Another Sara update

AUSTRALIA UPDATE NO. 6

After my last post last Saturday, my family and I all took a ferry across the Hobart Harbor to visit a weekend market that had setup downtown. I am an enormous fan of street markets: the sights, the sounds, and the smells are simultaneously overwhelming and compelling. The wax candles, hand-sewn boots, carved wooden figures, knit scarves, wool socks, second-hand books, incense, frying meats, beaded necklaces, cheap rings, bushels of apples (red, yellow, green – vivid, brilliant against the brown scarves, dark hands, and heavy grey sky), the smells of cigarette smoke, coffee, breads, cakes, mixed perfumes, sweat, breath, leather; the bangs of tambourines, flutes, guitars, reedy voices of young girls kneeling on the pavement singing songs their parents taught them; the heckling, the “over here!”, the rush, the tumble, the laughter, the foot-falls, the wind chimes, the penny whistles, the boat whistles, the waves on the wharf; light fixtures, paintings, Activists’ tables, t-shirts, beach wraps, tie-dye, long-haired boys and short-haired girls, old women, babies, military men, backpackers, tourists, fashionistas – the lonely, the lively, the proud, the shy, the bold, the bored, the sharp, the smooth, the sweet, and always, the curious. I do love street markets.
Other than the day we spent at the street market, and on the brief ferry passage (the rock, the tumble of the water, the hum of the ship’s engine, the disappearance and reappearance of shifting shorelines), we were a dull crew on Saturday, enjoying our afternoon in and going out for pizza in the evening.
Sunday, Mom had conferences all day, but the other three of us went to a two-hour service at a local Uniting Presbyterian Church. It was a very small church, with only the main sanctuary and a greeting/coffee room behind it, but the people there were extraordinarily friendly. Upon being revealed as strangers in the congregation, we were immediately adopted by a lively little whip of a woman named Barbara. Barbara must have been in her seventies, but she seems to be the type of seventy-year-old who never actually turned seventy. She was bouncing all over the congregation, introducing us to the pastor and his wife, and all of the retired pastors, and the Korean minister’s wife, and the retired teachers of the congregation. She invited us back for a “Cuppa” or tea and crumpets, where she proceeded to introduce us and spark conversation among every one of the parishioners she could lay her enthusiastic fingers on. I have never felt more immediately loved or welcomed in all my life. We spent another hour or so just chatting with church members, jesting with the minister, and getting travel tips from whomever was willing to offer.
After church we had another easy-going afternoon, packing and hanging out around the casino. We took Mom out for pizza at LaBella because she hadn’t gotten to come with us the night before.
Monday morning we had to rush to catch our airport shuttle at 6:40 a.m. Unfortunately, the driver had taken on passengers that weren’t on his list, so he informed us that the next shuttle would be arriving in ten minutes, and that WE weren’t on his list. We waited, but there was no such second shuttle. This caused a lot of confusion, and finally, at the assistance of the two extraordinarily helpful concierges, the hotel offered to pay for our taxi to the airport. As our struggle revealed, that Shuttle Company had a history of cheating customers out of their money – the fellow who charged her initially charged her an additional hundred dollars that we are still trying to get refunded. That’s apart from the second fellow who tricked us out of our seats on his shuttle that morning. Despite all the drama, we did manage to make it to the airport on time, and had no trouble getting to our hotel in Sydney.
Sydney was fantastic. As Australia’s major city center, it was both busy and bright. I am not a fan of cities most of the time, but Sydney is one of the few that I have seen that I have liked. The first day that we were there, we settled into our hotel and got directions to the train station. We took the train to the Circular Quay (pronounced “Key”) and roamed about the gift shops and harbor. One of our first destinations, of course, was the Sydney Opera House. On a whim, Mom went in to ask if there were any spare tickets for a show. There just so happened to be six left for Bell Shakespeare’s “Pericles,” directed by John Bell himself! We took the four together in row R, and settled in for an incredible performance of the old Shakespearian play with a Japanese twist. All of the set, staging, music, and costuming were done in a Japanese style, with the Taiko performing group “TaikOz.” We got home late and crashed immediately. Flights do that to Swensons like us. But so do long, exciting days at the pier. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of the sun setting behind the Opera House, shimmering off of the water; the office lights emerging boldly to compete with the stars.
