Our first day of hiking along the Larapinta Trail leaves from the edge of Alice Springs.
Day 1 description: We pick you up from your accommodations between 7 and 7:30 am. Our walking commences from the Alice Springs Telegraph Stateion, which marks the beginning of the Larapinta Trail. The stone buildings here date back to 1872 and they housed the first Europeans to live in Central Australia. The trail passes through witchetty bush and mulga scrub, and over exposed hills and shady woodlands, before we arrive at the deep narrow passage of Wallaby Gap and transfer to our camp.
The Alice Springs Telegraph Station Historical Reserve marks the original site of the first European settlement in Alice Springs. Established in 1872 to relay messages between Darwin and Adelaide, it is the best preserved of the 12 stations along the Overland Telegraph Line. Construction of this Telegraph Station began in 1871. The township of Alice Springs takes its name from the waterhole a short distance to the east of the Station buildings. This Telegraph Station operated for 60 years, and then served as a school for Aboriginal children.
Early into our hike, we walked passed an old graveyard.
The trail follows the route of the very first road that linked Alice Springs to Darwin, which is no longer used. The first car followed this track in 1907 as part of an unsuccessful attempt by Harry Dutton and Murray Aunger to cross Australia form south to north. The same two people completed the first crossing by motor vehicle one year later.
Parallel to the road is the Overland Telegraph Line which from 1871 to 1928 was Australia's only direct link to the rest of the world. We saw remnants of old poles and wires during this part of the hike.
We pass under the Geoff Moss Bridge that carries the Stuart Highway north towards Darwin. The bridge was built in 1980 as part of major improvements to the road. I know these are not very exciting photos, and the next one has really bad color cast, but, just wanted to include them for anyone who wants to see where the hike actually goes, in case they are considering doing it.
Now you can see the bridge off in the distance...wow, look how far we walked already!!
We crossed over the Alice Springs to Darwin railway line, which was completed in 2003.
The trail then swings west, following a range of low hills towards the West MacDonnell Ranges. These lead to the highest point for the day on the Euro Ridge with there is a fine view of the south-east of Alice springs and to the west are glimpses of higher ridges.
All this hiking made us hungry for lunch....
Ah, time for rest and relaxation....here is my home for the night.
Time to fix dinner! But, I don't have to...because I am on VACATION!!!
Tjukurpa
Beginning Dreaming
Very ancient tradition says the people departed the islands to the north of Australia (the Indonesian group) and crossed the Timor Sea to Australia. Recent research has indicated that they had originally lived in the Indian sub-continent but were driven out by the southernly drife of the Arya tribes.
Tradition says that a boastful man threw his boomerange across the ocean and claimed it had reached the furthest island on the other side. His claim was, of course, disputed and derided. But the solution was proivded by a little boy who cut out the entrails of a koala. He then proceeded to blow into them until they formed a rainbow bridge across the ocean. All the disputants crossed over the entrail bridge and, arriving in Australia, they becuase the mothers and fathers of the Aborigines.
I came to Alice Springs to hike the Larapinta Trek, which is one of the most reknown long distance walkingtrek in Australia. I sent with a company called: World Expeditions. They are a top notch Adventure company and I highly recommend them. You can find information about their trips on: http://www.worldexpeditions.com/ or http://www.worldexpeditions.com.au/.
It takes 14 days to do the entire Larapinta trek. The trip I signed up was a 7 day/6 night trip focusing on the highlights of the hike.
I was quite fortunant that we had a small group of hikers - 8 including myself, all women! and we had 4 guides! all women except for one, bless his heart! Can you imagine going camping and hiking with 11 women for 7 days and being the only man?
My fellow hikers
our guides
A little bit of history....
In the heart of Australia's red center lie rows of ancient, scultped, mountain chains. These are the MacDonnell Ranges and the Larapinta Trail winds its way along the western end. The trail is named after the aboriginal name for the Finke River. The Finke River is one of the world's oldest rivers having followed the same course for 350 million years. It crosses the tribal lands of the Arrente people who have lived in this area for thousands of years. The permanent water in the MacDonnel Ranges supported a large aboriginal population and they have a significant stake in teh management of the Larapinta Trail.
