AUSTRALIA TRIP TRAVEL JOURNAL - 1999

Part One: The Journey to Down-Under

Monday, May 17, 1999 - 12:10pm EST: TAMPA, FLORIDA

Well, I'm still in Tampa, but so far so good. I don't have the nagging feeling I forgot something. Not yet at any rate. Let's see - kittens fed, computer unplugged, VCR set up to record the season finales of Xena, Ally McBeal, Friends,Buffy andER. Nothing like having priorities!

The "Limo" turned out to be a van (which I knew, but it's deceptive on their part to call it "Airport Limos"). The other passengers and the Driver were very nice. There was an old Italian lady going to "Roma" to see her "Papa, who's-a 99 years old". She told us all that her Papa went to the doctor about his heart and the doctor wanted to put in a pacemaker. So Old Papa says (hands gesturing al Italia): "I live-a 99-a years withouta this pace-a-maker; I live-a 99-a years more withouta it still." I thought it might be disrespectful to laugh, but I grinned wildly as she went on and on about Papa and Roma. It was actually really interesting hearing so much about Italy. I’ve always wanted to go to Rome and Athens. Ah, well, maybe next trip – if I survive this one!

I am now eating a hot pretzel (lots of salt- yum!) and drinking orange juice, so I can take a Dramamine and Ibuprofen. That should do for now.

It’s my 31st birthday and I am in an airport preparing to embark upon my first overseas trip. I’m excited, scared and anxious. But I am very, very happy.

Monday, May 17, 1999 - 4:40pm CST: DALLAS, TEXAS

I hate Dallas-Fort Worth Airport. I just executed the Mad Airport Dash (known more commonly as "my plane just arrived at gate WHAT? And my connecting flight is WHERE?” Aka: The Ruth Kraemer Maneuver). My flight was delayed an hour due to thunderstorms in and around Dallas. We flew in circles over Austin, yet they threatened to land us in Houston (I didn't think they were near Dallas. Note: ask Nancy why the heck we would circle Austin and land in Houston when Dallas is the target area).

We finally landed in Dallas at 4:14 CST. Of course my flight to Los Angeles was scheduled to depart from here at 4:15 CST. Luckily (I think!), all the outgoing flights were grounded and my flight got bumped to 5:00. Before I found this all out, I did a panic run from Terminal C to one of those subway thingies that run around the airport and ran like a Tasmanian Devil from B16 where it drops us off to B2, where my next flight should be only isn't. It hasn't come in yet. So here I sit. I doubt it's going to leave at 5:00 and I keep looking at my watch as if that might make things go faster around here.

Everyone looks bored and annoyed and I am trying not to look the same way. I have been traveling for 6 hours (due to time changes - do the math.) and I have only reached Texas. The enormity of the length of this trip has just smacked me on the side of the head.

I am setting my watch to local time - whatever that may be. I think it is more important to know what time it is at my next destination because I have connecting flights. It's now about 3:00 PM in California, so I won't need to start panicking for about 5 more minutes about missing my flight in Los Angeles. CNN is showing Star Wars: The Phantom Menace previews, so I am not looking or listening. The other TV is showing a football game. I am assuming Dallas is winning, because there is a lot of cheering going on. But I could be wrong - that reaction could be for the new gadgets in "Star Wars". Not! This IS Texas - football hell.

The sky is black outside the window and the rain is pouring down. I was scheduled to have over four hours "down time" in Los Angeles, so a delay of an hour or so here won't cause too much alarm. I probably should get up now and walk a bit, but after that long run I just made my body is protesting vehemently. My legs are pulsing in an extremely accusatory manner. So here I sit.

Why do you suppose it is that everyone pushes and shoves to get on the plane just to sit there until everyone else is on board? I would rather just wait till the crowds get done and walk on leisurely.

The flight from Tampa to Dallas was turbulent, but I didn't get queasy, oddly enough. I should have puked up my pretzel by now. I took a non-drowsy Dramamine back in Florida and I'm not even sleepy. That feels odd. The drowsy-formula always makes me feel so fuzzyheaded. All of my flying memories involve me falling into a stupor before the flight attendants tell us what can and cannot be used as a flotation device (which is a joke - if we landed on water it would be like plunging through concrete). I would wake up for the food (mustn't miss the highlight of the flight), zone out again and awaken totally stoned at my final destination. I would even change planes somehow. Like a zombie on remote control. This is the first time I can remember being alert in an airport. Oh, I also tried applying pressure points during turbulence and my stomach never even fluttered. But believe me; it got bouncy up there!

Okay, Nancy, this is for you. The food they served us was a Turkey and Cheese Wrap (pretty good tasting, actually), plain chips and a chocolate chip cookie. As usual, I drank ginger ale. There is no point in recounting beverages any further, as I always drink ginger ale with no ice when I fly. Now it's sort of a tradition. Well, it is also possible I am wide-awake because they served plane fuel in lieu of coffee. I had coffee too. They are announcing something. Oh. The boarding ramp is closed so boarding is delayed (what we can't use the stairs?). And here I worried I missed my flight.

Rob Krajcek gave me a travel briefcase the other day. He was going to give it to Good Will. It's absolutely perfect! It can be carried like luggage or like a back pack (and I have it packed to the limit with an entire pharmacy, several books and magazines, tapes, tape deck, my tickets, money, passport, etc., so it's a bit heavy). My combined luggage (sans briefcase and purse) weighed in at a whopping 67 pounds combined. I had a 70-pound limit PER bag and I thought I had gone over. Note to myself - learn how to gestimate weights a little better in the future.

The woman beside me is wearing too much perfume. The cheap disgusting smelly kind. I think I smell like sweat from my mad-capped 500-meter dash. Sniff. Yup, that's me all right. But it's still better than that perfume. And I have deodorant in my bag-o-stuff (it's beginning to resemble Sparki's backpack in that everything but the kitchen sink is inside). Wonder if there's time to slip into the bathroom and hope a little dab will do me. I hate airport bathrooms, but they beat the facilities on the plane, which are just a step up from the privvies at Ren-Fest. The only fascinating thing about plane potties is that whooshing sound when it all gets sucked down (where? Into the sky? Into the fuel tank? Into the coffee maker?). And for a brief minute you wonder what would happen if it malfunctioned and sucked you in too…

The airport bathrooms always smell like disinfectant and baby diapers. And the sink counters are always wet. There is usually an annoyed looking cleaning lady with a mop and pail glaring at you. And I almost always drop my sweater arm into the toilet.

