Sunday evening (for me anyway): time to put
an end to a wonderful weekend.
The last couple of days have mainly been
filled in with walking and talking. Having spent considerable time at the coast
it was about time that I got to some healthy forest air. Needless to say that I
praise myself lucky with the knowledge that my hosting family lives just
opposite a small forest.
Twice a day, my hostess and myself ,
accompanied by little Ted ( an apricot poodle, who turns everyone around his
little paw, so to speak) wonder off for a refreshing walk. And although the
forest doesnt seem to be the habitat of many animals, I have seen some exotic
birds here:the latest addition to the
row was a bird with a bright green jacket on The kookaburras were very diligent
yesterday: one laughter after another echoed through the forest. One simply can
not but start laughing when you hear this special cry.
And spoken of birds: my hostess really has
a very special gift when it comes to dealing with animals. She told me that 2
butcher birds had become so tame that every morning they came tapping against
the kitchen window until they ended up being fed. Well this morning, I was able
to witness that with my own eyes. Tap tap against the window is the sign for
Meredith to walk outside to hand feed these birds. How on earth she managed to
get them used to her presence so very close to them is still a miracle to me!
Yesterday morning I was invited to pick up
some local colour as Meredith invited me to come along to a local farmers
market. In the centre of Brisbane???
In the end it proves to be a major fruit and vegetable market , with only 2
real farmers selling their produce directly. This is clearly not an European
market: the rich palette of flavours is being surpassed by the diversity of the
many stalls. From Greek to Japanese, with Korean French, German, Thai, Indian,
Italian, Indonesian.. it is all to be found within a 100 meters. The morning
feels like a warm Belgian summer day. Theoretically, I missed summer this year,
having flown from the Canadian spring to the Australian winter, but in reality
I have experienced more sunny days than those who stayed behind.
In the afternoon, I really felt the need to
roll my sleeves up, having been lazy for far too long. So I ended up washing my
hostess car a skill I might risk to loose! As there was a little crack in the
hose, the car wasnt the only one getting wet. Not that this represents any
problem: in less than half an hour, my trousers are dry again. Sure enough this
is the type of weather I could get used to! Since my shoes prove to be rather
soaked, I decided to leave them outside, trusting that the sun would be kind
enough to get those dry too.
Saturday evening, Charles and Meredith had
invited me to join them to the theatre. The play that was on, combined drama
with dance and was situated in New
York of the twenties. Oh yes, why not? An extra dose
of culture, surely wont hurt me. The play started rather hectic, sometimes
difficult to follow, but the story came gradually to life in what proved to be
a very intense performance. Dance and drama, combined with truly sublime
mimicry, were very nicely intertwined. My only problem was that I failed to
understand some of the puns, which were clearly funny, according to the
reaction of the audience. I still have a very long way to go when it comes to
refining my knowledge of the English language, that is the lesson learned that
evening.
Those of you who know me, will realise that
there is one thing you can not expect of me: don t drop me in a group of
people, expecting that I will remain silent! Of course, I kept quiet during the
show, but I got into a very animated conversation with the couple sitting just
next to me. As it happened the husband was bitten by the WW I bug as well, and
hearing that I was giving lectures on the subject, he immediately asked whether
I would be willing to present a talk to his organisation during the coming
weeks. My hostess, who overheard the conversation, jokingly said: You would
sell coals to Newcastle!
to which I laughingly replied No, what about chocolate to Belgians!.
When walking back to the car, I am
surprised over the fact that the temperatures are still that high, which is
rather unusual here. The answer is to be found in the fact that clouds were
acting as a blanket, preventing the heat to escape. Well that was something new
to me: clouds in the sky in Brisbane
I had already start to believe that no one knew what that word meant over here.
A cup of hot chocolate sets me off to bed
for a good night sleep, the tune of the show still being played in my head. But
a very different tune wakes me up well after midnight: a tremendous downpour,
rattling on the roof as a heavy machine gun. Immediately, it comes to my mind
that I had left my shoes outside oops, they are destined to become to
additional small buckets. The last thing I want to do is to disturb the sleep
of my hosts and then it is too late to contain the damage anyway. I might as
well pour the water out of my shoes in the morning
Guess what was my first task in the
morning??? I rush outside to find my shoes in perfect condition. Silly me!These roofs are coming a long distance in
front of walls as an extra protection against the summer sun. No reason to
panic at all! I should have taken the lesson already:in Oz there hardly ever seems to be a reason
for a panic!
