Fairdinkum

I was talking to a friend from home last week, and she asked me if we stand out as Americans here. I think not much. Neighbors who meet us might say, “Oh, you’re the Americans on the corner.” I don’t think people would know we were “from the states” until we opened our mouths because in appearance, we don’t really look any different than most people here.

When we first arrived, it was suggested to us that when asked where we were from, we might want to respond “California” instead of “America.” The reasoning was that people who have negative stereotypes about America often think “except for California.” This sentiment was confirmed by our server at a very nice restaurant in Cairns. Lillianna is from Italy but is living in Cairns with her husband. She began, as many store clerks and wait staff do, by asking us where we were from. We responded, “California” and she said,  “The capitol is Sacramento!” Of course we were impressed, and she continued, “Oh, I love people from California. They are beautiful people. Oh, and Massachusetts too. But other states, not so much. They are kind of self-centered, don’t you agree?” She proceeded to tell us a story about an American woman who came to the restaurant. Their conversation went like this:

American woman: You told me all of the wines you serve are from Australia.

Lillianna: Yes, ma’am, that’s correct.

American woman: But this says here this wine is from Washington. That’s in the US.

Lillianna: No, ma’am, that WA stands for Western Australia.

American woman: Are you sure?

At a table near us there were five twenty-something men, two of whom were from America. How did we know this? Because Lilliana asked them where they were from and when two of them said Colorado and Oregon, she proceeded to name their state capitals. (This may be an endearing strategy to increase her chances of tips from those from a tipping culture in a non-tipping country.) Unfortunately, the man from Denver repeatedly and loudly illustrated Lilliana’s stereotype for non-CA and non-MA Americans.

One time a bus driver asked me if I was from Canada. I said, “No, I’m from California.” And I added, “But I wouldn’t mind being from Canada.” Then he revealed that he always asks people with North American accents if they are from Canada, “because Americans are generally flattered by that, but if you ask a Canadian if they’re American, they’re offended.” So, I guess I had just proven that generalization correct.

Having shared those few experiences, I would say we have been treated with great hospitality and generosity wherever we go. The most noticeable superficial difference is in our language. Many of the terms in Australia are British in spelling and flavour like boot (trunk) or biscuit (cookie). I can’t manage to avoid capsicum (bell pepper), which is in just about everything. We can usually figure out the meaning of a word we don’t know when it’s used in context, but not always. Our neighbors invited us for Sunday tea, which turned out to be a roast dinner, not just, as they say, a “cuppa.”   We also learned “take a squizz” (have a look) and “the council is being all argie bargie about it” (unnecessarily difficult). There are also a number of words where different syllables are emphasized. For example, macramé is pronounced here as mac-ram’-ay. And aluminum is spelled aluminium and pronounced al-u-min’-ee-um. And then there are all the words that are spelled and sound the same, but are quickly pronounced with an Australian accent that can stop me up some days.

The most notable difference in cultural principles that I’ve observed between here and the US is an underlying value of fairness. “Fairdinkum” is a uniquely Australian term, which to be fair (ha), I’ve never actually heard it in regular conversation, though the prime minister did use it one day on TV. It’s used similarly to how we would say, “No, it’s really true!” but I think it also represents the national value of the "right to a fair go."

We often hear the concept of fairness used in a variety of contexts. I’ve heard it used in a few different types of TV adverts (that’s Australian for advertisement :-). In one PSA for a new fire levy, the premise of the whole piece was everyone should pay this levy because, “That’s just fair.” Andy watched a judge lecture a juvenile in his court about his offense, and he noted that what the kid did wasn’t fair. In sports, the MVP of a game is called “The Best and Fairest.” From an American perspective, I think there’s something fundamentally different about being “the most valuable” and being “the fairest.” In practice, I think these phrases are meant to accomplish the same thing. But language matters. And to me, fairness necessarily acknowledges the quality of relationship between players. The term MVP connotes standing out above the rest, or at least misses the explicit value of being fair to others.

