Dear All,

A long week of absolute silence. Not that I have gone lost in the wilds of Australia, far from it: I have thoroughly enjoyed several long walks along the lovely beach at Dee Why. Mid-winter but this Belgian lady can go hiking in her lightest summer dress. In the afternoon, the temperatures easily reach 20 °C. The only drawback to the climate here is, once the sun disappears behind the horizon (which is always the case by 6 o’clock), the heat seems to be absorbed by a large air-conditioning system, switched on to blow very strong cold air. The difference between day and night can easily exceed 20°C, and that is something I struggle to get used to.

Last week had a very bizarre start. Having dealt with many e-mails, I just wanted to reward myself with an enjoyable walk. Because it is in my nature to link the pleasant (having a chat) to the useful (stretching the legs), I am always on the lookout for a collocutor. Walking along the beach, I spotted 2 men talking to each other, while one of them picked something up from the beach and that was more than sufficient to arouse my curiosity. So, I decided to walk up to them in order to find out what proved to be so interesting. Just as I was about to reach them, one of the 2 was shooting away, as if he had been stung by a scorpion. The remaining man, realising that no escape was possible, not knowing what to say, showed me the piece of rock, which he held in his hand, asking “Do you recognize this shape?”. I could not resist to laugh, as that piece of rock looked like a stone penis. Smiling I replied: “ Well, this certainly counts as an opening sentence!”. The ice was immediately broken, eventually we ended up walking the beach together. He told me that his friend had disappeared at the speed of lightning since he did not know what to say. I still chuckle when thinking of the one that stayed behind, trying to talk himself out of it… One of the many chance encounters on my trek. One, that has proved to be very interesting since he was a mining engineer, who had worked in the mining industry. During our walk I was given a respectable geology lesson on the rocks of Long Reef. It does not always have to be history…

The week was pretty quiet until Thursday afternoon, when I was being collected to go to Ashfield, where I was to lecture that evening. The local RSL club was chartered by the Historical Motor Vehicles Association. Sometimes, I wonder whether people are worried about my waistline as I am always being offered food. The restaurant of this club ticks all the boxes though. It very rarely happens that I fill my plate twice!  This is also something typical Australian: people go to a club instead of a café. Each club requires an annual membership fee (which varies from 3 to 10 dollars) which entitles you to discount for each meal, you take there. So one can easily recover the dues that way since meals are really cheap. For 17 dollar, you can eat as much as you like, with appetizer and dessert included. The disadvantage is that you must be a member, or a guest invited by a member ( which is the case for me every time). I need to register again and again. Another huge difference with Belgium is that clubs all have countless poker machines. It is the generous income from these “one armed bandits “(as we refer to these machines in Belgium), which allows the meals to be offered at a more than reasonable price. It is nothing new to me that Australia has a problem with ambling addicts, which in many cases appear to be middle-aged women.

My mother often told me that I was born talking since I rattled endlessly. Sure enough, I am beginning to believe it too. When the chairman told me that there was no time limit, I knew straight away that it would be a pleasant chat. And this is what it proved to be: a reading of 2.15 hours with a break of 15 minutes can count. It still gives me a kick to capture an audience and hearing afterwards that this was the best lecture they had heard for long, made it so much more rewarding.

After that lecture, I was going to stay in Castle Hill, another suburb of Sydney. Having thrown a quick look at the map (against better judgement) I had estimated my destination to be some 15 minutes away. Since I had informed my new hosts that I was most likely going to be arriving by 10.30 pm, I began to worry when noticing that it was 10.20 pm, by the time everything was cleaned up. When mentioning to Ray, who was kind enough to drop me off at my new residence, that we were going to be a bit late, he calmly replied that it would take some 50 minutes to cover the distance. Oops… so far for my timing! At that stage, I realise that I am going to be arriving awfully late…When I finally show up at 11.30 pm, I find Phil and Carol waiting for me. But the evening is not to come to an end as yet since we retrieve memories till late into the night. What a wonderful experience it is to sense the feeling of “coming home” when arriving with such friendly people.

Friday is listed as a true Australian day and that means: nothing must be done, everything can be done…My host family has invited some friends, who clearly have been bitten by the WW I bug, so they would love to hear my talk. So I am to set off for a private show for a captive audience of 4 people. A different experience which is only interrupted to lack of time.

After that, I get to know their daughter, bringing her 4 children and the dog for a weekend at grandpa and grandma’s place. On the spot, the house changes into a hive in which Ewan, Emma, Hayley, Jordan and Russell, a oversized lively dog, are playing the main parts.  Later that evening a lava lamp doesn’t survive the cheerful lot and … stains the newly revamped carpet. Whilst grandma starts googling for a solution to remove the coloured oil, grandpa starts the cleaning. I am being assigned as a babysitter, a role which I thoroughly enjoy. Frankly, I was surprised that I managed to captivate them because that experience lays many years behind me now… It is late in the evening, when finally everyone get into her of his bed and the rest returns in this crowded house.

On Saturday, I am on the go for another Australian tour: from Castle Hill to Bathurst over the Blue Mountains. A trip of 4 hours, would you believe! No matter how many months I have been in Oz so far, I still struggle to understand that people are willing to drive 4 hours in order to attend a lecture. Our first stop is the RSL to check out on the room and the equipment, in order to check in to our hotel half an hour later. It appears to be a Best Western hotel  on the outskirts of Bathurst, a city with some 37000 inhabitants. Nothing new, when saying that standards in Australia differ from the European ones. However, I am pleasantly surprised to end up in a room with a very good working heating system. Although the size of the room proves to be rather small, that can not be said of the bathroom which is really spacious. A more than friendly hotel manager completes the picture.

It was reported to me that we were going to have dinner at a Thai restaurant with a group of 13 people. Fearing that spicy food was going to come my way, I have to admit that I looked forward with very little enthusiasm. However, I soon realised that there was no reason to worry, since the restaurant had an Aussie menu just as well. The chops I was presented, tasted like more… they were more than delicious. Only problem is: if I keep on eating at this pace, I will soon need to upgrade my wardrobe with one size! Only one negative comment to be mentioned: it is really cold in the restaurant. When one of our group asks for the heating to be switched on, no action is being undertaken. The same old story throughout the world: there are still people who do not understand that it is important to listen to your customers. It soon becomes apparent that one of the board members must have missed a career as a comedian: we are set for a long evening of laughing…and another laugh!

I has been a long time since I slept in a hotel room… I do miss the family atmosphere but since it is only for the one night, it doesn’t present that much of a problem. At 10 am the entire group leaves for the RSL club where I get an interview with a journalist from the local newspaper. Meanwhile, the room fills in with 60 people, who give me an extended thanks after a 2 hours lecture which came over them as a waterfall. One lady appears to be of French origin and would like to communicate with me in her native tongue. She doesn’t seem to grasp that I don’t feel comfortable to express myself in Molière’s language, not to mention that it is not very tactful to converse in a language, which the rest of the group doesn’t understand. On the other hand, I have to admit that a bit of French exercise surely doesn’t harm me…

And then it is time to hit the road to Sydney again: having left Bathurst at 3.15 pm, we arrive in Dee Why by 8.30 pm… On the return trip, the driver decided to take a different road in order to show me some more of the Blue Mountains. Until then I had wondered why the mountains had been given that name but then it became so obvious: there is a blue haze, caused by the oil of the gum trees, which  hangs just above the top of the trees. It changes the whole atmosphere into a fairly tale. It is simply impossible to describe this colour. Depending on the incidence of the sunlight, it varies from light blue to a very brittle intense shade of blue. This image burns itself into my brain… where ever I might end up on this planet, this is a picture I shall never forget.

Meanwhile I am back in my “permanent” home in Dee Why. I have a few days to pack my bright red suitcase for the umpteenth time, in order to drag it on it’s way to a new adventure. Brisbane , here I come!

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

One frustration I have to deal with: no internet connection. After 4 days without a proper connection, I am on the edge of being desperate. It frustrates me that there are people, waiting impatiently for a answer that doesn’t come, not being aware of the fact that the reason for that is to be blamed on the lack of internet connection.

Wednesday: and that means, work to be done since I have a lecture in a local high school. I can only say that Belgian teachers would find it very hard to adapt in order to survive in this system. Youngsters are going in all directions, not taking notice of what happening around them. What a shock it would mean to them to fit in the Belgian system!

Eventually the teacher guides me to the classroom, where the students walk in, some of them well over time. I end up lecturing to a group of 10 youngsters, one more interested than the other. It turns out to be a very relaxing talk as with such a small group it feels like an informal chat. Once again one hour proves to be so very short but all in all, I know that some information is going to stay with them. At the end, a tall young boy, who in the near future will surely make some teenager hearts beat faster, steps forward to offer me a box of Swiss chocolates. Thanks! We will enjoy these for sure!