Time check. Oh no. Deep breaths, deep breaths….

I just looked up in time to see a huge FLASH of lightning streak across the sky. Maybe I should be glad to be on the ground. (Okay Pollyanna, get a grip). CNN is saying the storm will blow over soon enough. Some guy in a cowboy hat and muddy boots just said that Texas is in a Storm "Red Zone" and flights out of Dallas get delayed a lot.

Time for more pills. Do I have any Valium? Looks like we are actually boarding soon…

I still hate Dallas.

Monday, May 17, 1999 - 10:30pm PST - LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

Well, it looks like I am not going to Auckland this time around, as my itinerary states. We got delayed in Dallas for HOURS upon HOURS, until it was too late for my flight. We were all pretty cranky people hanging out in the airport by then, and most of us were itching to get going. Even so, we had to leave before the football game had ended and some people seemed genuinely torn between getting on the plane and watching the Cowboys stomp some poor team unfortunate enough to be from anywhere but Texas. Once we were settled and taxiing the runway, the flight attendant got on the announcer and told us that Dallas had won. There were cheers all over the plane.

It was an uneventful flight for having waited so long for it. But we arrived in Los Angeles at 9:35. My flight to New Zealand left at 9:30 on the nose (and it really did too, ironically enough. Not a moment's delay). While I was in the air, Qantas took care of getting me on another flight that is leaving momentarily. Only this flight is going to Sydney. It was either that or wait for 24 hour to go to Auckland. They arranged it very quickly and easily for me and all I had to do was exchange tickets and get on board another plane. I keep remembering Rain Man and I hope it's true that Qantas never crashes, because I will be in the air a hell of a long time.

I don’t have a window seat, so I'm currently trying hard not to freak. There is a nice woman at the window seat and the chair between us is empty, so we are both storing things in it like sweaters, and for now, the pillow and blankets.

I hope my luggage is on this flight.

We are moving away from the gate and it's shaking too much to write. More about Los Angeles when we get into the air.

10:45pm PST - Flying Over California

There is a screen - several actually - broadcasting important facts and figures and a map showing where we are and were we are going. Distance to go: 7,501 miles or 12,073 kilometers. We will get to Sydney sometime on Wednesday. I am not sure exactly when we will be losing Tuesday, but it's somewhere over the Pacific, which I still have not seen.

Although I have been flying since I was two and a half, I have never been on a plane this big. (According to my mother, on my very first flight, I talked the ears off a Sailor who was sitting near me. He cut up my meat and helped my mother, who was pregnant and traveling with two babies, Terri and me. My only memory of that trip is of the Sailor. I remember a tall, tall man in a white sailor suit picking me up as I struggled stubbornly to navigate the steps up to the plane without help. The steps were so big and I was so little. I have a vivid memory of the gigantic plane and the metal stairs being on wheels and that it was sunny and hot on the runway. This was in the summer of 1970 and it was my first time on a plane. I guess that's why I can recall it so well.) For some reason, in all my years of traveling, I have rarely traveled with anyone else. Terri and I flew to Virginia when we were about 12 and 14, but other than that, I have always flown alone. I suppose that's why it doesn't really bother me much. It’s the first thing people always ask: “you’re traveling ALONE?” They act like it’s a totally impossible concept. To some, I suppose it is.

Anyway, the plane has three rows of seats (two aisles) and stairs leading to the top section. The seats are bigger and more comfortable than others I have been in before, and there is more foot room. But we'll discuss comfort with my rear in about 5 hours…Like I said there is a large TV screen to my right and several small TV sets for people who can't see the screen. It's still broadcasting flight information, also giving present time, time at destination, temperatures, etc.

They have already given us orange juice, headphones and toiletry kits with socks, a comb, toothbrush and toothpaste, and an eye mask for sleeping. Depending on the movie they show, I will probably go to sleep. It's 1:45 am in Florida now.

Regarding Los Angeles: flying in was an incredible sight. I feel like such a neophyte traveler. Really, I am inexperienced, in spite of having gone up and down the East Coast so many times I've lost count. And then there was my trip to Oregon a few years ago. I thought 9 hours was a long trip! Anyway, I have never seen so many lights spread out like over Los Angeles. It reminded me of one of those Lite-Brite toys I played with as a child - all black with pinpoints of colored light shining through. And the smog hangs like a heavy theatre curtain over the atmosphere, looking like all it needs is for someone to drop a rope and it will come down on the city and shroud it in smoke. I had heard about the smog, of course, but I didn't realize how one could see it so plainly from the air.

Flying over Arizona, I saw stars. Brilliant stars and a crescent moon. It was so clear and bright, like I have never seem stars look before. In the cities and suburbs where I have lived all my life, stars are not so clear because all of the city lights dim them. I yearn to be somewhere desolate, lying on my back in the grass looking up at myriad constellations.

Due to the frigging delay in Dallas, I got to use my first in-flight phone to call the airline. I had a freak out session with Customer Service. I felt sort of important swiping my credit card in and dialing a number, but at the same time, I was shaky and scared about missing my connecting flight in California. Okay, so maybe that sounds stupid, but I am not at all world-weary yet. Once we deplaned in Los Angeles, I had to run like a fiend to the Tom Bradley Terminal (who the hell is Tom Bradley and why does he get a whole terminal?). For a brief moment, I thought, "I am running through the streets of LA in the middle of the night…this can't be good…" Visions of drive-by shootings danced in my head. The air was thick and heavy and hot. I struggled to breathe and run. I had twenty minutes to make the 10:30 flight to Sydney and I was damn well going to make it if it killed me. My briefcase weighs 900 tons. I just thought I'd share that bit of trivia.

Outside the airport terminal is a repeating message on a crackly loud speaker urging people not to give money to pan handlers or solicitors, as the airport does not sanction them. I expected to see Hari Krishnas and I was disappointed that there were only bums and buskers on the sidewalks.

The people at the Qantas Helpdesk were quick and responsive and they had me off and running again in no time flat, and with no additional cost for changing flights mid-stream. Afterall, it was hardly my fault there were tornadoes in Texas.

Word to the wise (or to any nut who feels it necessary to make a connecting flight in La-La Land): "just around the corner" or "right behind you" means at least a mile of frantic scurrying in LAX-speak.

Time to settle in with my headset and wait for dinner.