Even though people in Australia can be just as fanatic in barracking (cheering) for their team as fans in the US, the spirit of competition in the general culture feels kinder and gentler than in America. Referees and umpires are generally treated with great respect and there’s a lot of value placed on the spirit of the game, in addition to winning. I guess you could say there’s a greater sense of fair play overall. That’s not to say that all of the nation’s policies or actions are fair; both of our countries fall short in achieving our own lofty ideals. But it feels like more Australians believe in the value of fairness. As an American, that’s what stands out to me.

The Great Barrier Reef

We had to wait to get our under water camera pictures developed. They came in today, so here are some shots from our snorkeling trip up at the Great Barrier Reef. The Reef is a 350,000 sq km entity made up of around 3000 individual reefs stretching from Cape York to Bundaberg along the Queensland coast. It contains 350 coral species, making it one of the greatest examples of marine biodiversity in the world. It’s been inscribed on the World Heritage List, is the only living thing visible from space and it’s worth about $5.1 billion in annual tourism to the economy.

In the first shot, you can see the end of the moored pontoon from where everyone dives or snorkels. To the right of that is the partially submerged boat where we were able to get commentary on what we were seeing underwater. But nothing compared to what we would see when we put the goggles on and and went exploring.

The pictures just don't do it justice. You have to look closely to see some of what lurks below. This picture of staghorn coral has hundreds of tiny iridescent blue fish swimming through it. (Remember you can click on the picture to make it larger.)

As we were heading back to the pontoon, I saw what looked like a shark about 2 meters long and I began to swim faster! (Turns out it was indeed a white tip reef shark, but pretty harmless.) As we neared the pontoon and the end of our snorkel experience, the tour photographer was underwater taking shots of people near Wally the Wrasse. Wally was huge and gentle and incredible.

And, More Art

As most people know, Andy and I are big fans of art, particularly art that is local. We also enjoy finding art in the every day images. I’m not a skilled photographer, but I’ll often stop to take a picture that I think might be “artsy.” It all started about 8 years ago with our first trip to Vancouver when I saw a discarded computer printer sitting askew on a public park bench. I thought it was art and took a picture. Andy wasn’t so sure. (I can’t post that picture because I lost my hard drive last month, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.)

On our hike up in Daylesford a couple weeks ago, I took these shots because I thought they were interesting. I had posted a Warrnambool mailbox montage earlier, but these seemed to have a real story to tell. The windows are from an abandoned shack we explored. The curtains are shredded and the glass is broken, but there’s a fairly new-looking twin mattress inside. I’m sure there are stories there…

Sometimes I set the camera up to take a picture in a way that I think will be provocative. (see, I pretend I know what I’m doing.) Sometimes I look at the picture on the computer and can’t remember what I was trying to accomplish, but other times, I think the pictures turn out kind of cool.

Other times, Andy and I collaborate on an “exhibition.” These are some shells we collected and displayed on a rock down by the penguin islands near the breakwater. The law prohibits us from collecting shells, so we picked our favorites, made a collage, and saved a digital memory.

 

We have also had the opportunity to visit museums and galleries to see more traditional forms of art. The Ballarat Art Gallery, for the size and nature of the town, was really terrific. They had a great combination of contemporary and classical pieces, along with some Aboriginal art.

Here’s something we saw there that one might ask, “Is it art?”

Knitted naked man

I never took art history, so I learn from Andy about all of the “great artists” who created masterpieces. I’m a fan (pun intended) of contemporary art, so I sat at the National Gallery in Melbourne for 20 minutes watching this kinetic sculpture.