Despite the harsh conditions of this arid land, the West MacDonnell Ranges are home to more than 600 species of plants ranging from elegant, white ghost gums to ancient cycads and delicate ferns. Wildflowers abount after a good rain and there is a variety of wildlife, although we did not see any. We were very fortuante that the area had had more rain that year (in 5 months) then they typically have in an entire year! Our guides said they had never seen it so green.
The original inhabitants were the aborigines who lived a nomadic life style in the MacDonnell Ranges for thousands of years. The aborigines did not keep a written record, but, instead had an oral tradition called the white people call "Dreamtime" or Tjukurpa (pronounced like "chook-orr-pa'), which explained the origin of the landscape and defined the laws they followed. The aboriginals do not think that this term should be used, as 'Dreaming' or 'Dreamtime' is imaginary or fleeting. This is their traditional law, guiding them still today, so, it is definately not flighting or imaginary to them. They prefer to use the work 'Pitjantjatjara' word 'Tjukurpa' or the Yankunytjatjara word 'Wapar' (pronounced like 'wop-arr'), which contains the deeper, more complex meaning then "Dreamtime'. So, even though it is commonly called "Dreamtime", I will refer to it correctly as 'Tjukuritja'. (that's going to be fun to type!)
Tjukurpa refers to the past, the present and the future at the same time. It refers to the time when ancestral beings crated the world as we know it. Tjukurpa also refers to Anangu religion, law, relationships and moral systems.
Tjukurpa is not written down but taught and memorised. This knowledge is carefully passed on to the young people. Some ares of Tjukurpa are only passed on to people who have inherited the right to that knowledge. So, we will only get to hear a small part of this, but, here it is...
The world was once a featureless place. None of the places we know existed until Anangu ancestors, in the form of people, plants and animals, travelled widely across the land. These beings were usually animals of huge size with human characteristics. In a process of living and travelling they formed te world as we know it today, creating trees, rocks, caves, boulders, cracks, waterholds. These features are the physical evidence that these stories really did take place, they are the Tjukuritja.
This land is still inhabited by the ancestors. Their jouneys and activites are recorded at sites linked by iwara (paths or tracks). Near Alice Springs, the store relates the journey of three procession caterpillers leaving behind long, rocky ridges.
Now that I have finally arrived in Alice Springs, it's time to go....shopping! Then, off to the casino! wooohooo!!!
Alice Springs has a big, outdoor, open mall area, where I planned to spend the afternoon, window shopping for Aboriginal art. After checking into my little room, I walked over to the outdoor mall. It was quite eerie. most of the shops were closed, which I found odd, being a tourist town, and it being Saturday afternoon and all. But, I guess being after 2 pm, it was time for a siesta. Or time for the party to begin. the area was pretty desolate accept for the Aboriginals, who seem like they had started the party hours ago. It's my understanding that the reason they come to town to drink is because they are not permitted to in their communities. It is common knowledge that drinking is a major problem for Aboriginals. Just as it is for Native Americans. And a good deal of the rest of us! I did not take any pictures of the people, out of respect for the people.
I did a bit of research on it (see http://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/health/aboriginal-alcohol-consumption.htm), and Traditionally Aboriginal people consumed weak alcohol made from various plants.
Their problems with alcohol began with the white invasion. Many Aboriginal labourers were paid in alcohol or tobacco (if their wages were not stolen). In the early 1800s a favourite spectator sport of white people in Sydney was to ply Aboriginal men with alcohol and encourage them to fight each other, often to the death.
Interestingly, Aboriginal people were initially denied alcohol consumption because it was feared that "natives were more adversely affected than others" when consuming alcohol. When, in fact, it was, in fact, white people who introduced Aboriginal people to alcohol.
Photo by Connor Carson.
In 1964 a majority of Legislative Council Committee members voted that, for the Northern Territory at that time, alcohol should also be made available to Aboriginal people. Now, at most of the Aboriginal communities, it is not permitted to consume alcohol.
