The northwest of Australia is so dry; two miles from the ocean and you're deep in the outback but while it's hot and arid, the air is humid. I just don't understand that. It was blistering when we arrived at Broome and the merchants knew we'd all keel over if we walked into town so they provided free shuttles. Larger than Exmouth (couldn't possibly be smaller), it was the picture of what one imagines an outback town would look like – old west Australian style – and thank goodness with deep overhangs outside the rows of shops so we could dive into the shade with ease. A group of Aborigines slumbered in the shade of a 'koolibah' tree in the town square (was that a 'billabong'?), using their swags as pillows. I didn't notice any aborigines in the south of Australia but the north is heavily populated with the aboriginal tribes.
Across the other side of the narrow peninsula, lies the twelve mile long Cable Beach where camels, descendants of the Afghani nomad herds brought here centuries ago, stride snootily along the water's edge, bearing passengers with apparent disdain. Unlike the Bedouin camels in Egypt, this herd is supposedly not cruelly treated.
We've been enjoying 'Movies Under the Stars' up on the Lido deck later on at night. A bag of popcorn, iced tea, a lounge chair with the cushion covered in a deep red moisture-wicking fabric, a plaid blanket which so far has been so far from necessary because of the warm tropical nights, and we settled down to watch a movie. None of them have been great films but the atmosphere made them enjoyable. One night I dragged Fernie to Marley and Me. He didn't want to go – he knew how it ended – but I insisted. Well, there wasn't a dry eye anywhere on the deck and Fernie was furious with me. After all, he'd been through exactly the same thing with Caesar just 8 months ago.
I never realized how close to the equator Darwin is and therefore so lushly tropical. With that came heat so intense and humidity so high that an intake of breath felt like I was being smothered. It was so hot that even the Aussies were complaining.
“How high is the humidity today?” I asked the friendly Darwin greeter.
“Same as always” she laughed “about 90%”
Who could live in a place where humidity like that is normal. Hot and sticky comes nowhere near describing the heavy, steamy, thick cloak of extreme mugginess that envelops the northern coast – but, there were no flies! It was even too hot for them.
On the dockside, several Darwin ambassadors welcomed us to their city some holding snakes and others baby crocs with their mouths taped shut so they won't bite. Doesn't this seem cruel? The snakes though seemed to enjoy human contact. As most of you know, I'm a snake lover and as I admired a fairly small python (about 5 feet long and an inch thick) it showed me that the feeling was mutual. As it aimed its tongue-flicking head towards me, it gracefully swayed and extended its length reaching for me, slid onto my shoulder and wrapped its soft, muscled body around my neck, the muscle pulses giving me a wonderful massage. It continued to glide all over me stopping every so often to gently peer straight into my eyes – tongue still flicking. Isn't it amazing that a connection can be made with a snake? Snoopily, it dove into my camera bag and quickly slid as much of the rest of its body in as if it wanted to stowaway with me. The handler helped me extricate it but its tail held on until the last minute.
There was a Princess bus into town for $7 pp each way (highway robbery) because it was only about a kilometer away. Just as we were about to do the hike into town, 'Free Shuttle' caught our eyes. It was going to Crocodylus Park. We all jumped aboard for a cool ride across town hoping the croc refuge would be worth it and it really was. Australians don't usually recognize non-domiciled seniors but they did at Crocodylus; we got the senior price plus an additional discount from a coupon. Probably the best deal we'd found in Australia. We sound so CHEAP!
An Indian-Australian, Steve Irwin type guy introduced us to the 'girls' who rule the colony. Massive prehistoric heads that I swore looked like algae covered rocks rose slowly from the water opening their gargantuan maws into what looked like a perpetual yawn. These salt-water crocs were unimaginably monstrous but their fresh water cousins were much smaller and more delicate in their features. Our crocodile hunter talked of these craggy reptiles as if they were his family while he demonstrated how high they'd jump to get a chicken leg. Then he placed each of us in front of a pool that held just one croc provided us with a fishing pole and after attaching chicken to the line, he let us feed the crocs. I dangled the line teasingly over the head of the slow, gargantuan beast that I'll call Rocky and a sudden 'snap' which proved that he wasn't so slow and I felt his immense weight as it tried to remove the chicken from the line. But as I wiggled it, the chicken slipped right through his teeth.
