A Cavalcade Of Kangaroos

(Left): A Carnarvon Gorge kangaroo gets bolder as the day grows long.


The Carnarvon kangaroos were very skittish earlier in the afternoon, far upstream of the Visitor's center, but as I descended the Gorge, and the afternoon got longer, they seemed to get more numerous and more relaxed, until at the bottom, they were almost tame.

Left: This roo looks more like a wallaby than a kangaroo.

Yummy grass is to be found on the lawn at the Carnarvon Gorge National Park Visitors' Center.

Left: I tried, but failed, to pet this kangaroo.

Tamer kangaroos are to be found at the Australia Zoo.

Australia Zoo baby.

Left: Girraween National Park kangaroos. The big one was fretful and suspicious of my intentions.

Left: At Lake Wivenhoe, near Fernvale, Thursday evening, Andrew and I saw a wonderful sight: a mother kangaroo, with a joey poking up out of her pouch (left). The mother kangaroo was trapped between us and a fence, or so we thought, until she decided to leave. From a dead stop, she simply jumped OVER the fence, baby and all, with plenty of room to spare, and bounded away into the forest to join the other kangaroo!

Carnarvon Gorge, And The Hunt For The Wild Platypus

Left: Aboriginal cave paintings at Baloon Cave. Interesting place!



Left: Peeling Spotted Gum Tree.


The forest here is very noisy compared to the western U.S. With the wind blowing and the spotted gums peeling and the cabbage palms scratching and the lizards scampering and the parrots squawking and the kookaburras laughing, it's an amazing racket.

Very few people were in this park, midweek - 20 or so. Amazing, considering how crowded parks like Grand Canyon get in the U.S.!

There is an unconformity between permeable sandstone above and impermeable shale below in the Carnarvon Mountains. The result are many springs in the Canyon, generating that rarest and most valuable of all Australian commodities: permanent, fresh-flowing water. In Carnarvon Creek, untroubled for millions of years by growing continental-wide drought, lived that strangest of all of the world's animals, the platypus, with the famous designed-by-committee look. But it was a shy, secretive animal. Would I get to see one?

I walked west, up the canyon. The canyon wasn't that remarkable by western U.S. standards - bigger than Sycamore Canyon west of Nogales, Arizona, for example, but smaller than Sabino Canyon near Tucson. In general, Australia's mountains are much older than America's, and thus more-eroded and lower in elevation. Still, it wasn't the relief of the terrain that was of most interest - it was the unique wildlife, isolated here in the arid fastness of the world's driest continent.

I walked to the Moss Garden and the Aboriginal Art Gallery.

Left: Moss Garden - permanent water at the sandstone/shale unconformity!

Left: Art Gallery. The daily concerns of Aboriginal life are all evident here: paired hunting boomerangs, painted three-toed emu and longer kangaroo footprints, ovals representing water-carrying bark baskets, hand prints and carved vulvas.

I saw:

• Kangaroos:
• a water snake of some sort; and, most importantly,
• an echidna, or spiny ant-eater.

Left: An echidna, or spiny anteater, one of the few animals in the world in the monotreme class, and one of Australia's strangest and most exotic of animals.


The ant-eater was very cute. When I stepped next to it, it would hide its head under a branch and freeze for a few seconds, like any sensible ant-eater should, but then resume snuffling for ants.

Since I didn't spend much time looking for the platypus, I never saw one. I didn't know exactly where they lived and so didn't want to cut into valuable hiking time looking fruitlessly in pools. Rumor had it one lived in the 'Rock Pool' near the Visitor's Center, but I got lost before I could look (damned Northern Hemisphere navigational instincts again!) in the Visitor's Center parking lot as the daylight swiftly vanished, and I almost failed to find the car before nightfall.

I kind of wanted to stay, but knew I'd have trouble getting back to Gatton by Thursday evening if I didn't leave, and besides, I had no authority to camp here, so I crawled out the same way I had come, on the bumpy dirt road.

The Road North

Wednesday morning, I looked for breakfast at the restaurant, but it was closed. I asked the desk clerk where 'brekky' was, and she gave me a wan smile of the sort usually reserved for the slow, and said, "brekky is in the hatch!" I asked, "where is the hatch?" (hutch?) She said next to the door of my room. Oh! They deliver breakfast here! How nice!

I drove from Roma north towards Injune, sharing the bumpy, narrow road with the enormous semi-trucks they call road trains. A passing vehicle from the other way came close to forcing me off the road - they shouldn't pass on curves!

The land was dominated by a very arid-looking deciduous forest, obviously suffering through drought. After the last, destructive El Nino in 2002, there were no good years of rainfall at all, and now there is a new El Nino this year. Even though the rainy season is supposed to be starting now, the climatologists are saying it may be delayed, or maybe never occur at all this year, so people are very concerned whether the vegetation here can possibly hang on much longer.

Analogous to the western U.S., stockmen have cleared forest to promote grass growth. In other places, the forest looked like it was dying. In yet other places, both processes seemed to be occurring.

Just south of Injune, the ground began to look a touch greener, as if some rain had fallen here not that long ago, or maybe the elevation was slightly higher here. A sign announced the central highlands of Queensland, and a new plant appeared: the low-lying cabbage palm.

I stopped to look at the Dawson River, which the road crossed several times. The river was a series of isolated, discontinuous pools - bad, considering the Dawson is a major Queensland river:

And the story you told,
about a river that flowed,
made me sad to think it was dead.

Soon, some better-tended grazing fields appeared - a surprise, actually, considering the terrain - and then there appeared the road west to Carnarvon Gorge National Park.

