam and gain the summit without issue. The leader suggests I take first spot, just behind him. excellent plan, that. We're then treated to a lovely bit of Aussie organization and excellent tutelege, get hooked up,literally, to the guide wire and, in our flight suits, headsets and strapped-to-our-bodies foul weather gear, off we go. It's gloomy with rain forecast, but we had none of it, thank you very much. First test, walking at height on the mesh wire footpath across several lanes of traffic. The walkway is wider than a balance beam, but it would not accommodate anyone extra chubby. Soon I'm face to face with test number two, stairs steep as the up arrow, yes, that would be 180 degrees up, terminating on a small platform, then another up arrow with small platform and repeat twice more, one person at a time. I wanted to rush but kept banging my shins, so it was steady as you go. There, oddly, in the open air with firm steel beneath my feet, i quite liked being truly on the bridge in spite of the open sides. yes, water below here. Good steel hand grips and the lovely steel tether made it a good walk that I really enjoyed. At the summit, 443 feet about the Harbour, I was fine until we crossed over from one side of the bridge to the other. I was pretty unhappy when we hung out in the middle and I decided that the tour guide was a perverse ass. I locked and loaded on the horizon while Ron pointed up, down and all around, commenting and asking questions. I was pretty much practicing sensory deprevation at this point, recovering only enough to espy the four sets of descending ladders that lurked ahead of us. Off goes the guide, who'd again decided to be a good person, and here are the stairs. Okay with the first stairs but then there's that goddamn platform wherer you sidle to the next set of stairs and you do have to sort of send your foot into space and teh hand rails have to be searched out. At this point, my beloved guide wire gets twisted as I'm poised on the second ladder but cannot go either up or down. There is literally no one in sight. Good sense overtakes me, welling down the panic as I waited for my hero who said, "Just do this and do that". I obeyed although loosening my grip on the hand guides while I was necessarily in the straight arrow position was counterintuitive. I'm going down this ladder! Of course you can see that it all worked out and, yes, I did a little speed climb down the last part of those bastards, barking shins be damned. I was very busy congratulating myself on completing the climb, which was, actually, pretty damned memorable. Now it's mid-morning so we take a self-guided walk of The Rocks, Sydney's most historic area, settled by the convicts and the British soldiers in 1788. We had a great lunch outside at the Gumnut Tea Garden - isn't that the best? We then walked to the Opera House for an informative tour accompanied mostly by Americans. designed by Danish architect Joern Utzon, it took from 1959 to 1973 to build and cost $102 million. Cheap by today's standards. Sadly, Utzon never saw his completed work, but his firm is now in charge of all planned renovations which are being overseen by his son. He is now 90 and now longer travels. Our guide and the place are wonderful. Such beautiful construction. We loved the tour. I can't say why, but we walked home, me pretty much dragging ass and just a little ill-tempered. Deciding to hike a distance in my flip flops was not me at my cleverest, but it did make the solace of our room that much sweeter. We ate at a fast food place (it had to be very close to the hotel!) and remaked on the hoards, throngs, masses, sea of human beings with the crowd kind of undulating. The people were almost all young, almost all Asian, and almost no one spoke English.

