Up, Up and Away...

...in my beautiful ballooooooooooon!

A fifth anniversary surprise. My only clue, "Wake up at 4 a.m. and dress warmly." Yoikes. But I love surprises and this was a good one. We mustered at the micro-mini aerfield outside of Northam (100 kms out of Perth) and drove out to a sheep farm to set up the balloons. We were in the larger of the two, holds 16 plus a pilot, and everyone was expected to help get it ready or get out of the way-depending on what stage of inflation we were at. The morning was not too cold, the sheep not nervous, all were awed and clicking away on their cameras.

An impressive flame-thrower heated the air inside the balloon. It rose and upturned the basket. We were given careful choreography for our entry into the basket. Yeah, easier said than done unless you're an Olympian high jumper who can drop into a small space. Kev is still laughing at my 1-1/2 gainer move into position. No matter, lift off was effortless, aided by long tongues of fire the pilot would occasionally shoot into the balloon. There is no steering a balloon, a pilot gains & loses altitude to find pockets of cold air to help tack a path. Gentle breezes help propel the craft. We graze tree tops, 'awwww' the new baby lambs, spot kangaroo, admire the green hue that is starting to appear on farmers' lands (thanks to the recent winter rains) and imagine fox running from the hen houses. The Avon Valley is a beautiful sight. The Avon River (home to a popular kayaking event called the Avon Descent) has barely a trickle - clearly we need more winter rain.

The Earth is not as quiet as I thought it might be. We can hear the dogs in Northam town backyards barking at 2000 ft...at 3,400 ft. It all reminded me of the barking scene in Disney's animated "101 Dalmations." Trucks could be heard. I couldn't hear the horse being exercised at the Northam race track but the steed, like everything else, cast a Paul Bunyan sized shadow in the low, rising sun. It was a glorious one hour ride. But all good things must come to an end.

We set down in a horse paddock. The ground team whisked the trailer into position in front of us and the pilot gently lowered the balloon exactly on top of it. A wedding party landed in this same horse field on Wednesday morning and the lucky bridal couple was greeted by a very curious foal and mare checking things out and looking for a few pats. The Welcome Waggers didn't bother to come up to us. We got ourselves busy helping to fold up the balloon and stuff it back into its bag. No mean feat as those who have attempted to repack tents or refold maps can attest.

But wait, there's more. A champagne breakfast at the country pub in Northam. A proper Aussie breakfast: scones, fruit, cheese, egg, tomato, baked beans, bacon, toast, mushrooms, juice and a celebratory flute of champagne. Happy Anniversary, Aeronaut!

Tea with Trev & Tots

Well, you know that glitterati like myself prefer to be seen at all of the premier events in town, especially of those supporting a good cause. It makes us look good and feel good about ourselves while helping the little people. Take today's event, for example. Australia's Biggest Morning Tea. So many groups were having lame-o tea breaks at their work "for the cause" or haus fraus dusting off old tea sets to impress friends or thick-ankled matrons from benevolent societies serving up 'slices' while rattling coin boxes to ensure a Cancer Council donation. Not for this flapper. I went to the only place to be seen this day...

Victoria Park Primary School.
Like, everyone who is anyone was there. Ms May's preprimary
class hosted this classy event on their exclusive property. You know it was exclusive because of the really high fence(the higher the fencing, the higher tone a place, I tell you). Nothing but gold coins accepted by a golden haired boy and our swag bags (and who else got swag bags at their humble shindig?) were individually decorated by artistes. I rubbed shoulders with Trevor Vaughn, Victoria Park's mayor (you may remember I had breakfast with him on Anzac Day) and admired the almost paper-like yellow daffodils growing in their Olympic-sized sandbox. (planted just for the occasion.)

Our teacups were specially chosen to match our different personalities. None of that institutional sameness you'd see at at IKEA (that's so...April. ugh!) Heroes that they are, some of Miss May's troops offered their quality control services at the cookie table. Specially selected for me was a teacup cookie: a clockface cookie (set to the perfect hour of 2pm) with a thin layer of icing on its flat side. Upon which was a white marshmallow with a half Lifesaver frosted to its side. The perfect teacup! (So brilliant it outshines the top photo. You can see the broad shoulders of our fearless mayor in the shot also.)

This curing cancer business is exhausting. I think I'll have a second cuppa.

Australia's Space Program

Drats, I missed it. At ten minutes to six this morning, space shuttle Atlantis-attached to the Hubble Telescope in space while performing repairs- flew across the southern Western Australian sky. I was awake, the morning cold, the sky clear but I just wasn't aware it would be there. People on the radio were prattling on and on about the celestial show. OK, I feel left out, so stop already. The best I've ever seen is a meteor shower and an almost-aurora borealis back in Ohio.

Come to think of it, Australian skies seem to be chock-a-block with space craft. NASA has tracking towers here. One lonely WA country post office wound up being a temporary communications central, at least for a short while, between space and ground control because technical failure elsewhere. Decades on, the now mini-museum wears its aeronautical heroism with great pride. Astronauts mention OZ in their transmissions. I suppose being the only large land mass south of the equator for about a kajillion miles is a helpful milepost.

But stuff isn't just whizzing past, rockets are landing here- or at least bits of them. Russian space station Mir was a close miss in 2001. Skylab made a grand appearance in the small fishing village of Esperance in 1979. Big and little bits blazed a path into people's backyards, including part of Skylab's toilet. Proudly on display, the cosmic commode has added a tourism element to the area. Town council wasn't always pleased with the scrap. They sent a ticket to NASA fining them $400 for littering.
It remains unpaid.

On the U.S.-Canadian border

Oh, sometimes an easy question does not have an easy answer.



My parents would ask, "Do you tell people you are of Croatian or German heritage?" That depends. Are they asking about my last name? Croatian. Are they asking about last night's supper of cabbage (with caraway seeds) and potatoes (with caraway seeds), sauerkraut (with caraway seeds) and stollen (no caraway)? Then the answer is German. "Where do you say you're from?" That depends. Lifelong or immediate? I am a Michigander. I live in Ohio.



Now in Australia, people will ask, "Where are you from?" That depends...on a lot. If I say the U.S., I risk a "duh" response. If I say Ohio, I have to assume that this Australian--who has only six states/one territory of his own--will know the difference between Ohio, Iowa & Idaho (which do sound similar to the untrained ear) and the other 47 states they have no particular reason to memorize. And one does occasionally hear the grunts of Aussies being annoyed by that very assumption. I can say Michigan and immediately hold up my hand to demonstrate the easily recognized mitten shape of the state. Again, if they are aware of the geography or topography, it helps. Was the conversation leaning towards accents? The American Midwest...and hope that means something, as well. Sometimes, the answer "Detroit-where all the cars are made" gets a knowing nod in return.



Only one question elicits an answer that sits easily on both of us. "Are you from the U.S. or Canada?" Either the accents don't vary enough in the questioner's ears to distinguish a difference or I sound like Canadians they have heard. They sound hesitant at their lack of cognition. No matter. Each of us, for our own mental comfort, is pleased to say/hear, "I grew up on the U.S.-Canadian border!"