Dear All,

Here we go again: just another stop in an airport. I have written  several times that this is a habitat where I feel fine, although I would hasten to add that Brisbane Airport will leave me with a less positive impression.

Is it because of the fact that I am on an international flight, that there is no self check-in? Just when I finally have the feel of these machines? The only way to get a boarding pass proves to be queue in a very long line, which only shortens agonizingly slow.

Once I reached the head of the row, the clerk wants to know every detail of my itinerary. Oops, that information is buried in my carry on luggage… much to my happiness I manage to dig up the requested document, proof that I am not an illegal traveller who surreptitiously tries to get on board. Next point of discussion: my little blue suitcase, which has by now been around half on the globe without any problems, is considered to be too heavy. Air New Zealand has reduced the maximum weight to 7 kg. I know I am in trouble when deposing my favourite travel kit on the scale… the gauge of the scale sweeps unceremoniously to 11 kg. No chance to get away with this: so in front of a long queue of people, I have to re-arrange my luggage ending up with a bunch of paper work in a plastic bag. My Flemish logic tells me that I am still carrying the same amount of weight though.

It is with a sad feeling that I bear goodbye to my hosts. Even the kookaburras have said goodbye to me: with a thundering laughter in my ears, I leave the country which from the very start, left a deep impression on me. The past three months have been marvellous, a revelation all the way, a discovery which has given me some wisdom. I say a very sincere “Thank you” to my many Australian hosts. I have experienced your hospitality as the strongest asset of this rough country. Having tasted it so many times, I already feel I need to return for more…

My stay in Oz was rounded off with a dinner, to which a friend of the family had been invited as well. An evening full of pranks and jokes, since both Charles and Elizabeth have a more than adequate dose of Australian humour. I have to admit, that although I have been exposed to this peculiar humour for several months now, I still don’t manage to keep pace with it. It makes me conclude that my Belgian sense of humour is open to improvement!

On my journey through beautiful Australia, I have met many remarkable people. Sure enough my last host family fits in that category too. I do share Charles’s passion for the Great War, albeit from a different viewpoint. He is an artist (in Oz, I have met more people with a creative mind than anywhere else in the world), who, armed with a camera, tries to capture this part of history to save it for future generations. A number of his pictures are to he seen on his website  http://www.centenaryofWW1.com

Where as I have the gift to bring the message across with words, he surely knows how to capture his audience with images. Am I allowed to say that I do envy his gift?

Meantime, a couple of more days have gone by. I honestly struggle to upkeep both my blogs since time just flies away. Sandi, has picked me up at the airport and after a short walk on one of the 36 volcanoes on which Auckland is built, she took me to my new hosts: a family I have never met before but I had that instant connection with them. Chris and Georgina have welcomed me with open arms: to make me feel part of the family, they had even organised a dinner party that evening with other members of the Passchendaele Society. I ended up, being seated next to Mike, a (scattered) professor, who proved to be a very pleasant table companion. A man with an incredible knowledge, although being a kiwi, he was extremely modest. My first evening in this country is overwhelming. The many Aussies, who predicted that I might get hooked on their “extra” state (as they teasingly refer to NZ) could be right: the start is very promising indeed.

Yesterday was a day of concentration. A select audience was going to attend my lecture in the Auckland War Memorial Museum. For some unknown reason, I am struggling with nerves more than I have ever done before. Not a major problem as long as they don’t undermine my self-confidence. I started quite hesitantly but once I got the feel, I soon landed on my feet and delivered a good talk. The knowledge that this lecture was being filmed must have played a part as well: I just don’t feel confident in front of a camera.

After my presentation, I ended up being approached by several people, who wanted to express how much they had enjoyed the talk. Just a couple of days before I did my talk, Glyn Harper (one of NZ best known historians) presented a talk here. Hearing that from the audience that they had enjoyed my lecture as much as Glyn’s… I can not deny that I felt a bit of pride raising to the surface. I have not forgotten where I came from nor where I want to move to: in other words, I still have a long way to go!

After the lecture, I was guided by the curator of the museum. A very friendly, knowledgeable lady, who spoke with great feeing about the relationship between both our countries.

July 21^st: Belgium’s National Day…Where else but in a Belgian beer café can one go for a meal when being in Auckland? Although Belgian, I am not a beer drinker: whilst my hosts were enjoying the Belgian beers, I was supporting their economy by drinking Pinot Gris (it doesn’t always have to be Sauvignon Blanc). Since I can not deny my roots, I have eaten French fries on quite a few occasions during my trip. No where on the planet have I found our national pride prepared like here: just to die for. And I am not even mentioning the home made mayonnaise!

Today has been a quiet day: a lazy morning followed by a visit to Helen Pollock, whose artwork was put on display in the Memorial Museum Passchendaele 1917 in 2007. I was so lovely to catch up with Helen again, even more so since we are like minded spirits.  A few years ago she too had to take drastic decisions. In Helen I found a kindred spirit, who knows what it means having to live with a curtailed freedom…

The day came to an end with a private tour of the Navy Museum. A new revelation to me, which soon makes me realise how little (and that is putting it mildly) I know of NZ history. The museum is small but nevertheless fascinating:  I could easily have spent a couple of extra hours in there. As so very often on this trip, I am lacking time. If only I could stop the clock: there are countless times that I would have used my powers!

And now it’s really bedtime for me. Two lectures in schools on my schedule for tomorrow… no rest for the wicked!

