The latest batch of travel pics can be found at http://www.jameses.org/photos/perth-trip3/
It was only 5000 odd kilometres into our trip when we saw our first roo, about 10m away whilst travelling at 120km/h. Needless to say, my heart jumped as high as the roo did when it realised he was about to contribute to the mass of animal and bug matter on our front grill…
It was an interesting phenomenon, and one of the quirkier elements of our long drive west. We’re not even sure at what point it commenced but once we became aware it was omnipresent. I guess this is the nature of many phenomena – seemingly nowhere, and then {BAM} everywhere – think corduroy in the 70′s (and mid-90s), pop-balls in the late 80s, and bluetooth headsets in the neo-wank era.
And, like most fads, trends and taste defying fashion phases (think Normanby hotel on any myriad of Sunday afternoons in 2008 – I mean maternity dresses and fluoro-vomit-patterned-dress-boardshorts?), it ceased, abruptly.
At some point past Whyalla – maybe Wudinna, Ceduna, or in the proximity of one of the many silos, wheatfields or turnoffs that guide the way – drivers starting waving as we went by. As we progressed closer to the edge of the Nullarbor, the habit became much more consistent. By the time we were fixed on our black line to oblivion, with nary a spot of shade for hundreds of kilometres around, the probability of being waved at approached 1.
Like all things in life, there were a large number of variations:
* Hand held on the steering wheel with any number of fingers raised;
* Includes the single-digit salute, two finger peace sign and, rarely, the full fingers/thumb combo;
* Hand removed from wheel and held up but still;
* The enthusiastic ‘yeah man, we’re crossing the nullarbor!’ wave with jolly sideways oscillations;
* The driver & passenger combo; or
* Any of the above with a head nod or wink.
Regardless of form or gusto, the wave held a symbolism for me. It basically said,
‘We are aware that things go wrong out here and we’re just checking to see if everything’s cool with you; on the flipside, everything is cool with us.’ Or in some cases, replacing the latter half of the sentence with ‘Yeah man! We’re crossing the Freakin’ Nullarbor Dude! In a wicked camper with no aircon and a punctured spare tyre!!’
If I’m even remotely near the mark, I think it’s cool that the ‘perceived’ dangers of the Nullarbor (whilst only seldom experienced) help to establish a camaraderie amongst travellers of all ilks and destinations.
Then again, it could simply be something to break up the monotony of staring at a black asphalt, dotted lines and vast skies for as far as even the most long-sighted eye can see. Most feasibly, it’s a mixture of the two.
All I know is that past Norseman, when trees abound and water is plentiful, the phenomenon ends… Whilst most phenomena in the realm of fashion and pastimes are ended due to the passing of some point on the time (or common sense) continuum, the Wave Zone appears to have finite and well defined geographical limits.
So, if you should ever be heading out west, or into the desert (or into the heart of Lakemba) to a place where there is a collective awareness of a latent danger outside the chassis of your automobile, see if you notice the Wave Zone. Do as Storm and I did, and see how many fingers you can average, cursing the lazy beggar with a one-fingered go…
And take a can opener, because you never know when your girlfriend will get a hankering for tuna and tomato corn thins on the way….
…so I can be reminded what I wish not to be.
{Bit of a long post, avoid if necessary}
Life’s a funny thing. It’s pretty easy to get caught up in your own little web of affairs, gradually changing who you are – slowly dissolving character traits you once held dear, reinforcing habits that once you might have shied from or laughed at. I find the process is so disarmingly slow that by the time I’ve cottoned on to what’s occurring, the opportunities to take restorative action have somewhat diminished (or at least the perceived effort required is in itself prohibitive (the 9 stitches effect)).
Now I’m sure there’s an element of nostalgia or retrospective attribution that affects the perceived shift in character, but I think the basic premise holds.
When the web of self-absorption gets a bit sticky, it’s a good thing to look around and actually perceive others and observe which character traits you admire and, converse, dislike. Then, grab that garment and try it on for size…
This post has been borne of two examples I’ve thought about this morning and so I’ll quickly share them now.
