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