The Alcohol Management Plans, introduced in 2002 (I know this took place in Queensland and around Darwin, but, not sure about Alice Springs), fuelled problems such as binge drinking and the setting up of drinking camps on the outskirts of communities outside the restricted zones. Where police were not present, sly-groggers carted their alcohol through the main streets for all to see. Others risked their lives when they tried to smuggle grog into their towns through crocodile-infested swamps.
Speaking of drinking, I went to the bottle shop to stock up on wine for the hiking adventure. I had to show my id, and unfortuantly, not because I look like I am 18. Really! They actually put your id through a scanner to check for it's validity! even if you look twice that age! Then, as the guy was ringing up my purchases, he asked me where I was going, and where I was planning on drinking these bottles of wine. At first, I thought he was just being friendly, and I started telling him about the big, planned adventure to Larapinta trail. Then, I realized, that no, he really did want to know where the wine was going to be drunk! and they took a record of it! On the way back to my little room, in broad daylight, I thought someone might come along and swipe my wine! Needless to say, I found out how fast I could walk while carrying a sack of wine.
I don't care who knows by Dougie Young - Aboriginal
They say it's a crime, drinking beer and wine
It's gonna lead a poor man astray.
When it comes to grog, I'm a fair dinkum hog
I guess I was born that way.
I'm gonna drink it and roam til the cows come home
If it gives my poor heart ease
I don't care who knows, I work for my dough
I'll spend it as I please.
I was cutting a rug; they threw me in the jug
And as the magistrate looked down
He said, Youngie Doug, you're a wine-loving mug,
You're a menace to this town.
I'm gonna put you away; in the cell you will stay
Until you learn more sense.
I broke down and cried. It was a doggone lie.
For I wasn't the same he said.
I spent a day in jail and they paid my bail.
And as they opened up the big iron door.
I shook my head as I sadly said.
I'll never get drunk no more.
I made a vow I'll give it up for now
And let the blood roll down my vein
Until a friend of mine, he had a flagon of wine
So we turned it on again.
People in town they just run us down
And gave us a big bad name
Say we drink and fight, but it's quite all right
Because the other is doing same
But after a while, they're gonna hang their heads
For we wasn't such a very bad guy
I'm feeling sad and I'm gonna be mad
If they hang around my grave and cry.
They say it a crime drinking beer and wine
It's gonna lead a poor man astray
When it come to grog, I'm a fair dinkum hog.
I guess I was born that way.
I'm gonna drink it and roam til the cows come home,
If it give my poor heart ease.
I don't care who knows, I work for my dough
I'll spend it how I please.
This song was written by Aboriginal man Dougie Young for the movie My Survival As An Aboriginal.
after my not so successful shopping expedition, (it's tough to shop when the stores are closed) and the bottle shop experience, I decided it was time to head to the casino. So, back to the little room for a shower and a change of close, and then down to wait for a cab that I had arranged for pickup.
after waiting, and waiting for said cab to arrive, a couple of blokes from the same motel confirmed that they to were going to the casino, for lack of anything better to do, and would share a ride with me.
After arriving at the casino, they went their way, and I went to the card table. Damn, no 3 Card poker, which is my favorite game, but, not to be swayed from gambling (it was my birthday, after all!) I settled for Black Jack. After awhile, I figured I better get something to eat before the beers went to my head, so, I ordered a sandwich and went out side to eat. On the way, this man comes up to me and says: "I know you!"
I looked at him. I am in Alice Springs. I don't know anyone from Alice Springs, nor do I know anyone visiting Alice Springs....Ah! the man from the airport! After the shattering disappointment of not having a greeter with a special sign with my name on it (see previous post), I had to wait for the 2nd shuttle bus to fill up with people. He spoke to me while we were waiting. Yes, I did "know him". Well, kind of. that is I spoke 2 sentences to him. Ok, maybe that doesn't count as knowing.
Anyway, he asks me "where are you staying?" As if I would tell him!
"Down the road." I responded vaguely.
"I am staying at the casino, why don't you stay with me?"
I just look at him. I don't even know this bloke's name! besides, I don't do one night stands, and I told him as much.
He says "Just look at this! Just look at this!" as he points to his chest.
