Broome - a quick sweep

     Broome, in the northwest corner of Western Australia, is an area once trod by dinosaurs and now stampeded by tourists.  And with good reason.  When rural Australia turns into remote Australia, a pleasant oasis is a secret that cannot and should not be kept.  Travel & Tourism marketers have a field day with Broome delights and I was hoping to catch a few of them on a recent business trip here.

     Broome is remarkably, and unexpectedly, tiny.  All of the the thrills and highlights mentioned in marketing materials gives the impression that it is a huge area.  In truth, good legs and a local shuttle bus will get you from the airport, hotel, every attraction and back to the airport without great exertion. And this can be a good thing especially for those time or cash poor as rarely in remote Australia is anything close by or inexpensive.

   The pearling industry and a wonderful beach started as the main attractions. The Japanese were first to come in and search for the golden South Sea Australian pearl and ultimately culture pearls in the ocean. These highly coveted beauties are not cheap but, oh, do I dream...


        Camel rides on Cable Beach at sunset are also a hallmark of this area. The sunsets are gorgeous from any vantage point. A particular phenomenon is the Stairway to the Moon sunsets occuring about three times a month.  The stair case looks horizontal on the ocean leading to the great golden orb dropping below the water's edge. During the day at low tide, beachcombing the white sand for interesting shells  is a great diversion.  The aquamarine water looks so inviting but at  the hottest time of year no one goes in the water.  A highly toxic blue jellyfish is a plague upon the ocean between October and April -- just when people want to escape the heat.


Gantheaume Point

     How about a little prehistoric sightseeing? Gantheaume Point, at the southern end of Cable Beach, fossilized dinosaur footprints are embedded in the craggy, red rocks overlooking the ocean.  Seen only at very low tide, casts have been made of them and placed at a safer location for gawking.  Geology is rarely more prominently  displayed than at the strata of the falling rocks here at Gantheaume Point.




boab tree



Also seeming to reach back to the past is the iconic boab tree - here with many nuts hanging from its branches.  Thriving where water levels are not high, the boab tree somehow seems to complement the equally ubquitous palm trees. Desert meets tropical here in Broome. The boab  nut has seeds in it - eaten mostly by aboriginal elders who still like their bush tucker over sweet strawberries from the market.  These nuts become very lightweight when dried and aboriginal artists carve pictures onto them.  This nut hardly needs decoration. He looks quite happy the way he is.

  Step into another icon of Broome- Sun Pictures. An outdoor "garden theater" and the oldest of its kind. Built in 1914 and still as it was originally, you can watch a movie under the stars or under the corrugated metal half-roof from a sling chair.  The movie "Australia" had a scene from just such a theater.  There is a modern cinema somewhere but I prefer this Chinatown fixture for a movie experience.





   Oh dear, my business trip is over and I have yet to see the Japanese cemetery (where all the headstones are written in Chinese- the language of the headstone maker) or Croc World or the Willie Creek Pearl Farm or the inside of the Walangari Sober Up Centre. O.K., maybe that last one isn't a must see. My work is at the Courthouse- a historical site in its own right.  It started out as the cable house for transoceanic telegraphy.  Its corrugated metal structure with decorative wrought iron rails makes it the most unique courthouse I've been in.

   Broome -- gateway to the Kimberley --is a great spot to spend a little time.  Some of the best things come in small packages.

  

Watching Will and Kate

     Were you one of the two billion people watching The Wedding?  Twenty million of those were Australians-even if they won't admit it. This is a Commonwealth country, Queen Elizabeth II's portrait  is on the money here and Great Britain is still the largest provider of immigrants to these shores.  So naturally there is going to be a high interest in the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton.  

      And a great deal of overkill.

      The major media outlets had people in London filing reports  at the beginning of the week.  The two days before the wedding the TV was awash with stories about the couple themselves or of wedding dresses in general,  royal weddings of the past, weddings of any kind, movies of princesses of all kinds and true love. You almost wanted it to be over already.  

      Almost.

