Where I was

I was in Australia the last couple of months, mostly in Canberra. It's my first time in that continent, and some things were unexpected, including my dislike of the uniform, empty spaces of Canberra, after which the sight of Sydney came as a pleasing shock. The metropolitan chaos without fail bring a smile to my face: Chicago after Raleigh, and Boston after Kingston. But the chaos that is Sydney really is beautiful, including the lovely shark netting which gives it that frontier-town air.

A few weeks before his withdrawal from Canberra, the newly-installed Indonesian Ambassador to Oz gave a presentation at the ANU campus. What a delusioned man. Exalting in the warm good relations between the two countries, he was the epitome of the cherubic, career people-pleaser. Well, someone commented there's no way to go but down. Indeed.

I had aspirations for the diplomatic world when I was young, but I guess the Good Lord knows I wouldn't be able to carry off The Perpetual Grin.

If going down is your way of life, of course you wouldn't be able to resist the attraction of the Great Barrier Reef. But if live in Indonesia, fight it off man! The GBR is over-rated, really. Komodo's much more exciting, and Raja Ampat waaaay better.

The 3d/2night liveaboard w/ Pro Dive out of Cairns, I must say, is good value for money (still, try to get the YHA discount of 10%--just say you're a member. They don't check). Their unguided trips are a good chance to brush up on your navigational skills, and the sites boring enough that you don't regret having a buddy w/ low lung capacity (23 minutes below--my record on shortest dive ever). I even began to miss the sharp 20C cold of Merimbula and Sydney Harbour waters just for their distracting quality. And if you've never been the leader of the pack, this is your chance to feel all-important in relatively safe sites, babysitting newly-certified buddies (people you go down with, friendship optional). Yes lotsa sharks, lotsa turtles, but otherwise uneventful, not one nudibranch (course I wasn't looking that hard, what with keeping an eye on the compass and newbies, ya know. Hard work), no need for vigorous kicks against currents, but alas no fish soup and freshly caught wrigglies after a hard day's soak.

Personally, knowing what I already know, I'd prefer trying the sea kelps of the southern coast of Victoria and in Tasmania--think Harry Potter w/ gills.

Also, don't let anyone make you belive that Tasmania is a substitute for New Zealand. It just ain't. And I haven't even been to the later. Taz was lovely, but well, maybe I wasn't in a good mood. 'Tis possible.

It's peculiar sometimes what memories remain. The shovel-nosed shark would be a highlight of my trip, etched in my mind.

The landscape of the red plate, the open empty space that is central Oz, is beautiful from above. Had anyone ever wonder of its likeness with the dreaming motifs of the Aboriginal paintings? Certainly their souls soar to see it like it is? Otherwise, how? This reminds me of a story by Mr. Bryson, of Capt Cook sailing the coast of Oz for the first time, and the natives not even lifting their eyes. Spoooky.

The place where penguins cross.

Shawn, the attentive buddy. Meeting Keraf, just when I thought I could slip quietly away from Canberra. Tante Muna, an inspirational woman! And of course, the quiet thrill of my lunch-time companions just outside Bega.