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