We spent all day on Tuesday visiting the Australian Museum. There were endless exhibits on Mammoths, Dinosaurs, Aboriginal Artworks, Aboriginal Culture, Minerals, Bones, Australian Sea Creatures, Extinct Animals, the Environment… the list goes on. After six hours of museum time and a few minutes in the gift shop, we were once again happy to put our feet up on the train back into the Quay. There, we found dinner, watched the sunset again, and experimented with some creative flavors of Gelato.
Wednesday we devoted all day to the Toronga Zoo. Around 10 a.m. we caught the train and ferry over to the peninsula and were immediately shuffled onto the Sky-Safari ride into the park. This was like traveling in an enclosed ski-lift, and it allowed us to get a high overview of the entire park. The first animals we went to see were the Koalas. They were sleeping the first time we visited them, but when we came back in the afternoon, they were awake and lively. Koalas only spent about four hours each day awake, and that’s only a few minutes at a time, so we were incredibly lucky to catch them awake at all! Nick and I also had a great experience – Mom paid for us to go in and meet a Koala up close. We got to spend some time talking to a specialist and having our pictures taken with a peacefully sleeping Koala. Apparently these little marsupials aren’t so sweet in the wild, though. They have claws that can tear a person’s face off – quite a stunt for something that deceptively fluffy.
I can say without a doubt that our next collectively favorite exhibit was that with the kangaroos. Instead of having the kangaroos in a fenced off area – WE got to go into their habitat area. Here, the happy, lazy little creatures were lounging about. Those occasional kangaroos and wallabies that wished to venture onto the path were greeted by handfuls of sweet grass and some petting. They are intelligent creatures – the volunteer zoo worker told us a story about a kangaroo he once saw being chased by a dog. The kangaroo hopped into a stream, all the way up to its shoulders. When the dog swam out to it, the kangaroo balanced itself back on its tail and *bloop* caught the dog by the neck to drown it under water. The dog’s owner had to throw rocks at it to get the Kangaroo to let go. His half-drown dog gargled back to the shore, and, I daresay, never messed with a Kangaroo again. While we were in the exhibit, one of the Wallaby joeys decided to climb out of his mother’s pouch! He came bounding out, innocently happy and stupidly stumbling over its own legs, playing up to the paparazzi crowd that had gathered on the path nearby. His mother was very protective of him, however, and got him back into her pouch after a few minutes, but the little fellow kept his head out to watch the rest of us for quite some time afterward.
In addition to the other Australian rarities (the bilby, the platypus, the fairy penguin, and the wombat, to say the least), we visited the Asian elephants, seals, giraffes, and a few other African animals. By then, it was five o’clock and the zoo was closing. It’s a wonder how fast time flies on days like these.
We caught dinner at an amazing restaurant on the pier called “East Bank Café and Pizzeria.” I will shamelessly say that it was the best food I have ever eaten (a pumpkin-feta ravioli in sweet tomato sauce with roasted pine nuts and basil – not a usual combination, but I about swooned on the first mouthful. Seriously. Ask my brother). The meal was made even better (if that is possible), by the presence of the comedic and friendly matradee, whose perpetual bantering and attentiveness kept the café filled the entire time we were there. He was proud of his work, proud of his business, and in love with people. The beauty of the night also escalated the goodness of the meal: we sat outside, under heated torch lamps, and once again watched the sunset over the pier.
After a late night of packing, we woke up at four o’clock, this morning to catch our flight to New Zealand. I’ll save you all the details of the Customs paperwork, waiting lines, heavy luggage, droning elevator music, dizzying carpet patterns, takeoffs, landings, polite conversations, airplane breakfasts, or half-watched movies. Although I did sit next to a lovely mother and son pair who were vacationing in New Zealand from Australia. I had the innate sense about them that we could have grown to be very good friends under different conditions; though I kept rebuking myself for such a silly thought. Still, there are some people that you just click with, even if the deepest conversations you have are about snowboarding and the discomfort of cramped leg space. Long story short, we are settled in New Zealand now. The hotel keeper at our Best Western is a friendly Asian man who has gone out of his way to supply us with ample keys, maps, and connections, so that we are already at home in our new neighborhood. Now, after another long day’s travel, I think I am ready for bed…