While we’ve been here, I’ve been studying paintings in an attempt to make my own painting better. I’m particularly intrigued by the styles in indigenous art, much of which is centuries old. But in 1971, a schoolteacher named Geoffrey Bardon taught at the Papunya settlement (i.e. reservation), 250 kilometers west of Alice Springs. This teacher encouraged young, aboriginal children to draw and paint on canvas the stories from their culture. Older members of the community began painting as well, telling their “dreaming stories” from the land. The movement became more recognized in Australia in the 1980’s. International attention of Aboriginal art was gained during the 2000 Olympics in Sydney, and in 2006, the Musee Quai Branly, a dedicated indigenous art museum in Paris, featured it.

In a few schools I’ve visited, I’ve noticed indigenous-style art usually created by non-indigenous school children, presumably in a type of art appreciation lesson. Dot painting is a popular technique to emulate, but to minimize all Aboriginal art to dot painting would deny the tremendous variety that exists across the country. These are a few pictures I’ve taken in schools:

This accompanied the piece above it.

One of the benefits of being on sabbatical is having the time to do some of the things you don’t have time for when you’re working hard all week. I brought a small watercolor set with me; I thought I’d keep it simple with fewer supplies. This is a painting I started of Lady Bay, but before I could complete it, my hard drive crashed and I lost the photo I was using to paint it. I don’t feel like I’m skilled enough to finish with my own imagination so this one will have to exist in a state of unfinishedness.

 

But since we have seen so much indigenous art done in acrylics, I’ve had the urge to get out the acrylic paints and canvases and work on some original pieces. So, this weekend I went to the art store and bought enough supplies to keep me painting for the next few months. I’m really grateful not only for the time to do it, but also the inspiration we get from all of the artists whose work we’ve seen. That brings me to our third Australian art purchase.

The last day we were in Cairns, we were walking around downtown looking for tourist t-shirts, when we happened across another Aboriginal Art gallery. This one had wall-to-wall art, stacked upright on the floor, and canvases in piles. In fact, there were so many that it was kind of difficult to appreciate any one piece. (We see a lot of indigenous style art on souvenirs, that are likely manufactured in China, but we find that legitimate galleries have pictures of the artists with their artwork and stories of their backgrounds.)

Just as we were getting ready to leave, I came across this artist named Wanjidari, which means white flower. Her bio statement says that her mother is from the Wadja Wadja tribe and her father is from the Kuntha Napu tribe. When she was 17 she began painting and took a TAFE (Technical and Further Education - like a community college) course to help develop her style. Wanjidari has exhibited in a variety of galleries in Australia. I found this smaller piece; I liked it because it uses colors of the indigenous flag and also felt whimsical and contemporary. 

We are now over our self-imposed limit of one piece of art per month and will need to wait until next month for further purchases. I suspect the next one might be obtained in New Zealand on our trip there in October.

Blessed Trinity

Following our baseball sojourn, Ann and I walked to the beach, Trinity Beach that is. It was a hit.

We followed the bus route to get there, as we had passed by the beach side “bus station” on the way to Cairns Field.  The even more amazing birds of the tropics melodically teased us on from one block to the next as we made our way through a resort housing subdivision. The housing and ambience reminded me of Florida in the 1970’s.

The most noteworthy musical highlight of this walk however was a 70-ish age woman cruising by in a pink electric scooter, rocking out to a boom box blaring from between her feet on the scooter floorboard. Cheery waves were exchanged.

The “bus station” was a bench, with the all important toilet block across the bus turn around pavement. Australia by far has the best public toilets, both in frequency and cleanliness. (The one by the bus stop in Warrnambool has electric automatic opening doors, music plays when the door closes [“What the world needs now…”], and the toilet flushes automatically when you turn on the water to wash your hands. No wash, no flush.) Since we were in the tropics, the amenities were more relaxed and informal. Nonetheless, there was the metal syringe depository, something all public toilets have, even including the ones on the airplane to Cairns.

Trinity Beach is a locals hangout, about fifteen kilometers north of Cairns. Its greatest feature was that unlike the Cairns mudflats, it had a real beach, long and sandy and fringed with palm trees. There were first aid posts along the beach with bottles of vinegar and self help instructions on caring for jelly fish stings before emergency personnel arrived.