The road was nice at first, but then turned to dirt. Cattle wandered all over the road. Since I went slowly, so as not to damage Andrew's vehicle, it seemed nearly-forever before I reached the Aboriginal Cultural Trail parking lot, the first sight at Carnarvon Gorge.

Boonarga Cactoblastis Memorial Hall

This place, 12 km ESE of Chinchilla, is the only building in Queensland that honors an insect.

In the 19th century, roughly 1843, a prickly-pear cactus (Opuntia stricta) was introduced here from South America. By the 1920's, dense thickets of inpenetrable cactus covered an area larger than the UK, destroying countless farms and becoming a major national crisis.

Alan Dodd travelled to both Americas, looking for a pest that would target just this cactus. He brought back the cochineal moth (cactoblastis catorium), whose larvae were released in 1926 by Queensland farmers from several locations.

The program was the most-successful pest-control program in world history. Begun in 1925, it was out-of-business by 1936, an absolute smashing success. Dodd became something of a national hero for his efforts to save Queensland agriculture.

Other pests remain, of course. Slowly spreading in the area even today, the three-pear prickly pear cactus......

Across The Darling Downs - Anti-Matter Arizona

I've been curious about the Darling Downs since I was a kid, having seen this curious blank spot midway down the east coast of Australia in the Reader's Digest Atlas of the World. Presumably it was an agricultural area, but what kind - sheepranching? cotton? millet?

Went to bed late, but got up early on Tuesday, and rode into Gatton with Andrew. After discussing a trip to Carnarvon Gorge National Park with Murray and Andrew, it seemed better to take three days instead of two - the distances were considerable. I borrowed the car, then off I went west, towards Toowoomba.

I stopped at Helidon and talked to a friendly gas station clerk. He had seen a television show about the construction of the transcontinental railroad through the Sierra Nevada in the 1860's, and we talked about that challenege - snow sheds, coolie labor, bankrupt railroads, and other fun stuff.

I drove up the steep escarpment of the Great Dividing Range, to Toowoomba, and I stopped to take pictures and fill out post cards. I ate lunch at the super Rooster and talked to a music teacher named Barbara Broom who plans to visit California in 2008.

Headed WNW on the Warrego Highway. The famous Jondaryan Woolshed was closed Tuesdays, so I went to the cemetery instead.

Vast cotton and wheat fields stretched from horizon to horizon, looking fallow, but maybe just in-between crops. On the distant low hills, battered-looking eucalyptus forests. Dalby, Chinchilla, Miles were the principal towns.

It looked a lot like open meadows in Northern Arizona, but the heat felt like Southern Arizona. In Toowoomba, the red brick and palm trees made me feel like I was in some kind of alternate-universe, mirror-image version of Tucson, Arizona. Interior Queensland was like an Anti-Matter Arizona. If the two regions were to actually meet, there'd be a huge explosion and they'd both annihilate each other.

Looking at the map, it looked as if population density slowly dwindled the farther you went west. I was unprepared for the reality: population density radically crashed west of McAlister, not far west of Chinchilla. Sedentary agriculture largely ended and ranching, mostly cattle, took over. The forest was back again here out west - a very arid-looking eucalyptus kind of forest, with some pines, but it looked as if stockmen had tinkered with it over the years, killing off trees in some areas, and parking cattle in others.

The maps did not readily express the sharp change. Given that the population of Toowoomba is about 100,000, and looking at the map, you'd guess the populations of the big towns were like this:

• Toowoomba - 100,000
• Dalby - 50,000
• Chinchilla - 30,000
• Miles - 10,000
• Roma - 50,000

The reality was more like:

• Toowoomba - 100,000
• Dalby - 30,000
• Chinchilla - 10,000
• Miles - 2,000
• Roma - 5,000

In addition, road quality deteriorated, so even this major, major highway was a just another bumpy, narrow two-lane kind of road. Speed limits are somewhat low (100 or 110 km/hr, which works out to about 62 and 68 mph) and rather well-enforced, so it always takes longer to get somewhere than you'd think necessary. Even if you'd want to speed, road quality discourages you from doing so. Plus, I was misjudging distances from the map - everyone uses kilometers, and the Australian road maps are larger-scale than their American counterparts - so, I kept getting surprised. And my directional instincts were crap anyway, with the sun in the northern sky, and with few landmarks.

Near Tchanning, I saw *something big* hopping across the road - my first kangaroo! - but also potential roadkill. Approaching Yuleba at sunset, I stopped to investigate a roadside field where I saw some strange animals - probably kangaroos - but the animals stole off in the gloaming.

Nearly out of petrol, I stopped at 7:30 p.m. in Roma, getting a room at the Quality Inn, a higher-end motel chain - still far from Carnarvon! Oddly, they asked me to fill out a breakfast menu and make a breakfast reservation. I was still wearing a DMTC T-shirt, but I changed into a different T-shirt, thinking that an obvious reference to musical theater might be a bad move in macho interior Queensland. Roma, 'The Gateway to the Outback' looked very empty - emptier than a town in Wyoming, for example. I ate a lamb dinner at their restaurant, also after they made a reservation for me (still traces of the old formalities here).

Roma looks big on a map, but in reality it's a little, vulnerable town on Bungil Creek, lost in the vastness wilderness of Interior Queensland. I'm not even close to the REAL Outback, either, where there are almost no people at all. Population density here is like the western U.S. around 1920 - not that many people! Picture interior Nevada, with fewer of the crowds.

