Hemispheres

A week ago, I was in the Southern Hemisphere.

Guess which hemisphere I'm in now?

I'll be taking a posting break while I attend holiday celebrations and try to survive the cold weather. I'll be back with weekly updates once I defrost in the warmer hemisphere. Happy Holidays!

Pigeon Hunters of the Southern Hemisphere

 

Oh December, month of Christmas,

of chilly days and frigid nights, 

cumbersome coats and fireplace lights, 

naked trees and streets of ice,

where snow falls silently in the night

... or not.

December in Australia means one thing - summer. Days are longer, the sun bakes the Earth to 90 degrees F, and flowers continue their assault of color. Fully aware of how lucky I am to be in warm weather right now, I am taking full advantage - mainly, working outside and tanning while I write. I know, it's a rough life. So to warm those of you getting buried in snow, here are some pretty pictures.

 

Bounty Hunters of the Southern Hemisphere

Two kids slowly stalked a flock of pigeons with their water guns. Besides the fact that they were trying (unsuccessfully) to spray the birds, I wondered who was smarter. Because honestly, have you ever had to "stalk" a pigeon? The birds are oblivious ... apparently so were the kids.

The Birds and the Bees

Last Wednesday I went to the grocery store to get food for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a perfect sunny day as I walked back to my apartment with a full backpack and bags of groceries in both hands. Passing a row of purple flowers, a bee landed on my left arm.My hands were full so I couldn't brush the bee away. So I thought, "Well bee, I'm not a flower. Once you realize this you will fly away, so until then I'll just let you stay on my arm."

Fifteen minutes later, the flower-challenged bee was still on me, and had moved up to my shoulder. I arrived at my apartment and needed to take my backpack off to get my keys. So I said, "Okay bee, times up. I'm taking off my backpack, I'm not trying to hurt you, so please don't sting me, just go find a flower or something." I carefully took my backpack off and the freakin bee stung me. 

Now I was angry. I pulled the stinger out of my arm and looked at the dumb bee, sadly rolling on the ground, in what I thought was its death throws. I always heard they die after they sting, and it sure looked like it was dying.

I felt bad for it, so I picked it up, brought it to my porch and put it on a flower so it could die in a pretty place (I couldn't bring myself to step on it). Well the next morning the bee was still there. Then I saw it fly off - looking like a perfectly healthy, yet stinger-less bee.

Thursday dawned. I went to pick up my turkey from the butcher's and there was a crested pigeon on the ground by the wine shop. Crested pigeons aren't like the city pests, but dainty native birds from Australia that have a distinctive mohawk. I like to think of them as pigeon punks. Here's an illustration from "Birds of Australian Gardens."

I looked at the pigeon and it seemed stunned. I left it alone, hoping it would just fly away. But no, of course not. I came out of the butchers with my 10 pound turkey and the pigeon was still there. I took a closer look and it seemed like its wing was broken and I thought, "What the hell is going on?!"

I grabbed a box from the wine shop and after some pigeon wrangling, got the bird in the box. And so it was indeed an odd Thanksgiving, walking up hill to my apartment with a 10 pound turkey in one hand, and a crested pigeon in the other.

It was a week of injured critters. I better be working my way up to a pony or I'm going to be very upset!

Goats can't read

A few weeks ago, Bob and I rented a car to explore the Hawkesbury River area, about an hour north of Sydney. A wide river cut through rolling hills, trees flaunted their bright new foliage, and I got to ride a pony! 

During my teenage years, my Dad gratefully took me to horseback riding lessons. Though I was no horse-whisperer, I learned enough to look somewhat graceful while trying not to fall off the horse. So, when I got to the stables in Hawkesbury, I figured I'd do pretty well. 

Well, I managed not to fall off. But grace was no factor in the day. Still, I was on a horse so I was happy. The stable was quite nice. They even matched your horse to your hair color so you didn't clash . . . well not really. 

After my lesson, Bob and I stumbled upon a small county fair. It's a good thing goats can't read.

The sign says "Red Meat Tastes Good, Goat Meat Tastes Better!"

This strapping lad is about to perform the "bush-castration-technique." 

