Before I get into a report of my latest activities, I need to reassure everyone that we are all a little bit safer because my vast, QUEEN-SIZED BUM has been thoroughly vetted by the fine folks at LAX Security.
Let me rewind -- back to the boarding process at LAX on my way out here. At the checkpoint the TSA agent decreed that I would have to have a full body search because -- wait for it -- the radar screening had indicated that I was in possession of suspicious substances around my waist and on my backside.
She showed me on the monitor: Large globs of yellow where there oughtn't to be anything. Dully, I said, "Huh?" She said I could have the pat-down there or in private, but that she had to make certain I was not carrying any lethal substances about my person. I said, "Bring it on. I've got nothing to hide," and so Brunhilde started patting. And patting.
Naturally, she found nothing but FAT in my OVERLY GENEROUS BUTT. No bombs, no weapons, just butt fat. Alert the media, please.
I'm still not exactly sure how my oversized butt is linked to the threat of terrorists, but I'm sure everyone on Virgin Australia Flight #8 flew just a little bit more securely knowing that it had been cleared before take-off.
OK, so back to Australia and my comings and goings out here. I continue to be very favourably impressed by the friendly and generous people I encounter everywhere. The Australians seem to have a uniformly cheerful disposition. Nobody has been rude or impatient; to the contrary, everybody so far has been eager to help, laid back and kind. When they say, "No worries, mate," they mean it!
Except for the Brisbane Planetarium and Botanical Garden, I really haven't done much in the way of "touristy" things yet. Instead, I've been busy making friends. For example, I've been to two quiz nights sponsored by two local clubs -- Friendship Force and Quota Club, a woman's service organization. Trivia contests are apparently huge in Australia. I'm rubbish at them -- can't remember my own middle name if pressed -- but they're a marvellous way to meet people and have some cheap laughs.
At the Friendship Force meeting, the theme of the evening was "L." Everybody put together a costume evoking the letter L. The winner had dressed as "Laundry." Afterward there was a trivia contest in which the answer to every question began with, of course, L. Since we didn't play in teams, it was up to each of us to pipe up with our answer. If you got it right, you won a "lolly," or hard candy. What struck me from the start was that nobody cheated; those thumbs on those smart phones remained still the entire evening. Even without electronic aid, I got a few correct answers -- the name of the 16th President of the U.S., Lincoln, was my big hit of the evening -- so I went home with a few lollies, thank heavens. And these nice folks invited me to their next trivia night in a couple of weeks. I can't wait.
At the Quota Club, on the other hand, my table went down in flames (finishing eighth out of nine teams). I should've warned my teammates of my utter uselessness at trivia, but we had a good time, anyway, and I made two new jolly friends who are meeting me for tea in a few days.
A lovely woman whom I met at the community center and I have hit it off like a house afire -- we've already met for lunch and have two concerts on our calendars in the next few weeks -- and she has even offered to give me a lift to the train station when I head north to the Great Barrier Reef next Monday. Sweet!
My exchanger's book club has also invited me to their next meeting, so I'll have the opportunity to meet even more of my neighbors then -- despite my admitting I haven't read this month's selection because I thought it was crap and refused to finish it. Quoth the member I spoke with on the phone, "Oh, I think most of the books we're supposed to read are crap. In fact, we all think most of them are crap. But we show up and have great discussions, anyway. You'll fit right in!"
You see why I really love these folks?!
And those are just the Aussies: Thanks to a mutual friend back home, I've connected with a delightful couple who grew up in Charlotte/Rock Hill who are living in Brizzy for three years. We had dinner Saturday down at the coast -- all of six miles from here -- in a seaside café and counted our blessings that serendipity had brought us all to this wonderful place.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
G'day from Down Under!
Well, y'all, I'm happy to report I'm HERE -- North Lakes in the Moreton Bay region just outside Brisbane, Australia, my home for a total of seven weeks.
First impressions: It's so ordinary in its familiarity that I have had a hard time remembering I'm in a foreign country. OK, the majority of the folks talk like the luscious Hugh Jackman, an Aussie native, and cars drive on the left-hand side of the road. But the 15-year-old suburb where my exchange house is located could be mistaken for Florida -- palm trees, hibiscus, birds-of-paradise and other vegetation under clear blue skies.