Wednesday, May 19, 1999 2:25am: SOMEWHERE NORTH OF FIJI (All times from now on will be Eastern Australia Time, whatever that's called!)

We have crossed the International Dateline, so it's Wednesday. If Tuesday ever happened, I was asleep, but if my understanding of the concept is correct, at a designated point we just crossed over into another day. So it never was May 18th for me. Happy Birthday anyway, Nancy!

After dinner (Pork Stir-fry, sourdough roll, salad, chocolate mousse coconut cake, and plenty of good, strong tea with real cream), they showed A Civil Action. Luckily, I had already seen it, because I was out cold before the credits finished rolling. They turned off all the cabin lights and I was completely zoned for a short while. When I awoke, it was all dark and quiet, but for a few snores. One of the Flight Attendants must have passed by with water, because I guess I took one. I must have; I woke up holding a half-full plastic cup.

It seemed like a very long night, but when I stumbled to the toilet and checked the time, only three hours had passed. I listened to music and slept for a few hours more, waking just in time for breakfast. I have lost track of what time it is in Florida, but I know it's Tuesday there somehow…ummmm…let's see it's 4:30 in the afternoon on Tuesday so I would still be at work. Wow.

Breakfast was good. They served us a frittata, which is like an egg custard, but tastes better than it sounds, and yogurt. More tea of course and those sourdough rolls that seem to go with everything. And a salad-looking thing that seemed out of place on a breakfast tray. The movie shown over breakfast was Blast From the Past, which I actually enjoyed, much to my surprise. They're showing Message in a Bottle now, which I guess I'll watch.

Part Two: Under the Southern Cross

Wednesday, May 19, 1999 - 8:05am - SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

I'm in Sydney trying desperately not to have a nervous breakdown. I'm supposed to be in Brisbane RIGHT NOW. Sarah is expecting to see me stroll through the doors at the International Gate at 8:05, but now I'm coming through Domestic at 11:30. ("There are no domestics here" - ring a bell Ruth?) In three and a half-hours, a lot can happen. I can get mugged by a drag queen on roller skates in the main terminal of the Sydney International Airport…I could fall asleep on the floor and miss my flight…I could break down and cry and be carried away to a loony bin. What worries me most is that Sarah will see that the flight I was supposed to be on is on time, but I won't be on it. They won't let me page the International Terminal in Brisbane and the only thing I left in Florida is Sarah's mobile phone number (DUH!). I tried calling her house. It was probably the look of sheer terror in my eyes that made the nice man at the Qantas desk give me a telephone and let me dial Sarah's home. Only it's too late now. By the time I got through customs and reported that Ruth's fugly orange brown suitcase got decimated in LA, Sarah had already left for the airport and no one was answering at her house.

I did give the Qantas Man permission to tell the people in Brisbane that if Sarah asks if I was on the flight they can tell her "no" and redirect her to where I'll be. Hopefully, she'll ask. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I'm exhausted. It's 6:10pm Tuesday in Florida, so I have been traveling for 31 hours (do the math!). This is really the first moment I have had to relax completely and chill out. It's just not possible to relax on board a plane. There is always that chance it might crash. It's best not to dwell on that concept of course, but I can never totally lean back and enjoy a flight. "Enjoy your flight" the Captain always says, like it's the perfectly natural thing to do. But it isn't. Humans are not supposed to fly.

Do we make the birds angry, do you suppose? I mean for millions of years, only birds and bugs flew and now people do as well. Come to think of it, lots of things fly now. Dogs and cats and anything that can be put in a carrier, labeled and thrown in the cargo hold. But somehow, it still seems wrong. ("That's wrong; that's just wrong" - Roy.)

So here I am in Sydney. The last place I should be. Okay, maybe not the last. Timbuktu would be worse. Or Newark. Or my sister's Sweet Sixteen party.

I'm babbling.

I am so very tired.

Everyone here is very nice and helpful. My luggage came in on the same flight as I did (but HOW is what I want to know…after so many changes). Going through customs was relatively painless (in spite of fears that something would be considered illegal. Something I didn't know I had…like one of Jadzia's king-sized hairballs hacked in a moment of clarity when she realized I was abandoning her and Lucy for so long). On the plane, they gave us a landing card and it asked if we had anything to declare. Then they showed us a little movie called "Declare it or Dump it". Australia is very particular about what can come into the country. I don't see as I blame them one bit. But anyway, I declared my prescriptions because Darvocet is a narcotic and all I had to do was give the bottle to the customs lady, who examined it and gave it back. She marked my little card and told me to go get my suitcases. There were dogs all around sniffing everything at about butt-level, which was amusing and disconcerting. A German Shepherd snorted at me and went on doing his job. I wanted to see someone get busted, but it didn't happen. I think it rarely happens because the customs people looked bored spitless.

I discovered the handle had been mangled off Ruth's fugly suitcase (sorry, Ruth, but it IS), so I went upstairs to report it. I was asked the value and when I said "About $4.95 at Goodwill", the woman gave me a funny look, like "why bother reporting this". Then I explained it was my cousin's suitcase and she bought it in Michigan to bring back some wedding dresses and she was intending to use it to transport musical instruments, but I begged her to loan it to me and then I went and destroyed it; but I supposed I could give her my pretty blue one, since the key matches both and I have no place to store it anyway.

She filled out a form and told me I could get decaf coffee downstairs in the Café or at Burger King. I was so zoned that the fact she mentioned a Burger King didn't hit until I saw it.
There is a new stamp in my passport now. I am very pleased with it and I keep looking at it. My first foreign country and I had to wait 30 years. Yikes - 31 years. I forgot I literally aged on this trip.

I found the café the Luggage Woman told me about and I had a crème tart with strawberries and kiwi on top and drank some Apple Juice. I didn't have to deal with the money - I just handed the guy a $10.00AU bill and let him give me change. I tried to take my tray and garbage up to throw them away, then I noticed a young guy cleaning off tables. Puzzled, I asked him where I put the tray and he took it from me saying, "Thanks then, I'll just take that." I looked at him for a moment before it dawned on me that the other people were just LEAVING their stuff for him to clean up. I felt myself blush and I said something or other, to which he just replied "no worries" and went back to wiping the table with a small white towel.

Needing something to do, I traded in $200.00 worth of traveler's checks for cash. But that only took a few minutes.

Looking around. It seems like any other airport, except here, people tend to herd left instead of right, like they would drive. When I worked at Disney they told us that in America, the right-side lines are always the longest because Americans herd right. I always take the left line at theme parks and generally find myself waiting on line with a lot of Brits and Aussies. And the lines are much shorter.

