Wishing there were some other Americans around today...The Aussies don't quite seem to "get" the Fourth of July thing, not that they're supposed to, of course. But I've been yearning and pining for a flag and a proper hot dog all day.
Had occasion to go to the local mega-mall today -- my version of the seventh ring of Dante's Hell. Trust me, I wouldn't have gone within ten kilometres of the place if I had had a choice. But I discovered quite by accident that in order to ride the TRAIN, one has to acquire a "Go-card" in advance. And where are these Go-cards sold, you ask? If you answered "The train station, you idiot," you would have been WRONG. Most of the suburban train stations, including the one closest to my house, are not staffed most of the time. Therefore, to buy a Go-card, which serves as a ticket, one must go to a Newsagent.
Now, in all of my surburb of North Lakes, to the best of my knowledge, there is only ONE Newsagent, which is located in the deepest, darkest bowels of the biggest mall in the Southern Hemisphere. It occupies approximately the same land mass as Iowa. Finding the Newsagent is not easy, since there are NO SIGNS either inside or outside the mall to indicate where anything is located. In fact, there are only a couple of entrances into the place, and no directories once you manage to find a parking spot and get inside. Think needles and haystacks.
To no one's surprise, half of the population of Queensland, and virtually all of its teenagers (I suspect reinforcements had been bused in from New South Wales), were at the mall today. It was mobbed, and I was soon longing for the joys of prepping for my next colonoscopy. But motivated by my need to ride a local train Monday to begin my journey to the Great Barrier Reef, I soldiered on.
During my 12-mile hike to the Newsagent I did have one fascinating encounter: A man carrying a box of fresh Krispy Kremes! Naturally, I accosted him with drool running down my chin. WHERE did you get those Krispy Kremes? I cried. He allowed he had bought them at a service station along the highway rather than at the mall. Damn! Had they been for sale anywhere in that vast cavern, I would have liberated my own box and stuffed myself into a sugar coma. Unfortunately, the man was very friendly but was disinclined to share. To be fair, I wouldn't have shared with a stranger, either.
Speaking of food, I think I've been in Australia long enough to make some generalizations. As we'd say in Davidson County, the food out here ain't any 'count. Maybe I just haven't been to the right places yet. But most of what I've tasted so far has been underwhelming, if not outright inedible. I'm starving out here, folks! And prices for both groceries and restaurant meals are outrageous. My futile attempt at locating a hot dog at the mall's food court led me to the unimaginable: Hungry Jack's, the Aussie version of Burger King. Yes, folks, my Fourth of July fare consisted of a Whopper with cheese combo meal, which set me back AU$11.60. Even with the Coke served in a paper thimble, it was possibly the best thing I've consumed since I got here.
The mall aside, since my last blog posting I've had a couple of memorable outings: The first was my lovely Sunday drive up into the mountains in what's called the Hinterlands of the Sunshine Coast. It reminded me of the area surrounding Banner Elk and Blowing Rock, except the crafts selections left much to be desired. I did locate two independent book stores, which are always treats.
The second was my visit to Brisbane's Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary. As I posted on Facebook, my blasted camera died so I was unable to get any shots of the animals. I was hoping to get a couple to accompany this deathless prose, but alas, it was not meant to be. One potential photo in particular was of a kangaroo -- boy parts exposed in all their mature glory -- who was fast asleep and pooping at the same time. The zoo keepers also had koalas who would pose for visitors to take photos with their own cameras (for a fee, of course). The sullen wombat, airborne birds of prey and herd of kangaroos on the hop were really Kodak moments, but one that shall live only in my memory, since my stupid camera was as dead as a doornail. I must believe all of my would-be shots would have won National Geographic prizes.
More disparate observations...The joy of sitting in a nearby public park overlooking the ocean on a sunny day with a good book. The persistent sunshine, even though it abruptly vanishes at 5 p.m. The genuine friendliness I continue to encounter everywhere. The movie theatre that runs ads for the local funeral home catering to all sorts of hobbyists, including bikers (they have a special motorcycle tricked out with a casket-bearing sidecar). The multimedia campaign on radio and highway billboards for Dr. Snip ("Walk in, Walk Out"), advertising vasectomies!
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