My first thought was that at home any such bottles of vinegar would be stolen.

My second more positive thought was that given all the kids swimming, that the jellyfish season was not yet underway. So, my shorts metamorphisized in to a bathing suit and into the Coral Sea for me.

Drying out afterwards was timeless. If Norman Rockwell did a family beach scene, this could be the place to paint. Palm trees with barbeques going along the street side greenway. Families, young couples, girls, boys, and girls and boys, were filling in and filling up the beach. It was a real pleasure to be part of the panorama.

The beach stretched along a coastline curve for about four kilometers. Ann and I were near one end, so we decided to walk that way to the next beginning. The beach ran out of sand at a rocky point, but there was a path to follow where the trees came down to meet the rocks. We rocked on up and over and around the bend, coming to an escarpment with Trinity Beach behind us to our left, and Cairns off in the distance to our right.

The rocks coming out of the jungle like hillside reminded me of an old lava flow. Is there a marine geologist in the house? The black rock with the tropical blue water on one side and green gracing it on the other was quite striking.

A mom and son were at the water’s edge fishing. Imagine their surprise, and our shared excitement, when a manhole cover sized sea turtle popped up literally only two feet away from their feet.

We wandered on back to the center of town. With almost an hour to go until the next return bus, it was time for calamari and chips (French fries that is) by the beach.

Our #111 bus ride was full of twenty somethings heading back to Cairns after a daze at the beach. We appeared to be the only tourist types, and definitely the only ones over thirty, but were quite at home as we rolled on with the communal warmth and comfortable fatigue of a day at the beach.

Baseball Has Been Very, Very Good To Me

We met Theo, a Boston transplant, at the Canopy art gallery where we purchased our second piece of Australian art , a print by Roy McIver.

As we chatted, the topic of baseball came up and Theo mentioned that he was on a team that was playing on Sunday at a nearby park and we told him we would try to come. As Sunday neared, we consulted various maps and people and determined the correct local bus to get us there. No one we asked knew anything about baseball diamond locations let alone specific games in town. Luckily, we found it and as we walked up to the park, our pulses quickened, and we were greeted by this sign.

Theo (who is 60) had told us there were 4 teams in his league (35 and over) and two other leagues (that appeared to be teenagers and college aged kids) playing that day. We arrived toward the end of Theo’s game. The grounds and assembled fans were reminiscent of co-ed softball at Hooker Oak Park. Just as in CARD softball, these baseball teams also require at least 2 females per team. Theo plays for the Heat (which made us feel quite at home as we used to be Chico Heat fans). They were playing the Reds, whom the Heat beat.

After the game, we chatted a bit with the 70ish year old umpire whose eyes were hopefully better than his ears. He gave us the low down on the differences in how they play baseball in Australia. Note, snack bar item on the table is sushi, not a hot dog. Green curry was the other featured item for sale.

While we were chatting, Theo was recruited to play a second game with team Korea. The Korean team didn’t have enough players, and Theo had been taken out of his game early, so he was happy to play again. Korea played the Bandits, who were rumored to be a pretty decent team. Andy and I were the only spectators and the game was something reminiscent of the Bad News Bears. Korea’s pitcher had a hard time keeping the ball out of the dirt and the Bandits were training a new pitcher, a woman named Linda.

We surmised that she was in training based on the stance lesson performed prior to the game and the fact that she hit 4 (!) of the Korea batters in one inning. The batters genuinely looked in pain, but almost everyone on the field, including the Koreans, were laughing about it. We hoped our friend Theo would be spared. After hitting 2 more batters the next inning, there was a pitching change. That required a bit of shuffling players about, as each team only had nine players.