I just went to see if I could get an earlier flight when I noticed there are three flights leaving for Brisbane before my 9:30 flight. The same guy at the Qantas helpdesk who let me use the phone did his best, but couldn't retrieve my luggage to put it on another flight. With Qantas, whither thou goest, thy luggage must go too. Somewhere over the Pacific, a nice Flight Attendant told me that they have that rule so no one can plant a bomb in a piece of luggage and then get on another flight. If anyone plans to blow up a plane, they have to get blown up too. Makes sense. But if I wanted to blow up a plane, I would check the bomb in my suitcase and not get on the plane. A simple timer set to go when the plane is in mid-air would do the trick. But I was assured that Qantas rarely loses luggage and I kept all thoughts of terroristic activities to myself.

I should be bitching that this has been the trip from Hell, but in all actuality; it hasn't been. Except for the delay and being stuck in Sydney for three hours with nothing to do while Sarah gets all worried in Brisbane, I’ve been too distracted by new things to get very upset. When I first called about another flight (upon realizing I would not be boarding the plane to Auckland), I was told I had to wait 13 hours for the next flight. I said I didn't care where they sent me as long as I got to Brisbane, which is why they sent me here. And here I am. I am safe and sound in Australia, although I am alone and uncertain about how Sarah will react when I don't get off the flight from Auckland. If Sarah gives up, I can take a taxi to the hotel and figure it all out from there. But I know I am just going to burst into tears, because that's really what I want to do now.

I think I have slept a total of 6 hours since Monday, so I am going to try to get Sarah to agree to a nap when we get to the hotel, then go to bed at a normal time and get on local time as quickly as possible.

Everything feels a bit blurry, but that could be simple disorientation. The Flight Attendant who told me about the bombs also told me that such a long flight is the equivalent of being legally drunk on hard liquor. Maybe that's why my head is spinning.

Okay, here's a big difference I just noticed between US Airports and this one (other than overhead pages in Sydney accents): everyone seems so polite. I was trying to buy Turkish Delight and I didn't understand the money, so I had to keep looking at the coins and trying to figure out what I needed to give the poor cashier. I was getting upset and the guy behind me chuckled and said "Don't worry, love, we don't understand your money either!" Since I hadn't spoken and there is nothing about me that is blatantly American, he couldn't know what my money was, so he was just being kind to a scared foreigner. Either that or I am obviously American. Oh the horror of it all!

There is no gate number assigned to my flight yet, so I'm hanging out at Gate number five because five is a lucky number.

I'm sure I look as stunned as I feel. I am SUPPOSED to be in Brisbane now! I'm such an idiot to have left the mobile number (oh yeah, and the hotel number) at home.

I'm afraid that if I close my eyes I'll fall asleep, so I am going to go check out the gate number and buy some postcards to prove I was actually here.

9:45am - still in SYDNEY AIRPORT

Well, Gate 5 was close - my flight is out of Gate 6. I'm sitting by a window and it's a beautiful, sunny day in Sydney, Australia. Ohmigod I'm in Australia! I went to buy post cards and asked the cashiers to explain the money (once I had some change and didn't know what all the coins were). Let's see - it's pretty easy. There are no pennies. 5 cents pieces are coins smaller than 10 cents pieces. There are no quarters, but there are 20 cents pieces and 50 cents pieces. Dollars are not bills, they are coins, and there are also two-dollar coins. They call them dollars, like we do, not pounds, like their English cousins. One weird thing is that the $2.00 AU coins are smaller than the $1.00 AU coins, and both are smaller than the 50 cents and 20 cents pieces. I kid you not. There are no bills until you get to $5.00 AU, which are a different color from $10.00 AU and $20.00 AU. I have not seen a $50.00 AU bill. All bills have little plastic designs in them to help prevent counterfeiting. I think they're pretty and I love that they're different colors, so you know what you have in your hand without squinting at the numbers. $5.00 AU bills are a pretty pink and purple. It may take me some time to get the coins straight, but the bills are easy enough.

American pennies fascinated the cashiers, so I gave them some. They both said they were going to keep theirs for luck, and that they see a lot of Americans but no one ever offered them pennies before. One girl said she liked that I was not "over-powering" and "forceful" like most Americans, and she kept trying to get me to imitate her accent, but I couldn't do it. Her accent is different from Sarah's, which I am more used to hearing. But, the cashier was not much better with the New York accent when she tried it, so I felt vindicated. She laughed so hard when I was imitating New Yorkers and then Southern Belles. I can hear Australian, but my tongue won't make the sounds.

I think I need some MAJOR caffeine.

I can see the City off in the distance now that the last plane has pulled away. And it seems so weird to see cars on the highway driving on the left side of the road.

What seems wrong is the Burger King in the airport. How can there be a Burger King in Sydney? I thought they had more taste than that. The Aussies I mean, not the Burgers, which probably suck here too. The cashier at the little shop told me most Burger Kings are called “Hungry Jacks” in Australia, but they put the American name in the airport so that tourists would know where to eat. I guess that makes sense. God forbid anyone visiting should try Australian cuisine instead of something they can get on any street corner in America! I have no intentions of eating in an American fast food joint while I’m here. Just stating that for the record, in case there was ANY doubt.

Ick - perfect example of the Ugly American stage left. Loud, obnoxious woman with harsh mid-western accent yelling at a little boy. All the other children I have seen so far this morning have been well behaved and mannered. When their parents have spoken to them, in barely raised tones, they have stopped fidgeting or "whingeing" with just a word. The American boy is being yelled at for a good reason - he is running around in circles knocking into suitcases and laying sticky hands on chairs - but the way the mother is handling it makes me cringe. She sits over there on her ass yelling across the airport lobby as if she owns the place, never once deigning to put down her Vogue magazine to go get the child and make him behave. "What did I tell you?!" she screams. "You stop that this instant. Come here. Now. I mean it." She then reads again for a few minutes, as child takes not a hesitant breath before resuming his activities. Australian parents turn away in disgust. Australian children look puzzled. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU!!! STOP THAT NOW!!!" The scream echoes in the high-ceilinged room, the carpet barely dampening the horrible sound. Disgusted, I have decided to go sit in the Gate Area for number 5 again. I can still see number 6 from my perch on the floor leaning on chairs, using my carry-on bag for support.