I subsequently felt so guilty teasing him with food. It's really quite mean. So I dangled it again but before Rocky had a chance to grab it, out of the murky depths of the adjacent pool, over a short wall, another slightly smaller one snatched the chicken in one swoop. Poor Rocky – I had to leave him hungry. But I'm sure he got his share later.
The shuttle driver dropped us off in town instead of back at the ship giving us a chance to have a walkabout but it was so hot we didn't last long. By the end of the day ashore, after walking back to the ship, our clothes were wringing wet. I always wonder how they always manage to have hot water and lots of pressure in the showers when probably everyone is showering at the same time.
Late afternoon, tour groups still ashore, the humidity soared even higher, the skies suddenly darkened and a storm ensued. Gusts of wind picked up signs, blew over fences and whirligigged choking dust funnels. The gangplank crew suddenly all had rain-suits and sou'westers on as they held the gangways down. We wondered how they had a chance to get changed but I guess they saw it coming.
Returning passengers caught in it were corralled back into the enclosed dock area...they didn't want a passenger conked on the head by the 'Welcome Back to the Dawn Princess' sign. And then the lightning glared and the thunder rolled as the rain let loose like a dam had been broken. Surely now the humidity would go down. We stood on deck under the cover of the lifeboats and watched a spectacular storm. But the humidity didn't lessen.
Gossip makes the rounds aboard ship as we meet different folks at lunchtime and out on the deck. You should have heard the stories about Tiger Woods....none of the ones I heard turned out to be true. But the following are supposed to be very true.
* Two gay guys, ages unknown, but purported to be less than young, were put off the ship in Darwin for having sex in the small back end swimming pool late at night. Obviously not so late that someone didn't walk by and see them.
* Old folks with canes got into a fracas in one of the tiny laundromats. I guess somebody didn't get their clothes out in time. Apparently, they wielded their walking sticks like swords.
* People continue to die on board. One old gent died in his bed and the room was fumigated after the body was removed.
I woke up with a slight scratchy throat.
“It's the air-conditioning” said Fernie but the scratch became a burning throat and next day it felt as if I'd swallowed razor blades. Then came the nasal congestion and a dry throaty cough. If only it had ended there but instead I developed a cough so deep it sounded like the ship was dropping anchor; it was so deep that people moved aside and away – I was like Moses parting the Red Sea. Then the wheezing started; it sounded as if a family of squeaky mice had taken up residence in my chest. The rattles and squeaks kept Fernie awake at night. I went through throat lozenges, cough drops and finally a pharmacist suggested cough syrup that would remove varnish. After ingesting it, I was sure I was going to turn into a werewolf.
|”I'm never going on another cruise” I croaked “unless we have a balcony”. The only times I haven't picked up a respiratory virus was when we had a balcony and we left the door open all the time.
“What is that chant?” we wondered. We heard it everywhere and everyone joined in.
“Ozzie, Ozzie, Ozzie” it started usually by one individual.
“Oy, Oy, Oy!” was answered in unison by every Australian within hearing distance.
Entertainers on the stage called it. Folks on a late returning tender – probably a bit soused – called it. We heard it on the South Bank in Melbourne, on the streets, on the buses. It was everywhere. Turns out that it's their sports cry, for all sports.
“We've got the best chant in the world” more than one gloated.
It always brought a smile to my face when it would start.
Australians en masse are extremely patriotic and believe they live in the best country in the world – rather like the USA. When an evening entertainer, a vocalist would burst into “Australia Will Always be Home to Me”, the applause was thunderous. They all seemed to get a warm and fuzzy feeling.