"You Could Do Some Damage! You Sound Like A Wild Animal!" - Second Kylie Concert, November 20th








Took the Ferny Grove train to Bowen Hills. On board, a tall blond teenage girl with a school jacket and a very long skirt instructed another girl on the fine art of of rolling rubber balls (slightly larger than billiard balls) from the forearm, over the fingertips, to the back arm, and back again. They sat together and waved their arms in synchrony, with surflike rhythm. When they dropped the balls due to the train's motion, they fished the balls out from under the seats with a large, Q-Tip-like baton that seemed more suitable for martial arts. The baton apparently had a collapsible rod, so it could be changed in length. They also twirled a second baton. Cheerleading skills of some sort!

At Bowen Hills, someone on the train platform was smoking pot, and I saw a conductor wrinkle his nose in disgust. Despite clear warnings of a $150 fine, a teenage boy jumped down upon the tracks and ran across to the other platform, rather than using the elevated stairways across. Fortunately, there is no third rail: the lines are all above.

The Shorncliffe train took long to come, so we last several hundred Kylie stragglers barely made it to BEC in time. I quickly took my seat.

This time, I was seated directly in front of the stage, but towards the back of the arena. The seats were fine - the sound and the lights were directed along the axis of the arena, so the concert seemed louder and brighter than Saturday's had felt.

Excellent show - I thought better than the first.

















Kylie, as with Madonna, is experimenting with Arab themes - Madonna with her Yemenite influence, and Kylie with a Whirling Dervish motif. Madonna's is superior - nothing beats Yemenite music! Still, Madonna was also too repetitive. Kylie, in contrast, mixed scat singing with her song, in an excellent interpretation, better than Madonna's. So, Madonna has the better theme, but Kylie the better execution.

Various songs were excellent: 'Shocked,' for example, and the crowd went nuts over the classic, original Kylie hits: 'I Should Be So Lucky,' 'Put Your Hand On Your Heart,' etc.

At intermission, I talked to two teenage boys, one of whom was a longtime Kylie fan. They wondered whether I was one of these folks who follow their favorite pop star all around the world. I said no, and explained how Kylie doesn't perform in the U.S. (Andrew says the correct answer was 'yes, but I am just starting'). I raved about Australian wildlife and one boy said 'yes, but we are used to it.' I said that was human nature - they'd have a similar reaction if they went to the States. I also talked to the woman next to me, and a mom with daughter and friends in front (all wearing specially-made 'Team Kylie' T-Shirts).

unlike Madonna, Kylie places a section of her concert where she schmoozes with the audience. Her statements were mostly mundane this concert: she asked the audience to applaud two girls in particular (why is unclear - perhaps they had endeared themselves to her, or had serious life challenges of some sort). She welcomed (*) Martin from 'Coldplay,' and sang 'Happy Birthday' to her uncle Michael. Someone apparently barked at her from stageside so she said, "You Could Do Some Damage! You Sound Like A Wild Animal!"

After the show, I walked around behind BEC to waylay the star, but the guards there said she had left immediately after leaving the stage. The guards struck me as insincere, but perhaps they were right - after all, if you don't leave immediately, you have to deal with the traffic jam. I talked to a woman wearing a pink halo - I said it said something about herself.

On the train back to Bowen Hills, I talked to a very nice couple about the concert. She was wearing pink hair laced with stars just for the occasion. We both agreed that 'I Can't Get You Out Of My Head' was the strongest song of the evening.

After Ferny Grove, I filled up Andrew's vehicle with gas and drove back to Mt. Glorious, getting back at 1 a.m., earlier than I had on Saturday (1:40 a.m.).

Sunday, And Monday Afternoon

Relatively quiet days. On Sunday:

• Breakfast;
• read the weekend paper;
• midday tea;
• watched from the back deck as the kookaberra family and the currawong family squabbled over territory;
• watched parrots;
• hiked over to Greene's Falls;
• went wine tasting;
• ate Indian food in the evening.

On Monday, I went in to work to Gatton with Andrew, and blogged. At lunch, we drove into town and got some fish and chips, and picnicked at Apex Lake, while also feeding opportunistic water birds there. Returned to campus for more blogging. Late afternoon, I want to look for some of the scaly-breasted lorikeets - these parrots are SO cute! It's a pet store outside! But now, windy as well.

At U of Q Gatton Lake Lenore, saw:

• Magpie Goose;
• Purple Swamphen;
• and probably a Pacific Black Duck.

Eventful Ride Home

After the Kylie concert, I left late and lost my way to the train station. I caught the train to Bowen Hills quite late.

At the train station, I encountered a Happy, Drunk Lady. She was about 55, and completely schnockered. She asked three girls on the opposite platform if they had cigarette machine there. Misunderstanding, she said 'what, a titty machine? Where?' She wandered off to scrounge a cigarette, and returned. I was bending over to get a Diet Coke from a vending machine, and she made as if to spank me. When I opened the soda, she grabbed it as her own (so I had to get another). Very, very funny, and very entertaining! Fortunately, she had understanding friends to guide her home.

At Bowen Hills, I caught the train back to Ferny Grove. On the train, a fellow in a yellow-and-green rugby jacket, and his girl friend, both dozed. I wondered who had won the big rugby game that evening. I moved closer, hoping to ask, if circumstances allowed.

At Enogerra station, an emergency radio message was clearly audible. There had been an accident at Ferny Grove, and we were supposed to get off instead at Keperra station, where buses would take us to Ferny Grove. The rugby fellow and his girl friend both awoke.

