May 2009 Archives

Warning:  This blog contains material of a positive and optimistic nature.  Due to its harmonious contents, it may not be suitable for skeptics, cynics, sarcastics, or anyone in my fimmediate amily and tribal heritage. 

Today was a good day.  I went to visit the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary

http://www.koala.net  

and took about 50 pictures of kangaroos and koalas.  I fed and pet them, and got up close and personal with the "tails and scales" (reptiles). 

I tell ya, petting cute animals is medicinal.  Theraputic up the ying yang. One hour of stroking the ol kangaroo and I feel like a new woman.  (That's what they call it Down Under.)  Okay, can I be serious for a moment?  It was awesome.  I GUESS if you wanted to be a bit jaded you might have called it a large petting zoo for Australians, but come on-- snuggling kangaroos and koalas?  Just TRY not to grin as you read this. 

But, there's more.  Dingoes and wombats and snakes-- oh my!  And lovely parakeets and cockatoos.  Kuckaberras (spelling) bleeting away.  Or, whatever verb they do.  Echidnas (Hi Bonnie), Tasmanian Devils, gowannas, the most venemous snakes in Australia (read:  the world) and a 10 inch sausage.  I'm not trying to be lewd.  I did stroke my kangaroo, grope my koala, fondle my cockatoo, and nibble on a 10 inch sausage.  Hey-- it's Australia.  Anything can happen. 

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I may repost other photos, so recheck this blog.  Also, photos tend to copy in at an alarmingly large size.  Not sure what to do about that. 

So. 

I've decided today's blog is my RECAP and REFRAME.  I made a list of positive things that have occured, despite the bitching and moaning and whiny girl shriekings in the hallway.

Again, the disclaimer.  So, If you are sensitive to optimism, feel free to stop reading here.  We'll see you dullards tomorrow.  For the rest of you, here goes:

 

• I AM in Australia, after wanting to be here since 10 years-old.  I have reached that goal. 

• I have a planned itinerary and reservations, so I know where I'm going the next 5 weeks.

 

 

 

 

Interesting ad. America seems laid back, but I've never seen an ad like this around the states-- not even in Vermont (well, then again, seeing as there are no billboards...)

 

Had a mind-blowing dinner with Kym Traecy from Australearn.  We went to a restaurant called Mushimi and had some of the freshest sushi I've ever had.  Ironically, fresh sushi-- to me-- has no fish taste.  What is it with that:  the most expensive Make Up gives the illusion that one is wearing no Make Up.  The freshest sushi has no fish taste or odor.  

They had a Japanese Egg Fu Yung pancake thing stuffed with shrimp, squid, fresh fish, tender beef, and I don't know-- the pancake part was purely token, holding it together like a crepe.  They swirled this sauce on the top... dear god.  Heaven.

We shared a bottle of wine-- an Australian Chardonnay (two of my favorite things).  Fox Creek Chardonnay.  Deelish-- non-oaky (because, an excellent Chardonnay-- which is a wine aged in oak barrels-- shouldn't taste oaky, right?).  

http://www.foxcreekwines.com.au/ 

 

Kym shared with me that Mike from Tread Lightly (who was my guide) is a world famous digeridoo player.  He never mentioned that to me. You can google youtube "Mike Jackson plays the didgeridoo" or check out the link below:  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XypsePE2xjA

 

I'm not minding the hostels-- I had fun last night.  The Irish dorm mates-- Chevon and Stephanie-- were so sweet.  They sounded like Minnie Driver, and I was auditorially purring.  I felt like one of the gang in Circle of Friends (doncha kno).  They were so kind, asking me questions, seeming genuinely interested and including me in their conversations.  I showed them Sam's gift (it is totally awesome; I can't wait to give it to you, Samika!), and we all shared a wild roll of laughter on the floor.  We're great mates, we.   

But, then there are other times...  At this moment, there is a young girl speaking some kind of Asian language-- I think it's Thai, although I have no clue-- and for some reason, it's elicitng a response inside of me that is frightening:  I'd like to strangle her.  Ahh, thank god, she's walking down the hall now.  I dunno-- it was like nails scratching on a blackboard.  I just wanted to shriek

SHUT THE F**K UUUUHP!!!!

But I suppose that wouldn't be very political correct of me.  So what, now that we have Mandatory Global Tolerance, I can't be annoyed by her high, pitchy, jagged staccato??  Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, my friends.  Just cuz I hate her voice doesn't mean I hate her race. 

Hm..  why is it that we're supposed to have Global Tolerance, but it's fine to be Lactose Intolerant?  In fact, we can be intolerant of just about any food, liquid, chemical or fragrance, but somehow if I'm annoyed by whats-her-name, I'm Hitler. 

okay, where was I?  Oh yes, in the restaurant.  Well, it was great.  Nothing annoying there.  Shucks, who knows-- maybe I was the annoying one last night.  Maybe someone's blogging about this loud, whiny American who turned them right off their Japanese Egg Fu Yung pancake thingy.  With that incredible sauce. 

Now the girl next to me is speaking German.  German's not so bad.  It's kind of crunchy, like peanut brittle.  But, if that other chick comes back and starts screeching, so help me, this 100% Russian Jew is gonna get quite Gestapo on her ass.  And, I sure ain't gonna have to host Sorry Day afterwards.

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segueway:  Gestapo to Airport Security.  I'm in the airport this morning, flying to Brisbane.  Security is more lax here.  I kept my shoes on. 