The most sailed 45 passengers were invited to lunch with the captain and officers. L&J have many times been the #1 in total days on Princess but not this cruise. The top was an Australian couple, whose days on the P&O line (before it sold Princess Cruises to Carnival) transferred to Princess. There were six or seven tables, each one with a ship's officer. We and L&J and a couple from the Melbourne area dined with the Chief Technical Officer, Simoni, a charming Italian from the south of Italy. It's amazing that we even had enough days to rank; I think it's because not as many Australians as Americans have cruised before; there are a lot of first timers. The food was exquisite, the wine ran freely and we had a lively conversation about traveling in southern Italy and Sicily.
“Do not miss Sicily” Simoni circled his thumb and fingers and blew a kiss to express how wonderful it is. “It is the best part of Italy!”
When we rounded the most northerly point of Australia, Cape York, Queensland, we were at a latitude of only 10 degrees, only about 150 kilometers across the Torres Strait from Papua, New Guinea. From that point we traveled south down the east coast inside that natural phenomenon, The Great Barrier Reef. The ocean was an iridescent aqua and the rain forests rolled down the mountains right to the water's edge.
We're not snorkelers – there's nothing on earth that could entice me to stick my face under water and breathe through a tube. But it's said that this 2000 km long reef is one of those 'must see before you die' experiences. A gigantic high-speed catamaran operated by Quicksilver Reef Cruises, was our mode of transit for the 70 km journey from Port Douglas.
A 2-level, partly covered platform was anchored in position out there, one of many all along the reef. The catamaran tied up to the platform and both facilities were available for the duration of our stay out there. Restrooms were on the boat, showers and change rooms were on the platform, and lunch was served on the boat.
The snorkelers lined up to get their masks, flippers and full body and head breathable suits to protect them from box jellyfish stings which can be lethal. Surprisingly, an awful lot of the 60 or so who took the trip, didn't snorkel. We lined up with them for the half hour submersible tour. It's a long boat where we descended into the narrow bottom that was lined with large angled windows below the ocean surface – sort of a glass-sided instead of a glass-bottomed boat. Two people could sit side-by side on fold down benches so everyone had a window, affording us all tremendous views of the underwater reef – there were about 25 rows in all. But when they packed us all in, the temperature went up substantially and it felt quite airless in spite of a blower on each passenger. The boat slowly toured along and between the coral mounds; there were turtles, big fish, little fish, striped, spotted and plain, sea anemones, other brightly coloured plants and it was so clear we could see a long distance. Not being a Jacques Cousteau fan, it was pretty but …...... I'd rather be on safari. As we moved along, the bottom of the boat swung gently from side to side. I'm not prone to seasickness but I noticed a few rows ahead of us that a series of seasickness bags were being passed forward and continued to for the duration of the tour.
Fernie started to look woozy only 5 minutes in and I asked him if he wanted a bag. He declined; he was not sick but claustrophobic – and we were in the middle of the pack of people with no room to go back or forward. I took out my fan and fanned him to keep him cool, but he spent the next 25 minutes fighting off a panic attack. So, no – I don't think Fernie liked it at all. As well as the boat, they had an underwater viewing area and you could stand and watch the undersea world complete with snorkelers. That kept our attention for about three minutes – Fernie only wanted to be out in the open air. So there: we've ticked that overrated phenomenon off our 'to do' list. Give me the pyramids any day.
Next stop, Airlie Beach, only a short distance south of Port Douglas. It was another jump-off point for the reef, but we'd seen enough of that. An attractive but tiny tourist town all about boating and water-sports,where luxurious yachts lined the docks in the harbour and reef tour companies took up every second storefront in the town. But it's a youthful place; I'm sure we saw no-one over the age of 25 in town except for the cruise folk. It is summer holidays though for the college kids. There was a salt-water lagoon for swimming because the box jellyfish are in great numbers along this coast, so the beach was empty – everyone was at the lagoon. Fernie delightedly pointed out the row upon row of topless and almost bottomless girls soaking in the sunshine.