I approached and asked "did Great Britain or Brisbane win today's game?" The girl friend corrected: "Australia defeated Great Britain" (I later learned the score was 33 - 10). The fellow, somewhat sarcastically, asked "do you know where you are?" I cheerily answered "Barely!" He asked, concealing disappointment, "you're an American, aren't you?" I answered yes. Girl friend said, "oh, we've seen many international folks today - Germans, Czechs, etc." I continued, "you see, when I flew into Brisbane on Wednesday, I flew in with the Great Britain rugby team." Rugby guy answered, "then you must have felt right at home." I said, "no, rather...."

He interrupted: "Listen! I hate Poms (*) and I hate Yanks, the two most loser nations in the world!" Girl friend said "hush, don't be rude." At that point I broke off the conversation He then began muttering all kinds of venomous anti-American things to the girl friend, amongst which I heard the name George Bush mentioned.

At Keperra station, as we exited to the buses, I asked the conductor what had happened. He said, "I don't know, mate. I do know it was a fatality. It happens, sometimes." "A fatality!" I gasped.

At Ferny Grove, as we exitted, a City Train employee asked the Rugby Dude how he was. Rugby Dude said "I've been better." I asked the employee what had happened. He shook his head and said "lady threw herself in front of a train."

Then I drove back to Mt. Glorious to get some needed sleep.


(*) I asked Andrew where the nickname Pom (adjective Pommie) came from for the British. He suggested, ironically considering rude, insular Aussies, that the nickname comes from the French, for pom d'terres - roughly, potato-eaters.

"Bris-Vegas, You Didn't Let Me Down!" - First Kylie Concert, November 18, 2006











I entered the chaotic crowd and bought a hot dog and a soda for $7.50 AU. I sat down next to two teenage girls, Emma and Steph, who were Kylie enthusiasts. I asked if BEC was the biggest rock venue in Brisbane, and they said no, Suncorp Stadium was bigger. Then they asked if I was new in Brisbane. When I explained I was from California, they were very impressed!

Kylie's eyelids were heavily-weighted with makeup, making her look sleepy.

The first act of Kylie's show seemed slow, cautious: the second act was much better, and the dancers were much more daring. In Sydney, Kylie had appeared with U2's Bono, but he didn't appear here. I was given to understand (maybe incorrectly) that the dancers in Kylie's new song 'White Diamond' were the Scissor Sisters (I suspect is that the Scissor Sisters collaborated on the new song, but weren't actually present). Kylie covered one full verse of Madonna's 'Vogue', confirming pre-concert rumors.

I instantly recognized Kylie's trick dancer, the fellow who did 'Confide To Me' on the 2002 Manchester concert video. He did all kinds of flips! Musicians Andrew Smalls and Steve Tyler were evident as well.







Kylie covers Madonna's "Vogue."









At intermission, I got in trouble with the authorities. I had brought Steve and Jan's gift, the digital voice recorder, in order to tape the concert, so I could remember the song order. A harsh voice behind me said "that looks like a digital voice recorder," a clear copyright infringement, apparently. I lamely explained that I had lost the instructions and had forgotten how to make it work. The fellow called his boss and they skeptically listened to the recorder to verify that I had told the truth, and returned it with an order to put it away. I asked if photography was a copyright infringement, and the fellow said no, "within reason."

Kylie had three - four? - encores to satisfy the roaring applause. Kylie did a favorite thing, pointing out people in the audience for special mention for their campy wear, particularly highlighting one girl who, for the evening, wore the white hoodlike wrap that Kylie wore in the 2002 video 'Can't Get You Out Of My Head.' Kylie said "Bris-Vegas, You Didn't Let Me Down!" (people here call the city Bris-Vegas when it gets very hot, but Kylie meant the city was hot, in a second, sexy sense - nothing works like flattery, as they say!) Kylie also thanked the audience for their patience and sang 'Especially For You,' in commemoration.

Afterwards, I bought a bag, two programs, and two T-Shirts for a shocking cost of $135 AU. Then I bought an ice cream cone for $4.50 AU, but the girl got distracted, thinking I had given her $20 when I had given her $5, and gave me back $15. Normally, I would have called her attention to it, but feeling a bit stripped already, I pocketed the change.

Mt. Nebo, and South Bank Of The Brisbane River

Left: Geodesic dome at Mt. Coot-tha Botanical Gardens, Brisbane.


On Saturday, we took the mountain crest road south, through Mt. Nebo, where Bellbirds were making a huge dinging racket. We stopped at Jolly's Lookout and saw kookaburras and scenic vistas, then continued south. Something about the Shiraz the night before, and the winding mountain roads mixed, and soon I urgently asked Andrew to stop at the side of the road, for a personal upchuck moment. Wobbly, but nevertheless feeling better, we continued on to Camp Mountain, Brisbane Forest Park HQ, and Mount Coot-tha Botanical Gardens.

Left: The City, Brisbane, as seen from Mt. Coot-tha


Afterwards, we went to the South Bank of the Brisbane River, and ate fish and chips at one of the touristy cafes there. We walked around, looked at the new public beach area there, shopped at the various concessions stalls, and explored the river's edge.

Afterwards, we drove above the riverside cliffs, to Kangaroo Point, and tried to enter the fairly new (2003) Mormon Church there. A man dressed in immaculate white waved us off, so we briefly entered a public meeting hall before returning to Mt. Glorious.

In the evening, I drove Andrew's vehicle to the nearest train station to Mt. Glorious, at Ferny Grove, and caught the train into the city. Then, at Bowen Hills, I caught the Shorncliffe train to Boondall, the closest station to the Brisbane Entertainment Centre (BEC), in the suburbs near the airport, where Kylie Minogue would perform that night.