They have smaller plastic containers (for travellers to put their belongings in) than American airports, when they pass through security.  Made me think:  Australia is the only other major country who didn't sign the Kyoto Agreement (did Obama sign that yet?  Any human on the planet [besides me] answer that one?), so in terms of greedy ignorant pigs, I'd say AU and US are neck and neck.  Except that AU has chosen to change all their toliets to water and energy saving devices, is removing plastic and conserving electricity, and has a respectable cost for gas (@ 6.00 per gallon) and smaller cars.  And, the subtle kicker in the airports:   these plastic holders are about half the size of ours.  So, it sort of begs the question:  could this indicate an assumption that Aussies have less stuff when they travel?  And, if travel is a time when people are supposedly more frugal or prudent in having stuff, and that's the time when we are forced to have less-- even still, Aussies carry less when they travel than we do?  Is the USA truly-- without a doubt-- hands down-- the solid winner of the greediest, most materialistic inhabitants (read:  pigs) on the planet? 

Sounds like I'm in a bad mood, eh?  Well, I'm back in a city:  Brisbane.  When you think Brisbane, think Boston. 

 

Long, swerving river running through the city.  Beautiful skyline, with floating clouds.  It was WARM and SUNNY!  I'm not in Kansas anymore; this is not Soggy Sydney.  I had a lovely walk around the botanical gardens and river markets.

 

 

But, it's still a city.  I just have to get out of these fricken cities.  The whole point was to see the Country of Australia.  To fly over, walk in cities for 6 weeks, spending money I should be saving-- well, there are dreams, and then there are nightmares.  Good news is Sunday I will do just that, until Jun 14, when I fly to Perth (a city-- but.... they do say it's an awfuuul niice one...).  So, I'm going to plan out the last two weeks, where I have time to explore the country.  I'll still stay in hostels and I'll take some buses and trains and get OUT and into the lovely wide open nothingness.  And, who knows?  Maybe I'll be just as bitchy and moany.  Cross your fingers and hold your breath!  The anticipation is dynamic!!

I was thinking about all the encouragement and support and love I have received, and I started to feel self-indulgent and incredibly selfish.  I mean, here are people battling cancer and other horrific health conditions, mourning deaths of loved ones, struggling through divorce, depression, mental illness, or just working like dogs and raising their families with the stress of crazybusy lives-- and I'm having a temper tantrum because it's raining in Sydney and I can't go out in my turquoise sweater or I haven't seen enough red dirt.  Big fat *u*k*n* deal!  Oh my god, Susan.  Get over yourself.  You're already here.  You are wasting perfectly good divine grace from these people~~ 

so, I give you all permission to officially send your loving energy to folks who really need it.  And, I'll do the same.  I'll still bitch and moan, but let's all put our prayers where they are truly needed.  (Dad, you can substitute "prayer" for "think nice thoughts about another human being.")

And, by the way-- Australia has The Rabbit on the Moon (as opposed to the Man). 

 

 

Just another in a series of Random Acts of Trivia.  I think I'll create a blog with a collection of these. 

 

Oh my....

 

... guess who just returned from her walk down the hall?  Arbeit Mach Frei, honey.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm taking the liberty of pasting some comments people have written recently.  disclaimer:  I didn't post these as a personal tribute to myself.. I just wanted to share some of your encouragement and insight with others. 

love susie

 

Mike Ingersoll:

are you there yet are you there yet are you there yet! the sun here in brattleboro is blessing us with more beauty than has ever been witnessed, even by the old timers. one old timer told me today, " I've waited my whole life for this special day here in brattleboro. I knew it would come and now my life is fulfilled." That my friend is a glorious endorsement. I'm really saddened that you had to miss this most wondrous of days. Enjoy the continent of Australia( southern land) and soak up all you can. E-mail us here and let us know what's going on. Mike I

Thanks for letting me know I just missed the best day in Vermont.  Bastard. 

 

Ali Lichtenstein: 

Hey, Susie!  I'm reading your blog every day and trying to post comments, but for some reason they keep getting "blocked"?  Wonder if it's happening to other folks, too.  I love hearing about your adventures and your inner dialogue.  As for non-blue plateaus, the question mark goes inside the quotation marks in this case. : )   See--the old PhD in rhetoric and comp is indeed good for a thing or two.  Love you!  Keep writing....

Thank you, Ali!

 

Mark Crowther (husband):

actually, the older you get in Australia, the more proud and public you want your age to be known! it's all backwards down there, right?  sorry you're back in the city, but there are napkinless people all around you!

Absolutely!  Love you, Markie!

 

Franny Aquino (my sister)

Susie - You sound a bit bummed being in the city...It'll pass.  Take every moment with a grain of salt.  You have become our icon here! We can't wait to run to our computers in the morning to read your blog! It is so interesting - even if you are miserable at times (aren't we all?).

Your picture was in the Brattleboro Reformer today - Movie Star!!

Gina, a woman that I work with that knew you were on the trip, came to me today with the paper and said, is that your sister?  I was blown away...I felt like crying!  There you were on the front page of the second section with your hat on and looking out into the wilderness with a smile on your face!!

After reading all of your blogs, Gina is now a "Susie In the Outback" blog groupie!!

Before you know it, we will have the entire tri-state area reading your blogs, By Golly!

You are truly an inspiration - AND - you must publish a book - THAT goes without saying!

