Aloha Hawaii

Things that make you go - Huh??

Have you ever noticed the T-shirts some people wear, and wonder how they could possibly think they were a good idea?  Fit aside, I can't figure out why people make them or wear them - guess it's that supply and demand thing.  Some recent sightings....a young guy with Hawaiian Lifeguard (big red cross and lettering) on the front of what looked like a brand new T.  If you aren't a lifeguard, and he most definitely wasn't, are you hoping it's a chick magnet?  Would you want to attract the kind of chick who wouldn't know the difference?  A middle-aged woman sported the claim "I've got really low self-esteem".  (It boggles the mind). A couple made me chuckle, "HAPPILY MARRIED (because my wife told me I am)" and "I was out of sick days, so this morning I called in dead".  And don't get me started on Hello Kitty...

The other thing I've noticed are the multitudes of people who spend a good part of their day staring into little tiny screens on all manner of hand-held devices.  It especially strikes me here when they're on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world and they're shouting into their phone or stroking a screen in an effort to communicate with someone who is probably on another part of the same beautiful beach.  Eventually they'll all need interpersonal communication therapy to actually speak to someone face to face.  Am I sounding old and crabby?

Well, I think it's time to head home.  I'm starting to recognize the homeless people here and I even know the groupings that claim certain pavillions along the beach.  There are the wounded armed forces vets, the local thugs, the mentally ill, and amongst them, the tourists who sit anywhere there's shade.  The latter are the smarter tourists who aren't out getting burned crispy by the sun. There's also the fine line between looking tanned, and looking like you're spending as much time outside as the homeless.  I don't have a shopping cart or a tent, but I do carry a backpack.

Aloha

Kilts and flip flops

Sorry about the lack of photos, but there's nowhere to plug in my camera here.  I'll add them when I get home, although it doesn't seem safe yet to leave here - temperatures in Kingston are hovering around zero and that's still way too cool!

Today was the Scottish Highland Festival in the park across from Waikiki beach.  Picture bagpipers with kilts, flip flopped spectators, surfers cruising through the food tents scarfing scotch eggs and Hawaiian pig plates (pulled pork) and cheers from the nearby "Spirit Competition" (I think that's cheerleaders) spilling over onto the celtic bands that played all afternoon. It was surreal.

I've seen 70-year-olds with boogie boards, very badly dressed tourists, large Hawaians, tiny Asians and everything in between.  It's a must-see place, really. I'm off to Kelly O'Neill's to see more live music and who knows what else.

Aloha

Two Wednesdays...

Just who invented the International dateline???  It's about as easy to understand as the workings of the Internet.  This shortcoming caused me to arrive a day early in Waikiki and throw myself on the mercy of the desk clerk at my hotel.  Fortunately they had a room and I fell into bed after 36+ hours of travel from Perth.

Everything about the Lonely Planet-recommended hotel is great, except the fussy little concierge who bears a very unfortunate resemblance to the big stuffed gorilla that is parked on a couch in the lobby.  Don't ask me... They both have bad posture and look like they've been dropped from a great height. I asked about taking a local bus yesterday and he was evidently unhappy about that and warned me twice not to talk to the bus driver because "he could lose his JOB!"  O.K., O.K., I won't talk to bus drivers and next time I'll book a big, fat bus tour that includes hula dancers, fire eaters and ukelele playing.

The zoo here is great and so is the beach, which I'll spend some time on today.  For the weekend, I'm deciding between Tango Extravaganza, the Hawaiian Scottish Highland Games(?) and...more beach.

Yesterday I ate my picnic lunch beneath a shady pavailion populated with what looked like the local hoods.  They looked harmless enough - playing cards and music and making disparaging remarks about tourists.  Things went quiet and when I turned around, there were 4 cops taking pictures of everyone and quietly moving them on.  I was glad that they didn't include me in the operation. It was bad enough that I got a written warning about jay walking from a local tourism ambassador.  I promised to use the crosswalks from now on...

 Aloha

Aussie Rules Football

One minute I was playing golf with the regular Sat. ladies group, and the next thing I knew I was given a member's pass to the first season game of the Perth Eagles Football Club. It's a very big deal here and it starts at the commuter train station outside of Perth. Everyone was awash in blue and gold, and all had their members' tags hanging around their necks, which also gets them a free ride into the stadium . I wore my Canada T-shirt so I would have license to ask stupid questions, and besides that, I don't have anything blue and gold.

