True Southern Hospitality
I'm not talking about your sweetened iced tea and fried okra hospitality. No, I'm mean the Australian variety. Now that I'm a bit less knackered, and a bit more rested, its high time to thank my hosts. Tane and Lee have graciously allowed me into their home despite my travel stench. Of course a generous bribe of Reese's Pieces & maple syrup may have help persuade them. Either way, I can not stress how superb it is, after 30 hours, long customs lines, layovers, and screaming infants, to be welcomed with open arms and an spare bed for as long as I want.
Day 2:
Brisbane
Last night's sleep was regrettably fitful- punctuated by vivid nightmares and several loud intrusions of possums on the roof above my room and Milo (the dog) chasing the ones foolish enough to wander through the back yard. Somehow I still managed to be out of bed by 6 AM, a feat I haven't accomplished back home for the past year.
The excitement for today began with a short hike to White Rock conservation area (pictures to follow, techno volente). It was a day of many firsts for me: my first Aussie hike, my first guanna lizard, my first wallaby, and my first box of Tim Tams (as a self reward for a job well done)- the chocolate covered, chocolate-creme filled, chocolate wafer. I highly recommend everyone try them, but don't bother to share evenly, they only come in boxes of 11.
I still had trouble getting the bike all prim and proper, so I decided to take a short ride to the local bike shop to see if they could sort out the problem that I couldn't solve after 3 hours of tinkering. I certainly took the opportunity to make a grand entrance into the bike shop. Have you ever pushed on a door that you expect to have a bit more resistance than it actually does? As soon as you push on it you know. All you can do is watch it, and hope that somewhere there's a doorstop. Bike in one hand, helmet in the other, I watched the door swing into the baskets of knick-knacks along the glass wall. Not really the best approach for someone wanting free service. And closing the door slowly and cautiously in no way lessens the social fau pax, but I did it anyway. To top it off, once on the stand there was absolutely nothing wrong with my bike, and the mechanic talked to me in the patronizing tone usual reserved for backwoods gas station attendants. I felt I should at least buy some new tubes, which I did, but they seem to be the wrong size. Anyone want some bike tubes?
Day 2:
Brisbane
Last night's sleep was regrettably fitful- punctuated by vivid nightmares and several loud intrusions of possums on the roof above my room and Milo (the dog) chasing the ones foolish enough to wander through the back yard. Somehow I still managed to be out of bed by 6 AM, a feat I haven't accomplished back home for the past year.
The excitement for today began with a short hike to White Rock conservation area (pictures to follow, techno volente). It was a day of many firsts for me: my first Aussie hike, my first guanna lizard, my first wallaby, and my first box of Tim Tams (as a self reward for a job well done)- the chocolate covered, chocolate-creme filled, chocolate wafer. I highly recommend everyone try them, but don't bother to share evenly, they only come in boxes of 11.
I still had trouble getting the bike all prim and proper, so I decided to take a short ride to the local bike shop to see if they could sort out the problem that I couldn't solve after 3 hours of tinkering. I certainly took the opportunity to make a grand entrance into the bike shop. Have you ever pushed on a door that you expect to have a bit more resistance than it actually does? As soon as you push on it you know. All you can do is watch it, and hope that somewhere there's a doorstop. Bike in one hand, helmet in the other, I watched the door swing into the baskets of knick-knacks along the glass wall. Not really the best approach for someone wanting free service. And closing the door slowly and cautiously in no way lessens the social fau pax, but I did it anyway. To top it off, once on the stand there was absolutely nothing wrong with my bike, and the mechanic talked to me in the patronizing tone usual reserved for backwoods gas station attendants. I felt I should at least buy some new tubes, which I did, but they seem to be the wrong size. Anyone want some bike tubes?
posted by Vit-One at 7:49 PM
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