Susie - I love you so much. Keep moving forward...don't stop!

I can't wait to hear about the Great Barrier Reef adventure.  Every morning, I wake up and run to the computer (even before I have my coffee)- your blogs are even more exciting than Sex and the City episodes - REALLY!!

We all miss you so much - absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Sam and Luc are doing well - you know how boys are...

Well - ta ta for now ma petite soeur (sister in French)!

I love you -
Freeb

I love you, too Freeb.  Thanks tons for your encouraging words.  You saved my life in the airport last week, when I was ready to turn around and bolt!

 

Mom & Dad Fagelson:  

Susan,

   I reread todays' blog--it was SO interesting! You writing has
   wonderful humor (the art gallery guy), thoughtful information,
   wonderful metaphors, & is real, real, real, honest, worthwhile
   reading! Lots of people-to-people learning is going on in your
   head & in ours.

   Seems like you're getting into the whole adventure more
   confidently, too, so you can begin
   to enjoy it by building meaning & memories from the stuff you
   choose to see & do. This will make one helluva
   book!

   Are you getting over your jet lag, "etc?"

   We love you,
   mom  & dad
   ps Dad may call you tomorrow--he's so impressed w/ your writing. 

moochka and doodsicle!
 Thanks for the comments-- they help pave the way to feeling more confident in the entries and in staying each day (still fighting the urge to hop on board a plane and get the hell out of here).
 Jet Lag hitting harder than I thought-- whew, impressive feelings in the body.  
 lovest.

 

Mike Ingersoll:

boy, that is some pretty goddamn good writing.. a lot of lol moments. i'm unsure why you are reticent about taking photos.. those two sounded like great photos. sorry, i can't help you with australian history, grammar, spelling or anything that you asked assistance with, see. I like the observation that being in a group elicits less interaction with the locals. that seems to be true. from what you said about your itinerary you will have plenty of solo time. it is so weird how everyday articles are different in a foreign land, how things that you indentify immediately as to their use here in the u.s.,  there, you probably have to stop and figure them out for a minute or two. that photo of you in the blue mountains does remind me of northern arizona/southern utah. keep the blog rolling, it really is great writing. maybe you can publish it and get rich. at some time during your journey imagine that you had lived there your whole life and that this was just another day.  be very well and take in all that you can. you will never forget this! Mike I

I always knew my writing was waaay better than yours, Mike.  Thanks!  ;) 

 

Mike Ingersoll:

hello again. Here's another thing to experience. notice how many and how often you will see dirt paths, patches of bare earth, weeds and overgrown grass as compared to a town here in the u.s. I think we've lost that aesthetic here. cheerio, g-day,slap one on for me,right,good-golly and a solid rainy-day cross-roads blues to you, Mike I

you're a right active bloke there, mate!  bullocks!

 

Chuck Crowther

Dear Susie,
I was very proud to show all my friends your picture in today's Reformer and your blog. We all missed you at your mother's birthday party which Mark hosted magnificently I might add. It even included fresh trout that he and Luc had caught at Lake Raponda the day before.
Your blogs are WONDERFUL and I read them religiously every day!  Do not worry about when any punctuation either should go in or outside the quotation marks. It is a simple detail which your editors should correct when you are ready to publish. (and I strongly believe that you should publish your collected memoirs.) You have a definite style and voice that needs to be shared, and Dave and I agree a talent like yours should not "be kept under a bushel".
Keep up the good blogs or e-mails and your journaling and take time to smell the roses along the way. We all LOVE you heaps and heaps!
Chuck

Thank you for your kind words, Chuck.  I will keep the grammar, usage and mechanics to the professionals.  Love susie

 

The other emails were pretty personal and gushy-- and if anyone minds my reprinting, please email and I'll delete them.  susiecrowther@gmail.com

 

Thank you all.  Let's keep writing.

love susie

 

 

 

Tom Derrico from the Reformer says: 

I changed the settings so that ANYONE can comment ... before, you had
to sign up for that ability.

 

So, if you've tried to post comments, please try again-- looks like it should work.

 

Thank you family and friends!  My email account was loaded with supportive emails.  People are amazing.  You reach out, and there are 20 hands and hearts extended.

 

I'm meeting Marcea now to visit the city.  Should be more fun with a friend.  Hey!  I have a friend in Australia!  And, p.s. the dorm mates were just lovely.  Two girls from Ireland who went to bed hours before I did.  What do you know.

 

More later.  You all ROCK.  Thank you!

love susie

CHECK OUT PREVIOUS BLOG ENTRIES FOR ADDED PICTURES.

Lifelines and Lightbulbs and Touchstones and Toilets...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Australia, they are suddenly concerned with the environment.  The cheating husband sends flowers to the spouse (after he's infected her with AIDS?).  Pardon the cynacism.  I'm back in the goddamned city.  I'm as excited about that as a wet blanket in the rain.  I could feel the depression and ickyness push into me, as I sped into Sydney on the train.  It's also raining again.  Whatevah. 

The picture above is from a public toilet.  The half circle depicts pee pee deposits.  The full circle... the Full Monty. 

Toilets are like this all over.  When Australia decides to change, they change.  Mental models tossed out and rebuilt quite seriously.  All toilets in homes are changed as well.  Plastic bags are out in the stores; everyone's gone canvas.  And, the government has issued plastic, flourescent bulbs to replace those horrid, barbaric ones with that primal filament.