My Australian adventure is almost coming to
an end: in 2 weeks time I will be flying to New Zealand, where I will be
spending another month. Very occasionally, some news from the world I left
behind, is being sent to me. It turns out that there are still people over
there, who are convinced that one day, I will be heading back home with my tail
in between my legs. Keep on dreaming (and/or gossiping) people, but this lady
is not coming back, that already I can assure you. I have left behind a world,
which has so very often limited me in so many ways. I know that some describe
me as silly, while others will think of me as a dreamer, and still other will
list me somewhere in between those extremes. All I can say is that I feel
liberated and that my inquisitive nature is finally getting a chance to develop
itself. It might be 35 years too late but doesnt the saying go Better late
than never?I still have so many plans
and dreams. Too bad this could not be done with the support of my family but
that wont stop me from fighting to get forward in life. There is still a very
long road ahead of me one which I am eager to explore!
Life is a rollercoaster and thats no
different when you travel. Or perhaps it is: in that way it all goes even
faster. Those past months have really flown by in a flash. The journey I have
been on has left a warm glow flowing through me, giving me inner peace and
confidence. But even then, every now and then, one is confronted with a lesser
day. That is the case when you realise that, someone whomyou have trusted blindly for over 30 years,
plants a knife in your back, in an attempt to ruin your life. The day on which
you learn that bitterness drives people beyond their moral standards. I am long
past the point of having pity, though the fact remains that it hurts to come to
a closure in such a bitter way.
Down under, there is a saying Bad luck, it
comes in threes, translated into Dutch that becomes No two without
three.Blow number two, I had as well,
so I wonder what is to follow next. Internet is a great medium, when used
wisely. However, it can become a lethal weapon if standards of decency are
being shamelessly thrown overboard. Without pretending that I am a saint, I
dare say that I have always been honest with people and I have always given my
trust easily. My vision is that every human being has a basic goodness, it is
only a matter to let that positive part of people develop further. Innocent
until proven guilty as I see it. Am I naïve to stick to this attitude?After what I read on the internet yesterday
(and that is of direct concern to myself) I can only say that my faith in people
has been hit badly. This trip of several months, proves to be a psychology
lesson for me. What is currently going on, will not break me, oh no. It just
gives me an extra layer of protective skin to prevent that I am struck again.
But hey, it is not all doom and gloom. On
Monday, I was planning to update my blogs (this must sound familiar to you). No
lack of inspiration but a constant struggle for time results that I am always
behind with my English blog. Lacking time doesnt seem to be my privilege since
my hostess was just as frantically trying to get her project (knitting a
sweater for her elderly father) finished before the cold weather would set in.
Hello? Cold in Queensland?
No Belgian believes that one when feeling the mid winter sun, under the cloudless
sky. One advice I can give to all Queensland
visitors to the Western front: schedule your visit for July or August. A
Belgian summer might with some luck surpass your winter days
Full of good intentions, I switched on my
laptop while Jill lets the needles tap in a steady rhythm. Until the first
coffee break: the perfect opportunity to set all the problems of this planet.
And since there are quite a few to deal with, Monday has flown by before we
realised. My blogs were not updated and that sweater well that might turn out
to be a gift for next winter!
Sure enough I can not stay in Brisbane without having
tasted the atmosphere of the city. On Tuesday, it is decided that the time has
come to boost my knowledge. The plan is to catch the city ferry on the Brisbane river. Those
catamarans, which have an astonishing speed and agility, can be regarded as our
local city busses. The captain doesnt have to convince me of his skills: it
almost feels as I have ended up in a Hollywood
production as this vessel is going at an unbelievable speed from one side of
the river to the other. After many wandering tours in other Australian cities,
it strikes me immediately, that this society is far less mixed. Everyone
seems to be Australian. Have I finally found the city with the purest grade of
Aussie culture???
We enjoy the view along the riverbanks:
stately homes, each with their own mooring for a boat. Although the size of
most houses here is larger than what I have seen so far, it is still below the
Belgian average. In all my travels, I have learned that in our tiny little
country, houses are large, whereas much more modest houses are being built in
countries where space limitation are not an issue. Would the saying that
Belgians are born with a brick in their stomach hold some truth?
Once ashore, we start exploring Brisbane on foot.
Amazingly enough, there is a small section of rainforest to be discovered right
in the city centre. No way that can be compared with a Belgian forest, that is
pretty clear. Venturing further, we end up is some type of walking and shopping
centre: green, spacious, beautiful flowers in bright colours: a Belgian summer
doesnt do any better than this. On our stroll, we pass a little ice cream
seller. Although I try to keep away from sweets, I am sure that one sin wont
kill me. Addressing to him, I ask whether it is possible to obtain an vanilla-
chocolate ice cream. All I get is a puzzled look and a no sorry Why not
hokey-pokey, maam? A what??? Okay, occasionally I do step out of my nutrition
comfort zone.. The next thing I know is that I am holding a yellowish ice
cream, ready to be put to the taste test. Dont even ask me what it is made
off just take my advice: if you ever get a chance to eat this, say YES to it!