My days here are really filled in, in a professional way: immediately after the lecture, we get to the centre where I end up in the car of acquaintances. It gives me an opportunity to make new friends. The chairman of the local RSL branch is acting as a guide for me and does that in a very conscientious way: during the drive of about one hour, he gives me so much information on the region. The idea was to take me to the coast, which proves to be very different from the Belgian one: the coastline is indented: one bay follows another with here and there, an almost hidden idyllic lagoon to be spotted. After some sightseeing, it is time for a meal in a local restaurant. Though it is many years ago, since I worked as a waitress, I still can not stop myself from looking at a restaurant through “professional “ glasses: cleanliness, friendliness, atmosphere, service, food quality (though I am not an expert on that last level!), fact is that I still tend to judge it all. I come to conclude that most restaurants seem to miss out on the atmosphere, though I must add that for some of them there is still some work to be done on the timing: 15 minutes difference between the first and the last dish to be served to the group?  Am I right in stating that European customers are more demanding than their antipodes?

My lecture to the local RSL club is scheduled on Thursday. First stop is to the local newspaper: not that many Belgians (their loss!) are visiting Wingham, so an article is going to be published on my visit. In all honesty, journalists don’t stop to impress me with the speed they can take down information. Although this is a young girl, she comes across as very professional. From there we are heading to the venue where the lecture is organised.  We start off with a lovely lunch: another type of fish (of which I have lost the name) but it proves to be delicious. A pleasant meal in exciting company, what else can one wish for?  Full of food and energy, I start my talk, knowing that it would turn out to become a very pleasant afternoon: no time pressure and an interested audience stand guarantee for that.

After a restless night, it is back to art of filling a suitcase again: an art which, after 4 months of travelling, I master really well. Nevertheless it does become a more tricky job as my journey goes on, since here too, I am being given local area information as a present. I will have loads of reading to do, once I decide to settle!

Before dropping me off a the railway station, my hosts have to attend a meeting of the local board of tourism, so I find myself attending that too. I can only say that I am grateful for this unexpected opportunity: during the meeting, I enjoy watching the interaction in this group. The way people communicate reveals so much about a society… I would almost describe it as a free lesson in psychology.

Because my heart is in the matter too, I have to bite my tongue a couple of times. Eventually I ask permission to give my opinion as an independent outsider. And then it becomes clear that someone, who is not closely involved, sometimes sees the way to a compromise in a better way. The goodbye turns out to be a very warm one. Somehow, I leave with the feeling that the people I have met here are about to play a role in my future life as well.

“Australian trains”, that could be the title of a Broadway comedy. On first glance, I was sure that this train had to be a new one. However, after a few hours, I was left with the impression that no second gear had been built in. We chug out of Taree’s railway station on a trot for a 5 hour drive to the South. I swear by high and low, that same journey in Europe would prove to be at least one hour shorter. In the open landscape, it feels as if the driver is keen to assure that everyone can take as many pictures as they like, even giving time to zoom in! After a couple of hours, all of a sudden, in the middle of nowhere, the whole machine comes to a halt. The intercom system announces that we “just”  (here we go again!) have to wait for a train from the other direction, before we can proceed. I praise myself lucky that I have Bryce Courtenay’s book “The power of one” in my handbag: the fascinating story of Peekay, an African boy with no future…

Upon arrival in Sydney, I catch the train to Circular Quay to get the ferry across to Manly. What a shame that darkness falls so quickly here: the pictures I got from the Opera House prove to be waste of time.. Tim, my host in Dee Why, is ever so kind to come and collect me. Arriving at his place almost feels like “coming home”. The evening turns out to be a very relaxing one, watching a costume drama on television. For the next 2 weeks, I can just root here, before leaving for Brisbane. But not before I have finished a number of lectures in this metropolis though…

Greetings

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

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Dear All,

Flemish translation would be: more than wet! During the last few months more than one cliché image of Australia has been smashed to pieces. The last one has just been thrown overboard: drought in Australia? I surely find it hard to believe after the deluge of the past 2 days! Rains of this magnitude would flood half of West Flanders, that is what I am convinced off right now!

On Saturday evening, we went shopping, after which Tim took me to North Head. This spot offers a beautiful view over the rather limited access to the port of Sydney. During World War II, 3 Japanese mini submarines tried to penetrate the port in order to torpedo allied ships. Only one of them partly accomplished his mission, torpedoing the Australian HMAS Kuttabul. Two of the 3 submarines blew themselves up before being captured by the enemy. For many years it remained a mystery what had happened to the 3^rd one until, in 2006, the remains of the missing submarine, were discovered just out of the coast, North of Sydney… Fact is that the view, I enjoy, reveals nothing of this tragedy…

Tim very kindly offered to take a picture of me, with Sydney in the background. With his unmistakable, dry British humour, he makes a few comments which only results that I get the giggles: 6 photos later, there is still none which is susceptible for publication. Having said that, it feels great to be able to laugh again. After 2 years of distress, I had almost forgotten what it means to relax and enjoy the beauty of life.

Monday, 11.40 am: I am sitting on the bus to Taree, which is nothing less than a miracle.  Having stayed for almost 2 months, my rhythm has adjusted to this society and I have learned that everything must be taken with a certain degree of flexibility. Whilst the website had made clear in no uncertain terms, that all places on the train were sold out, it really wanted to say that, due to track works, there were no trains at all!  Instead busses were going to cover the distance. Still, it feels as if this is a state secret as it is only after several phone calls, that this information is being released.

The ride to Taree proves to be a long journey of 6 hours. Other than the few stops to drop people off, it feels like an endless drive. The landscape is mainly dominated by hills and forests (every now and then, I consider that this resembles the Black Forest in Germany, if it weren’t for the fact that the trees are gum trees instead of pines). Well over time, we finally arrive in Taree, where the situation is to be described as “organised chaos”. I had to get off the train in Wingham but since the bus follows a different route , the bus misses this stop and heads straight for Taree. Those who had to get to Taree, are to be taken there by taxi. And this is the start of a comedy… “Oh, you need to get to Wingham? Please be patient for a little while as a 5^th passenger has to join in but he is on the next bus from Sydney.”. “Just a minute” has a very different meaning in Oz: basically, it describes any given period of time! I had already discovered that on my way to Adelaide, when the conveyor belt in Sydney, broke down. A friendly voice had then announced that it would take “just a minute “ to fix it. I remember only too well, that one hour later, I was getting very anxious whether my suitcase was going to appear at all that day!

A good 15 minutes later, the last passenger finally arrives, and then the clerk comes to the conclusion that we don’t all fit in the taxi! “Just a minute, we will make a phone call for the maxitaxi”. I still suspect that the driver must have been on vacation in the Bahamas, as our patience is really being put to the test. Finally, with lots of delay, I make it to Wingham, where my hosts had been waiting for over an hour by then. I must give credit to the Aussies: no complains in no way over the lost time!

I end up, staying in a house “in the middle of nowhere”; one of the most beautiful places I have stayed in so far. And being woken up by the sound of a Kookaburra  made the experience complete! What a remarkable sound this bird produces!

My hosts have arranged an exploration of the area for me today: a beautiful part of Australia, it proves to be, offering nature at it’s very best. In my feel,  this is a hidden gem, never would I have expected to see such a varied landscape, such beautiful coasts, such untouched nature. With the sun high up in the sky, this day will be listed as a perfect day in my memory!

Meanwhile, the day has come to an end… one which was full of variety. In other words, a day I fully enjoyed. This morning, I was taken to the local museum in Wingham, which I visited under the guidance of 2 guides. Not to be missed, that is the best way I can refer to this museum. It proved to be a fascinating walk though the history of this settlement. Soon enough do I realise that on more than one aspect of Australian history, I was hitting the ball wrong. This morning has  offered me an enriching lesson. One learns while travelling? No doubt about that!

In the afternoon, I was taken to Foster, a coastal town, to the North. No idyllic beaches here; wild pounding waves on the many rock formations instead… and, although hard to understand, a number of surfers, challenging nature!  Lunch is being offered by family of Eric and Mave, with whom I stay. What a small world it appears to be: this man has worked for many years with a Belgian from Antwerp…

We then head inland, as Eric and Mave, want to show me the best the area has to offer. Having been to so many places over the last couple of months, I reckon I have seen all this country has to offer. However, I can not deny that the views, I have from high on the hill, surpasses everything. It is view over rolling landscapes, which I can only describe as typical Australian. Every grade of green is to be seen, mysterious mist hanging over the hills, filters the light in such a way, that the whole atmosphere is very special. Mission accomplished…I am overwhelmed!

We enjoy a relaxed evening: reading Bryce Courtenay’s “The Power of One”, with easy listening music on the background and a glass of New Zealand’s Sauvignon Blanc at my fingertips, it is increasingly clear to me that the path, that lies before me, will be of very different nature than the one I have travelled on for 32 years.