When I mentioned "nourishing" myself with Blog entries, I'm afraid some of you might be taking me too literally.  It's a literary embellishment.  I eat.  I'm not a hobo.  I'm just enjoy blogging and receiving letters from caring people back home.  Please feel comfortable writing long emails-- they are lifelines and touchstones.  Even "Dreams Come True" need secure footing. 

This YHA in Central Sydney has a sauna and pool-- guess where this world traveller is spending her evening?  Oh yeh.  The movie Australia is playing here in the hostel, but I imagine it sucks just as much down under as it did in the states.  There's a ruuumah (rumer) that Hugh Jackman can be found out jogging in the mornings at Bondi Beach (nice beach in Sydney).  Maybe I'll get lucky tomorrow and NOT see him (props to you, Dr. Cox on Scrubs and my lovely son, Lucas).

So, I'd love to sit and write for a few hours, but I better get out there and explore.  Love you.

 

susie 

The "Blue" "Mountains"?  (Chuck?  Question marks in or out of the quotations?)

 

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The Blue Mountains are neither.  Gad, there's a boatload to report today. 
The Blue Mountains are yellow sandstone plateaus.  They are not mountains as they do not converge to a peak, have a water source or something else (geographers, please).  And the Blue?  Is due to the Reighly Scattering-- when the light hits the oil from the eucalyptus (hundreds of varieties and other flora that have oils) that dissipates into the atmosphere.  If it were water hitting the light it would be.... a rainbow.  But, since it's this oil, it refracts into a Blue Hue (I'll behave, verbally). 

So, why The "Blue" "Mountains?"  (Chuck?)  When the English arrived at these lovely plateaus, they looked up and saw that they were high.  When they looked at the haze about the really high plateaus, they saw it was blueish.  They didn't wait for someone to come along and tell them that Pluto's not really a planet.  They just named them the Blue Mountains. 

The Blue Mountains are a World Heritage site-- one of 18 in Australia.  There are four criteria for becoming a WHS-- and I don't remember what they are.  But, the Blue Mountains have 2 criteria.  Age.. bio-diversity... (environmental scientists, please).  Tim from the Reformer, please have the comments up and running, so people can correct my information!

Okay, haven't YET seen the night sky, but Tim from Tread Lightly says it's bully.  From here, we can see 3 (count em, Sam) gallaxies with the naked eye, and about 75% of the Milky Way (fully clothed).  Scorpio is visible in the Winter Constellation, and as I am a Scorpio, thats' a good sign.  Thank you, God. 

Tim from Tread Lightly described a visit with people from Singapore.  They were on a night hike, seeing the stars and glow worms.  They came to a lookout point, where Tim shut off the flashlights to take a long gaze at the night sky.  The Singaporians (linguistics, please) began to freak out, shouting loudly and frantically.  Tim asked them what was the issue.  The Singaporists explained in anxious English that they could not see anything!  They could not see their hands in front of their faces, nor the person next to them.  It was non-sensory overload.  Apparently, they had-- literally-- never been in the dark before.  As everyone in Singapore lives in the mega-city, with constant lights, even at night-- even in the dark of their apartments-- they had never experienced... Dark. 

It's this kind of stuff that makes me shake my head and drink several martinis.  Never experienced.... the Dark??  And, how many millions-- BILLIONS-- of people live in cities?  Um... billions?  Imagine that.  The majority of humans on the planet might very well have never experienced... the Dark.  I don't know about you, but that is pretty ***king bizarre.  But, then, I live on a Class 4 road in Vermont, so how dare I judge "normal."

I asked where were the Aboriginal sites in the Blue Mountains.  Tim stopped and said, "look."  It's all Aboriginal.  Made me culturally blush-- I fall prey to the stereotype that an Aboriginal site will have sacred campground, rock art, tools intact, and a spiritual glow with subtle messages left only for me.  Turns out I'm full of *h**.  What tourists (and sorry immigrants who arrived after the aboriginals or who arrived after but are not black and therefore very sorry too) want is a time machine.  They want to visit 27,000 years ago, pick up a trinket, shake a hand, and fly back home.

Also, like, did you think about the fact that we have time machines.  Airplanes!  We just need to expand on the distance, eh Sam?

Tim pointed out another backwardsness of Australia.  In autumn in Australia, the leaves remain and the bark falls off the trees.  Well, sheds. 

The trail I walked today was the Charles Darwin trail.  Apparently, Chuck didn't think much of Australia.  But, Tim says the expedition was in its fourth year, the crew was homesick and tired, and everyone was ready to get home, so they saw Australia through these weary, defeated eyes. 

It's day 6, and I'm beginning to see Australia through well-rested, determined eyes.  4 days in the country were medicinal.  Snuffing smushed Eucalyptus and Melaluca branches, hiking miles, strolling along the streets of Katoomba (more than a "dole town"-- kind of Brattleboro-y), listening to this wonky language... I'm beginning to feel right at home. 

I'm staying an extra night in the Blue Mountains with Marcea (apparently I am a wonderful house guest), and into Sydney tomorrow.  Tomorrow I'm on a bit of a scavenger hunt-- off to find galleries (or even the artist himself) who carry James P. Simon's art.  Google him.

Good night.  Enjoy the dark (and your wimply little galaxies-- IN YOUR FACE, NORTH AMERICA).

love susie 

    

Good Evening.