"Yes, it is a nice chest. but....really, I don't know you."
and he shouts again "Just look at it!" "Just look at it!" as if he just couldn't understand why I wouldn't take him...right there, right then, on the poker table.
and then a vision comes to my mind.....as I try not to burst out laughing I reminisce about the following episode of Saturday night live...I could only find a partial clip....
Oh, and in case there was any doubt in any of your minds, I chose not to get a closer look "at it". :-)
I had no idea what to expect when arriving to Alice Springs. All I knew is that it was “Outback”. It was also a heaven for those who prefer a more “alternative lifestyle”, and that it was surrounded by sections of land that had been returned to the Aboriginal people. I also knew that it is a popular tourist destination, as it is the nearest city to Uluru.
Already excited about the holiday, and the whole mystery surrounding Alice Springs, my excitement was further heighted by the anticipated of expecting someone to be waiting at the baggage claim, holding a sign with MY name on it. Yes, my name. I was bursting with pride, how important I would feel! My pulse began to quicken as I neared the baggage claim area. My head swivelled from left to right, right to left, in search of the sign, the sign with my name on it. I even had plans to take the sigh home, frame it and put it on the wall in remembrance of such a monumentous occasion. But, No special sign. Ah, no need to worry yet. Perhaps they were waiting outside. I grabbed my suitcase and headed outside. Still no special sign. I asked the man at the tourist booth and he pointed to a shuttle bus. I then explained to him that there was suppose to be someone, holding a sign, a special sign with my name on it. He responded with “Oh, in that case, if you are waiting for someone with a special sign, with your name on it, then I suggest you sit down and wait. I am sure they will be along shortly.”
I sat down, my head still on a swivel. Even as more time passed, I refused to give up hope. The person with the sign would arrive, I was sure of it! I called the motel, and asked them if they knew where the man with the special sign was and she said that she would call them, find out and then call me back. As I anxiously awaited her call, I watched forlornly as the shuttle bus headed off to the city, leaving me behind. I kept staring at the phone, willing it to ring. After what seems to be an eternity, I called her back and she said “well, honey, I guess they aren’t coming”. Gee, thanks for letting me know. I could of got on the shuttle. Welcome to Alice Springs.
I stomped outside, the thrill of being important a fading dream. After waiting for another shuttle, which eventually showed up and eventually got filled up, I finally made it into Alice Springs…..
Alice Springs is the heart and the centre of the Australian Outback, both geographically and a metaphorically. It is also the closest city to all the Australian beaches! Even though this is said jokingly, as there aren’t any beaches there, it is actually true! Being the heart of the outback and the closes city to the Australian icon – Uluru, I was taken aback when I discovered how small the town is! I discovered this, as I got the grand tour of the town, because, as usual, I was the last one to be dropped off. After checking into my spartian, little hotel room, I headed out to do some shopping and site seeing…and experience Alice Springs!
During this trip, I also hoped to learn more about the Aboriginal people and I will be posted some information in the blog as I learn. Let’s start with a timeline: Timeline
120,000 B.C. Analysis of pollen and charcoal suggest that people were using fire to clear land in southern Australia as early as 120,000 years ago.
60,000 B.C. Archaeological evidence appears to indicate a Aboriginal made rock shelter.
45,000 B.C. The world's earliest dated rock engravings, or petroglyphs, found in Australia, date back to this age.
23,000 B.C. Aborigines were using ground-edge grooved axes.
1788 Captain Phillip raises the Union Jack at Sydney Cove. Estimates put the indigenous population at that time bewteen 300,000 and 750,000. Within weeks of the first colonists' arrival, a wave of European epidemic diseases such as chickenpox, smallpox, influenza and measles, spread through frontier Anoriginal communities, decimating the population.
1824 Lieutenant-Governor George Arthur offerd bounties for the capture of Aborigines - adults and children.
1828 The governor of Tasmania, Governor Arthur, declared martial law against the Aboriginal people. It was considered a declaration of war.
1837 The forced detention of Aboriginal women by white men was outlawed.
1870 All the fertile areas of Australia had been appropriated by the colonists. Indigenous communities were reduced to living either on the fringes of European communities or on lands considered unsuitable for settlement.
