A funny thing happened on the way to the Opera House

So . . . (a digression after only one word: I REALLY overuse the word “so” in writing. I’m not good at beginnings; I am definitely a concluder—cut to the chase, get to the bottom line. ((digression in a digression: the irony is not lost on me!)) This trait always posed a problem for me when it came to writing papers; and as a Lit major, that was a LOT of papers. I had no idea how I was going to write my 80-page thesis. What is there to say? They came; they wrote.)

Here’s a pic of Tolkien. Why? Because blogs should have pics and I wrote my thesis on him. He’s awesome, seriously, look at him. Holla Middle Earth!

So, anyway, this entry is, eventually, going to be about my Australia trip. You’d think my blog would be brimming with tales of that trip. And it should be, but I’ll just conclude: I went to Australia; it was freakin’ awesome! Holla Newcastle!

Stian, Katrina, Oskar, and I all went to Sydney for the last 2 days I was there. I was flying out of Sydney, and even though this was my second trip down under, I’d never seen SY other than while flying in and out, which is a shame because it’s really quite fabulous. I felt like I was in London. Except London has tons of Arabs and Sydney has tons of Asians.

So that night we wandered around Sydney, marveling at its insane gorgeousness. It was a perfect night. The moon was huge and everything had that ambery glow. It was a bit after Oskar’s, aged 2, bedtime, and we thought for sure he’d just fall asleep in his stroller, right? What aged 2 child wouldn’t? The lovely amber moonlight; the slight crispness in the air; the millions of people chattering, loudly; the sudden booming of the trains (which Oskar is obsessed with); the fireworks! If all of that isn’t conducive to sleeping, then I don’t know what is!

So we were roughly here:

when a sudden burst of fireworks, the big 4th of July kind, went off over the opera house. We could only see the very tip top of them as they burst up above the trees and slightly behind the OH. Katrina grabbed my arm and took off running towards them. I am not in shape, at all, and we were not close. We were making our way around the harbor and towards the fireworks, when she said, “come on, this is a short cut” and headed up a huge mountain staircase that looked like it was cut for giants. She was scampering up, two huge steps at a time, as I pulled myself up slower and slower. It was at this point that I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I tried to get her to go on, but she wouldn’t leave me, and so we did not reach the opera house in time to see the last of the fireworks.

We waited for Stian and the not surprisingly awake Oskar to catch up with us. Stian was like, “seriously, trains and fireworks?!”

We ambled on over to the opera house, where there was a really cool photography exhibition going on outside. Katrina and I looked at that as Stian wheeled Oskar on past to the back part of the OH that faces the water.

And that was when the fireworks started again; Trine and I raced to the back of the OH as Stian raced away from it. We passed each other, K and I full of delight and S full of consternation and incredulity. And then, finally, there we were, directly under the fireworks. It was spectacular.

I am happy to say that sometime after this, 10 pm or a bit later, Oskar did eventually, in spite of chatter, trains, and fireworks fall asleep.

K and S concocting a sort of barrier between Oskar and all that would thwart his sleep.

That was the second time I’ve ever been directly under real fireworks; it’s pretty incredible. The other time was while I was living in Budapest. I was watching the first Lord of the Rings movie, with my friends Jen and Greg. We were at the part where Pippin knocks the skeleton down the well and then you hear the booming. I remember reading that in the book and being totally freaked out. Well, anyway, at the EXACT same moment the booming started in the movie, we heard a booming outside. We sat bolt upright, stared at each other for a few seconds, and then ran outside, where, at the house across the street, they were setting off fireworks—the real kind. Bizarre.

Oh, I’ve come full circle. Tolkien to Fireworks. Fireworks to Tolkien. I love symmetry!

Australia, how I love thee...

I'm in Australia (Newcastle to be specific; lower right-hand side).

I'm really wishing I had one of my euphoria pills, and that I didn't possess any of the scruples that would prevent me from using it simply for it's side effects. (In case you haven't read my April 14 and 15 post, I'm not a total drug head; there is a completely innocent explanation.) My longing for said euphoria pill has nothing to do with a lack of euphoria; I'm more naturally euphoric than I have been in years . . . well, probably since the last time I was in Australia (summer 2005). I really just want that marvellously prolific-writing side effect the pill induced, because I’m chock full of thoughts and impressions and experiences, but not the focus or motivation to get them out.

I absolutely love Australia and for so many reasons. They get all jumbled in my head and trip and tangle up in each other when I try to think them out. I never use to really think that much about Australia. England was always my obsession. (And still is to a great degree), but Australia completely surprised and enchanted me the first time I came.

It's so familiar in many ways. While we aren't the same culture, we are more alike than not, and the differences are fascinating and fun. It fools you by making you feel settled in and on familiar ground, and then it totally surprises you with how unique it is. I love that. Each morning I get woken up by magpies with their fascinating calls. The trees, many of which we don't have in the Northern hemisphere, are full of parrots. Parrots! Like the serious kind. The red and blue headed kind. There's a pair that whistle and gibberish to each other each morning outside my window.

Flocks of cockatoos fly over, and there have been two black cockatoos, which are huge, sitting up in Katrina's tree breaking off limbs with their beaks. Limbs, not twigs, limbs. When they first flew up on Friday Katrina said, "Do you hear them? Don't they sound prehistoric?" I imagine they sound roughly like what a pterodactyl probably sounded like.

I love it; I love the familiarity, while simultaneously being shocked by how unfamiliar and wild it is. And we aren't even in the outback, just the suburbs, the wild Australian suburbs.

(so the above photos are all stolen, of course. i only just got my luggage this afternoon after waiting for SIX days, but hopefully i can get some real shots soon.)