Everyone in the crowded train car was in festive mood. One set of teenagers asked another to take their photo - "we're from the country," they explained. At one point, one of the teenagers asked everyone to hold up their hands if they were going to the Kylie concert. Even though it was clear from the nightclub style of dress everyone sported that 80 - 90% were concertgoers, only three held up their hands, which just made everyone laugh. Then, at Boondall, hundreds exited from the train, joining thousands more at BEC.

BEC appeared to be about the size of ARCO Arena in Sacramento, and the place was jammed.

Learning To Drive On The Left - The Drive To Toowoomba, And Back

Left: Monument to a mascot named "Puppy" - Picnic Point, Toowoomba.


Andrew said, "why don't you borrow my vehicle and drive to someplace nice?" The moment-of-truth had arrived: learning how to drive on the left! They suggested Toowoomba, which had been in the international news lately regarding its hugely-controversial (and ultimately defeated) measure to reuse sewage water for drinking purposes (yes, the drought here is really that bad!)

Australian highways are very American-like, except mirror-like of course. They are signed in the metric system, not English system, and most of the signs are different: 'Give Way' instead of 'Yield', for example. The turn signals are on the right, so I frequently-turned the windshield wipers on instead when I had to use them, but fortunately the foot pedals are the same.

I tried to drive 80 km/hr on the Highway to Toowoomba at first, but that was too slow, even for the trucks: 100 suited the traffic better. At all times, I worried about my instincts: I was deathly afraid of thoughtlessly following U.S. driving patterns and becoming a hazard.

I drove up the escarpment of the Great Dividing Range to Toowoomba, passing a few interesting roadside establishments (e.g., a convenience market that also offered wedding gowns, a sign saying 'Fuel Fruit', and various places offering 'pokies' - video poker machines). Stopped at scenic Picnic Point. Walked through the woods there filled with kookaburras.

Left: View from the escarpment at Picnic Point, showing small fires in the distance.


Then, after a brief period lost on the city streets, I returned the back way, taking the Helidon exit through the town of Gatton, and stopped off at beautiful Apex Lake and Bird Sanctuary.

Returned intact! Whew!

Afterwards, Andrew introduced me to one of the other professors there, who produced a celebratory bottle of Shiraz. Later that night, the two of us polished the bottle off.

University of Queensland, Gatton

Left: Liz Quinn, who, among her many duties, directs community musical theater in the Brisbane area - "The Sound Of Music" at the moment, and "Oliver!" early next year. She was born in a Nazi concentration camp: her parents kept sane by staging theatrical skits with other prisoners.


On Friday, I went into work with Andrew, as Head of the Centre for Pesticide Application and Safety, University of Queensland, Gatton. We drove down the west slope of the D'Aguilar Mountains, through the beautiful, exotic-looking forest down into the Shire of Esk, along the shores of Brisbane's principal water reservoir, Lake Wivenhoe, and across the farming district of Fernvale and Lowood, passing termite mounds and schoolies arriving by bus for class, before arriving at the college station.

Andrew said he gets only 17,000 km per set of tires, which I found dumbfounding at first, but understood better when I saw how quickly he travelled the winding mountain roads. Andrew has, or has had, homes in America - Lake Tahoe, Missouri, Florida - and relatives in Britain - and so, has interests on three continents.

Left: Wind tunnel facility at the University of Queensland, Gatton.


These days, Gatton is a satellite campus of the big University of Queensland St. Lucia campus, at Brisbane. In WWII the U.S. commandeered the campus for a hospital for convalescing soldiers. I met Liz Quinn, Murray Byrnes, and Chris O'Donnell. I visited the wind tunnel facility with Murray, and Chris showed me the mouse and sewage treatment research facilities.

We ate at the campus dining hall, and, when I got lost upon my return, I was escorted back to the Centre for Pesticide Application and Safety by a campus safety officer, decked out in his official, black cowboy-like hat, and shorts (Sherlock-Holmes-like, he said my confusion was obvious, despite my efforts to hide it).

Tappy, The Most Determined Bird On Mt. Glorious

Whee-ooo-wheet! Whee-ooo-whee-ooo-whee-ooo-wheet!

Every morning, and often every afternoon, Tappy, Andrew's nemesis, flutters and taps against the windows of Andrew's home. Tappy is captivated by his reflection, probably mistaking the image for another bird, but sometimes Tappy flutters before dawn, suggesting that his behavior is now compulsive.

It's not clear what kind of bird Tappy is. He's very pretty, with his yellow breast - I'm guessing a Rufous Whistler.

Andrew once captured Tappy and drove him 30 miles from home. Andrew had a day of peace, before Tappy flew the way back and began tapping again.

Whee-ooo-wheet! Whee-ooo-whee-ooo-whee-ooo-wheet!

Mount Glorious

Left: A cold Carpet Python hugs the rock for warmth.


Andrew answered the call: turned out, the airport authorities wouldn't let him park in front of the terminal, making him circle about. I was very happy to see him!

We drove across the semi-tropical northern suburbs of Brisbane towards the D'Aguilar Mountains, and his home on the crest, at Mt. Glorious. I take great pride in my navigational ability, but I was confused. I thought we were driving south, but it was west: the trouble was, as in all places in the Southern Hemisphere, the sun was in the northern sky, off to the right. There had been recent rains, so the city had greened up from its wintertime dowdy brown (both Brisbane and Sacramento have rains from November - April, but that's winter in Sacramento, but summer here).

The drive was scary - everyone drives on the left here - and it was especially frightening on the mountain curves, where it appeared as if accidents were always imminent.