Wedding cake + Saturday paper

      We didn't have to wake up at an ungodly hour to watch the festivities, just sneak out of work early.  In classic Super Bowl marathon coverage style,  most networks started programming at 2 p.m. for a wedding that started at 7 p.m. Perth time.  Most of the people I know were more interested in The Dress than anything else, although the hats and precariously tipped fascinators provided some visual fun.  I tuned into the BBC coverage at about 4 p.m. [Kev headed to the cinema for a horror film] armed with the light-up tiara trimmed in pink feathers that Kev got from his coworkers (long story, not sharing) and some mini angelfood cupcakes I made the night before for a different function but were not good enough for the public.  So I had to sacrifice myself while watching the pageantry we all expected.

     I liked Kate's dress,  her simply white flowers and greens bouquet was lovely also. I've decided that ladies who wear fascinators that need to be taped to the forehead should be shaken a bit and that the music of Charles Parry -the predominant composer of the wedding's music- is boring regardless of how hard those decked out choirboys tried.  And two kisses on the balcony was definitely  called for. 

     The  early edition of the Saturday newspaper was on the newsstands by the time Kev got out of his movie.  A twelve page souvenir bit was included, loaded with stories from the Thursday and photos and photos of people arriving at the abbey.  The cover shot, shown here, was the latest shot  possible  before the paper hit the printers.  It was at the very beginning of the actual ceremony. Notice my celebratory W*K piece of wedding cake. None too  pretty but it suited me fine. Cheers!

    And now, back to normal life.

 

The Five Day-Three Holiday Weekend

     What's the buzz?  Business publications, advertising agencies and general pundits have all been quoting a recent research when discussing their newest strategies or news of the minute.  I don't know who did the research or who they talked to but I strongly suspect it is all bogus.  The latest word is that Australians work more hours per week than any other Western nation.    

     Poppycock.

     Australia was the first Western nation to pass legislation that whittled its work week down to 40 hours.  It had become internationally  known as the nation of the long weekend because no one worked on a Saturday and they didn't linger at the office on a Friday.   In fact, blue collar workers ("tradies") pick up a slab of beer (24 cans) during lunch on Friday to drink  at work in the afternoon to help usher out the work week and ease in the weekend. Holidays falling on weekends are always made up for on either side of said weekend.

      The Easter Weekend is a prime example of how much Australians appreciate long weekends.  It was a five-day weekend that encompassed four holidays or their designate.  Start with Good Friday.  It is the holiest day of the Aussie calendar  [see "Biggest Holiday of the Year"  4/9/09]  observed by absolutely everyone. The day off work,  that is,  not necessarily a church going opportunity in a land not renowned for its religious fervor. Saturday, bless it, is a normal day.  Easter always inconveniently appears on a Sunday so Easter Monday is its official celebration for the common man.     But wait.    ANZAC Day  [see "ANZAC Day"  4/25/09 ] falls on Easter Monday this year.  Not wishing to short change the celebration of those who have fallen during service in the armed forces --or rather, not wishing to short change ourselves a day off in the name of military veterans -- we'll just designate Tuesday to be ANZAC Day (Observed).  Yeah, that works. We'll do all the ANZAC stuff on Monday but head for the beach or barbeque grill on Tuesday. Easy, peasy.

ANZAC wreath

       And some research group says Australians live to work?  Not exactly. But I'll admit that it is so easy to get used to a two and a half day work week.

Customs Detectives

     At our place, there is really only one set of "reality" shows we like to watch on TV.  Part of the appeal of these particular programs is that there is actual reality to them instead of manufactured tension in ridiculous scenarios.  Add a liking of detective shows and a splash of Dudley Dooright and these are a winner.  These are... programs that deal with customs and immigration issues. Every country seems to have one with a name like: Border Patrol, Border Security or Customs.  Video crews hang out at international airport  arrival terminals, postal sorting centers and shipping yards to watch Customs , Immigration or Quarantine officials sort through luggage, lies and letters to keep the illegal at bay.
     All these programs open with hard driving music and dramatic narrative.  People with shifty eyes and evasive answers are interrogated about visiting plans versus their visas. "I really am here just to visit my brother, no, I mean , cousin, no wait, he's my sister's husband's brother's cousin."  Bugs and worms are tapped out of  plants smuggled in a pair of socks. "How did that get in there? My mother packed this bag."   Undeclared food is gingerly handled by latex clad hands. "It's not food because  it is not cooked."  Some packages don't give the  x-ray images their declared contents ought to and others don't feel exactly the way one would expect. "Oh look, these two photographs together are as thick as cardboard and have white powder coming out the side."  All in a day's work for some and an evening's entertainment for us.