Daintree and Environs - October 22

Awake at 4 A.M. Alas poor neighbors since every sound the human body is capable of making could be heard by all cabin occupants within our row. I wonder as to their dispositions when Ron heated up the coffee water (everything instant) in a machine that put out decibles akin to a leaf blower. He apologized that the coffee was probably not quite up to temperature since he had to turn off the pot prematurely. At first light, the rain forest came alive. Think oo oo ah ah ah ah. The birds made such a ruckus and in the bass clef. We tried, but simply could not see them because of the dense tree canopy. Our gratis breakfast included some wonderful stuff - great breads, lovely home-made type yogurt, good coffee (yippee!) and pretty, dainty bites of tropical fruit. The best yet. Then off for a nice hike and many tries at getting a photo of the swimming hole turtle. I didn't swim although it looked wonderful and crytal clear. Our locatoin was a portion of Queensland on the east coast almost where the road ends. Ron got a photo of a kangeroo rat, one of the family that lives on the premises. Lots of animals only found here. Much moisture. My skin and hair were thrilled and dewy, but so were our clothes. We left the lodge and drove down the mountain, again took the ferry across the river, and drove to Mossman Gorge, on the south end of Daintree. Several people joined us to enjoy the scenery and to bathe. The water was refreshing and cool. I eased in for a swim, getting into mid-stream where the very swift current plucked me up and propelled me, pretty much against my will. I was able to take refuge behind a large rock, but could not climb up onto it. I did manage to get enough purchase to shove off and fling myself toward the shore where I gained a much-welcomed toe hold. As Ron pointed out, I am a strong swimmer so that even if I'd been swept downstream, I'd have made it to shore, albeit somewhat banged up. I didn't take comfort. But, I'm really glad I did it and, except for a few wild-eyed moments, I really enjoyed it. We then set out to find the secret swimming hole. We followed the road in, only to discover that it meant putting our car interally into the stream to cross over. This worked only because the water was very shallow at that point. we parked along the road and were alone except for a few passers-by. Very beautiful place with rushing currents on one side and still deep water on the other. I was content to admire the water from the road and to splash about only up to my ankles this time. Then on to Port Arthur for lunch, stopping in to talk to an interesting shop owner specializing in Aboriginal art. I am developing a huge liking for it. Ron, not so much. Once back in Cairnes, we walked along the esplanade in search of "take away" for our dinner. Challenge of the day: Finidng some place to get food that pleases both of us when we're tired and cranky, and the streets don't go through and there's one round about after another and it's hard to remember to look right and stay left. But, no worries and friends again in a minute or two!

Sydney to Cairnes October 21

Okay, then, up at 4:30 A.M. for a 7:15 A.M. departure to Cairnes. Good news, no international terminal aka Dante's Inferno. Bad news, our flight of 3 hours can be characterized by the word "wailing" as in crying child who's parents, quite dear, were beside themselves trying to deal. They were from San Francisco and GOD ONLY KNOWS what possessed them to travel with a toddler. Time spent walking, waiting, searching - the usual - then off to the city to book our Great Barrier Reef tour and to shop, dealing with the minor challenge of the day. The handle broke off Ron's suitcase, locking in the extended position. Major challenge of the day: Ron driving an unfamiliar car in an unfamiliar locale on the wrongside of the road which contained endless roundabouts with me, the reluctant navigator. P.S. He wanted me to share in the experience which all started well but took a turn, literally, when I failed to yield properly. I never drempt that person would be going in the same direction as was I. Total elapsed time with me at the wheel = 3 minutes. After our shopping, we got down to our lovely drive to Daintree National Park, stopping at Port Arthur (the site of my brief turn at the wheel) to take some lovely photos of the Coral Sea and then to Mossman where we sought directions to our lodge adjacent to the park. We determined that the route included, was was not limited to, a ferry ride across the Daintree River. I tried to get a few photos, but there was no going down to the water's edge. Think crocodiles. A beautiful day going into what may be the oldest rainforest in the world. Hana-like. More stopping for directions mostly to reassure ouselves because, as I pointed out to Ron, we were pretty much far flung into the middle of who knew where. An unexpected gravel road to our lodge where we found our laid back host who showed us, upon check in, a fabulous swimming hole with resident turtle and a pathway down to what he described as the cleanest water anywhere. We explored a bit and then to dinner (fine dining with disappointing food) where our server turned us on to a little known swimming hole near Mossman which we planned to explore en route back to Caines.