Best wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

This will be a mini update as for the last few days, I simply have not been up to much. After my farewell to Bob and Gwyn, I arrived at my next stop: an apartment on the coast in a small suburb of Sydney, called Dee Why. Yesterday an inscription in the pavement, made clear where the origin of this name is to be found. At some stage geese flew over here in a formation that looked like a D and Y… and that was it! I’ve said several times that Australian schools do stimulate creative thinking. Should I list the name Dee Why as a result of the education???

I am currently staying in an apartment, within 5 minutes walk from the coast. Seeing this coast, I am more than willing to forget about the North Sea beaches in Belgium: this wide sandy beach with very fine sand, could be a picture in a holiday magazine. It invites to go walking, absorbing the beauty of nature. The ocean stretches to the horizon with water, which is bluer than any photoshop program would ever dare to use. Not only the clarity and the colour of the water are very different to what I am used to: the waves are certainly too! Although there is barely perceptible wind, the waves raise fairly high up, before throwing themselves on the beach in a seething mass of foam. Really a surfer’s paradise: the water is teeming with black dots, between all the forces of nature. For a split second I believed I was looking at sharks, till one of them got on his surfboard in order to perform a very nice balancing act.

While my host was at work yesterday, I went out to explore: it turned out to be a relaxing walk in the sand: the sun in my face, my skin being chilled by a soft breeze. The countless coffee bars and restaurants are being frequented by hundreds of people, mothers with children are walking on the dike… Where has the hectic life, that I’ve had, gone to?

One can not change one’s personality: I still very strongly feel the need to talk to people. After my walk: I take a seat next to a lonely man, peering at the rolling waves. He appears to be an Italian (makes me wonder where all the real Aussies are, as everyone I spoke to seems to be a first generation immigrant). Some 5 years ago, he left Italy to explore the world and to find out what that big outside world had to offer.  On his trip around the world, he did fall in love with Oz.. on top of that, he found the love of his life here too. A very romantic story of which I am sure, there must be hundreds more.

On to the supermarket then, as I still love my diet of bread, bananas and yoghurt. To my big surprise the tills were not manned: it is a matter of DIY! Not all that obvious for a tourist, for whom this is a first introduction to such a system. A little peek, left and right, gives me the confidence to give it a go. Modern society this is: even the cashiers end up being replaced by a machine. It is with a wry sense that I leave this place. Will there come a day when people no longer speak to each other at all???

On returning to my residence, I passed by a school. My motto being “Nothing to lose, everything to gain”, makes me walk in. I want to inform this school that I have something to offer. Clearly enough, the friendly clerk was not expecting anything of the kind and seems to be a bit lost for words. She notes down my name and phone number with the firm promise to contact me in the next week. In a happy mood, I continue my walk back “home”

My host is a born and bred Brit, who came as an adventurous young men to Oz, some 10 years ago. Having a law degree, he ended up in a very different industry since he has build up a career as a sales manager. I don’t have the slightest doubt that he is good at what he does. Fact is that some things are the same throughout the world: one only gets forward in life if one is willing to commit for a 100 %.  Tim surely sticks to that rule: on a his free Saturday, he sits for hours at his desk, preparing for the next week.

The plan is to explore Sydney during the coming days. For the time being , this city is still the big unknown to me, as other that the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, I have no idea what this metropolis has to offer. Having a private guide, I feel confident that I will get filled in, before departing for Brisbane.

As a bouncer, I have one remark to daily life: it seems that Aussies don’t bother to much to wash the windows. To my surprise, windows don’t open in such a way that they allow you the wash them on the outside. Staying in an apartment on the third floor means that you really need long ladder to give them a clean on the outside! And where I would never describe Aussies as vain, I have noticed that a lot of attention is being paid to ironing clothes. I guess this is something to classify under the heading “cultural differences”?

Best wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

On this occasion, the title surely doesn’t refer to the weather, as that is everything but enjoyable. As a true Belgian, who has so very often yammered of the rain, I do experience this as a lesson to stop for once and for all, the lament on what the weather gods are offering us. I am learning to look at the beauty around me, and then the lesser parts of life pale very quickly.

My new home has proved to offer me a very warm nest… referring to human warmth. I keep on struggling with the cold temperatures in which people live here. Only now, does it become clear to me that we used to heat our house far too much: you won’t find rooms with 21°C here, a modest 18°C seems to be much more realistic. Gradually, my body is becoming used to this: since a few days I walk around with a sweater less, although my toes are still protesting. Could this be the result of the fact that, for years, I have been walking on heated floors?

Glynn and Bob are very active seniors: still very dedicated working with the local scouts organisation. I reckon they have become the grandparents of many of these children. When looking at their house, I recognise a Flemish characteristic in such a way that they have extended their house several times over the years. Without a shatter of a doubt : their hall is the longest I have ever seen in a house! When their parents came to live with them, this was solved in the “Australian” way : just knock down the rear wall and build an extension. Why am I left with the impression that problems in this country are being dealt with more common sense that in our over-materialized world?

Yesterday, I had a lecture to the local RSL (Returned Service League) in the centre of Sydney. A beautiful building but of a very different nature than what I had seen in Canada. Here, everything is modern, sleek and minimalist: somehow, it lacks the charm of an old building, where the walls exude history, but nevertheless: it feels very inviting. When addressing to a group of former soldiers (as the majority of my audience proved to be) you can bet on it, that someone in the group, will have knowledge on ammunition. Right so… as an artillery officer asked me a number of questions to test how far my knowledge stretched. I am pleased to say, I passed the test as David later told me that he was quite impressed with what I had to tell on the subject.  Only one caveat that day: my remote control for my power point (which I had tested just before my presentation) went on strike and refused all service. Back to basics then: hitting the spacebar is the way to work around this problem.

Whilst the temperatures are dropping in the length of my travel, the culinary experience is going up the other way. After the presentation, a lunch was being offered in the same club: a lunch I will remember for a long time and not only because of the breathtaking view on Sydney’s Opera House. The open plan kitchen allowed us to watch how the kitchen staff was working themselves into sweat … and fire! Till today, I am convinced that the cook, of Asian origin, must have had a previous career as a fire breather. Watching flames going up more than one meter high, my inner alarm went off.. Where is the emergency exit here??? I can only hope that the fire prevention of this club was up to date as, in Belgian eyes, this was direct attempt to set the place on fire! That aside, the veal, which was served was of the finest quality I have ever tasted. A lovely closure to a wonderful day…

Dee, Bob’s daughter-in-law, acting as chauffeur today, decided to take me to the best viewing point of the city. Even having no basis of comparison, I will readily admit that it will be difficult to find something better. A place on the waterfront, with a view of the Harbour Bridge (the 2^nd largest suspension bridge in the world) and the famous Opera House. For a moment, I wonder whether there would be anyone on this planet, that would not recognise this building on a picture? Just as beautiful, although less known are the old dockyard buildings, which have been converted in exclusive apartments. If you want to become Nicole Kidman’s neighbour, you have to be assured of a fairly good bank balance though…

Up to Roseville then (the suburb where I am staying) to enjoy a relaxed evening followed by an equally relaxed night. And wonder, oh wonder, the sun is shining today! Leaves me with the question : for how long???

Later today, I will be on the move again: from Roseville to Dee Why (so strange place names are no longer an European privilege), where I will be staying the next 4 days, before moving up North to Taree. I already know that this trip will not be obvious as, believe it or not: when I tried to book my train ticket yesterday, I got a message that all trains were fully booked. How on earth  am I going to cover the distance (5 hours by train) is a bit of a miracle to me. Fact is that  I have 2 lectures in Taree… the challenge is now: how to get there??

To be continued…

Greetings

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

Rain and wind in Flanders, that is what I pick up over here. Not to worry, people: it is currently no better down under. It seems as if everything in Melbourne wanted to wave me out in the Belgian way: all hands on deck (for the rain gods !) was the motto.

But let me step back in time. After my lecture on Sunday afternoon, a passionate young major of the reserve army approached me with the question, whether I had been to the “Shrine of Remembrance”. On replying, that I intended to do so the following day, he immediately invited me to a private guided tour, which I have accepted with pleasure.

Monday morning progressed in an unexpected way as I was presented a private concert by my hosts. Janet, who has gone through conservatory many years ago, proves to be a gifted singer. Her husband Jim, whose strong accent keeps on stressing his Scottish roots, has a warm, deep voice, which perfectly blends in with the flawless vocals of Janet. In less than no time I was immersed in Celtic sounds: melancholic, lyrical, exciting… I ended up in a different world!