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

High and dry in the dark night on my way to Brisbane, that is where I am right now…

The past few days just flew by, days which will have left a lasting impression on me. I find it hard to find the words to describe the warmth which Jo and John have given me. Over 10 years ago, when they came to Varlet Farm for the very first time, we did connect immediately and although the contact diluted a bit over the years, that same feeling was there again from the very minute I arrived. That is the beauty of friendship, a minute or a 10 years… it doesn’t really make a difference, one can pick up the thread immediately.

Monday morning… that means that another working weeks started up for my hosts. So for me that meant I was going to be alone during the day. One thing I have learned in the recent months is the knowledge that “being alone” is not the same as “feeling  lonely”. I have learned to appreciate the silence that surrounds me, although I do realise just as well that the hunger to meet people will never be far away.

Having spent several hours of writing (I am sure I can compete with an office lady, diligently attacking her paperwork), I decided to fill the afternoon with a walk. Without a map, I means that I need to concentrate on anchor points, in order to know where I am. No church spires here, which help you orientating yourselves. Instead, loads of trees but they all look very much alike!

A brisk walk took me to the golf course and that proved to be a double blessing: social contact on top of the beautiful nature! From my hostess, I had learned that there was a botanical garden nearby but not being able to find a sign, I just walked up to an avid golfer to ask for directions. A more than surprised look followed by a torrent of words and I ended up being a bit wiser again: there proved to be a small zoo as well…

“Small” surely does justice to my description of the zoo. Although I would refer to it as a hidden gem having a nice part of rainforest bang in the middle.  As to the amount of animals, let me remain diplomatic by saying that it wasn’t overwhelming but that was nicely balanced out by 3 living teddy bears, which one could approach from close by. Needless to say that I had no intention of missing out on a beautiful picture of a koala. More than half an hour later, I was willing to claim that they all had been given a training “how to turn away from the camera”! It took me endlessly to get the picture below and then to say that they don’t even move fast!

No kangaroos, no monkeys ( the cages were being renewed) but a whole bunch of colourful birds, one louder than the other. Definitely worth the visit!

Retracing my steps, I ended up at the golf course again: a man in his early forties was putting, with almost military precision, one ball after the other. Enough to arouse my curiosity of course. In the chat that followed, I learned that he was a professional golf player from Melbourne, who had come to Rockhampton to participate in a tournament, a trip of more than 2000 km. Wondering how one can play golf every day, he replied that this was the only way to success. Well, no career as a golfer for me! Hitting a ball for hours on a day to get the “feel” . Having been born with a chronic lack of patience: the perfect outset on the road to disaster! Where as golf is listed as an elite sport in our country, it appears to be a popular pastime for the average Australian. The Mike Tyson’s are scarce in this world… I soon learn that the average pro doesn’t dream of big money. Having a meagre income is widely being compensated by the many trips to distant destinations. Hm, that is the part of golf I do like!

On Tuesday, I was in for a new challenge. A relative of my hosts proves to be an avid fisherman. Once a successful lawyer, today he is one of the purest natural man, I have ever met. I have been invited to join in for a day of whiting fishing, which means that I return yet again towards the coast: a very different part of coast however. Being befriended with the owner of the pastures behind the coastal line, Jef has the keys to open all the locks on the gates, giving us access to endless meadows. I feel as if I am stepping in the scenery of “The Thorn Birds”  (remember the series with Richard Chamberlain, more than 25 years ago…) . The four times four makes it’s way over muddy paths, at times barely visible. At some point a mob of roos appeared out of the blue right in front of us: happily hopping around as if they hadn’t even noticed the car.  I wonder whether experienced reporters of nature documentaries would still feel the same adrenaline rush as I did on that very moment???

After more than half an hour of ploughing through the mud, we finally reached our destination: a pristine beach of more than 20 km length, with not a living soul to be spotted for hours around. The grey skies impaired visibility but I can assure you that this must be as close as one can get to earthly paradise! The nets are dragged out of the car and Jef with his friend (whom we picked up just before heading for the beach), wade in the water. I should have had my picture taken: luckily there was no one else to be seen as with my oversized shorts, T-shirt and jacket (in trendy colours!) and a hat to make the image complete, I know that I would have drawn the attention… John and Jo had insisted that I did use the sunscreen even when I replied that the sun was currently hiding in the US. They pointed out that the UV radiation is nowhere on this planet any higher than in Oz , something which results in an unusually high number of skin cancers. Whilst the men are dragging the net in a semi-circular move, I am convinced that my milky white legs have deterred every fish within a radius of 500 meters…Except for a stingray the catch is not of the type to feed the hungry: only 6 whiting end up in the eski. The stingray is one of the kind that killed, Steve Irwin, known as the crocodile man, quite a few years ago. He survived playing around with deadly crocodile to die as a result of an attack of a stingray. Bad luck was his deal on that day since the spine hit him in the heart, causing instant death.

Thoroughly wet, we headed back to the beach house, where Jef filleted the whiting, handing it over to me with the necessary cooking instructions. Am I wrong in assuming that he doesn’t trust my grey cells too much? Just before he bids farewell, I am being instructed to tell Jo to give him a ring to learn the recipe directly from him. All I can say is that Jef, hadn’t he been a lawyer, could easily have gone for a career as a cook: his recipe is one of the highest order… the whiting simply melts in the mouth. Barely 6 hours after their unfortunate end in a net on the beach, they caress my taste buds with a flavour, which I will probably never experience again.

The last day in Oz is one filled with some sadness. The realisation that I am about to leave this friendly country behind, is throwing me back in time. Less than 7 months ago, I stood at the beginning of this adventure, which undoubtedly will have a permanent effect on the rest of my life. Some lessons are just not being thought at school… Let it be clear that those are the ones, which will stay with me forever.

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012