There's a tiny sparrow on the floor in front of me. At least it looks like a sparrow. It still has baby fluff, and it's hopping around eating crumbs from the floor. It must have flown in here. The woman behind the desk at the Gate looks mildly amused and no one is trying to chase it away. It eats with the perfect contentment of a creature that has never known fear.

Thursday, May 20, 1999 - 8:01am - LOGAN CITY, QUEENSLAND

Well, I'm here at last. I have actually been here for awhile, but Sarah and I have just decided to cash it in and stay up all day, since we haven't slept all night. We have decided it's best to wear ourselves out completely, then go to bed. We have not stopped talking much since I got here, but even the silences are okay.

Okay, time to describe the last leg of the journey.

I got to Brisbane and landed in the Domestic Airport because of flying in from Sydney (in Country) rather than Auckland (out of the country). Since Sarah was not there to meet the plane, I assumed no one told her about the change (which I later learned was a correct assumption), but I tried to have her paged anyway. No luck.

By this time I was so weary I had no clear thoughts in my head, but I went on to baggage claim. One suitcase appeared, but not the other. Panic! I watched the carousel turn and turn, and come back empty. That was when I considered having a complete and total nervous breakdown right there in Domestic Baggage Claim #2. It was going to be an absolute meltdown if I did - there would only be a puddle on the floor, gooey and messy.

"Well, we lost another American," someone would say, with just the right amount of sympathy.

"Fair dinks," his co-worker would reply, "it happens sometimes."

But I pulled myself together and knocked on the back door where it said "employees only". After a moment, I was informed that the RUSH sticker was still on my suitcase from when it had been sent through LAX like a bat out of hell, and it had been moved to an expedition area for sorting. I just had to sign a paper saying that there was no need to rush it back to LAX any time soon and that there were no bombs in it.

The woman in charge told me I could take a bus to the International Terminal and she gave me a free bus ticket. Turns out the International Terminal is 2K from the Domestic Terminal. I thought it might be best to go where I was expected in the first place (albeit hours ago), but I left a message for Sarah in Baggage Claim just in case.

Feeling a little disoriented; I was still fascinated by the cars driving on the left side of the street. So, I'm easily amused! We had to drive about twenty minutes, so I was able to look around a lot and take deep breaths to calm myself. Hyperventilating in a foreign country is no way to impress the natives. Inside the International Terminal were a few people and some school children in blue uniforms taking a tour. I didn't spot Sarah, so I tried her home number and there was still no answer. Then, I looked through the phone book for the Logan Motor Inn and called them.

I could have cried when I asked for Sarah and the woman asked, "Is this Leisa? Sarah wanted me to give you numbers to reach her cell phone." At last! But of course, I had no more change for the phone booth and I had to go find some at a car rental booth.

Immediately, I called Sarah's mobile number and she answered promptly. I described where I was - at phone booths looking at a large mural over glass doors. The mural was brightly painted and showed all the animals of that region of Queensland.

Just like something out of a sit-com, Sarah said: "hang on - I'm in the same place!"

Of course, I looked around puzzled and, still speaking frantically into the phone, asked "where?"

"Here" she said, approaching me.

I have never been more thrilled to see anyone in my life. We hugged hello and I just stood there, fighting the tears of exhaustion and stress. I'm sure I babbled incoherently and I was shaking like a leaf. She told me how upset she'd been when I never got off the plane and how she had thought I went off with a group of Americans when she heard some talking. (I later heard that Ruth told her the last thing I would do would be go off with some Americans!) She asked at the desk and no one would tell her anything because she didn't phrase the question right. If she had specifically asked for me by name, there was a message for her, but she instead asked if she could find out if a passenger was on the plane, to which they of course refused her.

So when I seemed to be missing, she went home and got on line searching for my friends. Given the hour there, it was late evening on Tuesday in Florida and she found Ruth on ICQ. Ruth told her I am the most capable person she knows (thanks Ruth!) and to just get back to the airport and wait.

The hotel is nice. It’s a good size and it has a small balcony and skylight. There is a large freestanding oak wardrobe for clothing (I already checked and Narnia is not in it) and two nightstands for more stuff. Across from the sleeping area are a sofa and a table with chairs, then a small kitchen area with a refrigerator, toaster and plug-in teapot.

A note about electrical outlets: you have to turn them on. You plug something in, then flip a switch on the outlet and THEN turn on the appliance. I learned this when the tea water was cold after an hour. Also, so far, all the toilets I have seen flush by pushing a button on top. And guess what? The water does go down the drain in the opposite direction. I flushed the toilet about ten times before it ceased to amuse me and before Sarah got annoyed.

After we threw the suitcases down and I took a shower, I had a very quick, totally exhausted nap. Then we went to the Hyperdome, which is like a mall, where we asked when Never Been Kissed would open (I saw it last week and loved it) and were informed not until July. "Phantom Menace" will not open until early June, although people started seeing it yesterday back in America. I have to wait until I get home to see it. Timing is everything and I don’t have it!

We went to a place called Sizzlers, which is supposed to be authentic Australian food and turned out to be just like the Ponderosa in Saint Pete! Everything tastes different, but it’s all good. Sarah had prawn (large shrimp) and I had the salad bar. The bread is the best (spoken like a true carbohydrates addict)! It's almost sweet and it's chewy outside and soft and warm inside. I tried Fanta Creaming Soda, which turned out to be pink cream soda. For dessert I had jelly (Jell-O) with a white chocolate frog on it. Per Sarah, it is best to eat the frog and leave the jelly behind, so I did, though I did sample the very sweet jelly and concluded that she was right. I also tried some ice cream - just plain vanilla, but it was fantastic.

Everything dairy here tastes so much better than at home. They use real cream and whole milk. I think we Americans have been using low-fat milk for so long we have forgotten how good the real stuff tastes. Here you can buy EXTRA creamy milk, but one is hard-pressed to find skim anything. Yet, Australians are not obese like Americans. They must be doing something right.

We came back to the hotel and stayed up all night talking about the differences in various cultures and societies.