October 19th: DRIVING TO TOWN AND THEN SOME

There is, of course, a line for the taxi and we're routed to a very friendly cab driver with a station wagon. He talks with a raid fire sing-song Bangladeshi accent and recites a tale regarding finding someone's mobile left in his cab for which the owner's offered him $500 when it's returned. He didn't say whether or not he'd be accepting the reward, but only that he'd be returning it promptly. The whole business of his extreme honesty is called into question at the hotel where he soaks us for $50 American plus a nice tip. I was too tired to ask the pertinent question at the airport: "how much for the trip to St. George Street?" So we're here. Our hotel is small but adequate with a very friendly staff and it's called the Pensione so it must be charming. Note: It's been refurbished and has a great shower. Good one. We leave our luggage until our room is readied and set off in search of a tour of Sydney Harbour. Gosh I love those AAA Guide Books - small enough to take in a purse and they have proven invaluable. The Harbour turns out to be much easier to access than Australian cash which we need even to get on the bus. Damn Versatel. Challenge of the day: Figuring out the money and the bus and where our hotel is located once we've left it. Everyone is happy to help us even to the point of making change for us on the bus when they aren't supposed to. We take the bus to Circular Quay where we've opted for a wee harbour cruise. We instantly see the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. Both are very beautiful. Neither is enormous, but are right-sized for the location. The cruise is lovely, the narration informative, and the weather quite wonderful. Sitting in the sun, my eyes close a few times while we're returning to the dock. In the resting state, I'm dreaming of lying down. (My mother always claimed that babies need to lie down to stretch themselves and that they could grow quite desparate if denied. I understand it.) En route home, we know we need correct change for the bus, so we purchase a postcard, here and a drink there, still holding out the money for them to take what they need. Later we see that the denomination is prominently displayed on one side of the coin although the smallest coin is $2 and another very large one is 25 cents. Sydney has provided a beautiful and perfect day with throngs of people who are all pretty pleasant. Lots of ethnicities, languages and cultures seem to converge on this spot. Reminds me of Key West meets Santa Monica but with really poorly dressed people. I can't quite figure out why there is literally no one who looks put together and why so many people are in hot and clingly polyester. Eh gads, I feel the hot flash rising. Ron and I fit right in to the less than fashion conscious crowd. A treat not to worry about appearances, really. When I speak to the shopkeepers, I have to repeat myself and ask them to repeat themselves, quite often. I read in my guidebook that the often rapid-fire speech and endless but entertaining colloquialisms are all part of "Strine" - that would be Australian English to you, mates. It's fun once you get into the rhythm of it but when it's fast, it's furious! So we enjoyed the cruise boat which was lightly peopled and just right after the crowds at the airports. And being on the water was bliss. Grabbed a snack en route home since we got off the bus prematurely. Like I mentioned, we couldn't exactly remember where our hotel was. The bonus was passing by a Starbucks and scoring a cup of java, as sister Linda would say. Not up to standards, mate, but it was still pretty tasty. For dinner, we walked down to Darling Harbour and found the ubiquitous Subway place. Lovely area with a Chinese Garden that I would have liked to visit, but it was closed. We got back to hotel and were in bed by 7:30 P.M. since we were out of gas and wanted to be fresh for our exciting Syndey Harbour Bridge walk the next day. It's all good in Australia!

SYDNEY AIRPORT

Word of the day: Surreal. We arrive inside the Sydney Airport, tamping down panic - it's hot and crowded. Again with the endless mounds and carts of luggage that creat a great need for space around each traveler. People are pushing things in front of them, pulling things behind them, or using a 2-armed approach wherein their bodies are flanked by at least one piece of luggage per side. So we queue up for the passport check. We seek our luggage, working our way from one carosel to another. We join a swarm of people and luggage seeing that everyting and everybody must eventually funnel down into ONE NARROW LINE where only ONE MAN looks us over for something undetermined in order to route the hoards to another series of lines. Here, an inspector ascertains that we're not smuggling in tainted food stuffs. One such official picks Ron and me out of the line, asks us if we have anthing forbidden, we say "no", and he passes us on our way with nary a glance at or into our luggage. We race for the exit doors. Ah, sunlight!

Surviving the Plane Ride - October 19

Somehow, we wake up on the plane and it's two days later. Reality matches perception, in this case. I have spent many hours in the middle seat with no arm rests to call my own and no possibility of getting comfortable enough for a night's sleep. Drugs do enable a fitful 6 hours but at the expense of my poor neck. Upon awakening, I was nicely diverted by watching Sex and the City - amusing enough for airplane fare. Apologies to you who really liked it. The woman next to me slept the whole and, get this, NEVER GOT UP TO PEE! Not once on the entire flight. How the hell is that possible on a 15-hour flight? I, on the other hand, went at least 5 times, as much for the change of scene as for physical necessity. I was in awe of her bladder. Also, I forgave her slight encroachment into my "area" after we started talking a bit. She felt free to use both arm rests. And yes, I broke my isolation rule this time because the flight was really too long to ignore my neighbor. She was a brilliant woman which I determined when I saw her working a difficult sudoku without writing anything but the answer in each square. Now I know three people who work them this way. Annoying twits. My seatmate was awake for the evening meal. Ron didn't get any food but I can never relate to bypassing a meal. After all, who knows when one might next be able to eat. I figure it's a "just in case" thing, even when it's airline food. So the seat mate ordered fish (always risky and on an airline? It did call into doubt my earlier assessment of her being a smart one), ate one forkful and declared it an abomination. I, then guilty, tried to hold the little plate closer to my mouth so she couldn't see that I was busy consuming my chicken dish in its entirety. Soon after, we all fell into an exhausted stupor and the plane went obligingly dark and droned away to lull us to sleep. Then, my poor twisted and knotted neck awakened me at 8 A.M. and I go in search of coffee, watching with despair as the steward prepares a cup of instant and hands it over as if it's a something to smile aobut. Thank God the breakfast had brewed coffee and, you know it, I ate that bad boy until it was gone. At least Ron and seat mate joined me for that meal. More on seat mate. She's originally from England but has lived in Australia for years. She said she wrote dictionaries for a living and was a linguist. Was I in my glory or what? When I told her my dad used to read with a dictionary at hand so he could look up and make notes on unfamiliar words, she asked if I had kept the notes. I felt like a bad daughter for a few minutes, but got over it, somewhat irriated that she'd called my daughter qualities into question in the first place. We talked quite a bit about the US and our political scene. She commented on our "terribly tarnished" image around the world. God that's sad. And since I know bupkis about the Australian governement, I was madly trying to remember if they have a president or a prime minister but wisely decided to forgo mentioning it altogether. Safest. We bid her a fond good-bye and struggle off the plane, red eyes. stiff backs and all. Let's get happy! We're in Sydney!