1876 TRUGANINI, the last surviving Tasmanian Aborigine, died.
1910 Government bodies and church groups work together to remove Aboriginal children from their homes, a practice which continues for almost 60 years. These children have become known as 'THE STOLEN GENERATION'.
1930 Estimates put the Aboriginal population as low as 50,000 to 90,000
1963 Indigenous Australians were given the right to vote in Commonwealth elections.
1967 Indigenous Australians are counted in the national Census for the first time.
1969 The practice of forcibly removing Aboriginal children from their families was finally officially halted.
1971 In a landmark case, Justice Blackburn ruled that Australia had been terra nullius before European settlement, and that no concept of Native title existed in Australian law. Although the Aboriginal plaintiffs lost that case, the effect was to bring public attention to the matter, which eventually led to the Aboriginal Land Rights Act.
1972 An Aboriginal 'Tent Embassy' was established on the steps of Parliament House in Canberra, in response to the sentiment among indigenous Australians that they were "strangers in their own country". A Tent Embassy still exists on the same site today.
1976 The Aboriginal Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act is passed by the Federal Parliament, providing recognition of Aboriginal land ownership to about 11,000 people
1992 The Australian High Court handed down its decision in the Mabo Case, declaring the previous legal concept of terra nullius to be invalid. Legislation was subsequently enacted and later amended to recognise Native Title claims over land in Australia.
1999 The Prime Minister released a public expression of regret for the ill-treatment of Aboriginies in the past, but stopped short of an 'apology', for fear that it could encourage claims for compensation.
2001 The Australian Bureau of Statistics estimated the total resident indigenous population to be 458,520 (2.4% of Australia's total). The life expectancy of an Indigenous Australian was 59.4 years for males and 64.8 years for females, approximately 17 years lower than the Australian average. Unemployment is almost three times higher among Aborigines (20.0% unemployment) than among non-Indigenous Australians (7.6%).
2003 Twenty percent of prisoners in Australian jails were Indigenous, although making up only 2.4% of the country's population.
Day 1: May 1st, my birthday - The Journey Begins!!
Off to a rip roaring start! I woke up at 4:30 am, too excited to go back to sleep, I got up to finish preparing for my big birthday adventure! I still had a great deal to do because, as usual, I was too damn tired to do anything the night before, after a long day of work, followed by late night shopping, made longer by a hang over from the previous night's celebration of successfully completing a major project at work.
Note: for those of you who are not Aussie's, "late night shopping" refers to the ONE night a week that a store will stay open past 5 or 6 pm. I kind you not. (grocery stores and bottle shops not included). In the city, "late night shopping" is Friday nights, in the suburbs, "late night shopping" is on Thursday nights. I can tell you, that took a bit of adjusting when I first moved here, so accustom I was to stopping off at Walmart after work or midnight runs to the corner drug store for an emergency roll of toilet paper.
Late night shopping prompted even more spending purchasing more "things"! How many "things" do I need? I thought I was freeing myself from "things"! (see "Runaway Knickers" for details). Yet, here I was accumulating more! Today's list grew as I was assisted by the friendly staff. A large duffel bag was my mission, which they did not have, but, they did have a special camping towel, that drys quickly, a sleeping bag liner, a book about the Laraptina hiking trail, shoe laces, and who knows what else filled my bag and got charged on my already bursting credit card.
Preparation included cramming the newly purchased duffel bag with wheels (acquired at yet another Outdoor Adventure store, along with many other asundry "things" that somehow seemed essential at the time), into the newly purchased suitcase, that I had to buy on my way back from the US, as the last one (purchased less than a year ago) was already falling apart at the seams. Literally. After cramming the duffel bag with wheels (if it has wheels, is it really a duffel bag?), which took up most of the space of the suitcase, I was able to somehow cram all my newly purchased stuff on top of it, and squeeze the lid down, sit on it, and somehow zipped it up. Why, you might ask, did I not just cram all my stuff into the duffel bag directly, and leave the suitcase at home? There is a valid reason, read on my readers...