The senior ump called this game as well, and called it fairly well (infield fly rule called correctly) but when there was a controversial call, everyone looked to the other Ann, the official league scorekeeper, to advise on the rules. That Ann reminded me a lot of a Catholic school lunch lady. Despite the clear inexperience or lack of skill on team Korea, the game remained entertaining for a few innings until we decided to wave goodbye and head down the road to Trinity Beach.

Kuranda

On Saturday (September 15) we got up early to meet our bus for our Kuranda tour. Kuranda is a little community located on the Atherton Tableland in the rainforest. Our one-armed bus driver made one-armed driver jokes and told inappropriate stories for the 20-minute drive to the Kuranda Railway. We rode a vintage train up the mountain, stopping to look at waterfalls along the way. The railroad line was built by hand, largely by Italian, Irish, and Chinese day labourers. The station is in a town now called Redlynch. The town got its name courtesy of an Irish hiring boss known as Red Lynch. There were 37 bridges built, 15 tunnels hand dug, and approximately 35 deaths during the construction.

Kuranda is home to a variety of markets that sell local products and art. The Heritage Markets, those that originated as the first tourism draw, are decidedly very hippy in nature. Incense, patchouli, you get the picture. The more "modern" shops had more traditional tourist necessities such as stuffed cane toads, kangaroo paw bottle openers, and the ever popular kangaroo scrotum fashioned into a purse. The train was first built to get produce and timber to the coastal communities. Now it harvests tourists from the flatland and takes them to market.

In the village of Kuranda, there are also wildlife exhibits including Birdworld, Butterfly Sanctuary, and Koala Gardens. This wildlife sanctuary educates and raises money for habitat protection. One of the things I (Ann) was most looking forward to was the opportunity to see koalas up close. I was seduced by the cheesy tourist thing and paid to have my picture taken with a koala. We learned that the koalas were domesticated; they work only 30 minutes a day and have every 6^th day off according to a government code of practice. Later I was able to watch him eat leaves during his smoko. See a video here.

We also saw crocodiles, wallabies, kangaroos, lizards, snakes, and this very cool random spider.

A number of shops were selling ice cream but the most interesting flavors were at a cart manned by a gray-haired hippy-type. We waited in line as the ice cream man chatted up each customer. “Where are you from? Oh, I was there in ’75!” The Japanese customers were greeted in Japanese and some Japanese small talk. When we got to the cart, we were required to engage in the same series of questions. We told him we were from California but that we were living in Warrnambool. Ice cream man told us he was from Victoria but went away to the navy. He told us a story about how he met his wife, to whom he would be married 50 years next month. The coffee walnut flavor looked yummy, but I went for the coconut rough (chocolate coconut) and Andy ordered straight coconut. As we walked away, I told the growing line of people, “It’s not just ice cream, it’s an experience!”

Our trip back down the mountain was on a gondola ride. It was about 5 kilometers in total, with two stops to walk through some rainforest boardwalks. We had great views of the rainforest canopy, the city of Cairns, and the coastline. Here was our view above the rainforest.

Toward the end of the ride, we were intrigued by what looked like a water ski lake. It turns out it is called cable skiing – it’s basically boat-free skiing, though I think everyone who was there was wake boarding.

While waiting for our tour bus for our ride back to our hotel, I spotted a man with a UW cap. I asked him, “Are you a Badger?” He said, “Sort of. I got my Masters there.” During our brief conversation, I mentioned, “I loved living in Madison!” and he said, “Ah, I’ve had better…” Turns out he was there ’69-’71 and experienced his share of tear gas. Very different than my experience 30 years later. Fun to meet cheese heads halfway around the world.

Australian Art Piece #2

We arrived in Cairns late in the evening of September 10 and hadn’t really had dinner so we asked the guy at the front desk of our hotel if there was anything nearby. He pointed us to a strip mall about 2 blocks away. We surveyed the options, which were not many. We walked the extra block to an Indian restaurant which was just closing. Our choices were then limited to a convenience store and Pizza Hut take away. We ordered a large pizza for $11 and took it back to our hotel room. It was the best and cheapest pizza we’ve had since coming to Australia. That is to say, we haven’t had very good pizza here.

