Date: February 8, 2004
From Melbourne, I bicycled down the coast to within sight of the southernmost
point of the Australian mainland then turned inland, braving the Great Dividing
Range and Mt. Kosciuszko, Australia's tallest mountain (the Australian Mt. Everest).
Unlike America's Great Divide, Australia's Great Divide doesn't divide anything
and it is not very great, no more impressive than the breasts of an old naturist
sunbathing here, in Bondi Beach. The Great Dividing Range appears to be kin to
other Australian landmarks that barely resemble their namesake and, in fact, are
transparent marketing gimmicks: Surfer's Paradise, London Bridge, The Grand Canyon.
I hear the Australian tourism department has plans to build their own versions
of the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty and the Taj Mahal.
Last year, a fierce bush fire burnt the mountains leaving nothing but the
trunks of stout trees (normally, bush fires just sweep through the brush and singe
the trees). It was a surreal landscape: the blackened forest of trees without
branches looked like an army of gigantic Giacometti sculptures. The surviving
gum trees were sprouting bright green branches from top to bottom: up close, the
trees didn't resemble any plant on earth; the distant hills appeared like moldy
stubble or the back of a mangy dog. And, there were millions of flies. My record
for snatching flies out of the air was four at one time; and I smashed 40-50 in
one swipe that were hitching a ride. I have learned a lot about the psyche of
the Australian fly. If I don't move, they don't see me just smell me; however
on the move, I attract more flies than a dead kangaroo. They flit about tasting
various bits before settling in one spot. I collect flies one by one until there
are hundreds if not a thousand. I hypothesize that they are waiting for me to
die or lay a big, juicy pile of crap. (Note to self: never move to Australia.)
Speaking of crap: I paid someone 121 AD to inspect my feces for worms, pus and
blood. The good news is that I got a clean slate; the bad news is that the doctor's
prognosis is that my bout of salmonella poisoning has crippled my ability to digest
lactose and given me irritable bowels syndrome: the perils of travel.
The highlight of the trip to Sydney was bush camping in a state forest (read
pine tree farm) surrounded by curious grey kangaroos. We stared at each other
for ages, their ears rotating like tandem radar dishes. The click and whir of
my camera sent the herd -- half of them I had mistaken for stumps -- bouncing
in synchronized leaps into the forest. They returned minutes later and stayed
for the whole night and watched me eat breakfast and pack my tent the next day.
I biked two and half times the length of Israel in two weeks to meet a friend
from Israel in Sydney. It is a beautiful city; it reminds me of San Francisco
with two-thirds of the wrinkles ironed out. I spend my days playing chess with
the Russians in the park or trying to surf. It is so crowded that it is hard to
see the sand or the water. I spend equal amounts of time on the top and bottom
of my surfboard. Onward ho. Ready or not, New Zealand, here I come.
* * *
Sow a thought and you reap an act;
Sow an act and you reap a habit;
Sow a habit and you reap a character;
Sow a character and you reap a destiny.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson
The trouble with trying to make yourself stupider than you really
are
is that you very often succeed.
-- C.C. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew
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