As a taxi is obscenely expensive, but taking the train required transferring from one train to another, as we all know me, there is great potential for boarding the wrong train, or the first train arriving late, causing me to miss the send one and thereby miss the flight.
I came up with a brilliant plan. I would drive to the last stop on the line, park the car and take the train from there! Brilliant! I googled the station on the Internet to see if they had parking - 53 spots, on a Saturday, this should be enough. With my brilliant plan in place, I happily went about my last minute packing, showering and beautification process, which seems to take longer and longer each year.
After realizing that I could not pre-board online (for some reason, I never can with Quanta's), that, plus the fact that I haven't unpacked my printer yet, and even if I had, it's out of ink. The brilliant train idea was cutting it a bit close. Taxi - expensive, driving/parking at the airport, even more expensive. However, now that I am a country girl (of sorts) again, lord only knows what time the cab would show up, and with no luxury of extra time,the drive/park option won. Although never having driven to the airport from my new home, who knew how long it would take? I will have to keep my fingers and toes crossed that I don't get lost - since I am too cheap to purchase a GPS. Plus, I just can't stand having someone telling me what to do. "In 300 meters, turn right". What if I don't feel like turning right? TURN RIGHT - the voice gets louder as we approach the intersection. I SAID, TURN RIGHT, it screams as I cruise right pass (just to piss it off, ofcourse) . Then it yells: HAVING TO RE CALCULATE THE ROUTE because SOMEBODY didn't TURN RIGHT like THEY WERE SUPPOSE TO! and then it screams RECALCULATING ROUTE! RECALCULATING ROUTE! until you are about ready to recalculate it by throwing it out of the window and watching it smash to little bits on the ground. So, no GPS for me.of. Anyway, according to Mapquest, I still have plenty of time. That is, until I attempted to enter the freeway, only to discover that they had closed it for night/weekend road works. Yes, they just shut down the freeway and routed traffic elsewhere. I stare at the car clock in horror. Was there even a pray of me making my plane? I started reciting the alphabet in attempts to prevent myself from hyperventilating.
When reciting the alphabet and counting sheep failed to calm my quacking nerves, I decided to ponder deep, soul searching questions, such as: why do Australians call it "Road Works" and Americans call it "Road Work"? Why do they call it "computer codes" and we call it "computer code"? Why do they say "rocking up" and we say "showing up". Why do they say "shops" and we say "stores"? Why do they say "how are you going?" and we say "how are you doing"? I remember the first time someone asked me "how are you going", I told them that I was planning to walk! Why do they say "Set down area" and we say "drop off zone". Why, I ask?
After much gnashing of teeth and cursing like a sailor, I finally got to the long term parking and ran into the airport. Let me tell you, it is hard to run with a heavy knapsack on your back, lugging a big suitcase. Dripping with sweat, I finally arrived to the ticket counter, only to discover a very long line. Why does this feel reminiscent of the last airport experience?
Luckily, I was flying Quantas, who rewards you for rocking up at the last minute by letting you skip the long line and go directly to the front, just like the high class flyer, but without the club status (I still wonder what goes on in those places). I got my boarding pass and skipped all the way to the gate....
Tips to maintaining a healthy lift sty when living and working out of a suitcase
It is important to live a healthy lifestyle, even when travelling for business. I have written this short article to give you some suggestions on how to accomplish this.
Ah, an hour to kill at the airport. Might as well head to my favourite airport destination. Besides the “Everything for $10 store” and the “We Sell Our Stuff Cheap Because It’s, Well, Cheap” store, it, is, of course, the bar. Not important enough to belong to the high flying member’s special type bar, (what goes on in those places anyway?) I settle for any class of bar, the only qualifications require that it serves alcohol. My stomach is rumbling, my head aches, and I have had yet another delightful day with a client. I am in dire need of a cocktail. Preferably a very stiff cocktail.
Entering the first bar I see, I ask the wait staff if they are serving food. Because, as badly as I crave that very stiff drink, a very stiff drink on a very empty stomach is never a good combination, especially for me. It tends to lead to delirium, and, as I am already half way there, after working 12 hour days and two plane trips this past week, one from all the way around the world, eating is definitely a wise choice, along with the very strong cocktail.