After a light lunch it was time to make a move to the centre. Jim had told me that Melbourne in the most spread out city down under and who am I  to contradict him? At least, the city keeps up the reputation for excellent public transport : tram 67 appeared right on time. The stop where I stepped onto the tram was number 62 . To get to the memorial, I had to get off at stop 19. In other words, between both stops, I had more than sufficient time to read the newspaper from back to front and… from front to back! An good hour later, I got of the tram, still being on the same side of the city as where I am staying. At that stage the opposite side of Melbourne is more than an hour away. OK, the tram may not exactly match up with a high speed train, but even then…

The impressive memorial of Melbourne is of a different nature than the War Memorial in Canberra. Only temporarily exhibitions can be organised here, there is no permanent display of artefacts other than 2 authentic VC crosses and a lot of colours of several regiments. Having said that, I learn that there are big plans to expand this building. It seems that the centennial fever is striking here too.

In case I would describe the way into town as a test for my nerves, the way out proved to be a test in the square! The wind tears unusually hard on my umbrella, which barely succeeds to keep all the downpour away from me. It seems like yesterday, that I was wondering why Australia doesn’t have any windmills. On a night like this, it soon becomes clear that wind turbines would soon prove to be a profitable investment!

Tram after tram arrives, with exception of tram nr 67… would that one have decided to call it a day before retiring into the depot? As I am about the reach the level of desperation and under cooling,  the missing tram appears. Did anyone whistle “attack”? I am firmly convinced that there must have been some secret signal, for the whole crowd pushes forward, in an almost desperate attempt to find shelter for the rain in an overcrowded wagon, ready for the long drive to home and hearth. I always tend to look for a positive note though. In this case it proved to be the opportunity for a chat with a young woman cramped in, just next to me. With an accent that was a dead give away, that she was from Eastern Europe. She told me she left Macedonia some 5 years ago, as even with an accountant degree, she couldn’t get a job. On my question “why Melbourne”, she replied that she had family here, which proved to be a big help to make the immigration process a lot easier.

More than a hour later, I was only too pleased to be in the warm living room of my host family. Dinner was served very quickly, a matter of warming up life and limb… Dinner proved to be some kind of soup, rather tick, with bread and 3 different kinds of bread spread. Soup and bread: you are on a winner with me there.

In the meantime the wind had built up even more, which would make it hard to get some sleep. In the distance a door was hitting the wall with predictable regularity, preventing me from sinking away into a deep sleep. All I can say is that I wasn’t pleased when the alarm clock woke me up, the hands of the clock pointing at 4 am. We needed 45 minutes on the highway to get to Melbourne airport. One keeps on being reminded constantly: the size of Oz is hard to grasp for a Belgian…

After a pleasant flight of about one hour, the Boeing 757 hit the tarmac of Sydney’s airport with a barely perceptible touch. Bob, my new host, who organised tomorrows lecture, was patiently waiting for me. A good fortune that he had forwarded me a very accurate description of himself: look for an egg with glassed and a beard! It soon becomes clear that Bob, must have been very good in his job at some stage. This 78 year old, decided to get a lawyers degree, after a career of a marine engineer. Four years later, he succeeded and even though he might be a bit slower now, I can assure you that his tongue and brains can easily compete in first class still! For those amongst you, who believe I am a smooth talker… I bow to the master!

Meanwhile, the weather evolves from bad to worse. Enough reason for me to sit at my laptop, typing down the story of my journey into a new future. A story, which I hope that is going to be read by people, wherever they may be…

Stormy wishes

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

I have surfaced again! The wonder pills, called Panadol have killed the fever to that extend that the day before yesterday, I was sufficiently recovered to start exploring Ballarat. Keeping in mind that I was still on the path to full recovery, we decided to that by car (not that one could possibly explore any Aussie city by walking anyway). From one day to the other, it dawns on my that Aussie autumns are not as mild as I had them expected to be. On the bright side: I should end up in warmer atmospheres when heading North to Brisbane, where they enjoy a more tropical climate.

I have overslept more than a bit on Thursday… When Mandy was knocking on my door, in order to check whether I was OK, I simply had no idea of time. Informing me that it was 11.30 am; well that was good enough to chase me out of bed at the speed of lightning! Clear enough the fever had taken that much energy from my body that I needed a more than 12 hour sleep to recuperate. Not a beauty sleep, rather a sleep to restore the balance in my body. This journey has been so enriching for me in a mental way… perhaps I have simply ignored my body just that little bit too much?

My restless nature is still searching for a final destination, which I haven’t found so far, although I know for a fact that I am in no way, the same person as the woman I was, when closing the door of Varlet Farm behind me, on February 2^nd, setting my first steps on an unknown path. A decision, with which I am being confronted on daily basis, since the ones at home stubbornly refuse all communication. Even so, nothing is going to withhold me from saying that I have made the right choice. Or am I right, in stating that all people are narrow minded, selfish little creatures? And I am not referring to myself on this occasion… Sure enough, I have chosen for myself. However, I didn’t do that until my children were adults. As they have reached the age to walk their own path, I am doing that too: the only difference being, that I do wish them the very best, something which they don’t grant me. Leaves me behind with the question: who is being selfish in this story…? My door will always be open, theirs remains closed.

Back to my journey… Mandy is being drawn as a magnet to her favourite restaurant: have a guess where we had our lunch today? At least, I can understand her choice: as far as I am concerned, this is by far the best restaurant I have encountered since I started my trip. Pumped up with sufficient calories to see me through the day, we started our exploration. The somewhat  faded-glory of this city is still reflected in many stately buildings. Somehow, there seems to be an imbalance between the city size  and the scale of the buildings, that  are too

 impressive to the streets. I notice that the same mistakes as in Europe are being made here too: wide boulevards, lined with beautiful Victorian architecture style, are here and there being abruptly disrupted by a more recent structure of indefinable style: a concrete box, that contrasts with the sophistication of the rest of the street. Shame that the government allows this to happen. The vision of this young country on the preservation of heritage is in urgent need for continuous training: on very regular base, authentic buildings are being knocked into the ground. Something that amazes me, knowing that Aussies are often drawn to Europe, because of its history. Don’t they realise that they will never build up a history of their own as long as traces of their existence keep on disappearing under a breaker?

Ballarat has a magnificent monument to all Australian ex-prisoners of war soldiers: an endless row of granite panels, on which thousands of names have been engraved. Names that symbolize the unspeakable suffering humanity can bring about. The memorial is connected to a sophisticated water system, revealing a lot of symbolism. This country surely doesn’t lack creativity. I wonder whether their school system plays a part in that?

From there on we went to a building to commemorate the Great war. Mandy lovingly describes it as their own “Menin Gate”…with some imagination, I see the logic behind it. One of the panels, placed here in the early 1920’s, makes immediately clear how far away we are from European mainland. Under the heading “France” , I see the names of Polygon Wood, Zonnebeke and Broodseinde appearing. No reference to Belgium though!

Right behind the gate lies the majestic “Avenue of honour” : a 22 km long perpendicular avenue that stretches itself endlessly. Along this boulevard appear, to this day, 3332 trees (there were originally 3771 but here too, modern society has created some damage). In front of every tree, I spot a small plate with name and rank of a soldier, who many years ago, signed his enlisting papers full of courage, ready to walk to the big adventure. Only to discover soon after that the adventure they ended up in, proved to be of a very different nature than what they anticipated.

Our ride continues for miles along a vast lake. I can barely believe my ears, when Mandy tells me that, only a few years ago, this was a dry plain. This part of Australia had gone through a drought of 10 years, so water became extremely scarce. The endless lake, which now extends itself in front of me, reveals for fickle nature can be down under.

The late autumn sun is not as such to convince anyone to stay outdoors for long. At 5 pm, we are safely back home, on the mat in front of the stove, to enjoy the radiant heat. This house offers, as many other Australian houses,  very little protection against the cold. It keeps on amazing me that nothing is being done to prevent the cold from getting in.  While we are enjoying “The English Patient”, all of a sudden, the quiet evening is being disturbed by a tremendous thud. Not to worry: it proves to be possums, falling out of a tree. Their landing resounds through the house. The next phase is a bustle of many feet, to and fro, which makes clear to me that the little sweeties are trying to get away.

Saturday, and that means once more: time to say goodbye. I will always be grateful for all the good care Mandy has given me: a private nurse, that far away from your home country, not everyone has as much luck as I had! The train brings me, without any problems, back to Melbourne, where I have a lecture for the “Historical Society” in the afternoon. First and foremost, I get to my new hosts for the next 2 days. It turns out to be a beautiful home in Carnegie, a suburb of Melbourne. From there we depart for the local bowling club in Oakleigh where the meeting is set to take place. My audience consist of a group of 60 people, all with a very strong interest in the history of the Great War. Some of them have driven a long distance to attend the lecture… this is not Belgium, o no.. no one would drive more than 1.30 hours to attend an event like this!  A relaxing atmosphere, a smooth lecture with a very satisfied audience, organisers radiating with pride… in other words: my day can not go wrong anymore!