Had a good day with Marcea.  She's really similar to my friend Wendy Elliott from Keene, NH.  She looks like my sister Franny and Wendy, so I feel in warm and loving company around her.  We stopped at a cool touristy town called Leura-- quite lovely, really (splendid, mind you).  Then, into Katoomba, the more laid-back mountain town where groovy hippies live on the dole and hike the mountains.

The Blue Mountains range is similar to the Grand Canyon-- I think I mentioned that.  But, it is covered in trees, too.  Husband Mark says the blue is due to the Eucalyptus trees casting their light into the atmosphere-- gives off a blueish hue (for you non-jews, "blueish" means kind of blue.

Blue.  Due.  Hue.  Jew.  That was kind of annoying.  And two "kind ofs."  So, Blue Due Hue Jew Sue me.  It's a Blog, not the New Yorker. 

Heading out to the Blue Mountains finally felt a bit like the trip I have imagined.  As in, I was seeing the country, the different terrain, beyond Sydney's buildings and museums and statues-- cities could place me anywhere, you know?  But, it's the land that determines the place.

I love driving and riding--- just watching the terrain.  It's relaxing, like a movie show.  And, the trees are so different.  That's the coolest part-- the different flora and fauna.  A simple walk down the street is like walking in a parallel universe.  People speak English but in a weird accent and with weird phrases.  People drive, but on the other side of the road.  People are English and American, but they're not.  There are birds and bugs and trees, but they're all different!  Even the grass is different!  It's been cloudy since I arrived, but there is a spot of sky tonight, so I'm planning to look at stars.  I haven't seen one yet, and I can't wait to get confused, acclimating to the constellations.  Gonna find me a Southern Cross.  

That's part of the chronic allure of Australia:  the backwardsness of it all.  Like falling down the rabbit hole or slipping into a different dimension.  Familiar, yet different in a safe way-- like taking hundreds of small risks-- tiptoeing out of my comfort zone all day.  It's delightful. 

Not like stepping off the plane in Thailand or Bali.  I don't know.  I think, for me, that would be too overwhelming.  I couldn't even begin to be delighted by it all, because I'd be so incapacitated with newness.  Australia is a wonderful way to keep one foot on solid ground, and one foot in weird muck.  I like it. 

Like the language.  It's kind of a different language, but with a much smaller learning curve.  It's just such a safe way to challenge oneself.  It feels much more like Play than Costa Rica was.

Safety Sam.  Jews in the Wilderness.  What can I say:  I'm not Evil F***iing Kneivel, even if I did drop my drawers and hurl myself across the world.  I like a little Comfort Zone with my Crazy, thank you very much. 

Remember to say Happy Birthday to Marcia Fagelson on Monday the 25th.  I love you, Momest!  Great to hear your voices today.  Love you, Daddio.

Tomorrow I'm back in the Blue Mountains for an Eco-Tour with Tread Lightly.  Then, back to Sydney for Sorry Day, Paddington Markets, a visit with another random connection-- Trish Amichi, of Gallery Amichi (Aboriginal Art)-- and dinner with my Australearn crew.

Then on Friday..... off to the Great Barrier Reef!    

G'Day.  Up here in the Blue Mountains, in a tiny town called Faulconbridge.  With my penpal Marcea Klein. 

Marcea and I met by email over 5 years ago.  You're a Vermonter, so you know:  around March, we all get a bit grumpy.  One March day, after another 20 inches were dumped on us, I figured that was it.  Time to move.  Nevermind that Mark & I just moved into our new house in West B.  Nevermind that our kids are in school and family is in Vermont.  20 inches in mid-March.  I'm getting the hell out of here.  So, I type the keywords:  "Culinary School, Natural Foods, Australia" and a few hits emerge.  One if for this Natural Foods Culinary School.  In Australia.  The woman who runs the program is Marcea Weber.  I send an email, with the message:  "Are you hiring?"  I send this email out to about 15 other siimilar places in Australia and NZ.  One person responds:  Marcea Weber.  She responds, "HIring for what?" 

And, so begins our penpalitry.  Marcea is a Nutritonist and Counselor who specializes in Chinese Medicine, Macrobiotics, and Buddhist Psychology.  I have eaten quite well in the past three days. 

Will update this later.  Happy Birthday to my mommy, Marcia Fagelson!

I love you, moomoo.

Susie

It's too early in the journey for moldy clothes.  But, as I said yesterday, you never know what the hell will happen. 

So, I'm wandering around the lovely Botanical Gardens, intermingling with the delightful orchids and gazing thoughtfully at the tropical plants-- I'm quite propah, just in case anyone would care to notice me.  Did I mention that women in their 40s are invisible?  Or, maybe it's just me.  As my father lovingly refers to my sister Fran and Me:  Vogue and Vague.  Guess which one I am.  Well, Vague in any other country translates quite literally. 

So, I'm vaguely wandering around the gardens.  I visit the Opera House.  And, by "visit," I mean to walk up the steps, take a token picture, become too embarassed to ask someone to take MY picture in front of the place, and leave.  One cool detail I did not know about was that the Opera house roof has over 1,000,000 white tiles (argh-- are they Swiss?  historians, please).  Anyway-- tons of tiles over these huge white "masts."  Who the hell tiled these roofs???  (Sam, was it Aliens?) 