Saturday, May 22, 1999 - 8:46pm - LOGAN CITY, QUEENSLAND

I didn't have time to write last night because we got in fairly late and then stayed up later talking. You know me once talking starts…

Yesterday, we spent the day in the City of Brisbane, which is the Capital of Queensland, the State I am visiting. Australia has seven states and they are huge when compared with American states. Queensland is on the East Coast along the Pacific and encompasses an area that would roughly be as far West as Indiana, as far North as Maine and as far south as North Carolina when superimposed on a map of America. The most famous landmark in Queensland is the < a href="http://www.ozramp.net.au/~senani/barrier.htm">Great Barrier Reef along the northern edge of the State and WAY too far to drive to from here. In Australia, most of the population lives along the coastal areas, with smaller towns in the Bush, heading towards the Outback. The population is so small compared with the landmass, that driving only an hour outside of Brisbane, which is the third largest city in Australia, finds you in empty farm country.

Brisbane is a city that seems remarkably like Manhattan, except for some glaring differences: cars drive on the left (well duh), it's very clean, and people are polite. When I say it's like Manhattan, I mean in appearance. There are high-rises, gray sidewalks and neon signs advertising everything from beer to boomerangs.

We parked in an underground garage (the car got scraped, but we are not dwelling on that) and walked up a ramp, then took a lift (elevator) to the surface. Across the street from the garage was Memorial Park - filled with statues honoring soldiers fallen in all the Wars Australians have fought in (including Vietnam - I guess I never realized that as our allies, they were sucked into that exercise in futility as well). Sarah showed me a bridge her father had helped design (his job being "to make sure things stay up" - he's an Engineer). We ran around the park taking photos of the statue and of a baobob tree - like in Le Petit Prince - I thought they were made up! We also ran up a flight of steps to the Eternal Flame, which is housed in a structure that looks like marble and is pillared. The flame honors soldiers killed in war and it never burns out.

We did a little shopping so I could bring home souvenirs for friends and family. I found pins shaped like Australia and like kangaroos that had opals in them. Opals are abundant here and not very expensive at all. I bought quite a few to bring home as presents, finding two nice pieces to thank Jamie and Emilee for watching Lucy and Jadzia. We also went to a comics shop and I was appalled at the markup on American imports. Things I usually buy for $1.50 were 10 times that amount here. I was searching for the Season Three Xena cards (which aren’t out in America yet) and they actually had them, but the prices were outrageous even with the conversion rates.

Sarah wantedX-Men comics and spent a long time browsing the stacks while I looked at some of the action figures that are unavailable in the US and debated buying some. The Xena dolls are packaged differently for one thing and if I had money to invest, I would have purchased a few just to sell on E-Bay in America.

I found out Xena is a HUGE hit here, but Buffy the Vampire Slayer is still so relatively new here that it’s not popular yet. The show is so American that Aussies have trouble getting the jokes and they think it’s stupid because the humor is so subtle. The people who “get it” love it. I am still surprised by the fact that about 75% of Australian TV is imported from America. They watch our shows, listen to our music and see our movies, then complain that America is enveloping Australia.

We went to eat at a Japanese restaurant that was extremely unique. In the center of the restaurant is a train that goes round and round and there is sushi on the plates (prepared by people standing in the middle of the train tracks - I mean in the center of the circle made by the tracks not with the trains coming at them head on!) The plates are many different colors and the color of the plate determines how much the food costs, starting at $2.00. Sarah had prawn (her favorite!) and I had some egg sushi. Both of us had green tea and green tea ice cream. The most fun was watching the train go round and round, and seeing the different foods. Of course we had to pick out the grossest looking thing on the train and take a photo of it!!!

After eating, we walked over to the Regent Movie Theatre to see if there was anything worth watching. The theatre architecture is amazing. It's a lot like Tampa Theatre, the way it's so ornate, carved and painted. In the lobby is a giant staircase leading to the screens on the second floor and it looks like the opening act from "Phantom of the Opera": `Masquerade, paper faces on parade…' I was impressed by the sculptures and by the paintings. There is one that seems Medieval – a Bishop reading something as a young knight (or maybe Joan of Arc!) bows before him, perhaps for a blessing. We decided not to see a movie after all (nothing good playing and 4 out of 5 movies were American films that have already come and gone back home), so we went to the Mall instead.

The Mall is several stories high and the very top floor is just an amusement park of sorts; complete with a Ferris Wheel (it goes down to the other levels and is pretty high) and a roller coaster that snakes its way around the entire top level. We paid for unlimited passes ($5.00 each) and then rode the roller coaster about twelve times in a row, changing seats each time. It wasn't a scary roller coaster, unless you looked down and saw all the people shopping far below. No matter how you look at it, mall customers are a scary lot. We stopped riding the coaster when I realized I was going to puke if we had one more go.

The Ferris wheel offered a nice view of Brisbane all lit up. I pressed my nose against the glass and watched how the city glowed and glittered in the night. Surprisingly, I didn't get sick on the Ferris wheel. Sarah then went on the bumper cars, but I chose not to because I didn't want to risk hurting my neck so far from my doctors. I suppose it's good that I am finally recognizing my limitations as far as this stupid neck injury goes.

On the walk back to the car, we were both highly amused at seeing a sign that said "Condom Kingdom", and we decided we HAD to have a look. Of course, the shop was filled with sexual paraphernalia, including bondage kits, condoms of every size (and flavor!) and edible oils. The guy running the shop was such a stereotypical Australian (right down to the yokel accent) that we dubbed him `Bruce' after the Monty Python skits. Bruce told us we HAD to go to the Reptile Farm and Croc Park - the one run by the Crocodile Hunter, the guy on TV in America - and I readily agreed (except for the part about "Australia's largest and most poisonous snakes"). Sarah had never heard of the Crocodile Hunter, but Bruce said he was crazy. He also told us a lot about Queensland Zoo, which is where Steve Irwin works. I was confused as to whether or not the Park and the Zoo are the same place. Bruce didn’t make a lot of sense and his accent was very strong. Even Sarah had trouble following him. When we left, it was raining lightly.

Sunday, May 23, 1999 - 8:45am - LOGAN CITY, QUEENSLAND

Sarah is sleeping, but my fuzzy brain thinks it's Saturday afternoon, so I'm awake. It's still pretty early here. I am praying with every bone in my body that neither of us gets sick from yesterday's excursion. Sarah is in the most danger because she's so thin and she only wore a light jacket.