Beautiful, beautiful mountain home, in the open, deciduous Australian forest! We checked out the rain barrels when we arrived. Everyone here collects rain on the roof, stores it big barrels, and filters it for household use - there is no water service in the mountains, or, for that matter, in the farming areas either (groundwater apparently being unreliable). The roof water is good enough to drink, but many prefer to buy drinking water for actual drinking. He also has a gray water system, taking wash water for sprinkling over landscaping. There is also a septic system for toilet water. This tripartite system is very common in Australia, is subsidized by the government, and is absolutely vital, given the droughts that Australia is frequently subject too.

The wildlife here is amazing! We watched two of Andrew's favorite kookaburras tending their nest just outside the back deck. This area is one of the homelands for a variety of parrot species. The parrots haven't been coming close, but they make such a racket in the tree tops, squawking and muttering to themselves, that the forest sounds like a pet store. I've seen Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos and Crimson Rosellas not far away, and seen Sulphur-Crested Cockatoos and Galahs from the distance. The Bell Miners, called Bellbirds, can be heard with their distinctive bell sound in many places. Australian Magpies and Pied Currawongs are common everywhere.

We took a small drive to the village of Mt. Glorious, and bought honey and trinkets. We took a walk down a mountain trail. On the way back, we saw a snake hiding under a rock, but it wasn't clear where it's head was. I decided to touch it, to see if there was a reaction. Andrew stepped back: "It looks like a python - non-poisonous, but no guarantees!" I touched the snake, and felt its skin quiver, but there was no other reaction - the weather was really too cold for snakes, and their reflexes were greatly-dulled.

Sydney To Brisbane

Left: Downtown Sydney, as seen from our landing aircraft. The famed Opera House is visible on the left edge of downtown.


The flight got bumpy passing through the clouds near Sydney, where a massive cold front from Antarctica had just passed, and where it was still raining. The plane came in from the east, looped over Botany Bay and the Sydney suburbs (many swimming pools down there) and came in from the north, passing downtown, and landing beside famous Botany Bay.

As it turned out, I arrived in Sydney on a landmark day: the coldest November 16th in one hundred years! High winds, rainfall, and snowfall were occurring all across the region - shockingly late in the season!

Debarkation put me in the duty-free shopping zone. I saw a sign saying 'Tourist Refund Scheme', which sounded like a big conspiracy, but since I was a tourist, and could use a refund, I immediately sought out the office, asking them to explain who they were. Turns out, if you buy a large amount of goods ($500 AU or more, if I remember rightly), you could get a refund on the taxes involved (all very confusing). I bought several things in the duty-free zone and waited for the connecting flight to Brisbane.

The duty-free area of the airport sported big signs warning of the dangers of cigarettes, but none at all about the dangers of alcohol, which was also being sold in vast quantities.

I boarded the crowded Boeing 767 for the flight to Brisbane, and sat next to the Great Britain Rugby Team, heading to Brisbane for a weekend match. They were difficult to talk to: thick, lower-class British accents. Their time spent not listening to I-Pods was spent bopping each other on the heads with newspapers. The fellow next to me said he wasn't worried about the upcoming match: "yeah, well be all right!"

"Spot of Tea?" the stewardess asked, before handing me a box. The box had a cherry muffin in it - the tea followed later (the serving crew was harried because of the short duration of the flight).

The eastern coast of Australia was socked in with clouds, but sometimes you could see beaches, green grazing land, river valleys, small cities, and other features. The Gold Coast was laced with canals, and as we approached Brisbane, big beaches, green and brown colored water signifying shallows and river sediments, and in the distance, forest-fire smoke, were all in evidence.

As we came into the flat, sunny, mangrove-laced coast for landing, the aircraft wobbled in the turbulence generated by the high winds. As we debarked, the British Rugby team began mocking the way Australians speak: "G'day, mate! G'day mate!" they said. They seemed like a nice enough bunch of blokes, but still, I wished that when Saturday came around, they'd get a good taste of Australian mud.

I was beginning to get a bit scattered, after travelling so much. The exit interview was odd - the hippie-like fellow wanted to know where I was staying, but he was nice: he explained, in the event of a disease outbreak on the plane, they had to know how to find me fast.

My arrangement with Andrew was to meet on the departing flights upper level of the International Terminal, but no one was there. Suddenly I felt very alone and very vulnerable: as far from home as I'd ever been, stranded on a distant Pacific coast, on a very windy day, in a near-empty airport terminal.

Across The Wide Pacific

Left: South Pacific sunrise, north of Nadi


Emergency procedures were explained, focusing a lot on water evacuation procedures. We were handed a free packet of conveniences that seemed to be quite odd: a pair of socks, what may have been a tampon, some kind of multi-strapped thang, out of which one might be able to fashion a really lame eyepatch - the sleeping mask said to be there wasn't - but I liked the carrying case, so I kept it.

I had determined beforehand not to eat onboard: no use challenging the digestive system trapped in an aluminum tube, but as soon as we were airbone, a delicious meal was served and my resolve collapsed:

• Chicken with rice and peppers;
• mixed salad with ranch dressing;
• biscuit with butter;
• maccaroon (which I skipped); and,
• coffee and hot chocolate.

quickly followed up by a snack pack with:

• chocolate chip cookies;
• potato chips;
• mints; and,
• water.

I am loving this!

Interestingly, the serving crew is entirely male: the only females are serving business class passengers.

My plan to sleep across the Pacific was foiled when the fellow in the seat in front of me came into the aisle seat in my row, so as to allow his elderly mother to sleep. Tried to sleep but couldn't. Eventually, she awakened (mother & son were from South Carolina and were on Eastern time), so about 5 a.m. California time, her son took my hint and allowed me to lie down. I got about three hours of sleep. I dreamed about various anxieties - Sparky getting eaten by a dog, etc.