Well, it sure wasn't Americans.  We'd roll our eyes and take a cigarette break.  The Opera House is reputed to be an architectural (spelling) disaster.  Budgeted at 7 mil, it ended up costing 102 mi.  The Danish Architect who won the opportunity to build it in a contest ended up quitting due to bureaucratic BS and never returned to witness his glorious vision.   

I'm writing this without my Cliff Notes from yesterday, because I have only 20 minutes for this entry.  Trying to economize, and I notice that the Blogging can easily take 30 bucks a day if I let it.  And, I'm the type who would do that.   I like the blogging, but it takes time to figure things out, and I want to hyper-economize.  I'm feeling that blogging is more nutritious than food (and certainly more than booze), so that's me trade off.  I think I'm more comfortable writing about my experiences than actually having them.  I notice that I spend equal amounts of time everywhere just jotting things down.  (Well, I didn't need to travel 10,000 miles to figure that one out!). 

Thanks for the comments-- they help pave the way to feeling more confident in the entries and in staying each day (still fighting the urge to hop on board a plane and get the hell out of here). 

Let's see... becoming increasingly interested in the whole Australian Apology.  Australians overwhelmingly decided to acknowledge the horror that they inflicted upon the Aboriginal culture, back when AU was "discovered."  They created "Sorry Day," back in 1997, I believe.  On Sorry Day, people are.... you know.... sorry.

 

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I did write something about this, so bear with me.  Okay-- So, Sorry Day is the day Australians ( and by that, I mean everyone who arrived after the Aboriginals-- or in today's situation, everyone who is not a black Aboriginal.  So, immigrants from the Philipines and Southeast Asia can be quite sorry, too, apparently.)   

Anyway, Sorry Day is the day Australians say they're sorry for the persecution of the Aboriginals.  They focus on the Stolen Generation-- 2,000 children-- mostly half-bred young girls of 10-14-- yanked from their families and given the honor of being servants for white families in an attempt to "gussy up."  The goal was to make them suitable for marriage to um... real humans.  The white boys who would dissipate their blackness and breed that nasty stain right out of humanity.

   

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Perhaps it's a bit more humane than "Ethnic Cleansing," but more like... "Ethnic Smudging"?  Does someone have a cuter term for it? I'd like to hear it. And, again, Chuck-- do the question marks live within the quotations?  I forget that.    

I'm afraid I'm less witty today.  But, that's what hurried rough drafts will do for a Voice. 

Sorry Day.  A Day to celebrate blame of the superior race and colonization.  this is so un-American.  Imagine if Barack Obama created "My Bad" Day.  A day for national atonement and global regret.  National "Dear God, did we *** up Day."  (How come we need to bleep out ****, but God is fine?) 

How might you celebrate National "My Bad" Day with your family?  Celebrate all the "sorrys" of years gone past... sorry I cheated on you.  sorry I beat up on you.  sorry I ate the last piece of cheesecake (or gave that last piece of shrimp away at the Goten to a complete stranger).   

Sorry I never made it to Australia?  NOT!!  Schwing!

 

A few corrections from yesterday.  The First Fleet was 11 ships and arrived 18-20 Jan, 1788 with Captain Arthur Philip.  700 convicts traveled on that 8 month voyage.  Captain Philip raises the flag on 26 Jan, 1788.  The description ran:  "Public crisis for 18th century Britian.  They and thousands like them (convicts from the First Fleet) who avoided the gaols (gallows?), sat distressed and sick in rotting old ships in Britians waterways because the gaols were full.  Establishing a penal colony was the proposed solution.  Part Social Experiment part Strategic Opportunity to get the better of the French, Dutch, and Spanish in the Pacific.   

The Rather Annoyed art dealer's name was Paris, not Francis.  Now you can all rest easier tonight knowing that, eh? 

Oh, the rest of the day had me caught in a blustering rainstorm-- the kind that drenches you in 30 seconds.  I hurried on to the saltwater pool-- remember the one I wanted to visit?  Turns out it's closed for the winter.  Reopens September.  So, drenched and still raining, I decided to walk the mile back to the hotel (Vague, not Vogue).  And, guess what?  People do notice a Vague 45 year-old woman who wears frumpy clothes and no makeup.  They notice her when she's the only one mad enough to walk a mile back to a hotel in the pouring rain, as free buses pass by (too embarassed to board the bus).    

Oh, guess what else?  I had breakfast with Margaret's family today, and her daughter Althea who lives in Darwin says that they are desparately seeking teachers there.  Especially teachers who have expertise in Learning Disabilities.  Said one might find work teaching aboriginal children. 

 

Dot.  Dot.  Dot. 

 

love to all.  Miss you guys more than I thought.  Funny how travel does that.  You think life will be amazing and exotic, and you end up just wanting to be farted on, by your kids.

 

Susie the Vague.

 

 

Gosh, lots to report in a short day.  Arrived yesterday awake and ready to explore.  Walked for 6 hours for miles throughout the city.  Until I download the camera, will illustrate with words.  Over to Haymarket, to a weekend public market called Paddy's.  Trinkets, produce, awful t-shirts-- you know, the usual touristy kind.  One in particular caught my eye and was thinking about getting it for my dad.  It showed two arrows:  the first points to the head, stating "The Man."  The second to the genitals, stating, "The Legend"  (why I would think of my father when I see this T-shirt is a story for another time).
 
Food and Stuff~~
 
Morgan's Coffee.  Stylish, modern and pretentious.  Order the drink, they line the cups and lids while people wait patiently in the line behind the line.  The young good looking coffee clerks dressed in black call out drink orders like they are announcing people who can enter Studio 54. 

