In Australia, brawn beats beauty every time. One thing I have found, however, is how nonchalant people are here about the deadliness of their home sweet home. Pretty much everything here can hurt you or kill you. And pretty much every human is as laid back and cool as an Antarctic cucumber. Even before moving here, I was extremely paranoid that my child would step on, walk into, or stumble upon one of the many species that on the outside looks harmless but with one look will render you incapacitated and crying “Uncle” while saliva drips unknowingly out of the corner of your mouth. Many of you have heard my three year old recite “the many things that bite in Australia” like she was reciting state capitals. I feel like the dad from the movie The Croods (seen it? If not, you totally should. Not only is there a heartfelt message about getting out there and exploring and not being afraid, but Emma Stone voices the main character EP, and who doesn't love her???)
The first time I came to Australia, about 6 or 7 years ago, Anthony and I had stopped to swim at one of the many beaches dotting the eastern coastline on our drive from Brisbane to Tamworth. Now I am sometimes scared shitless that a shark will attack me in a swimming pool so here in the shark attack capital of the world, I was a nervous wreck. Any shadow or glint of sea weed would send me into a tachypnic panic, sure that a telltale dorsal fin would break the surface any minute thereafter, only feet from where I stood. Meanwhile, Anthony was out where he could barely touch, ducking under the frothy walls of saltwater, waving and cheerfully beckoning me out to where I saw only certain death. I remember imagining what my statement would be when the reporters came to ask me what happened in the moments before my boyfriend became lunch to a Great White. I remember feeling thankful he was spared when, the next day, we read a newspaper article describing the torso that had washed up on shore a day later and 1/2 mile from where we so innocently waded.
I am writing this post after barbecuing our dinner out at Port Macquarie, our coastal holiday destination for a few days before we start work. I am happy to report I was much braver, and much less of a nervous wreck in the water these last few days—venturing far enough out that I too got the mermaid feel of diving ‘neath breakers and fighting tides. As I dove, I did however, say a prayer beneath my breath for the bloke out past the breakers—just doing a leisurely Thursday crawl stroke swim from point to point in what might as well be the bermuda triangle. I again found myself practicing my statement to the papers when they asked me “what happened exactly in the moments before the shark surfaced and took him under”. Little did I know, there are more than Great Whites to be afraid of in these tranquil waters. We had taken the kids down to the tide pools and me, apparently being the not-quite-wary-enough-that-everything-really-can-kill-you mom, decided to try and find a little pool that Farrer could splash around in. Anthony’s response, his nonchalant response, was “ oh yeah, this is where those blue ring octopus like to hang out so just be careful”. OOOOOOOOO-KKKKKKKKKKAAAAAAYYYYYYY, SURE! No problem! Blue ring octopus! You mean the barely visible with the naked eye creature that Wikipedia describes as “ one of the world’s most venomous marine animals”???? Sure. yeah. okay…be careful. I decided to instead take him over to knee deep water where Great Whites may lurk….at least I can see THEM coming.
We have been having such a great holiday out here; I am learning how precious the moments in the sand and surf can be when you live hours from them. We are renting a little bungalow up on a hill; overlooking an estuary/river thing and with a peek of blue ocean on the horizon. It is so green here, contrasting with the drought ridden fields in my minds eye that we left back in Tamworth. We were lucky enough to move into our new home there with a freezer full of Bissell Beef—the result of my brother and sister in law choosing to let one of their cows “go to heaven” and come back reincarnated into sausages, t-bones, and filets. Anthony is cooking the steaks on the barbie while ants the size of small Labrador puppies are marching at our feet. Hmmmm….should I be concerned one will soon heft me to it’s brazen back and trek off with me back to the colony??? My mind again drifted back my first time to Oz, when I happened to be the unlucky recipient of a green ant bite. I never even saw the thing, but I shot up, cartoon-like, after serving as entree to one at a park we had visited. “Oh its a green ant, I bet” is what Anthony mumbled as I turned beet red and swiped sweat from my furrowed brow, clutching my toe. “ Is that bad?!?!?” I shouted in response. “ Is it deadly??!?!”. Because even if it was, his explanation would have probably been as nonchalant as it was. No biggie. On the totem pole of things that can hurt or kill you, a green ant is pretty low down. I guess that’s what happens when most of the world’s deadliest species all share the same red dirt sandbox. As you can guess, no, it was not deadly. It just hurt like a mofo, and upped my suspicion and general disdain of crawly things, especially ones that you don't even have to see for them to hurt you. With the steaks done, we sat out on our balcony in the balmy sea air and enjoyed our dinner. That is, until I caught sight of a spider the size of my one year old son, who had decided to start making his or her web on our balcony mere centimeters from where Anthony chewed. Immediately, my arm hairs raised and I could no longer taste my dinner as I watched it climb and twirl, building what I was sure to be a web large enough to entrap me as I stumbled out in a pre-coffee haze the following morning. He hardly gave it any notice because it was not one of the 7 deadly species found on this continent but merely very large and very hairy—two attributes that don’t speak too loudly in comparison. I hope I can report that one day, I too will be as cool as my new co-citizens when it comes to these things…but know I have a long way to go, especially in the arachnid department.
As I sign off, sitting here in our little living room, I catch sight of a very tiny, very cute little lizard that is scurrying across our floor… it’s about the size of my pinky toe…awwww. I should totally know better by now, because it is surely a species that can unhinge its jaw and take down an elephant, or render you paralyzed and contracted with just a flick of its tongue in your direction. So when you are asked, please tell the reporter I was happy, content, and blissfully naive in the moments before he got me :)
Some photos of our travels to the Coast:
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| Traffic jam |
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| moooooove it! |
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| dry fields quickly turned to jungles reminiscent of my travels in Costa Rica |
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| We stopped at a Koala Sanctuary where you could pat koalas and hand feed kangaroos and Wallabies. I guess not EVERYTHING in Australia is deadly after all... |
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| This joey was being camera shy |
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| Peek-a-boo! |
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| The first day at Port was a bit overcast |
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| Aussie pride |
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| we never saw one |
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| Flynn's beach-our fave spot |
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| assessing the score |
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| Wave made a friend :) |
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| The view from our little bungalow |
Brought our beloved family photos over here and finally got them mounted and up on the wall! Tamworth is a palleters paradise with pallets in every shape, size, and color just begging to be transformed. I picked up one that had a blueish hue and some paint splatters and got to work pulling boards off. I cut them with a table saw and joined them together in the back with a plate of metal and screws. The photos, I mounted with spray glue and upholstery tacks in each corner.