Some turbulence started when we made our closest approach to the Hawaiian Islands (about 700 miles??) Turbulence continued all across the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ). Mysterious plane movement: our elevation increased abruptly from 11,000 to 11,600 meters, and we jogged directly south about 100 miles, north of Nadi, about 1/3 the way to the equator. We passed directly over New Caledonia, north of Naamea. Temperatures dropped all during the flight, from -31 deg F near Hawaii to near -59 deg F near Australia, but after Walt's experience recently, I don't trust these measurements. Surprisingly little turbulence near Australia - maybe the high elevation was a good thing, preventing us from effects of the big cold front.

The in-flight entertainment center had many options - radio, movies, where we were on the globe, etc. Some options weren't that appetizing: a show explaining how to make cricket bats - what kind of wood to choose, how to cut it, etc. - struck me as too technical. They did have Kylie's last 'Showgirl' concerts before she took ill, and so I watched that avidly, looking for things of interest. I was struck by the fast pace (althought that may have been editing). They also had an in-flight duty-free shopping option for high-end goods.

Breakfast was an egg omelette-type thing, sausage, muffin, coffee, and orange slices.

I'm just loving this!

Departure

Frantic efforts to get ready undermined by work tasks. Spastic packing.

Took Sparky to Steve & Jan. Only quiet growling from Mrs. Lovett.

E. took me to airport Tuesday evening. At the airport, we practiced how to leave the airport, so as to minimize confusion after I left.

Flew Southwest 1645 to LAX. Sacramento, Modesto, and the cities of the Central were in a clear, warm, sodium glow. Strangely, and in contrast, LA was in a warm sodium haze. The Boeing 737 crossed the coast near Malibu, turned east, and passed over a very metallic, futuristic, science-fiction looking downtown LA, before making a U-turn and landing from the east at LAX.

Sixty or eighty polyglot airlines there - Air New Zealand, Thai Air, American, US Air, etc., and in the distance, a kangaroo on a 747's tail fin, signifying Qantas. Got off at Terminal 1.

Passenger pickup at LAX a frantic bowling lane full of limousines and buses and various vehicles. Crazy. Took Bus A to Terminal 4.

The World's Most Undisciplined Packer entered the bus. Two ginormous suitcases! Labels in bright orange said 'HEAVY.'

Qantas corner of terminal very quiet, behind ridiculously-packed San Salvador Airlines. The World's Most Undisciplined Packing Couple stood in line in front of me. Bright orange labels on their three ginormous suitcases instructed Qantas personnel to bend their knees before lifting the suitcases.

Suddenly a steely-eyed man in full dress uniform cut in front of me. Omigod! The Pilot! I caught his eye: he hesitated. "G'day, mate," he said, in an accent as broad and flat as Australia's Outback. Later, he and the co-pilot and the navigator formed a trio as they approached the gate, chins up, stride purposeful and confident. There are times when these little displays of determination can be overdone, but under the circumstances, about to undertake a journey across the vast Pacific, it was immensely-comforting. These appeared to be exactly the right kind of people you wanted in charge if trouble developed.

Baffled by the security ropes - I was reprimanded for trying to duck under a barrier. At the gate, the 747's nose stuck in the window like 'Silver Streak.'

Aisle seat 61-C was near the 747's galley. Aussie in the window seat, said "Tuesday night flight half-empty." Continuing, he said the regulars had their eyes open waiting for opportunities. Lifting an armrest, and pointing to the empty seats in front of me, he said, with raised eyebrows, "best way is to put your bag on the seat in front of you." I got it! Instead of sleeping in a sitting position, and even though I'm flying economy-class, I can lay down and sleep across the Pacific on this overnight flight! The joy!

Australian Hiatus


Characteristic hand gesture suggests Kylie's singing "It's In Your Eyes", from the European 'Showgirl' tour.

Off to the Antipodes! I will endeavor to blog, but there are no guarantees - it may be sporadic. Pictures will likely have to wait until I return.

This time of year, I believe Queensland is 18 hours ahead of Sacramento (which sometimes works out as 6 hours behind and 1 day ahead). So, if it's 8 p.m. Sunday in Sacramento, it's 2 p.m. Monday in Brisbane. Note that Brisbane and Sydney are one hour apart (Queensland doesn't go on daylight savings time, unlike Victoria and New South Wales). Since I'm such a night owl here in California, in Queensland, I'll be an early bird! Coming back, I'm sure I'll be seriously screwed up with jet lag, but that's the price to pay! This world clock is helpful.

The time zone change is weird - like the twilight zone. Formally, it takes about 41 hours to fly there, and two hours to get back. I'll be taking three flights in quick succession to get there (SMF to LAX: LAX to SYD: SYD to BNE), and two back (BNE to LAX: LAX to SMF). The actual trans-Pacific flighttime is about 14 1/2 hours. The weather forecast looks great almost all the way across, but with the chance of some of the normal storminess to be expected in the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ; 10 degrees north of the equator), and also there will be a cold front just east of Australia that may provide some significant bumpiness as we fly in.

Welcomes

I'm paging through the book "Cook - The Extraordinary Voyages of Captain James Cook", by Nicholas Thomas (Walker & Co., New York, 2003), checking on how the Australian Aborigines welcomed the 'discoverer' of Australia, Captain James Cook:

Cook and his men had experienced a variety of tense and pleasurable encounters in Tahiti and around New Zealand and were ready to resisted or greeted, but not all prepared to be ignored. They were bewildered by the indifference of people who ought to have been awed and astonished by the unprecedented spectacle of a British ship.