Yesterday, we drove to Mount O'Reillys - a long, windy drive up the side of a high mountain. It was drizzling when we left, but since we were going to a rainforest, it seemed pointless to care about a little rain. It is late autumn here, but the climate is similar to North Florida or Georgia and it is not very cold at all. On the drive there, we saw a vast, expansive rainbow spanning the entire valley in front of the mountain range. It was so dark and clear that the colors made my head spin. I have never seen such a vivid rainbow, where each color was bold and bright. We could see both the beginning and end of it, but alas, no pot o' gold. We went off on a weird tangent about leprechauns hitchhiking to Australia on prison barges in the 1800s and then decided that the jackalopes would have eaten them. Therefore, Australian rainbows have no pots of gold under them. Don't worry, it made no sense at the time either. I did get photos and just have to pray they came out. I'm sure Kodak can't do the Creator justice though. The scenery in general was breathtaking and I'm sure I held mine several times. Only a few kilometers outside of the city, it's all countryside. The dirt is red and the landscape is dotted with gum trees of various shapes and sizes, standing like sentinels on the earth. The countryside is very different looking from what little I have seen of the USA. The sky really seems big here, as if it could swallow the world whole in one gulp. Even the cows are different colors and the grass a contrasted texture and shade of green.

The trip up the mountain was long, and the roads were extremely narrow. At certain points, the road was so narrow only one car could pass. There seemed to be some tacit agreement as to who would go first, and no one tried to speed up or force themselves around the other cars. It was all exceedingly polite and civilized. I suppose it must be; one wrong move and you would find yourself reenacting the end of Thelma and Louise. When we got up really high, our ears popped and the air seemed thinner. When we parked the car, it was drizzling again, so we went inside to have some food (chips and a Chicken Mornay meat pie that was to die for). Sarah had an iced chocolate and it tasted like a mixture of a milk shake and chocolate soda, but not exactly like an egg cream. I had scalding hot latte. My tongue is still numb.

The dining area was partially inside and partially out. Outside, the tables were set up on a balcony overlooking a valley. While we were eating, a yellow and black bird, called a HoneyEater, jumped onto the table beside us and began siphoning the brown, crystallized sugar from the bowl placed on the table. It made me look twice at the sugar I had just added to my latte!

I was thirsty from drinking coffee and found a water cooler and glasses for people to take. That's when I learned that it is a law in Queensland (maybe all of Australia) that restaurants/cafes/food stands, etc. MUST provide free water. They may charge you 10 cents for a cup, but most don’t, and if you have your own cup, you can go from place to place and legally they have to give you cold, fresh and drinkable water (very unlike the gross stuff that comes out of most water fountains). Most Australians carry around a little water cup, according to Sarah. That would save me a fortune in Florida - I am constantly buying water!

We bought some birdseed at the General Store at the foot of the rainforest and went outside. Because of the rain, there were very few birds in the feeding area, but there were tons of wild scrub turkeys eating the scraps on the ground (apparently they will and do eat anything). Sarah and I put birdseed in our palms and birds called Crimson Rosellas flew onto our arms and hands and shoulders to eat the seed. They are such beautiful birds, a bright red I have never seen before, and it was kind of a buzzy thrill to have a wild bird eat from my hand. We even spotted a King Parrot - red, green and bright orange - atop a tree.

After feeding the birds, we went on the TreeTop walk into the rain forest. It was so dark, damp and primal feeling in the woods - like something out of a fairy tale or Xena. We spotted some Wallabies, which are like a cross between a bunny and a kangaroo (I kid you not) and are about the size of a raccoon, but thinner. The Wallabies were just hanging out in the bush ignoring us. At several points in our walk, I needed to stop and just soak up the feeling of being in a rainforest in Australia. During those stops, I saw a lot of animals. No snakes so far.

There are three layers to the rainforest and little sunlight peeks through the dense foliage on the lower levels, so it seemed very dark. The ground was soft and muddy from the rain, so I searched the underbrush for a walking stick and found one that was perfect. It saved me from slipping onto my butt in the mud many times! That would have been quite embarrassing to one's dignity. No good spraining a dignity on vacation, as there is no linament for that, as Mrs. Whatsit said in A Wrinkle In Time.

We followed the path to the wooden Expansion Bridge that went high above the lower trees into the canopy of the rainforest. The wooden slats were evenly spaced but the openings were fairly far apart - a shoe caught in the opening would stay there until yanked out - and it was no place for anything less than comfortable shoes. It arched up high into the trees and was lined with ropes and fence to grab on the sharp inclines. Not long ago, I would have been terrified to walk on a bridge like that - one that shook when we walked and had gaps big enough to peek through and see how high up we were. It was very possible to slip and fall and get badly hurt on that bridge.

At the top was a huge tree, with a ladder to climb to the top. I've never seen such a large tree! I tried, but it was so wet and slippery, and the ground loomed so far away, that I had to wuss out. But brave Sarah climbed all the way to the top! I think she would so almost anything. I felt like a gutless wonder, but she didn't tease me or anything. She thought I was brave to try at least. When Sarah climbed back down, she was soaked pretty thoroughly, and it was getting darker and darker, but we decided to go on the Botanical Walk anyway, to see all the flora planted there from native lands and foreign countries. As we navigated the slippery walkway, we examined the trees and bushes and flowers. We even saw one from Florida! There was a tiny baby wallaby and I took a photo that I don't think will come out. It's so strange to see wallabies when I am used to seeing rabbits and squirrels. They look like tiny kangaroos and hop the same way. They also have pouches to carry their young.

(From pamphlet entitled “Wildlife Information: Kangaroos”: Wallabies and kangaroos are the most common and most abundant macropods. Anatomically, kangaroos and wallabies are the same; the distinction is simply that wallabies are smaller. Queensland has five wallaby species (agile, blackstriped, whiptail, swamp and rednecked) that occur mainly in forested areas along the coast.)

It was growing darker and wetter, so we headed back. The path was muddy and slippery as we made our way through the trails and we were thoroughly soaked when we got to the main area of the park. We tooled around the gift shop a bit, unaware that they were actually closing, as no signs were posted and the clerk said nothing about it. She even took the time to show us a brochure detailing all the birds in the area. In America, she would have been looking at her watch impatiently and turning off the lights to make us go faster! Instead, she encouraged us to take our time browsing. She didn’t seem to mind that we were leisurely perusing everything there.

Most of the stuff for sale was typical tourist junk, but as in most stores I have seen so far, that seems to be mixed with nice souvenirs. I bought a small pin for my collection (metal with a tiny rubber back), as well as a few little gifts for various people. I should perhaps start spending money on myself eventually.