Janet and Jim, my new hosts are the very first Aussies I meet, who are so well aware of the environment and the need to protect it. They proudly tell me that they have installed solar panels for the production of electricity as well as to supply them with hot water. Moreover, they drive a hybrid car, which charms me especially because of the silence , no roaring engine to be heard!. The only lack I notice, is double glazing. Apart from that this couple thinks very “green”, something which I have barely encountered in Oz , so far.

Both of them are very enthusiastic musicians: wherever I look, there are instruments to be seen. Jim , a native Scot (and no way he could ever hide that : after 2 words I realise that his accent hasn’t faded in the 40 years he has been living here!) proves to be a gifted cook too, however tonight it is Janet that works away in the kitchen. She offers a delicious meal : lamb (cooked as I hope to be do it as well one day…) , a bunch of vegetable and  -thank God- no rice but potatoes instead. It proves to be a lovely evening, in the company of Helen and Michael, who have joined in. Many aspects of life are being discussed… even Belgian politics!

This morning is reserved for updating my blogs: the Dutch one, being more or less up to date, the English one, on the other hand, is constantly lagging behind. Never had I imagined that so much time was going to be invested in writing. No complains to be heard though:… in a comfortable seat, in front of a fireplace, I do realise that life is not all that bad after all!

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

Time flies, is a common saying that I can easily subscribe to, as those last couple of days have past by in a flash. The day before yesterday I was still in Melbourne, this evening I am spending in Ballarat after a more than pleasant stay in Geelong.

I wonder whether I have gipsy blood running in my vains? Fact is that I am enjoying travelling to the most. Those last couple of months, I have been living out of a suitcase, something which, to my big surprise, I do enjoy. When getting on a bus, a train or a plane, I know that at the other end of the journey, a new adventure is awaiting me.

Let me step back in time. Melbourne has not been able to charm me in the same way as Canbarra has done. Sure enough the city projects a certain grandeur, the majestic buildings are witnessing a grand past but nevertheless, there is something lacking. Hard to describe: perhaps this city is just too big for me? Perhaps too impersonal? Whilst I had the feeling of space and countryside in Canberra, Melbourne is enclosing me just too much…

So I left the city behind without regrets. The feel was one of “Been there, done that, got the T-shirt” so time to move on to the next stage. Not without almost having experienced a heart attack though. Just before leaving Brent’s office, my little notebook decided to give up on me. No sign of life, no matter what I tried. I can assure you that this must approach an “close death” experience: all my contacts are saved in that little device. How on earth am I going to plan the rest of my trip???

Panic has never been a good advisor. An attitude of “ for every problem, there is a solution to be found”, takes you a lot further. In the literally meaning of the word, it means: Geelong. To Flemish standards it would be classified as large. city. Geelong, with some 300.000 inhabitants is situated at a bay with fine sandy beaches. As most cities in the around here, Geelong too has been designed to a grid pattern: large square blocks, cut up by endless roads. Julie was supposed to meet me at the railway station and since we had never met before, I adviced her to look for a giant bright red suitcase. Not as romantic as a red rose but sure enough as efficient. Still we managed to miss each other, walking around in circles until a friendly clerk connected the 2 of us.

Even before I had said “Hello”, I had asked whether there was a pc shop nearby. Top priority was to get my laptop up and running as I do need it badly for my presentations. What a relief to learn that the problem was situated in the battery cable: a new one sorted it out and most of all… restored peace in my heart! Once this had been dealt with, Julie took me for a ride in Geelong, giving me plenty of historical information. She probably doesn’t know how much this meant to me. After this wonderful introduction, she took me to her home : a wonderful house on top of the hill with a breathtaking view across the city. There are worse places on this planet to end up!

Once arrived, I got to know Glenn, Julie’s husband. This cheerful man was more than busy in the kitchen, preparing a meal which would soon prove to be the first “European style” dinner, I was about to enjoy in Oz.  Although the bush telegraph seems to have been very active, informing my new hosts of what food I can eat (and more importantly, what I DON’T eat), I wonder whether they have been informed that I am not the biggest eater on this world. The food he cooked would have been sufficient to feed a whole army section! Porc, baked potatoes, cauliflower with while sauce, pies, parsnip ( a vegetable barely eaten in my home country, but ever so popular here) and – believe it or not- French red wine. This country has thought me to enjoy red wine: no need to get some from the other side of the world, the quality here is so much better!

After a relaxed chat, it proved to be bedtime.  A wonderful room with, seldom seen in Oz, heating. I have already stepped away from the belief that it is always hot in Oz. On the contrary: nights down under prove to be bitterly cold. Something which is only made more prominent by the almost complete lack of double glazing and insulation.

A wonderful warm night sleep, a great breakfast : my batteries are all charged to deliver my talk at Matthew Flinders school.  It meant a happy reunion with some teachers whom had been to Varlet Farm in the previous years. Two very interested groups of youngsters listened to my lectures. What a great feeling to see that the young generation can be fascinated by that bit of history which both our countries have in common. After the talks, I ended up being invited for a lunch with 3 teachers of whom one proved to be an English lady, teaching French in Australia!

Time to say goodbye in order to move to my next appointment. Johnathan stayed with me some 2 years ago. He wanted to return the hospitality he had experienced while visiting the Salient, so I was being invited for a cup of coffee. A chat of 3 hours (with a couple of more coffees) both told us that life isn’t always as easy as it seems. But, to end on a cheerful note: we have both made it to the other side of the tunnel. Now we sit and laugh and share our positive view on the future which lays ahead of us.

Had I been chatting too much that day? Fact is that I had a bit of a sore feeling in my vocal cords. The coach trip from Geelong to Ballarat ( a good hour) was going to be invested in silence, at least that was the plan. It didn’t quite work out, as I established contact with a wonderful lady sitting next to me. Before I realised the bus pulled in the railway station of Ballarat, bringing me to Mandy, whom I had last seen almost 2 years ago. All I knew was that my vocal cords were not going to get any rest at all, once we had met again!  I really needed to look twice, when spotting Mandy from a distance: how on earth she managed is a miracle: she seems to be 5 years younger now compared to 2 years ago!

Her enthusiasm just shines through in the same way as her energy does! Without delay I was taken to a restaurant, which I will gladly grant the label of first  “top class” restaurant I have seen in this country : wonderfully decorated, excellent service, wonderful presentation and a meal which was top of the bill all the way. After this more than satisfying experience, we set off for her home where we were being welcomed by 5 cats and a – let’s say: slightly overweighed- border collie. It has turned out to be an evening of catching up… very long catching up since the clock had gone past 2 am by the time we turned in.

At that stage my legs felt as if they were made of lead, soon to become even heavier. All night long I have been shivering with fever in order to wake up this morning with a throat, which doesn’t allow me to swallow at all. Wrapped in 2 blankets, I am seated on the mat in front of the fireplace, set on maximum, and yet I don’t manage to get warm. After rainfall, the suns starts shining… I can only hope that my sun will start shining really soon.

Shivering regards

Charlotte

Copyright : Charlotte Descamps 2012

A lazy Friday it has been: time to work on my blogs as I started to get hopelessly behind. I enjoy the rest in the house, the hospitality of this family, the freedom to do as I please.

After another excellent night sleep (I wonder how many different beds I have been sleeping in since I started my journey?) the day comes too soon. My hostess had suggested that we would go for an early morning walk and that meant getting out of bed , sooner than I have been used to the last couple of weeks. Sure I love walking but long gone are the day that I got out of bed at the crack of dawn. Although the idea of an early start didn’t appeal to me at first, now all I can say is that I am so pleased, I let myself being talked into this. We set off for a short drive, direction Red Hill. At first I thought that “hill” was a bit of an overstatement but soon I came to realise that it did involve a fairly steep climb. Good to get warm as the mornings in are cold. Climbing up, Jacques Dutronc’s song “Il est cinq heures, Paris s’éveille” popped to my mind. With a bit of alterations, it could have applied to this morning too with that difference that one has great views here, big skies and silence which was only  broken by an angry Mack pie, upset over the early disturbance of his territory. Wet grass under my feet, a rainbow in the sky and wind that all of a sudden swept over the top of the hill: what else can one dream off?

Saturday evening was going to show me another aspect of the Australian culture. It was my first (hopefully not my last!) introduction to a party, in this case the 50^th birthday party of a lady who stayed with me last year. The theme being a Venetian evening, meant that everyone was supposed to wear a mask. I have to be honest in saying that it doesn’t make it any easier to talk to someone as often you have no clue whom you are talking too! A practical problem (it is fairly difficult to empty a glass with half of your face covered up) came at my rescue : those masks soon disappeared in all directions! Snacks of all kinds were being served,  many of which I had no idea what they could be made off. Those who know me, will be familiar with my ground rule when it comes to eating: what the eyes don’t like, doesn’t make it to the mouth… Good fortune was the light was dimmed: in other words, the looks didn’t stop me from eating. All in all an Aussie party isn’t all that different from an European one: there is some dancing (but not as much as I had hoped for) and some drinking (and for some: more than I had hoped for!). In Belgian terms, Aussies would be referred to as “not dead from the first drink”.  I got “home” at a civilized hour in order to go to bed,  dreaming of a wonderful evening.