Eating ice cream does leave on thirsty. So
the next stop ends up to be a coffee shop. The ubiquitous ibises literally land
on nose-length distance, ready to steal some food away. Jill decides to
surprise me with a carrot cake, a more than pleasant surprise! Forget about the
calories, we decide that we will walk those off in no time. Later, Steven comes
up with a better alternative : why not go for a career as a belly dancer
Our little exploration is completed when
Steven gallantly comes to pick us up to return back home. At that moment, Brisbane turns into a
traffic chaos, however, somehow it all keeps on flowing.
Once back home, the whole family gathers
for dinner. This is one of the very few places where dinner is eaten
together:a quiet moment in the day,
during which everyone share his experiences of the day with the others. For a
split moment, I am being thrown back in time, though it feels like ages ago
since I sat at a table with my family. The strongest memory is that I was not
even welcome at the table A marriage ending up in a divorce: that doesnt
happen from one day to the other
Meanwhile, it is Wednesday morning. I have
just arrived at the house of my new hosts for the next couple of days. A
totally different environment, though all in all, I have moved less than 10 km. This house is situated
in an oasis of green; it seems we are far away from the civilized world, though
this is only an illusion.I have no idea
what awaits me the next days. That too is travelling: looking at the world, with an open mind, and at
the opportunities this great world has to offer. And this is a lesson I have learnt: I take the chance to step from
one adventure to another
It seems like the weather wants to make
clear that it sympathizes with me: a drizzly day in Sydney, lines up with my mind not being set
in a sunny mode. Strange, that a place which I have explored a lot less than
the previous cities I have been to, still appeals so strongly to me. Or should
I correct that? It is not the hive, which Sydney
appears to be, but rather the wonderful coastline, which has caught me.
Although I would never have considered myself to be a beach person, I must
openly admit that walking along the beaches, has changed me. The many surfers,
who after a wild ride at the head of the waves, submerge repeatedly; the
atmosphere of young mothers with paddling toddlers; the silence that briefly
follows the breaking waves it all left a deep impression on me.
Going back in time: after my lecture in the
Ashfield RSL, I was introduced to Alan, who is very much involved in the
maintaining of a fortress at North Head. Looking through European eyes, I can
immediately say that the traditional view that word invoked in me, is not
correct: do not expect a site with thick walls or ceiling Though heavily armed
ceilings were to be seen, be it below the surface. Fact is that Alan had
invited me for a private visit to the tunnels and that is something I dont
need to be asked twice. On Thursday morning, my host Peter and myself, headed
for Manly. We ended up in a different world: a group of 10 volunteers, coming
from near and far ( 3 hours drive!) is gathering there every Thursday, in order
to restore military vehicles and equipment. These men, from whom metalwork does
not present any insurmountable problem, have a mission: the preservation of
heritage, which, if it werent for their dedicated work, would be lost forever.
The doyen of the group (aged 91) manages to flawlessly re-create missing parts.
It makes me wonder how many young men would be able to imitate him
After an introduction to the whole group,
we set off for a guided tour of the tunnels, which eventually lead to the
position of a 9-inch gun. From the mid 30s, 2 of these guns, in combination
with several 6-inch batteries, were beinginstalled in order to protect the East coast of Australia against potential intruders (fearing
an attack from Russia or Japan, a fear
which proved to be founded eventually). The intention was that this
strategically positioned guns, would overleap each other sufficiently to ensure
a proper defence. A good example of Australian optimism since the range of 26 km from the big guns, was
not enough to assure a conclusive defence. The first stop is a room with 2 huge
generators (not the original ones but of the same type) and a control panel,
which covers an entire wall. Seeing this takes me back in time:I have seen a very similar setup in the
fortress of Mutzig (Alsace area, France) many
years ago. Roy, a very lively man in his seventies, is confronting a more than
decent challenge to restore this panel. That will undoubtedly be a labour of
love. We then decent deeper to end up in a very narrow tunnel, where water is
flowing continuously in 2 small channels, since we seem to sit just above a
wellspring. After a good walk in a second tunnel (the total distance is
approximately 300 meters),
we arrive at the storage end of the projectiles. Strange logic has been applied
when building this part of the fort: where as the hall where the generators
where installed, was built with extremely tick walls and an expansion space
between those walls and the ones of the tunnels, those between the cartridge
supply and the shell storage, prove to be extremely thin An ingenious
systemallows to move to 385 pound heavy shells to
an almost prehistoric version of a lift chain. When proceeding to the surface,
we end up being guided to the original gun position. Too bad that the jewel on
the crown is missing but nevertheless , this sites is more than worth a visit.