Our first morning in Cairns we explored the boardwalk and the downtown center. We discovered that instead of a beach there was a broad tidal mud marsh. As this was home to numerous shore birds and crustaceans scurrying about, we were soon engrossed in its primal beauty.

We happened across the Regional Art Gallery that someone had mentioned to us. It had three exhibits, two of which featured aboriginal artists. One of the indigenous artists specialized in intricate headdresses made from wood and cut feathers. The other artist, Roy McIvor, had colorful and whimsical art pieces, many of which featured friendly but mischievous spirits called dunggans. “Dunggans are from the spirit world. At times they come down into this world, they visit waterholes and lagoons, making merry, paddling canoes, laughing and screaming with joy and diving for fresh water mussels. Whenever people come nearby, talking or making noise the Dunggans would disappear." We watched a video of a local printmaker who helped Roy to reproduce his prints and heard Roy tell his own story which you can read more about here and here.

Ann liked that he was inspired by a teacher to continue with his art. We weren’t allowed to take pictures in the gallery, but we bought a greeting card with Roy McIvor’s work. When we expressed disappointment that there weren’t more cards with his work, the clerk mentioned that we could find some of his work for sale at Canopy Artspace downtown. 

The greeting card

When we left the gallery, we made our way toward Canopy to see any of Roy’s works that might be for sale and in our price range. There was a whole room of original paintings and prints. We both really liked the spirits and so we settled on this block print, our second Australian art purchase. It’s called Dungal (Bush Spirits).

 
While at Canopy, we met the print maker, Theo, with whom Roy makes his prints. As we chatted with Theo, we learned that he’s a transplant from Boston. 
 

Printmaking facilities

Theo on the left, as we discussed our purchase and baseball

Somehow the conversation turned to baseball and the Red Sox. Theo told us Cairns had a baseball league and he played on one of the teams. He mentioned that they would be playing on Sunday and we, of course, said we’d love to come watch. You can read all about our day of baseball in a future post.

Flying to Cairns

We spent the last week in Cairns (pronounced cans) in far north Queensland where we tried out our new hats, and enjoyed sun, and surf, and a world heritage rainforest and reef. Our next few posts will be full of stories and pictures from our adventures. 

But first, just getting there was a new experience. Flying in Australia was different than what we are used to in a few ways. Our travel agent printed BOTH our departure and return boarding passes the day before we left. The agent had mistakenly booked our flights under Ann and Andrew Schulte. We asked that she change our names prior to leaving, but this would cost her a change fee and the difference in flight cost, so instead she assured us that no one would check our ID’s at the airport. And apparently, that is true, because we weren’t asked for identification even one time at the Melbourne airport or the Cairns airport. We checked our bags for free. We did go through a security scanner checkpoint, but we had our Kleen Kanteens full of water, liquids not in quart-sized baggies, shoes on our feet, and coins in our pockets.

We made our way to our gate where the public address system was not working but everyone just lined up and we boarded in one big orderly and efficient clump. There were no boarding classes, no red carpet privilege, just everyone taking their assigned seats in a matter of minutes. Because there was no fee to check bags, there were fewer people jockeying for overhead compartment space. The flight also wasn’t completely full. It seems like I haven’t been on a flight that wasn’t oversold in years. Behind us two people were actually stretched out across three seats. The flight was three and a half hours - the climate change would be like going from Seattle to San Diego.

Although there is no fee for bags, they do charge for all drinks and food on the plane. Flight attendants rented iPads for $12 on which you can do any number of things, including watch movies. Sodas and coffee were $3.50 and both cash and card were accepted. Because fewer people were served drinks, flight attendants finished with their duties early and appeared to be enjoying themselves at the back of the plane. Happy flight attendants! As I said, a very new experience.

More pictures and stories to come.