I haven't spotted a kangaroo or koala yet, but my back yard is a haven for native Australian birds. My hands-down favorite is the flock of rainbow lorikeets -- with blue heads, red beaks and bright plumage of green and every other color of the rainbow. They're like parakeets on steroids and are truly brilliant.
Further to set the stage: The house in which I'm staying has all the comforts one dreams of in a home exchange arrangement, but which one seldom gets, as we've discovered over the years. As a result, I'm afraid my blogs from Oz may be rather on the dull side, given the fact that I have already figured out how to use the microwave...and that the washing machine has a cycle that's less than three hours...and there's a fully operational desktop computer with Internet service...and there are actual, by-god utensils and cookware in the kitchen, as well as a well-stocked linen closet!!!
On top of these marvellous attributes are the facts that the place is a spacious ranch-style home (no stairs!) and a car with automatic transmission. And a clothes dryer. A clothes dryer!! And it WORKS! The owner still prefers the Medieval method of drying her washing on the line outdoors, but hey, this diva can go native only so far, especially when she's on holiday. I hung a load out this morning just to play nice, but when dark hit at 5 p.m. -- yes, 5 p.m. -- and those clothes were still damp, into the dryer they went.
Weather-wise, Queensland is considered semi-tropical, so even though it's smack-dab in winter here, the temps have been very mild so far -- about 70 to 74 in mid-afternoon, but as soon as the sun goes down, the thermometer goes into a nosedive. It's doing a number on my psyche to know that it's June and yet have to accept that these are the shortest days of the year in the Southern Hemisphere. Fortunately, my first four days here the sun was shining brightly, if only for a few hours at a time.
Before she left, my hostess graciously showed me how to turn on the "air conditioner" -- which is the contraption I fervently hope is really a "furnace." I kept asking about turning on the heat if it gets cold enough to warrant it. (Remember my swap in Lancashire, where it was so damp and cold I had to burn a fire every night?) And my Aussie exchanger kept saying, "Oh, you won't need the air conditioner." Well, heck,l no, I'm thinking, I shouldn't need the "air conditioner" in the wintertime! But then came my "Aha" moment when I finally understood her definition of terms: In Aussie-speak, an air conditioner provides both cold AND HOT air.
However -- and here is where I knew I wasn't going to spared at least some domestic drama this go-around -- I am supposed to use this heat-producing unit very sparingly because of the cost of energy and the threat of committing gecko homicide. Yes, you read this correctly: Gecko homicide. It seems that the local gecko population seeks out air conditioners for warmth at this time of year, and as soon as these mechanisms are cranked up, the little lizards are pulvarized -- leaving the air conditioners as dead as they are.
I have no reason for doubting this unfortunate possibility, since my hostess pointed out a pile of gecko poop in the fuse box as proof. On the other hand, if it gets cold in this house as winter wears on, I may have to sacrifice a lizard or two. I'll do so with deep regret, but don't say I didn't warn them.
Regarding the décor in the house, it's perfectly sophisticated and acceptable -- not necessarily my taste, but then who shares my passion for purple? At least it doesn't look like Early Goodwill, or something that the cat rejected for breakfast. (Remember the house in London?!) The TV has a great picture and receives more than three channels, most of them in English, and all the furniture is fabulously comfortable. No chiropractors will be required!
So domestically, gecko threats aside, my cup runneth over. Those of you who have followed Our Intrepid Traveler might remember the various challenges she has had with her various domestic arrangements over her years of house-swapping can appreciate how I'm sighing with relief. True, I don't expect a replication of American conveniences when I'm abroad, but it's a wonderful thing when so many of the mod-cons materialize at one time. In fact, it's the best place all-around that I've ever drawn in the lottery known as house-swapping.
And did I mention that I'm only six miles from Moreton Bay, which opens into the Pacific Ocean? I've already sussed out the public park that extends along the shore in nearby Redcliffe on the bay.
So even though I haven't yet delved into the many tourist treasures Austray-a has to offer, I'm happy here in my home base -- and after a 29-hour trip, that constitutes Living Large!