1) Good mothers and others.
Upon returning to my house each day the first thing I’m bound to hear is the lady next door shrieking at her two daughters (~2 & 4 yrs). She shrieks at them over every manner of thing, from holding the door shut, to not sharing, to being little girls. The foot of concrete that separates our houses dulls the sound to a high pitched mulled-whine, but with doors open the sound is intrusive, overbearing and relentless.
As one sans kids, I shouldn’t pass judgment too quickly; however, I have the pleasure of knowing some fantastic mothers; mothers that treat their children with respect and love and consideration for one’s hearing and sanity. Examples include my mother, aunties, sister, sister-in-law, close friends, friends’ parents and so on. I know people who are soon to be fantastic mothers: Shelly, Steph and Lynda.
My neighbour seems to thrive off the negativity that fills her house (and mine) and has given me cause to reflect on the extent I now focus on the negative side of things. Once in that mindset, I find it a hard thing to shake, yet one that is worth shaking…
As if some augury of a day in 20 years time presented itself in my lap, the lady’s mother was present today, shrieking in much the same way at her daughter and granddaughters. I guess that ‘like breeds like’ and, boy, I will resolve to refrain from shrieking at my kids, unless of course they beat me at Playstation 7.
2) Golden Oak
Alcohol…. love it. Specifically beer. Sometimes, hanker for it. And have trouble stopping at one. Always have.
Coming to Perth has been a good opportunity to settle down in my boozing ways and learn to be happy sober. This has become all the more apparent with a girlfriend who doesn’t really drink and where the drunk-sober divide becomes particularly apparent and personal.
Enter Guts, a friend of one of my flatmates whose subsistence consists of Golden Oak cask wine (the cheapest), consumed by the mug-full prior to going out. Now these boys go out about 6 nights a week. Ruby Room, Hippie Club, The Dean, back to the Hippie Club and so on, week by week. Every night, mugs of Golden Oak go by the wayside, to the extent that I recommended that Guts just take himself out the back and punch himself in the liver and kidneys a few times and save himself a handful of dollars and a bad night’s sleep. It reminds me of travelling, when one’s life becomes a pseudo-reality devoid of the decisions and consequences that inhabit and hamper ‘real’ life.
Knowing Guts and his Golden Oak soaking ways has been a real eye-opener, and motivator. Were it I’d known him longer than 2 weeks, I’d probably suggest he find his own moment for reflection, especially when it comes to drink driving, which appears to be rampant here in WA.
Ok… I’ve rambled longer than I’d originally anticipated, but this post is in part to solidify these thoughts and if necessary revisit them should the lesson be forgotten. I’m well aware of the thought-action divide, but the journey starts not with the first steps, but with tying the laces…
The aim is to keep the photos coming in small attention-span sized chunks. So, without further ado, the photos from Adelaide can be found at http://www.jameses.org/photos/perth-trip2/
Storm and I are practically settled into our new abode. After lugging the better half of our worldly belongings across the vastness of Oz, we knew we’d solved part of the problem of re-establishing ourselves and our new home. Moving into a place with furnishings (save for a washing machine) has also helped the process.
However, there is always the need to ‘settle’: buy the last drippings of comfort; purchase the essential non-essential items we all feel we need; set up the plethora of computers we brought with; get connected; find space to store all of our crap.
With Storm busying herself with her studies, this task has been largely left to me. And using it as an excuse to delay looking for gainful employment, it’s been a somewhat tardy process. But now {gasp} it is nearing completion. Tomorrow, after Storm and I have picked up our brand spanking new bikes and the bookcase on whose shoulders (metaphorical) we are pinning our hopes of storage salvation, that’ll be it. After laying out around $2500 in ‘establishment fees’ our spending can finally be confined to food, rent and puncture repair kits. With beer valued at $9 a pint or $4.50 a pot of mid, even drinking in moderation is infeasible within our new mode of fiscal responsibilty.