I'm from Brattleboro, VT.  So, Mocha Joes is fancy coffee for me.  I've never learned the US's second language-- I'm referring to "Starbucks."  I don't know how to order a coffee at Starbucks.  Tall, skinny, grande, nonfat, double, skim, espresso vente, latte?  I always feel like Frasier's father, entering a Starbucks.  Um, can I have a cup of coffee to go?  What kind?  The strong, black kind.  A big cup-- that one, there (using Archaeic Pointing System, when people still used hands for something other than texting and giving other drivers the finger). 
 
So, I ordered the one safe coffee with basic pretense and transferrability-- Cappucino. 
 
Our dollar is stronger here in Australia.  1.00 Au is worth about .80 US.  But then, things cost more in Sydney.  $5.00 for a small Cappucino?  Even folks at Starbucks would raise an eyebrow.   At an airport.  A quart of bottled water is $5.00.  Ouch.  But, I found a Sushi joint, Sushi King-- that has fresh sushi lunch boxes for $4.00.  Such a deal. 
 
Bought some dried kiwi and a "rock fruit"-- both were nasty and sweet.  Lots of exotic veggies and fruits-- big green things with warts and sprockets on them.  I imagine they're yummy. 
 
Noticed my thoughts on Day 1.  Lots of needless worrying.  Will I do enough quality activites?  Will I see everything I need to see?  What if I miss out on the Perfect Cafe or Transformative Encounter on the parallel street?  Then, the mortal details:  What gifts should I get that say, "I care, yet I'm broke"?  What can I buy that will fit in Carry On?  How will I catch my LA connection if I have to check my bags, because I had to buy bulky gifts like boomerangs and T-shirts that desribe, "The Man.... The Legend"?  And, to my father-in-law:  Do I keep the question mark inside the quotations?
 
Mostly I'm concerned about seeing enough of the Bush versus stagnating in the cities.  Anyone who knows me knows I care as much for cities as... as for a T-shirt that says, "The Man... The Legend."  Better not over-use that one.  But, I'll be visiting the Blue Mountains with my pen-pal, Marcea this weekend. 
 
I hear the Blue Mountains are similar to the Grand Canyon.  I heard this from my dorm room mate, Margaret, from Wagga Wagga (a nice place to raise children).  She arrived last night, after I napped from 4:00-8:00 pm.  Held out as long as I could, but came back after mega-stroll around the city with swollen legs, dizzy, and generally not too there.  She & I chatted for a few hours, and she described some interesting information about Australia that I'll share here.  I'm not a journalist and I don't care about editing the details for accuracy, so here's this:  if the information I present is incorrect, feel free to edit in a comment.  Last night I was too sleep-deprived and in general, too apolitical to care about accuracy.  Otherwise, suspend reality and consider these stories.  Which, you know, history is, anyway...  whatever. 
 
Margaret says that Australia is governed by the Socialist Party-- which to me infers that it could be run by another party if voted in?  There is a love-hate relationship with Aussies and their government, a legacy from Australia's beginnings.  It seems that government is a bit monopolistic-- there are four main banks in Australia, for instance. 
 
Most everyone (even people who know nothing about history, like me) know that Australia was "born" as a Convict Nation.  The first three main charters brought fresh, near-dead supplies of convicts from Britian.  Legends have it that people were sent for crimes as innocuous as stealing a loaf of bread.  Four months on a Steamer for a loaf of bread.  That's a hell of a loaf. 
 
Anyway, convicts were given sentences of 7 or 21 years, or Life imprisonment.  Margaret shared a different perspective of convict life, as pretty okay:  they were given food, shelter, physical labor in the outdoors, and were allowed to work on farms in the Bush.  Convicts who served out their sentences were offered either a return ticket home or opportunity to stay in Australia.  Most convicts stayed and made a home here.  They realized that they had opportunities here that would not be available to them in England-- esp. with the scarlet letter of conviction.  So, most stayed and colonized Australia.  One example of this is with Francis ________ (here I don't remember his last name, I think it's like, Stansbury?  little help, historians).  Francis was a convict who, in England, was a draftsman.  If he returned to England, he could never hope to become an Architect.  So, wisely, he decides to remain in Australia and becomes-- not only an architect-- but one of the most influential architects in establishing Sydney proper.  He basically built Sydney.  So, these types of opportunities have shaped this country. 
 
One event that I hadn't considered was the relationship between the American Revolution and the establishment of the penal colony in Australia.  When Britian lost its American Soil, it needed a new place to deposit its criminals.  It had Australia, but hadn't utilized it.  So, necessity became the mother of invention.  Or... father of colonialization.  That might be clear to many of you, but I just never took the time to connect the dots. 
 
People always say that America was founded by the Puritans and Australia was founded by the Convicts... but, aren't they more similar than different?  What these immigrants shared was a subversive reaction by their culture to their values-- whether it was in religion, morality or law.  What they share is that they were forced out of their country for their life choices. 
 
Am I saying it's as bad to want religious freedom as it is to be a convict?   If I want to practice an alternate religion, does it place me in equal standing with a rapist or murderer?  um, maybe.  Well, maybe not, but to some people it might be perceived with as much scorn, judgment, and contempt.  Don't people kill for their religion every day?  Certainly to some people in this world, choosing an alternate religion would hold me in equal contempt as stealing a loaf of bread (and a jug of wine). 
 