One can not always party, and that I have known! On Sunday my hosts have invited me along for a special activity: picking olives. A friend of theirs has several olive trees which need to be harvested before the severe frost sets in. Neighbours, friends, relatives: anyone who was in for a combination of fun and work, was more than welcome.  Never having seen an olive tree from close by, I had no clue what the procedure was. One bonus: one doesn’t need to present a degree to do the job, a bit of logic thinking and good organising, takes you a long way. The olives are actually not being picked by hand but are literally shaken off the tree by men operating “shakers” . The others were positioning nets, clipping them, unclipping, handpicking the last olives, moving the nets forward and reorganising them around the next group of trees, once a lot had been done. We soon proved to be a good oiled machine, advancing at good speed.  At lunch, the whole group was invited to the farm for a meal which, I swear to God, was the best I have eaten since a very long time. The mushroom soup was beyond superlatives, the lamb was so tender… and having worked: I felt hungry so I did honour to the cook! Drawback of spoiling the group to that extend, was to be seen in the afternoon: we could barely bend over! Another couple of hours of picking, to end up at a table with home made pie… there are worse ways to pass a Sunday!

It had been a long time, since I did such physical work. Having said that, I enjoyed it to the most. It brought back long time memories: where are the days gone to, when we had a large group of locals helping with the harvest of cauliflowers on my home farm? The long table, full of food, the cheerfulness… I had a blast from the past yesterday.

Not the best night sleep has rounded of my stay in Canberra. I honestly wonder whether I will find any better on this planet. Perhaps I will, as many of my Aussie friends keep on saying that I shouldn’t take any decisions as to where to settle, until I have been to New Zealand.

An early flight was awaiting me on Monday morning, taking me away from the city I came to feel so connected to. Chris was so kind to take me to the airport where I could board the plane less than 40 minutes later. At the beginning of my trip, the fact that I arrived less than an hour in advance, would have made me incredibly nervous. In Canberra, it never crossed my mind that I could miss my flight… Is this the Aussie mentality nestling under my skin???

Melbourne has neatly build its airport out of the centre, but not to worry as there is a bus service which takes you right to the main station in some 45 minutes. Once arrived there, it was only a matter of finding the train to Malvern ( a suburb of Melbourne). No problem there too (after all I am an experienced traveller by now) . After a short walk, I arrived at Brent’s office where - thank God- I could leave my suitcase ( which seems to get heavier from one city to the other) behind.  Back on the train again, direction city centre as I was eager to explore what Melbourne has to offer.

Of course I knew that I am biased in my opinion: now that Canberra has stolen my heart, I was having very high expectations of Melbourne. Clear enough that this city not only differs in scale (360.000 inhabitants in Canberra versus 4 million here) but sure enough also in atmosphere. I am writing this blog, sitting on a square, right in front of St Pauls cathedral. Sky scrapers (although not half as high as in Toronto) and old buildings (going back to the 1800’s) are standing side by side. While looking at the cathedral, one could easily dream to be in Europe, when looking across the street, it immediately becomes clear that this is not Europe.

This city claims to have the second most extended network of trams (only to be beaten by Lisbon) in the world. I can only confirm this statement must hold some truth as one can barely take a picture of a historic building, without a tram flying through the image!

And yes, they cater for their tourists here. Not only by offering a square with free WIFI but also by providing a tram which tours around the whole city. This old tram (and I mean: really old) stops at numerous places, giving you the time to explore sightseeing places around. It was my very good intention to do the full tour to start with, then deciding where I would like to spend more time. Not all intentions make it to reality, nor did that one!  After 2 stops I couldn’t resist to get off,  to visit the parliament house. And hurray, since I arrived in perfect time to join a guided tour. What I have learned from that guided tour is that timing is everything in life.  On July 1^st 1851, the state Victoria was born ( previous to this was part of New South Wales) … and just a fortnight later gold was being discovered. The gold rush was a good news show for Victoria as the young state could start off without any financial worries at all. In Dutch, there are several sayings to make clear that someone who is well off, likes to show off as well but I have no clue how that translate into English. I do have an impression though of how it looks in reality. Both the lower and the higher house have been decorated with gold and one has to admit: when sitting on the source of it, it wouldn’t be correct to be tight. A rule, which was very well understood here, since not less that 12 million dollars were invested to make sure one would notice this state produced gold.

At the beginning of the tour, the guide had inquired where his audience came from. Apart form Africa, every continent had it representatives. Our country, being a small nation such as it is, had one single person to defend the colours… In the library, all of a sudden the guide, inquires where the Belgian delegation is hiding and then he points up, saying “Made in Belgium”. A crystal chandelier of a size which is too large to even describe proved to be coming from our tiny little country. No doubt that the firm, Val Saint-Lambert, must have known that money was not an issue, when designing this chandelier. I guess they have lived up to the expectations as the light is now breaking into the room in a ray of thousand colours. Did I suddenly feel  a glance of national pride???

After the tour, it was time to rush back to the railway station as the office of my new host (in Malvern) is a good 45 minutes drive away from his house. The reward he obtains for commuting such a long distance, lays in the fact that his house is situated in one of Australians nature parks. Needless to say that it feels as if I have discovered another part of heaven…

My hostess cooked a delicious meal (I am spoiled rotten in this country!) after which we had a serious discussion on the way the aboriginal inhabitants have been dealt with. I openly admit that I haven’t got sufficient background knowledge to judge really, but having said that, as much I try to understand her arguments, there sure are some I don’t agree with. All I can conclude is that this issue must be such a risky one for any politician that wants to sort it out. Should I recommend some of their Belgian colleagues to come and give some advice????

A sound nights sleep, a good shower and on to the next stage this morning : 2 lectures in a girl’s grammar school. Was it me, or was it them but somehow I had the feeling that they were considering me as coming from Mars… I have had better days, no doubt about it. However, it can not have been all that bad, since I was kindly offered a box of chocolates. My hosts will be pleased… no way I can fit an match box in my suitcase, let alone a box of chocolates!

And that is how far my day has stretched. Finishing my blog page in the centre of Melbourne before embarking for a new exploration of this ever going city.

Best wishes

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

A lazy start yesterday, although that was soon to be changed. Another phone call from Chris to find out whether I had anything planned for the day. Well, not really, so another guided tour was coming my way. Since Chris’ wife needed the family car, we were going to tour around in her sports car. Another new experience to add to the list :  from now on, nothing is going to surprise me anymore. This time we headed for the country side at a good speed (a car likes that proves to have a very sensitive accelerator, the slightest touch and the engine gives full speed ahead!). Where as I have been fortunate enough to see the living version of Skippy the previous day, I have been confronted with the less fortunate congener yesterday : some poor ones which had been hit by cars were laying along the road.


Australia is big, that’s a lesson which I have already taken in. The wide views over the gentle slopes, which prove to be much greener here than in Adelaide, will always stay with me. Those typical gum trees, as solitary guards, waiting to give shelter to one of the few cows  venturing in the pastures. With miles in between, a farm house is to be discovered. Makes me wonder who can survive here… No Australian farmer will ever be able to charm me, that is for sure! I still haven’t figured out whether it is the intention to turn me into “Aussie Charlotte” but sure enough efforts are being put in to offer me as much of the local taste as possible. No chocolate but beer was the next experience on the list. I ended up in a local pub, drinking Aussie beer (although Belgian I am not a beer drinker. Having said that, I might change my opinion after my first taster!) in and amongst a whole bunch of local Aussies. Large screens were projecting horse races and a rugby game simultaneously. Gambling seems to be the second nature of many Australians. Needless to say that horse races are a number one for these people. Rugby plays a big part in  society here too : youngsters play it from a very early age. United as Oz may be, this doesn’t apply to rugby : 3 different types of the same game… Wonder if one of my next outing would be a lesson in rugby???

Had I been to a local market yet? No? Well, direction market it was. Don’t expect the European type of market as a market here, believe it or not, is organised indoors. Aussies have a social life outdoors but do their shopping indoors. The large variety of fruits and vegetables draws the attention straight away, no doubt that the choice here is a lot wider. Wonder whether the melting pot of cultures is to be “blamed” for this. A shop with nothing but nuts of spices… those would struggle to survive in our country. However, in a country where the sun shines more than one reckons to be possible, I would have expected outdoor markets. Those Aussies, they keep on surprising me!