First impressions: It's so ordinary in its familiarity that I have had a hard time remembering I'm in a foreign country. OK, the majority of the folks talk like the luscious Hugh Jackman, an Aussie native, and cars drive on the left-hand side of the road. But the 15-year-old suburb where my exchange house is located could be mistaken for Florida -- palm trees, hibiscus, birds-of-paradise and other vegetation under clear blue skies.
I haven't spotted a kangaroo or koala yet, but my back yard is a haven for native Australian birds. My hands-down favorite is the flock of rainbow lorikeets -- with blue heads, red beaks and bright plumage of green and every other color of the rainbow. They're like parakeets on steroids and are truly brilliant.
Further to set the stage: The house in which I'm staying has all the comforts one dreams of in a home exchange arrangement, but which one seldom gets, as we've discovered over the years. As a result, I'm afraid my blogs from Oz may be rather on the dull side, given the fact that I have already figured out how to use the microwave...and that the washing machine has a cycle that's less than three hours...and there's a fully operational desktop computer with Internet service...and there are actual, by-god utensils and cookware in the kitchen, as well as a well-stocked linen closet!!!
On top of these marvellous attributes are the facts that the place is a spacious ranch-style home (no stairs!) and a car with automatic transmission. And a clothes dryer. A clothes dryer!! And it WORKS! The owner still prefers the Medieval method of drying her washing on the line outdoors, but hey, this diva can go native only so far, especially when she's on holiday. I hung a load out this morning just to play nice, but when dark hit at 5 p.m. -- yes, 5 p.m. -- and those clothes were still damp, into the dryer they went.
Weather-wise, Queensland is considered semi-tropical, so even though it's smack-dab in winter here, the temps have been very mild so far -- about 70 to 74 in mid-afternoon, but as soon as the sun goes down, the thermometer goes into a nosedive. It's doing a number on my psyche to know that it's June and yet have to accept that these are the shortest days of the year in the Southern Hemisphere. Fortunately, my first four days here the sun was shining brightly, if only for a few hours at a time.
Before she left, my hostess graciously showed me how to turn on the "air conditioner" -- which is the contraption I fervently hope is really a "furnace." I kept asking about turning on the heat if it gets cold enough to warrant it. (Remember my swap in Lancashire, where it was so damp and cold I had to burn a fire every night?) And my Aussie exchanger kept saying, "Oh, you won't need the air conditioner." Well, heck,l no, I'm thinking, I shouldn't need the "air conditioner" in the wintertime! But then came my "Aha" moment when I finally understood her definition of terms: In Aussie-speak, an air conditioner provides both cold AND HOT air.
However -- and here is where I knew I wasn't going to spared at least some domestic drama this go-around -- I am supposed to use this heat-producing unit very sparingly because of the cost of energy and the threat of committing gecko homicide. Yes, you read this correctly: Gecko homicide. It seems that the local gecko population seeks out air conditioners for warmth at this time of year, and as soon as these mechanisms are cranked up, the little lizards are pulvarized -- leaving the air conditioners as dead as they are.
I have no reason for doubting this unfortunate possibility, since my hostess pointed out a pile of gecko poop in the fuse box as proof. On the other hand, if it gets cold in this house as winter wears on, I may have to sacrifice a lizard or two. I'll do so with deep regret, but don't say I didn't warn them.
Regarding the décor in the house, it's perfectly sophisticated and acceptable -- not necessarily my taste, but then who shares my passion for purple? At least it doesn't look like Early Goodwill, or something that the cat rejected for breakfast. (Remember the house in London?!) The TV has a great picture and receives more than three channels, most of them in English, and all the furniture is fabulously comfortable. No chiropractors will be required!
So domestically, gecko threats aside, my cup runneth over. Those of you who have followed Our Intrepid Traveler might remember the various challenges she has had with her various domestic arrangements over her years of house-swapping can appreciate how I'm sighing with relief. True, I don't expect a replication of American conveniences when I'm abroad, but it's a wonderful thing when so many of the mod-cons materialize at one time. In fact, it's the best place all-around that I've ever drawn in the lottery known as house-swapping.
And did I mention that I'm only six miles from Moreton Bay, which opens into the Pacific Ocean? I've already sussed out the public park that extends along the shore in nearby Redcliffe on the bay.
So even though I haven't yet delved into the many tourist treasures Austray-a has to offer, I'm happy here in my home base -- and after a 29-hour trip, that constitutes Living Large!
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