WE LEAVE HOME

We depart for the airport at 9 P.M. and arrive at the Tom Bradley Terminal AKA Dante's Inferno. The words of the day are "Endless Schleppage". The question of the day is "How much stuff do people need to take when they go on a trip?" Apparently, an incredible amount. Next question: How many queues can we wait in before we actually board our plane? Apparently, an incredible amount. To paraphrase Bette Davis, travel ain't for sissies. So we get on the plane at 11 P.M. and we're off an hour late.

Reflections on my Sixty-Second Birthday

As my mom used to say, I am startled when I pass by a mirror and see an older person staring back. This is because I feel as I always did on the inside. These days, I cry for the beauty in this world instead of from anger and frustration. I am working on being grateful for what I can do physically rather than dwelling on what I can’t. As my Aunt May used to say, I am working to improve my “self talk”. Age has brought me more wisdom and patience, and taken some of my physical strength and stamina. I still love and like my partner after 41 years of marriage. Although I live in Southern California, my motto is “Let’s not rush”. Like Anne Frank, I still believe in the goodness of others. My world would be empty and I would be nowhere without my loved ones. I am so lucky that people love me. I want to read every single book that I find even slightly interesting and am saddened by the fact that I don’t have time to do so. I am more selective about the people with whom I spend my time. There is nothing like a positive outlook! I am more willing to appear ridiculous. I feel slightly egotistical inviting my friends to read this blog, but - see the above comment. I want to travel to every continent in our fabulous world and, really, what could be better than planning a trip?

This I Believe

There are two ways to go in life. We can operate from love or, the alternative, operate from fear. I choose love. It’s a simple concept. Simple, but not easy, because it means that I cannot dismiss people who do not think like I do. It means that I must be tolerant of viewpoints not my own. It requires that I search my heart for prejudice and remember that God wants me to recognize the divine in my fellow beings, each made by His hand. It requires that I allow others to do as they think best without criticism, regardless of whether or not I agree. It means I must give people the dignity to fail, even if those people are my children. It requires that I replace my harsh thoughts and words with acceptance and softness. These actions often seems impossible, particularly in this time of national discord and despair. Operating from love means that I must do my best but then be willing to let go of the outcome. It means that I must avoid judgments. It means that I must think and act with compassion even when a person is not particularly lovable, pretty, happy or pleasant. It means that I must move as close as possible to unconditional love. With my many faults, this is putting me to the test. But I also have some excellent advantages, including being able to learn by my mistakes. I have taken in some wisdom over the years, and often find opportunities to be a mentor to others. Although I am highly opinionated, I have been humbled more than once by rushing to judgment based on another’s appearance, manners, or beliefs only later to be shown that there is a wonderful person or even friend where I could not have imagined that one existed. I am blessed with a close family and loving friends. I am a member of a spiritual community. I know that I am loved. I have been given enormous blessings. With these gifts come large responsibilities, including the commandment to operate from love. I pray for the wisdom and strength to do just that to the best of my ability. I’ll end with a quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer: “The ultimate test of a moral society is the kind of world that it leaves to its children.” Let me leave a world wherein I practice love, even when it’s hard to do.