The woman replies with a curt: “Yes”. As they do not serve Margaritas with a shot of top shelf (as this is not the high flying member’s special type bar), I decide to settle for a glass of wine. Not very creative, nor the stiff drink that I had envisioned, but, should do the trick.
As I attempt to place my meal order, the woman informed me that, at this late hour, the kitchen was only preparing fried food.
“Does that mean that there is no grilled fish on a bed of rice topped with wilted spinach?” I ask.
“No, only fried food”.
“No vegetarian pasta with lightly sautéed eggplant and squash?
“No, only fried food”.
“No three trio dips with pita bread?” I ask, desperation beginning to creep into my voice as my stomach continues to rumble and the couple of sips of wine increasing the delirium. I am sorely tempted to succumb to the temptation of delicious, decadent and extremely fatening treat, if it weren’t for this girth that has appeared around my middle, that has been expanding at an alarming rate.
“No! No grilled fish! No wilted spinach! No lightly sautéed vegetables, nor even any vegetables drowning in a rich cream sauce! No! No! No! Only deep fried food!”
She begans to chant: “Deep fried food, as in chips; chips with dips; deep fried chicken with chips; deep fried chicken with chips and deeps” she shouts as she punches her fist full of swizzle sticks in ‘the air. “Deep!” punch! “Fried!” punch! “Only!”
“What about the Chicken Caesar salad”. I timidly suggest.
‘“Deep! Fried! Only!”
“Chicken Caesar salad without the chicken?” I whisper.
“Oh bugger all!” she shouts, throws the fist full of swizzle sticks up in the air and stumps off to the kitchen, the swizzle sticks falling like rain to the floor behind her.
I anxiously wait until she returns a few minutes late and slaps my order number on the table.
I am about to creep off to the furthest corner so that I will not be in salad throwing distance from the kitchen when I hear a voice beside me ask:
“Are you stlll serving food?”
We both turn and yell “Fried food only!”.
“Fried food only? But, can’t I get the grilled fish on a bed of rice topped with wilted spinach?”
She, unlike me, doesn’t have a girth around her belly which has mysteriously been expanding at an exponential rate, and therefore could eat all the fried food she wishes. However, as I see the bartenders face turning an alarming shade of purple, I pull the young lady aside and quickly advise her that she can get the Chicken Caesar salad without the chicken.
She assesses the scowling, purple face and clenched fists, and wisely orders the Chicken Caesar Salad without the Chicken. We grab our drinks and our order numbers and scurry to the furthest table, ducking and weaving in case a barrage of swizzle sticks will follow.
As we sipped our wines, listen to our stomachs growl and waited for our Chicken Caesar Salads without the chicken, she told me that her little boy was with his daddy, who lives in Brisbane, and with whom she is still madly in love with. Eventually, our Chicken Caesar Salads arrive, surprisingly in tack on the plate, and, as we dig in, she told me of her Aboriginal heritage on her father’s side and her Ukrainian heritage on her mother’s side; the poverty; her dad succumbing to alcohol and dying at a very early age; and that she loved Obama. I told her that she looked a great deal like a younger version Obama’s lovely wife. She then told me that some had said the same about Condalisa Rice, but, I couldn’t see it.
We then discussed and decided that she should go into politics and fight for the rights of her people. Her being so lovely and well educated and all.
That decided, I suggested that, perhaps we should check the time to see if our flight was boarding yet. I, of course, do not own a watch. Watches, along with mobile phones, work badges and earrings seem to have a great aversion to me and are forever dropping off, going missing, disappearing without a trace, so, I have resolved myself to this fate, and have to continuously ask people for the time, or hazard a wild guess at what it might be.
“We still have plenty of time.” She assures me. “At least an hour.”
I shook my head. “No, we had an hour when we got here, which was…..about an hour ago! Oh sh*t!
We leapt up and she cried “Follow me to gate 56!”
As we raced through the tarmac, a nasally voice came over the loud speaker:
“If there is a Renee Palmer, a Renee Palmer, please come to your gate immediately, as your plane is waiting departure.”