The drive back to the hotel was a bit scary, as it was down a mountain at night. The woman in the gift shop had cautioned us to “go gently” and watch for kangaroos and owls in the road. As we drove, we saw eyes caught by the headlights, staring at us from the dense growth. Kangaroos most likely, but still slightly disconcerting. There was a prevailing feeling of being watched and examined. Like being placed in a petri dish and slipped under a microscope, we were being processed and considered by the indigenous species. I wonder how the Aborigines felt alone out here with nothing but wildlife to embrace them. It was in the dark, in the middle of nowhere that this country felt most alien and I was overwhelmed with a sense of being on the other side of the planet from where I live. That’s an awe-inspiring sensation. I don’t know how to explain it except to say that I really LOVED it. I know that sounds bizarre, but it’s true. I am too familiar with my home “turf” to the point of taking it for granted, the way Sarah doesn’t even notice wallabies or koalas here. It makes me wonder how Florida looks to a foreigner’s eyes. Are tourists as impressed by lizards, gators, herons and palm trees as I am by the flora and fauna of Queensland? I think this experience of being in another country for the first time in my life will enable me to look at my surroundings with more discerning and appreciative eyes.

How is it that I feel so comfortable and at home in so distant a place?

We were only an hour away outside of Brisbane and there was nothing there. So close to a City and it was like being in the middle of nowhere. Worse than that, we were in the middle of the middle of nowhere. The gum trees standing sentinel in the fields seemed to be guarding a world teeming with secret life. Each tree seemed to have its own spirit and life. There is so much LIFE here, where the USA seems dead most of the time. It may sound peculiar, but I feel like everything has a life force that hums and buzzes, and the stronger it is, the more tonal the pitch, almost to the point where a strong life force glows to me. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I can FEEL the life around me under most circumstances. In Pinellas County, there is so much concrete and metal that the sound and light get muffled and don’t resonate clearly. Here, out in the wild away from the city, there is so much land that few humans have ever touched, and there are vast amounts of empty fields with only trees and snakes and goannas for company. Without buildings and cement to bury them, they seem to sing with reality. But at the same time, it’s so isolated here. Even Sarah was feeling how lonely the Aboriginal people must have been with so much wild and unexplored land.

(From the Lonely Planet Guide to Queensland: It is believed that the ancestors of the Aborigines journeyed from South-East Asia to the Australian Mainland at least 40,000 years ago, possibly much earlier. During the last Ice Age, land bridges connected Malaysia to Indonesia, and Australia to New Guinea, but watercraft still would have been needed to reach Australia.

Although much of Australia is today arid, the first migrants found a much wetter continent, with large forests and many inland lakes teeming with fish. The fauna included giant marsupials such at the 3m-tall kangaroos, giant koalas and wombats, and huge flightless birds. The environment was relatively non-threatening – only a few carnivorous predators existed. As the last Ice Age ended around 15,000 to 10,000 years ago, sea levels rose and the Aborigines were isolated on the continent. Many of the inland lakes dried up and vast deserts formed, and the majority of the inhabitants lived in coastal areas. By the time the Europeans arrived, it’s estimated that there were at least 300,000 Aborigines living in Australia and around 250 different languages spoken, many of them mutually unintelligible. Early European settlers considered the Aborigines to be a backward race. This assumption was based on the definition of civilization being the progression from a hunter-gatherer society to an agricultural one. Failure to cultivate plants and crops and domesticate animals was seen as a failure to progress, but these theories have since been dismissed on the basis that the Aboriginal people had no need for agriculture. The land they lived on supplied them in abundance, and their survival and prosperity were a result of their deep understanding of a rich environment…The average Aborigine, as far as food, health, warmth and shelter are concerned, probably enjoyed as good a standard of living as the average European in 1800.

Because of the fragmented nature of Aboriginal society, which was based on family groups with an egalitarian political structure, a coordinated response to the European settlers was not possible. Despite the presence of the Aborigines, the newly arrived Europeans considered the new continent to be terra nullius – a land belonging to no one. Conveniently, they saw no recognizable system of government, no commerce or permanent settlements and no evidence of land ownership. Thus when (they) raised the Union Jack at Sydney Cove in 1788, the laws of England became the laws governing all Aborigines on the Australian continent. All land in Australia was from that moment the property of the British Crown…

Without any legal right to the lands they once lived on, some Aborigines were driven from their lands by force, and some succumbed to exotic diseases. Other Aborigines voluntarily left their land to travel to the fringes of settled areas to obtain new commodities such as steel and cloth, and experienced hitherto unknown (substances) such as tea, tobacco, alcohol and narcotics. By the early 1900s legislation designed to segregate and “protect” Aboriginal people was passed in all states. The legislation imposed restrictions on the Aborigines’ right to own property and seek employment, and the Aboriginals’ Ordinance of 1918 even allowed the state to remove children from Aboriginal mothers if it was suspected the father was non-Aboriginal. In these cases the parents were considered to have no rights over the children, who were placed in foster homes or childcare institutions. Often referred to as the “Stolen Generation”, many are still understandably bitter about being separated from their families and made to grow up apart from their people.

(Note: we did the same thing to Native Americans – why is that the so-called civilized governments feel they have a right to do what they please with someone else’s children? What fills lawmakers with such righteous indignation it allows them to pass judgement on others and decide that their way is better? I cannot understand the arrogance of such behavior. What gives anyone the right to declare moral or ethical superiority over other races?)

In the 1960s the assimilation policy came under a great deal of scrutiny, and white Australians became increasingly aware of the inequality of their treatment of Aborigines. In 1967 non-Aboriginal Australians voted to give Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders the status of citizen, and gave the federal government power to legislate for them in all states. The states had to provide them with the same services that were available to other citizens and the federal government set up the Department of Aboriginal Affairs to identify the special needs of Aborigines and legislate for them.)

When the clouds cleared, I saw stars. (We were lost and I said brightly, “Oh, I can find home if I can see the North Star…damn…” Sudden realization…) The constellations are vastly different and totally unfamiliar. I can look up at any sky in America and point out Orion’s Belt or the Big Dipper or Sirius. Here, I could see the moon – the same moon we all see everywhere on Earth (there is some comfort in that) and I recognized the Evening Star (Venus), but nothing else was familiar. There are fewer stars in the sky here, but they are clearer and seem closer (less pollution to hide them). I still haven’t seen the Southern Cross, but it was cloudy and overcast. I won’t leave here without seeing it. I don’t want to leave here at all as it is! Looking for an excuse to stay. Can’t I just hide in the Outback and live off of spiders and snakes?

TO BE CONTINUED INPART TWO

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