Following the fascinating tour, we end up
being invited for lunch: right in line with the spirit of this place. A
barbecue had been rolled out (this piece of equipment is as essential as a
washing machine in a typical Aussie family!) and the chef in charge, gets to
work. Shortly after that, the smell of freshly baked sausages draws us to the
makeshift kitchen. It will be a lunch, which I will not easily forget. No bells
and whistles here, but conversations with interesting people, who each have a
fascinating life story. No tourist brochure can offer a more exiting program
than this!
In the afternoon, we are guided by Roy, a
former soldier, who has lost his heart and soul to guns. We are being led from
one shed to another, where I find myself going from one surprise to another.
Several WW II guns have been restored into a pristine condition. I am
fascinated to learn that a second world war anti aircraft gun was connected to
a very early type of computer, which calculated the expected course of the
plane, allowing the gun sufficient time to aim where the plane was expected to
fly. Amazing information this is! Next to the guns, a huge searchlight holds a
prime position. An album with pictures, revealing the condition the searchlight
was found in, makes clear how much labour has been invested in the restoration.
My respect for these people grows with the minute The day comes to an end with
a very warm goodbye and an open invitation to visit them again, should my
future ever bring me back to Sydney.
Alan, Roy and friends: rest assured that I have made a note of this!
Returning to Dee Why, Peter takes the
opportunity to bring me to a lookout over the endless ocean. It is here that I
get to know, Aussie hospitality from the other side, although I dont realise
that at the moment itself.
Once back in my headquarters, I offer my
host to iron his shirts, while he attends a business appointment. In the course
of the evening, I experience a prickling sensation and an itching feeling on my
back. Worried about whats going on, I ask my host to check it out and then it
becomes clear that a tick had chosen me as a suitable host The little nonentity
had clung between my shoulder blades, with the clear intention to remain where
it was! It took a major operation to remove the uninvited guest. Peter just
laughed, saying: you havent been to Australia if you havent been
bitten by a tick!
The last few days have been so enjoyable;
having the Australian sun as an ally on my walks. Again, I end up with the
strong believe that this is a place which I am unlikely to ever forget. As
uncertain as my future still is, there is a little voice in me, telling that I
will be back
On Sunday morning Tim was ever so kind to
take me to the airport. I will certainly miss his dry British humour, just as I
expect him to miss the ironed shirts in his wardrobe.As Tim has planned a day of sailing, I arrive
at the airport at good time No problem at all, since I feel ever so relaxed at
airports. The self check-in system holds no secrets for me anymore although on
this occasion, I end up being confronted with a practical problem: when putting
my big red suitcase on the scale, it soon becomes clear that it exceeds the maximum
weight restrictions. So this one, ends up, re-arranging suitcases in the middle
of the departure hall. Luck is on my side: if someone would weigh my little
blue suitcase, the scale would soon make clear that my 10 kg might be slightly
underestimated
My flight was scheduled to depart at 11.05
am, boarding at 10.45 am. Sitting next to an American, I tell him that by now,
I am sure to have been confronted with everything that can possibly go wrong.
At least, that is how I thought about it until then. Meanwhile, I know
better As we were expecting to board, the intercom system announces that all
computers are down and that the boarding will have to be done manually. To cut
a long story short: we finally board on the plane, which is not moving an inch
for over an hour. Ultimately, with over 2.30 hours of delay, the flight
departs. In Belgium,
we have a very popular ad by the national railway company saying by train, you
would already have been there!. You know what.. sometimes, this ad does hold
some truth!
Being collected by Jill and Steven, my new
hosts, I am immediately being treated to a trip in the outskirts of Brisbane. No sandy
beaches here. Instead there is a kilometres long coastline, which anticipates
muddy terrain. MortonBay appears to be of enormous
magnitude, and since the access to the bay is gradually bogged down, there is
no swell to be observed on the water. On the Belgian coast, we have to deal
with the seagulls, here one has the ibis to live with. Fact is that this bird
will never be granted a beauty price, although they would do very well in an
arrogance contest
In the evening, we enjoy the reunion,
reminisce and discuss all aspects of Australian society. I feel so privileged
that I get a chance to broaden my horizons this way. When withdrawing to my
room, it becomes so clear to me how restricted my world has been, until now