... Cook saw another indigenous group, who fled. He landed at places people had just left. He, Solander, and Tupaia tried to follow others, but they kept walking away. Still others were sighted 'who made off as soon as they saw us'. One officer met with a couple of old people and two children. He tried to give them a bird that he had shot, which they refused. On returning to the shelters that they had first visited, the mariners found, moreover, that the ribbons and trinkets left on or by the bark hut had not been touched.

Cantankerous Boomer

Getting tired of the pretenses and the posers:

I'm supposed to be inspired by the free spirits of women my age who are joyfully running their first marathons, getting Ph.D.s in Klingon studies, starting wineries in the Loire Valley or rebelliously letting their hair go gray. But if they were really like me, they still wouldn't know what to do with their hair, whatever its color, or even have a favorite brand of pantyhose yet. It's doubtful, too, that like me they're still getting most of their sustenance in the candy aisle at CVS.

The. Worst. Political. Analogy. Ever.

Between Pop Singer Kylie Minogue and Australian Prime Minister John Howard:

In a column in today's Australian newspaper, Mr Howard was said to be trying to emulate the pop diva's music in his leadership by being "safe and predictable".

... "If the Australian people believe that the Government I lead has given them a sense of safety and predictability, well I'm not ashamed of that," Mr Howard told ABC radio in Sydney.

... While Mark Juddery's column drew some uncomplimentary parallels between Mr Howard and Minogue - including their shared lack of innovation - the Prime Minister was far from offended by the comparison.

"I'm certainly not offended, I'm flattered," he said.

"She's a very popular, talented entertainer and I'm a - I hope - safe, predictable, serious, committed prime minister."

The analogy ended when program host Virginia Trioli promised not to make any gags about Minogue's signature gold hot pants.

"I think that's wise," Mr Howard said.

Making Sense Of The Election

Politics always generates mixed metaphors and strange analogies:

Republicans must resolve their own questions: Can they reconstitute conservatism to make it attractive once again beyond the party's base? GOP strategist Mary Matalin said the Reaganite model of low taxes, smaller government and strong defense can again serve the party well, if it is updated. "It needs to put some Britney Spears clothes on it," she said.

Like, a bare midriff with a cute belly-button ring? Won't necessarily appeal to the Christina Aguileras of the world. Does it matter that it would be the same old message - "Baby, One More Time" - rather than something distinctly new? Keep that rumored sex tape far, far away! And who takes the place of K-Fed?

Mexican Cuisine, And The Law

What some people ask judges to decide .... Equivocal progress on the frontier of American jursiprudence:

Is a burrito a sandwich?

The Panera Bread Co. bakery-and-cafe chain says yes. But a judge said no, ruling against Panera in its bid to prevent a Mexican restaurant from moving into the same shopping mall.

Panera has a clause in its lease that prevents the White City Shopping Center in Shrewsbury from renting to another sandwich shop. Panera tried to invoke that clause to stop the opening of an Qdoba Mexican Grill.

... The difference, the judge ruled, comes down to two slices of bread versus one tortilla.

... Qdoba, owned by San Diego-based Jack in the Box Inc., called food experts to testify on its behalf.

Among them was Cambridge chef Chris Schlesinger, who said in an affidavit: "I know of no chef or culinary historian who would call a burrito a sandwich. Indeed, the notion would be absurd to any credible chef or culinary historian."

Food safety regulation is also an untapped vein for humor. There was story several years ago in the press regarding the bureaucrats at the European Union in Brussels worried about plastic bananas, and whether they could be confused for the real things by infants. What they failed to understand was the plastic bananas in question were seven feet long. Even the most addled infants wouldn't confuse these fakes for the real things, but the distinction seemed to be eluding the bureaucrats.

Frat House Pledge Week?

Or a musical gone awry?:

Campus police and administrators are investigating possible hazing at the frat house on Oct. 26. According to police, a caller heard profane screaming, sobbing and moaning coming from the house. Police said they found pledges crawling on their hands and knees and wearing pink fairy wings, a rainbow-colored wing and a diaper, a striped prison uniform, a pink tank top, women's underwear and a blonde wig.

Scrambling

My trip starts tomorrow, but I have still to pack. I had hoped to buy some new clothes, shoes, and what-not, but I can see I'll run out of time, so I'll just keep on keepin' on. Still some straggling home repair going on. Probably have to suspend that till December. Still have to wash the rabbit and the dog. Steve and Jan have offered to take Sparky for the interim, and I'll likely take them up on that (provided it's OK with Mrs. Lovett). The workplace stuff is still a pile of craziness, and Wei will have to deal with that. I'll be a sleepless shambles, but at least trapped in an airline seat, suspended 7 miles above the middle of the Pacific Ocean, expectations are low.

Brilliant Pigeons

Pigeons are team-players:

In two recent studies, scientists discovered the common pigeon is astonishingly sophisticated, having an amazing long-term memory and the ability to make group decisions based on different sets of conditions.

... In the same study, detailed today in the journal Current Biology, the scientists showed that birds flying in pairs took more efficient routes home than those flying alone, suggesting that traveling in numbers brings navigational benefits to individual group members.

Shakespeare On The Potomac

Columnist Andrew Sullivan mixes Shakespeare and Freud to conjure the most interesting analysis of the recent election to date:

Last week the American people forced the family intervention. They knew what they were doing. If you combine W’s shrewdness with Poppy’s wisdom you might have the beginning of a new day in world politics. This Shakespearean drama is not over. We have merely finished Act IV. W has two more years. The Democrats will force him to move domestically to the centre, and Daddy’s team will not abandon the son in his hour of need. Their price was Rumsfeld’s head, and they now have it on a platter.