Aussie Rules football is a pretty unique game which seems to contain parts of many other games: basketball "jump balls", rugby lateral passes, football mauling (without pads) and baseball dugouts where the players spend their time when not running around a field the size of P.E.I. Coaches are ensconced in air conditioned boxes and use neon-green clad messengers to run plays (or admonitions) out to the players. There doesn't seem to be many time outs and at any one moment, you may have the green messengers, water boys, and 36 players milling around.

One of Perth's best players scored a goal in the second half and immediately crumpled to the ground clutching his groin. The first guy out there was apparently responsible for removing the hand from the groin, in deference to the large TV audience. After that, they loaded him on a stretcher and carted him away - out for the next 10 weeks. The Eagles eventually subdued the No. Melborne Kangaroos and won by 4 points, overall a pretty exciting afternoon.

Western Australia sights

Chair and Tin Horse Highways

It all started when Lyn submitted a one-page statement of interest (actually, she figures it should have been disinterest), to help the Lake King Progressive Association display and promote 4 handmade, 4-wheel drive tractors to the touring public. Lake King is a farming community with a population of 220 and is located on the very edge of the Western Australia wheat belt, right where it meets the middle of nowhere.

We set out on the 6-hour drive with no great expectations, but were soon seduced by roadside attractions. The Brookden Highway would have been a fairly ho-hum drive through the bush without the addition of randomly-placed chairs along the way. We saw Harry, Art, Lester, Jock, Daisy and Rosie and and an unnamed offering with a log placed purposely, albeit cryptically, across its back. Next stop was the Corrigin dog cemetery (not sure where their cats end up), which demanded some time. There seemed to be a religious section which featured crosses, but there was no further indication of what particular denomination those dogs represented.

Tin Horse highway through Kulin is a long stretch featuring horse sculptures made from farm barrels and other metal bits - a striking demonstration of creativity and resourcefulness by farmer/welders with lots of time on their hands.

We pulled into the Lake King Tavern with a few minutes to spare before Lyn's scheduled interview with the tractor guys. The Tavern is at the Lake King crossroads and we were fortunate to get the last room at the inn. There was a German team of scientists studying weather patterns (I'm not sure why; it's always hot and sunny), Australians building evaporation ponds for a nearby mine and other Hydro workers rebuilding something. We shared some beers and stories with the locals before dinner and ate dinner at the tavern, since there's no where else in town to do that. The next morning we were off to the southern coast, Hopetoun, where Lyn had her last interview with a tractor-builder.

That night we stayed with friends near Albany who have a small farm and had a fabulous dinner completely "off the block", which means that everything that we ate was grown there. I'm glad I missed the sheep-slaughtering session which yielded the roast, but was amazed by the passion fruit vine that was laden with my now-favorite fruit.

From St. Patrick's Day to Persian New Year

That's Del and I at a cafe on St. Patrick's Day, which would have been like any other day except for the green food coloring that I bought and added to all drinks. The happy hour gin and tonics looked especially festive. Joan and I have been golfing on Sat. mornings with her regular group and I set out on my own this morning to the course up the road. It's close enough that I can pull the cart to and from Lyn's house along Pt. Walter Rd. and I had my "I'm just looking for my drive" story ready for anyone who asked (no one did). I played with a local guy and his visiting brother-in-law from Winnipeg. We were both revelling in the sun, warmth and astounding variety of birds squawking overhead.

Lyn and I attended a Persian/Baha'i New Year's party last night at her daughter's in-laws' palace north of Perth. I'm surprised the table legs could take the weight of the loaded platters of food: whole chickens and fish, legs of lamb, heaps of rice and a separate table for at least 18 different desserts. Lyn and I managed to eat our body weight in food and escaped before the obligatory dancing. She's out giving a gardening talk to an 'aged' group and I had a very important golf game, and that was our story.
Tomorrow we're driving 5 1/2 hours to Lake King to see some men about some tractors - really. Could be some interesting blog material coming up.