G&R are really interested in geocaching and so we've tried to show them one in several ports. It's really strange but every time they're with us, we can't find the cache. Wouldn't you think it'd be easier with four of us? They're beginning to think that there's no such thing. Mind you, there haven't been a lot of caches within walking distance in a lot of ports. There were no caches in Exmouth; it was too hot in Broome to walk out to the lone cache, a half a mile into the outback ; In Darwin, five of us tried to find a single cache with no success; there were none at the reef of course; Airlie Beach, the only one was in a high-muggle area and we didn't find it. I can't wait to get back to some good geocaching.
The biggest problem with Australia, from my perspective, is that it's too western and civilized and Brisbane, a sparkling gem of a city is a perfect example. It's just too white bread. The ethnic mix is minimal – just too darn many white folks; the city is so beautifully organized and laid out – a little chaos would be a thrill; not a bit of litter mars the streets – as clean as Singapore which probably means that everyone's middle class. The river waters are pristine but wouldn't it be more exciting to be on the Ganges or the Nile? There's not a vagrant on the street, I haven't seen a skid row, no-one's asked me for some spare change – it sounds like a Utopian society but don't you think it's a trifle boring in its perfection.
The ship docked on the Brisbane River, about 6 miles down river from the city centre. A fleet of Catamarans efficiently ferried people up and down the snaky river - including us. Brisbane had an Expo in 1988, just two years after ours in Vancouver and we're told, the city flourished and grew after it. The remnants still reside on the South Bank. Public transportation is so easy to access in all of the Australian cities we've visited so far and Brisbane is no exception. We all, as a group of six, decided to go out to the Lone Pine Koala and Kangaroo Sanctuary and from the central bus depot in downtown, we got out there cheaply and with ease. We'd expected a warm day but the temperature soared so we were thankful that there was substantial shade there.
A multitude of koalas charmed us with their relaxed and lazy demeanours. These are animals that flourish in captivity and I think prefer it to the wild. Now I know why we haven't seen kangaroos hopping around in the wild.....they don't like the heat anymore than we do and lie around in the shade in the heat of the day. In the vast enclosure where they run freely, they'd formed depressions in the dirt and stretched out to beat the heat. There were great big daddies, smaller boned females, lots of youthful ones and then there were the joeys – some in their mother's pouch and others just out and perhaps only temporarily. They seemed to enjoy it as I scratched them behind their ears or rubbed their noses – no begging for food there; if someone offered it, they delicately accepted but never begged for it. So the image I had of roos jumping across the outback in the blazing sun was proved wrong – but there aren't any white ones either. They're either gray or red. Rolf Harris who wrote Six White Boomers for Xmas 1960 in Perth, Australia was purely fantasizing.
Six white boomers, snow white boomers
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun
Six white boomers, snow white boomers
.. On his Aus-tra-lian run
Gee, I'm beginning to feel quite 'Xmassy' so here goes, sing along with me to the whole darn Xmas song.
Early on one Christmas Day, a Joey Kanga-roo
Was very far from home and lost in a great big zoo
Mummy, where's my mummy, they've taken her a-way
We'll help you find your mummy son, hop on the sleigh
Up beside the bag of toys, little Joey hopped
But they hadn't gone too far when Santa stopped
Un-harnessed all the reindeer and Joey wondered why
Then he heard a far off booming in the sky
Six white boomers, snow white boomers
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun
Six white boomers, snow white boomers
.. On his Aus-tra-lian run
Pretty soon old Santa began to feel the heat
Took his fur-lined boots off to cool his feet
Into one popped Joey, feeling quite OK
While those old man kangaroos kept pulling on the sleigh
Joey said to Santa, Santa, what about the toys
Aren't you giving some to these girls and boys
They've all got their presents son, we were here last night
This trip is an extra trip, Joey's special flight
Soon the sleigh was flashing past, right over Marble Bar
Slow down there, cried Santa, it can't be far
Come up on my lap son, and have a look around
There she is, that's mummy, bounding up and down
Well that's the bestest Christmas treat that Joey ever had
Curled up in mother's pouch all snug and glad
The last they saw was Santa headed northward from the sun
The only year the boomers worked a double run
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