And with that, there’s no more ‘need’ to research desks and position them on the price/aesthetic continuum. No more running around town in a vain attempt to get Optus 3G prepaid working on our myriad computers. No more thinly-veiled excuses to avoid looking for work…
Gurgh…
I can guarantee this though… for as long as I remain ungainfully employed, every day at about 10:47am I will meander to my local coffee shop, Soto, and order a coffee and an hour’s free internet. I will use this time to chat to friends on the east coast, upload photos from our recent trip and apply for the odd job. I will enjoy being out of the house. And I will enjoy the fact that I have one firmly established ritual in my new city.
And I’ll rejoice in the fact that, although I’ve come 6300km across the country in search of a new life, I’m still as tight as ever…
Well, the job hunt is back on… As unenticing as it is, looking for jobs is better than spending the day cooped up in an empty house with only dirty dishes and the screaming neighbours for company.
Although Storm and I have purchased an Optus pre-paid broadband doobie, we have managed to churn through 2Gb of data in a notch over 3 days… thus I’m at my local cafe, using free wireless to apply for jobs and read the news. I never cease to be amazed at how long it actually takes to re-jig a cover letter, selection criteria response to cater for the quirks of each job… I think I must have about 20 iterations of my application pack by now…
Ok, with 30 secs left on the clock, I’d better log off…
Lots of love and yes we’re alive…
Well, after the rapid pace of Nullarbor driving (including a mammoth 930km jaunt between Eucla and Esperance) we decided to slow it down as we neared our destination. Enjoyable beach days, as documented in the last post, were supplemented by a 3 night stay on a small vineyard in Margaret River, courtesy of our friend Vicky. Aside from a few blustery beach swims, the main highlight was a day’s sampling of the local wares – wine, fancy snacks and tucker, and beer. Our little afternoon trip included the Margaret River Venison farm, Howard Park/Madfish Winery, Vasse Felix Winery, Providore (Deli and Winery), Woody Nook boutique winery, and Bootleg Brewery – with 7 beers fallen straight from heaven.
A final 300km drive north and we arrived in our final destination, Maddington W.A., ready to unload our poor car, eat some healthy food, and do some darn exercise. Finding an internet cafe has been a monumental undertaking in its own right; however, when we are firmly established in our new abode next week, that will be quickly rectified.
So far we’ve visited Storm’s campus which is quaint and pretty, eaten out in Northbridge (like Brisbane’s valley district), had coffee in Highgate (our new suburb, similar to New Farm), gone swimming at Cottesloe, been shopping in Maddington (Perth’s version of a Logan/Ipswich hybrid), and driven a good three quarters of the city and surrounds. Storm is in fact teaching her first classes, having been snaffled up by a dance school somewhere between Sydney and Wagga Wagga. Turns out, if you’re good enough, jobs will find you.
It is hot and very windy here, and staring down vast quantities of golden sunshine reflecting of the ocean of an afternoon will take some getting used to. We’re yet to glimpse the sun sink beyond the western ocean; however, there are three years for that.
There’ll be a new batch of travel pics up soon, but for now, after 6299.7km, sufficed to say we’ve arrived safely and happy.
Lots of Love, especially to Mum and Dad who are about to undertake an amazing 8 week adventure in South America and Ian, Michelle and Annabel, who will be indulging in the many delights of Buenos Aires with them. Travel safe guys and have fun!
Well, after a unexpected layover in Grafton last night – largely due to the late getaway (who ever gets away on time anyhoos?) and crazy antics of late evening truck drivers – we’ve arrived in our first destination, Bonny Hills.
Fortuitous timing has enabled Storm and me the opportunity to catch up with a number of rellies and say some fond farewells to family and friends. Fortuitous weather also enabled us to head to the beach and catch a few waves in pseudo-antarctic waters… Borrowing my cousin’s waterproof digi-cam, I was able to make a stupid videos of mah bodysurfing stylings! So if you’re bored at work or home, have a squiz and hopefully a chuckle 
Next stop, Sydney, tomorrow!