Swan Valley Tour

Right, time for a wine tour up the Swan River...Lyn and I packed a lunch and set out for a meander though the Valley. Never mind that the river doesn't actually flow anywhere because there's hardly enough rain and runoff to push it seaward. It's mostly salt on the top and a little fresh water underneath, and they tell me that the bull sharks manage to get themselves pretty far upstream. Charming.

The wineries, on the other hand, manage to keep their products flowing despite the 12-year drought they've had around Perth. We visited several vineyards, a chocolate factory, a lavender farm (with lavender wine which wasn't half bad), and Nougat World. I learned that nougat is a French word, but the Italians actually invented it (they call it torrone). It was probably more than I really needed to know about nougat, although Lyn loves it and bought a couple of big bars - Aussies call if Nougahhhh....

The highlight of our trip was Lamont's winery where we met a very funny, bossy wine expert who forced us to try at least six of their wines, refilled the olive bowl that we practically cleaned out during the tasting and allowed us to eat our picnic lunch under his grape arbor, despite the fact that they had a cafe on site. We bought a bottle of an excellent white that we had just tried and he provided us with two beautiful glasses, a chilled wine holder and made sure that the cafe music was piped out to us. It was one of those moments in life where you absolutely know that you're in the right place at the right time. It was magic.

More "Rotto" pics

Dugites and Quokkas and Skinks, Oh My!

Dutch explorers dubbed it Rottnest (rat nest) Island when they caught sight of the quokkas that populate Western Australia's only good-sized island.

There are also a few on the mainland, but Rottnest is where this particular marsupial mostly hangs out. It's a good thing they've got friendly furry faces, because the rat tail could really put you off. The other prevalent island resident is a poisonous snake called a dugite, but everyone assures me that they're 'shy'. So am I when it comes to snakes...

Del and I ferried to Rottnest on Sun. for a two day-getaway and stayed in one of the beachside cottages pictured. We rented bikes when we got off the ferry and met our luggage at the cottage where it had been delivered; the State owns the island and all the accommodation on it, and has the check-in and out procedure down pat. Our cottage was basic and had a fully accessible bathroom, and if you didn't see the porch with the gorgeous view, you'd think you were in a nursing home - two twin beds in each room with a reading light suitable for surgery.

It really is a paradise out there - no cars, just bikes and miles of beautiful, deserted white sand beaches. The snorkeling is good, although we ran into a gang of stingers the first day out which was a little unpleasant. They kill you over on the east side of the country, but really only annoy you on the west coast.

They call this golfing?!?

My friend Joan took me out with her ladies golf group this morning at a beautiful local course - Glen Iris. Because of the heat, she picked me up at some God-awful time somewhere near 6 am and before I'd had my regulation 2 cups of coffee. Things started off pleasantly enough until we got to the first green and I put my ball within 2" of the cup. I thought Annie was going to faint when I tapped it into my hand and walked away. Apparently there are no "gimmes" in Australia. And Joan told me that if I had been playing with Edith "she would have your guts for garters". Okay, so I'm really glad at this point that Edith decided to stay home. On the second tee I corkscrewed my ball off into a bush area where I'm told snakes have their homes. "How about a mulligan?", I asked naively. Nope. No gimmes; no mulligans.

I knew I was in a foreign land when Lorna got into a monster bunker on nine and took 8 strokes to get out - no swearing, no attempted kicks or throws out of the sand - nothing. I was just thankful that Joan was on my wavelength and ordered us 2 beers just after 9 am. I needed that.


Black swans in the Swan River and that's the Perth skyline in the background in the top photo

Street scenes - Perth and Fremantle

My toes have blisters from walking the streets in Perth and Fremantle, and although prostitution is legal here, I definitely wasn't walking that way.

The shiny silver toilet pictured here lured me in with its blinking blue light which meant it was unoccupied. I pushed the big green button and the door slid open, and then I pushed the big red button on the inside and the door glided shut. A melodious male voice informed me that the door was locked and that I had 10 minutes remaining in my 'session'. What anyone could do in that metal box for 10 minutes is beyond me - I don't want to think about it. As soon as I made contact with the seat, muzak filled the cube with the strains of "What the World Needs Now". Other than the seat, I didn't need to touch anything else - soap, water and a hand dryer were all there for the asking. If the voice had been Scottish, I would have feared that Scotty was about to "Beam me up". I know what you're thinking - "Who sits on public toilet seats???" I guess that would be me.