To round off the day with on a cultural note, I was taken to the National Gallery. The most impressive of pieces of art, coming from a wide area, are being put on display here. Some of these masterpieces make it clear straight away, that I should have tried my luck as an artist (although I am the first one to admit that I haven’t got a single artistic gen in my body): hanging up an empty frame is something even I would have managed! Chris soon realised that modern art isn’t really my cup of tea, so we moved on to one of the rooms where impressionism was being shown. John Glover, a name to remember for me. The exploration was topped up with some Aboriginal art and some masterpieces from India (beautiful cloths). Time to go after that…

It is just wonderful to be offered the taste of a country on a golden plate. Hospitality isn’t a hollow word down under : no need to give me more proof of that.

Goodnight all

charlotte

A quiet day yesterday: not that there was nothing to talk about… on the contrary : my day was packed leaving me with no time to write it all down. I am not a Duracell bunny : no nightly writing after a day to behold.

The day started in an Aussie way,  in other words : relaxed. Till a phone call broke the morning rest : one of my guests, whom I have welcomed twice over the years, was wondering how much I had seen of Canberra so far. Clear enough not sufficient, so I ended up being offered a guided tour impromptu . Some offers are just “too nice to refuse” and surely this one classified as such. In less than no time I was being collected. Believe it or not but Chris, whom has been living in Canberra since many years, did not even know of the existence of this suburb. Just down the road, a entirely new development is being built : suburbs are growing at the speed of daylight. Whilst the “old” city of Canberra (having said that: “old” does have another dimension here) has been designed by an architect on demand of the government, the more recent area’s are being designed by developers. Europe in a reversed way: old cities with narrow streets and new suburbs with more spacious roads. The Aussie version is : an old city with very large roads and new suburbs with small roads. It only confirms on universal rule : for developers every  square inch counts!

The new Parliament House was the point of destination. Only in use since 1988, this massive building can still be referred to as new. If it has been the intention to tell the world that Australia is a young nation which is growing rapidly, I can only say that the architect has met the challenge in a brilliant way. The first impression is overwhelming: walking into a huge room with numerous pillars, covered with pink marble, refering to the gum trees, with their soft pink and grey colours. Even though this is a modern building with white walls and a lot of incoming light, it still has a warm atmosphere. For a split second, it strikes out that the architect has succeeded in catching the Aussie world within the walls of this room. The second hall proves to be enormous is size, with the most beautiful wooden floor I have ever seen: inviting me to start dancing straight away. It shines in a breathtaking way… This room is dominated by a massive tapestry (20m X 9 m), based on a painting by Arthur Boyd. On this very spot, Flemish tapestry is losing it status of “large”. This blows me away…

Australia is a melting pot of different cultures but even more so, it is the country of intense colours; I can’t deny being impressed by the beauty. Blue has a different dimension to it, red is not as harsh as I what I am used to: it almost feels fragile, whilst yellow is so bright that one needs to put on sun glasses (which reminds me of the fact that, after 2 weeks in Oz, I am convinced that Aussies are being born with sun glasses on their nose or head!). The colours are splashing of this tapestry, vibrant as the country itself!

The senate and the house of representatives have a very European style, except for the green and the red being much softer. I have been given a decent lesson on Australian politics, which has left me with the believe that all politicians are the same, regardless which nationality is indicated on their passports. Alike their antipodes, the average Aussie doesn’t seem to be too impressed by the ladies and gentlemen who occupy those seats. Another similarity : as in Europe, coalitions seem to change from time to time.

Not everything what is being discussed by politicians should be heard : even that has been incorporated in the design of this building. A centrally located fountain should prevent that someone is listening in whilst the authority figures are having an informal chat. ( “Watergate” was the word that jumped to my mind)

Enough about politics : the next stop was one to refuel the inner person, which took us to a restaurant in the old city centre. Eating has never been one of my priorities (nor will it ever be), in other words : I don’t want to waste too much time on it. A sandwich in a restaurant where men in suit and tie, blend in between those in jogging and sneakers. Again that cosy mix. It has drawn my intention that one can not really sin against the dress code in this country : youngsters in shorts and low cut tops, people in daily city wear and others, in a coat and bonnet : one sees it all in the same street. Clear enough a population with such different roots has a different thermostat as well : what proves to be cold for one, seems to be summer weather for the other. Should be acceptable and clear enough that is the case in Canberra.

What’s the action a commanding officer undertakes when he wants to capture a city? Lesson learned in the Great War : move to the higher ground to have the overview. With no intentions to invade Canberra (other than as an anxious tourist), we went up Mount Ainslie. The view from the top is stunning : it becomes clear how stretched out this city is but at the same time it shows the amount of green in the centre. We had a leisurely drive up to the top. Wandering around we bumped into an acquaintance of Chris, grasping for breath. That brave man had run up to the top and just to make sure his condition wouldn't slip away, he added a number of push-ups. It doesn’t take that much to impress a Belgian… should I have told him that?

Later in the day, I have been guided through the embassy section of the city. Apparently every country had been asked to build their embassy in the style of the homeland. When hearing that, I couldn’t do anything else but panic : how on earth can Belgium represent its soul in a building? I won’t be able to provide the answer to that question for the good reason that the Belgian embassy is a well kept secret… we didn’t manage to find it. Some of the countries understood only too well what was expected (India, Thailand) while others clearly didn’t. Our neighbouring countries can go for the top on that list : France and Germany… not a single French or German would recognise their own embassy!

Enough of bricks and concrete, we move on to fauna and flora. True nature lovers will know that autumn isn’t really the best time of year to admire flowers. Even without blooming flowers the botanic garden is well worth the visit. Don’t question me for names : my hard drive is already overloaded. What I do remember is the name of a grey and red bird (kind of an oversized parakeet) : Galahs, hundreds of them to be seen.

Meanwhile Chris had learned that there was still a gap in my introduction to this country. Where have all those kangaroos gone to? And then I ended up, having a guide with a mission : I was going to see my first roo that very same day! It pays to be persistent : after a very short drive and an even shorter walk, I stood in front of the hopping national symbol of this country. Fact is that the puzzled kangaroo looked at me with the same amazement as I did. Funny creatures : a small head, ears which seem to be continuously in move, a spine which goes from bend over to straight upwards in a fraction of a second… The more I looked, the more there were to be spotted : small, tall, hopping around, laying down… Hard to believe that barely 3 minutes away from the town centre, wildlife is to be found in it’s natural habitat. Canberra is being referred to as the bush capital: I’ve seen living proof of that.

I was neatly being escorted to the front door by my gallant guide, promising that there is a lot more to be discovered and that he would happily guide me around again. Who am I to complain? Gratitude and joy, these are the feelings which I experience now.

Time to change into a different outfit since I was invited for an evening meal by a major and his wife. A typical Australian meal: what would that be like? The start proved to be very Spanish as we were greeted with sangria. I am still doubting whether the entrée was a soup or not (it could be either by the looks) . Fact is that it contained fish which was ever so nice but…spicy! Wow, that put my mouth on fire. First lesson learned : Aussie kitchen is different from the European one, the influence of the neighbouring countries can not be denied.  The main dish was beef (slightly similar to Flemish stew) , served with rice, a dish with vegetables and a dish with (again spicy) potatoes. My hostess was kind enough to warn me, so I stayed miles away from the potatoes. Safe the best for last, no doubt about it. The dessert proved to be heavenly : a crème with lemon. Out of this world!

Before I realised it, the clock pointed at midnight. Time to head "home". A beautiful day, full of warmth, friendship and laughter. Another day to confirm that booking this trip was the best decision I have ever made.

Good night,

charlotte

Dear all,

I am more or less recovered from the shock of yesterday, although it is not  out of my system yet. I just need a few days to digest and then I will be ready to beat the world again (at least that is what I hope.)

Would I be suffering from the after-effects of a shock (sounds almost as if I have survived an earthquake)? This morning my power meter was definitely stuck on “refuel” : I didn’t want to get out of bed, nor did I feel like doing anything at all. Laziness is a bad advisor as it only results in the fact that one starts worrying even more. So : get into action, girl, that is a remedy that always works

What do to do if you want to shoot in action in someone else's house?? Looking for work is the logical answer to that question.. And so, my eye fell on a laundry basket, which in no uncertain terms made it clear that the measure was full (in this case: the laundry basket). Stacey told me that I was free to use their laundry machine, whenever I wanted to, but my dear hostess, to whom technology has no secrets ( while she assumes that this applies to everyone!), forgot to explain how to operate it. Opening the door, filling the machine, doesn’t present to much of a problem. But what comes next? Even Christmas (the family cat), who usually ignores me point blank,  came to check on me as if she wanted to warn me for the disaster that was about to happen. Sure enough the last thing I wanted to achieve was clothes, reduced to half the size, on the line. Well, I am happy to say that my self-confidence (when it comes to operating buttons on a machine) has received an enormous boost. As with public transport : I now feel to be in control of all situations . This reads that I can handle silk, wool, cotton without any hesitations

Autumn in Canberra: there are worse seasons on earth. The sun puts in an effort, a breath of wind and dry air: the ideal formula for quick drying and that is what laundry does.