And that's about all I have. I spent most of today cooking an "Aussie" Thanksgiving day feast. The kitchen is not my domain. It made my brain hurt. I retire with the utmost respect to kitchen and its confusing concoctions. Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Big Bird and Bartering

If Arnold Schwarzenegger turned into a large bird capable of swallowing pythons whole, his statue would look like this. Taking a break from hiking through the rainforest, Bob and I left the trees and critters to explore Singapore's creature comforts. 

Shopping seems to be Singapore's national pastime. Malls abound like pimples on a teenager. If you want to rub well groomed shoulders with

Armani or explore the "exotic" stores of Toys R' Us and Borders, Orchard Road is the place to be. Unfortunately, it wasn't where I wanted to be. I didn't travel thousands of miles to shop with Geoffrey the Giraffe.

Bob and I left the glitz and crowds of Orchard Road and headed to Chinatown for some open air markets, sightseeing, and of course bartering. 

Bob found that I was surprisingly good at bartering. He'd be set on a price, but then I'd haggle the price down another $20. I think it's because of my winning natural frown - made merchants think I was displeased with the previous offer. I wear my frown about 90% of each day, so I'm kind of a pro. It's not that I'm sad, it's just the way my lips prefer to rest. But hey, I got some killer deals on textiles!

One of the best decisions we made, was to get massages. We really needed one after the previous day's monkey hike. For $25 US, we were gently shoved into leather seats with individual tvs on the armrests, brewed fresh tea, and we each got a 45 minute foot reflexology massage - it was awesome!

Sins of Singapore

Chewing gum is illegal. What kind of country could ban such a wonderful, life-giving form of chicle? Singapore.

I thought it was a joke. I was wrong. A single tear arched down my cheek, in the crisp and clean Singapore airport, as I had to, dutifully, throw away my perfectly good pack of spearmint gum. 

Bob got called into a last minute meeting in this small, island country and I got to tag along! So this week I am wandering the interesting, multicultural, old yet new city.

We explored the beautiful MacRitchie Reservoir Park. There, we walked in the suffocatingly muggy jungle under a noon-day sun whilst severely ill-supplied with water. 

In the lush jungle, signs taught us two seemingly important lessons:

1) Trees like to drop branches on you

2) Don't feed the monkeys. 

Bob had never seen a monkey in the wild and was keen to spot one of the local macaques. Our best bet to see them was up above the canopy on the

Tree Top Walk. This would give us a roundtrip hike of 7km, which should be easy. Well, it would have been  easy if we had brought more food, water, and a personalized A.C. unit. 

Bob and I paused whenever we heard a critter passing through the leaf litter, hoping for a monkey. But it was never a monkey that appeared on an overhead branch. Usually just a chatty squirrel.

Anyway, a couple hours later, in the heat of the day, Bob and I finally stumbled up to the suspended Tree Top Walk. While I was holding the railing, peering through branches to the distant ground and sweating like a kid asked by a dentist if they flossed, Bob called my name.

I walked over to Bob and followed his ecstatic gaze, to see a very content monkey. The monkey grabbed a handful of leaves from a nearby tree, then suddenly vanished with a branch-snapping crash in the undergrowth.

So Bob got to see a monkey in the wild. Remembering how strict Singapore was with lawbreakers, we obeyed the sign, and refused to feed the monkey.

Oh, and in Singapore, a bird in the hand is not worth two in the bush. It's worth a hefty fine. 

Beware the Magpies of Spring

Warmer days, basking lizards, birds pecking out the eyes of small children - ah, the signs of spring in Sydney. Lush flowers are overwhelming Sydney with their myriad of fragrances.  Birds are nesting and blue-tongued skinks emerge to soak up warm rays of the sun.

And magpies are raising chicks. Apparently these large, crow-like birds get quite defensive during the breeding season. Male magpies often attack humans passing their nests. In particular, they seem to go after the eyes of children, and the heads of people with red hair. Lovely. 

A few weeks ago, a girl was biking around her local park when a magpie repeatedly attacked her. It pecked her eye out. So if you're in Australia in spring, keep an eye to the sky.

Attacks like this are not too common, and the rest of the year the magpies are very nice and they do have a beautiful song. It's just breeding season you have to watch out for. 

But it seems Australians just take it in stride like everything else. Just watch your eyes, and no worries.

So, I will leave this entry with a boat safety tip.

Boat Safety 101: This is NOT how you row the boat ashore.