“A Renee Palmer, a Renee Palmer, please make your way immediate to your gate, as your plane is waiting your departure”.
She ran like the wind, and soon, I was left trailing behind.
“Tell them to wait for me….wait for meeeee…..” I cried, as she disappeared from my view. Of course, this had nothing to do with the fact that she might be more fit than I, nor having this alarming girth, nor that she is about 20 years younger than me. No, I am quite sure that it is a result of me wearing these extremely fashionable, designer sandals that I picked up from TJ MAX for a song. And we all know that fashionable woman’s shoes cannot be comfortable nor practical. There is a law dictating this somewhere.
As I finally reach my destination, gate 56, panting, much to my dismay, there is no one there and the departure signs says Darwin. Ah, the mother lived in Darwin, she was going to visit the mother, not the ex-husband with whom she was still madly in love with and with whom her son was visiting.
As the loud speaker is announcing my name along with the fact that everyone else has boarded and that they are waiting for me, I occurred to me that I have never felt so wanted in my life. Everyone is waiting for me! Even people I have never met before! An entire plane is waiting for me! Of course, while making this proclamation, they can’t be bother to tell me what gate they are all so anxiously awaiting for me at, no, I have to rummage around my bottomless pit of a purse (Prada, New York knock off, purchased for $20 several years ago). No, they can’t tell us the gate, we have to dig around until we find our boarding pass and figure it out for ourselves. Don’t they understand the concept of purses?
My boss does. She knows that it takes 10 rings for me to rummage around and locate my mobile phone (if I haven’t misplaced it, that is). By the time I have located the phone, it will have gone to voice mail. She simply hangs up and redials, knowing that second time I will answer.
Ah ha! I have located the boarding pass! It’s gate 34, not 56! Wasn’t that the gate that was right next to the bar that was only serving fried food? As I raced to the other end of the airport my purse starting vibrating as my phone starts ringing. Dare I take the time to answer it? I am quite sure it is the people at the gate ringing to inform me that everyone has boarded and they are all eagerly awaiting my much anticipated arrival. However, they are not aware of the ten ring rule, so, I fear that by the time I rummage around for the phone, it will have stopped ringing and the plane will have departed.
As I race around the corner, as fast as one can race, with a blister that has formed on each of my big toes from the fashionable designer sandals purchased for a song, and lugging around the ever expanding girth that has appeared around my middle, I see the gate! “Wait” I yell! “I am here! I am Renee Palmer, the one you have all been waiting for! I am THE Renee Palmer!” My god, I have been waiting all my life to say that!
However, instead of the triumphant entry that I had always envisioned, everyone is glaring at me. The nerve! Do they not understand what I have just been through to get on this plane?
I squeeze into my seat and look straight ahead and I feel someone staring at me. I look to the man sitting in the seat next to me, and see him lift an eyebrow as he takes in the sweat pouring down my face. I glared at him and protested, “No, I am not going through the change. I am not having hot flashes. “ I sniffed and said “as a matter of fact, I am far too young for that. “, I say, remaining determinedly oblivious to the fact that I turn 45 in the next few weeks.
I explain the panting and the sweat pouring down my face with: “I am determined to live a healthy life style even if I do spend half of my life in an airport. Why I had a Chicken Caesar salad without the chicken for dinner and a glass of wine laden with all sort of antioxidants (or is it red wine that? I can never remember) and then I ran from one end of the airport to the other. So pardon me for just wanting to stay healthy”. I say to him, as I grab the inboard dining menu to select a desert.
To bring in the new year, we decided to watch the logger turtles come to shore to lay there eggs......But, first, time for a little celebration on a Blue Moon New Years! We went up to the lighthouse, and watched the Sun set as the full moon was rising....It was amazing! What a fantastic omen to start the New Year 2010!
Down to the beach to watch the huge logger turtles slowly making their journey from the sea to the beach.....
It was a long, arduous process for the turtles to climb up the beach.....Then, they would dig a deep hole to lay their eggs. It was amazing - sand flying everywhere....I did not take pictures, as it would of upset the turtles. We went down to look at their tracks the next day.