Thus, the residual love-hate with government.  It's in their blood and genetic expression?  I'd say that the Aboriginal share the same love-hate, for similar reasons,  I might be so bold as to say it's more hate-love.  I have yet to encounter aboriginal experiences, so I'll keep my ignorant mind shut.  But, I wonder about the original immigrants-- the Aboriginals.  Why did they leave their countries to set sail to a completely alien land on nothing more than advanced canoes and the moon?  Might they have been just as subversive to take these plunges into unknown waters?
 
I did have one aboriginal moment, yesterday.  In The Rocks-- the "Old Sydney" area-- I came across an Aboriginal Art gallery.  I went in and began silently viewing the pictures.  A slightly annoyed art dealer asked if he could help.  When he quickly realized I was clueless (and broke, as was evidenced by my soggy EMS raincoat and progressive liberal Clark rubber shoes), he progressed to Rather Annoyed.  But, I remained in the shop, challengin myself to stay despite his response.  Sure enough, in spite of his desire to dismiss me, he approached and began gently explaining some of the art.  All Aboriginal art tells a story.  The images all have meaning, and are very precisely chosen to represent specific moments and events.  Dots represent people.  A round circle of dots represents campgrounds.  Lines connecting campgrounds represent... trails that connect neighboring tribes.  Some images are literal, such as animals and water, and some symbolic, such as war and disease.  and love and joy.  Then, the Art Dealer, Francis, gave me his card.  I thanked him for his time. 
 
It's these small things that are really quite large to me.  Lingering in a shop when I've clearly annoyed someone.  Receiving a massage from a stranger who sees I'm in pain.  Asking someone how to use my phone card.  Listening to a stranger tell me about the Australia she has come to understand.  Margaret said something-- that when people travel together, they are less likely to be approached by people.  It's exclusionary.  So, the cliche is true:  travel alone forces you to do what you want to do-- connect with an open mind and sincere gratitude.  And, hey, I have the perfect travel mate; she wants to do everything I do (mom, I'm referring to me ;).
 
Hey, I did two Random Acts of Kindness yesterday:  I took a couple's picture and offered a napkin to a dining woman next to me at Sushi King. 
 
Another challenge I set for myself is to Take the Shot.  I let two great ones pass, due to fear of being judged as strange.  One was a group of school children in sweet blue uniforms eating lunch, and the second was a solitary old man surrounded by hungry seaguls.  From now on, I Take the Shot.  Or, at least ask permission. 
 
So, feel free to post comments.  Also feel free to post questions.  I will challenge myself to ask locals.  And, by that, I mean anyone who calls Australia their home, from 100,000 years ago to today.
 
One benefit to the time difference is that I'm a notoriously late sleeper-- 10:30 am is normal for the weekends-- and with being 14 hours ahead, I awake EARLY.  Today I was up before the sun and construction crews.  Today I am off to the Opera House, Botanical Gardens, swim in the City Pool-- a warm saltwater local dive, and end with a tranquil cup of jasmine tea in the Chinese Gardens.
 
Or, at least that's the plan.  Who the hell knows that will happen.
 
love susie

Good morning.  I'm here in Sydney on what was-- for 15 hours-- a pretty painless flight.  Sydney is one of the easiest airports I've ever visited.  Baggages were available in 3 minutes, customs had more tellers than people, immigration had no waiting and took my raw almonds.  I was on the other side within 7 minutes. 

 

I had a lovely encounter last night in LAX.  I'm off in a corner trying to invisibly stretch, when this short, plain looking older (than me) woman approaches me.  I think she wants to use the corner for stretching, too.  But, instead, she looks down and kind of grunts and motions for me to turn around.  Then she begins to massage my back, neck and shoulders.  Just starts rubbing in a loving but non-threatening way... just takes care of my stressful business.  I feel like crying-- overcome with gratitude, resisting the urge to turn her around and to say, "here-- your turn" and, of course, massage her for longer than she did me.  To show I'm really grateful.  But instead, I just stood there, a bit embarassed, a lot grateful, and just accepted her gesture.  Then she had me take 7 deep breaths.  And, at the end, we hugged, and she just slipped away.  I wanted to weep!  So tired and so stunned and tickled by the random act of kindness.  It felt awesome.  I recommend you do this for someone immediately.  Careful-- if they are middle-aged women, they will likely weep. 

 

I'm in a daze, and still trying to figure out what exactly I'm doing here.  What did I expect-- some life altering transformation would await me on the other side of the world?  I haven't yet started at the beginning of the story, but I have to say that I'm a bit jet lagged, so I'll offer the longer version after a few sips of coffee and a stroll to lovely harbours. 

 

The average age is about 20 in this hostel.  People are saying "dude" and "like" a lot.  My dorm room has 4 beds lined up like a warm, friendly concentration camp.  One small pillow, saggy bedding.  The receptionist intimidates me.  I'm too old for this, mates.  45 is not the time to go find yourself.

 

(Heard 5 "dudes" in the time it took to type this.) 

 

Take care, love to all.  Um... g'day?

 

love susie

 

 

 

Welcome to Susie in the Outback~~~  the Blog that tracks the Walking About

Down Under with Susie Crowther.  The journey begins today. 

 

Why Australia?  Why now?  What the **** am I doing (friends and family ask...)?  Stay tuned for answers to these... or certainly, more questions.

 

ta,

susie