Just before noon I was picked up by someone called Tony, who took me to the university for the third age (not that I have any intention to subscribe as yet ). Along the way he picked up another 2 people: a 87 - year old and a 90-year-old: brisk men, still eager to learn. Made me feel a teenager! Especially Bill,  was a very interesting conversation partner. At the outbreak of the war, he had signed up as intrepid young  man to the call of duty (as a volunteer of course). Soon came to conclude that the army wasn’t not really his thing, so moved on to the Air Force. Like any young man, he was chasing the dream for a career as a top gun Tom Cruise. Many are called but few are chosen: Bill discovered soon enough. Not the fast fighter planes were to become his world, but the much more cumbersome bombers. After an intensive 2 years training , he received the title of pilot, which meant that he was to drop his part of the “load” over Germany. When I asked how many flights he had done, he replied innumerable. Learning that I came from Belgium, he told me: I often flown above you. Correction please: over my mother yes, as I was not yet in production!

On one of the flights there was a bomb stuck in the system what constituted a real danger when landing. On the flight back to England, he undertook frantic efforts to loosen the absurdity and according to him, he finally  managed when Glen Miller’s plane was in the area  (haven’t I have heard that story before???). As a result of health problems after the war, Bill lost all opportunities to become a commercial pilot. Instead of conquering the skies, Bill became an accountant: as a career change, I guess that can count.

This afternoon was just a taster for me: so that I would know what I am expected to do next week. Thank you, it worked perfectly to reduce my confidence (killed instantly the boost it had experienced in morning!) The lecturer, Barry…( I didn’t get his surname) had been active in the media world in a previous life. Apart from that he had also written speeches for many politicians, so needless to say that he knew the ropes, something he did demonstrate there with a natural ease. He proved to be a very entertaining speaker presenting a fascinating talk on Galipolli in combination with an impressive power point (having all latest features included). I will be sweating next week… that already I know.

Back home (that is how it feels like)  I wanted to do some ironing. So far I have been nothing but impressed by Australian houses but now I realize there is one large shortage…Where can I plug in please? No plugs to be found. Copper must be incredibly expensive here, or : Aussies just don’t iron their clothes???

Pizza to put the day to an end, a lovely chat and then: yes, definitely some blogging…

Best wishes,

Dear All,
A day as many others: at least for my hosts, as both of them were back to work again today. It seems an eternity to me since I have experienced that pressure on my shoulders. Too bad that, what seems to be an eternity, doesn’t last an eternity.

So this was the first morning for me to wake up in a house that was completely deserted, except for that dog and the cat. The dog has wisely decided that there was human life in the guest room (oh yes, since the youngest son of the family has returned from a few days of camp, I dropped ranking on the spot: Skipper shifted to the bed of his master) and that this person could act perfectly as a back-up option. For a moment, I thought this house was haunted, when noticing that the door of my room (which is a bit twisted so it doesn’t close a 100%) very quietly opened. It was the small, little brad sneaking in. Since his food made him flourish in width rather than height, I couldn’t spot him. It was only when 2 hairy paws appeared on the edge of my bed, that I knew I wasn’t going to write a ghost story tonight…..

After I had savoured my breakfast (and I must admit : Australian bread is delicious), I was ready to go. Life can be so simple… unfortunately that isn’t always the case though. I had barely left the house, to come to the conclusion I couldn’t lock the front door. Sure enough I had a key but no manual. Which ever direction I turned the key (remembering that in the US you have to turn the key in the opposite direction from what we are used to in Europe), nothing worked. All my efforts had the same effect: the door opened swiftly! On to plan B : all houses have screen doors as well, which, believe it or not, have a lock as well. Where to find the logic behind that, I guess my hosts will have to explain it to me. To be complete: I have to mention that this screen doors have a metal grid ( small enough to make sure that no human being can get through). However, I still haven’t figured out why this door has a lock too. Would it be designed for those Belgians, who don’t manage to operate the first lock???

The bus today, offered a free “speedy Gonzales” experience : the driver had decided to honour the name of the bus (rapid red: what’s in a name?) by giving the accelerator an extra hit. No doubt about it that a record has been killed today! No need to worry about police: alike kangaroos, they seem to be hard to spot. This surely presents the biggest difference with Washington, where the streets were colouring blue with police…definitely not the case here but amazingly enough there seems to be hardly any crime here. Canberra is considered to be a very safe city

When walking through this city: one can not deny that it exudes wealth. With exception of a couple of streets, where it is visible that money is tight, I was left with the feeling that money is the last of all concerns. Clear enough, Australia is obviously a big country, where one would expect to come across differences. I guess that Adelaide and Canberra are prove of this. When walking the streets, glitzy Audi’s and Mercedes cars are to be seen all the time, sure enough that wasn’t the case in Adelaide. I was quite amazed to hear that there is no compulsory MOT check is some states : in other words, as long as the engine runs, one is allowed to drive that car. Would this the be the explanation for the fact that I barely see any garages around here?

The most produced car here is a “Holden”.  Since I didn’t seem to succeed to mock their national pride on 4 wheels in the traffic, Hugh (my host in Adelaide), pointed some out to me. Hello… their Holdens are Opel cars with a different emblem. When looking at the fleet: one soon spots the difference with the US: no big vans or jeeps here, but much more European styled cars. 

Once arrived in Canberra, I just jumped on another bus (after all, I am experienced by now) to head to the AWM (since I don’t overeat, there is no need to work away any extra pounds by walking the distance). I just wanted to visit the WWI exhibition more in depth as I still find it a fascinating world. 

And of course, I am keen to find out how in what way different guides present the history of the Great War to their audience, so I decided to listen in to a guide at work in this section. If ones believes in coincidence : what about this one… In the first group, a man stepped forward asking the guide if she knew anything on Hill 60. She replied in a very honest way that she had no specific knowledge and then turned to the group, in a jokingly way, asking if anyone in the group might be able to help. To me, that is an opportunity not to be missed of course, so it ended up that I was acting as a guide in the WWI section of the AWM!  If I would be offered this as a job: I tell you something, I would grab it with both hands! I really had to bite my tongue or the 90 minutes which are allotted to a guide to cover all of the AWM, would have been filled in with the history of WWI only!

In the afternoon, I chatted with someone who was looking at rearranging the WW I exhibition room (in the next couple of years this part of the AWM is going to be completely refurbished). To me, this was the signal to make clear that the role played by the Diggers in the Salient is not being covered as it should. Ninety percent of the coverage is on the Somme area whilst only a scant of 10 percent is dedicated to the Salient. So I keep on repeating ad nauseam, that the Battle of Broodseinde, the biggest success during the Battle of Passchendaele and a very Anzac achievement, is not even being mentioned here!

I guess that over the years, I have proven the fact that being talkative can help you forward in life. And that is no different here : in less than no time I was taken to the catacombs to be introduced to the head of all the guides. Apparently the bush telegraph ( in Belgian that would described as the “gossip machine”) had already done its work, since the man already knew of the fact that a Flemish guide had enchanted his audience. Fact is that I have been invited to talk to the guides this coming Wednesday. I wonder where the bureaucrat is Brussels is now, as that lady of the National Office of tourism claimed that a single person couldn’t achieve anything. At least all the guides of the AWM will know the story of the Salient in more depth. I wonder to how many visitors that will be passed on to???

On the return journey, the bus seemed to have lost all its speed. Oh yes, another nice difference with Europe : in all bus stops, there is a sign, saying that the given times on the time table are approximate times: ie “timing in the Australian way. I love it!

I almost had to find my way back home in darkness : with no nuclear plants in this country, it means that there are not half as many street lights as I am used to. I could see myself walking with my little flashlight : the only missing part was a sign “stray Belgian” to make the picture complete. 

To round the day off, I have been very active in another field. My hosts are very involved in the starting up of a new charity organisation, called “soldier on” (http://soldieron.org.au/) to help wounded soldiers (that large group, which never makes the statistics and ends up being gradually forgotten). A very noble goal, although I would have expected this to be the job of the defence department. That is true to a certain extend but there is so much red tape (why does that sound so familiar to me???), so some victims simply never get all the help they need. All evening long, we have been packing wrist bands to send them to the many people who have decided to support this charity. I am sure many more will follow as orders are coming in all the time. 

Looking at my life: it seems to be my fate to be am connected to a war, albeit it is a much more recent one in this case. Where are the days, that the Great War was being referred to as “ the war to end all wars”?  Marco Borsato ( a very famous Dutch singer) has the answer with his song : dreams are deceiving…


Well, I surely hope that mine are not!
Charlotte

copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012