     Until a package arrived at our doorstep.  From Guardian Angel Number One.  The Customs Declaration listed some old thrift store clothing and a game.   Number One does such a good job a digging up great finds in the thrift stores back home. The items are perfect.  There is also a box...wrapped in paper...wrapped in aluminum foil...inside a plastic bag...and weighing a ton.  Cue hard driving music (which we air guitar in perfect unison.)   The box's feel is not consistent with its packaging.  It is a jigsaw puzzle (Sunday Afternoon on the Isle of La Grande Jatte.  In exquisite topiary behind the Columbus, Ohio Metropolitan Library, by the way) of 500 pieces typically in a box big enough to fit 50,000.  Yet there is no rattle or shifting of cardboard pieces and the box feels pretty solid.  Aluminum foil wrapper on a jigsaw puzzle box?  Sounds like a classic hopeful x-ray dodge.  Inside is the real goods...my favorite hair dye which is not available on this continent...sent as part of  a benign care package. 
     And this is the funny part.  It is not illegal for hair dye to be mailed out of XXX or into OZZZ. In fact, Number One has mailed it before without the slightest problem.  Oh, but the drama of it all!  Number One is a sly one to be sure.

     So now, sporting incredible hair and  new lounge capris,  I have 494 more puzzle pieces yet to put together.

Red Cabbage

     Tonight was a "night out" for Kev and me.  Occasionally a restaurant will come to our attention and hold it until we finally say "do we have a coupon? Let's go!".  The Red Cabbage was  just such a place and it is listed in the Entertainment Book. Woo hoo! So I dressed up in a nice light, cream-colored outfit my mother sent, Kev put on a shirt that only I appreciate  and we set out into the mild evening.
    The interior rather matches the name-  it's contemporary, but not without a little quirk. A nod to its upscale placement is wonderful artwork of Dom Perignon himself painted on a wall and a five-foot champagne bottle on the veranda. The table linen is white with a sheet of white paper on top. Our waiter is a Dutch guy named Mees (pronounced mace). The menu is short but interesting.  We each order an appetizer, a main and a steamed vegetable to share.
    Oh, look. An amuse buche is delivered to our table before any food. It is a mini cup of bacon potato soup. Yum.  Our appetizers arrive: marron and a sliver of salmon on a cupcake of shredded cabbage for Kev, confit of pork belly with apple squares delicately decorated with a single purple herb stem.  So artsy, so beautiful, so tasty.  Look again, a shot glass of gelati  lemon mousse to cleanse our palates before the main entree.  Nice touch.  Here comes Kev's partridge dish and my venison dusted with cocoa powder on beet puree with ravioli of feta.    And if I had a magnifying glass, I could tell you what it looked like.  Both venison tournedos were hiding beneath a single ravioli.  Kev's partridge came in three different ways: a leg, in a pie and as part of a pairing --and all in miniature. 
     The food was all very good to eat.  The service was  attentive. The prices were not 'other worldly' for Perth.  But microdot servings are what keep people like Kev and I away from restaurants I would otherwise like to try every blue moon.  Even the 25% off coupon  could not bring this otherwise very delicious food into value for money.  Many a restaurant could be doing the public's health some good by reducing portion sizes, but expensive restaurants defy this supersize trend in a serious way. Perhaps a microscope could be made available at each table so people can see what they are eating. And tissues at the register when customers have to part with money for the illusion.
      Kev is now munching on crackers and dip.  And restauranteurs here wonder why business is down.

Thrift Store Interior Decorating

     There are many who subscribe to the "Thrift Store Chic"  fashion theory when filling our closets and decorating our abodes.  I would be one of them.  But, before you poo-poo the idea of wading through other people's discards because one will only look like a bag lady living in a mini-thrift store, let me tell you how  my house will be transformed from Frat House Frump to Asian Spa.  It is already in the process.

     A year before I moved to Australia, I came in for a reconnaissance visit.  Kev had already been here in Perth for awhile and I needed to check his progress and what Perth had to offer.  Kev is a simple man - no frills, no fuss- and the furnishings in the apartment were obviously from the 'Curb and College Cast-off Collection' catalog. He was hoping I could fill-in the one or two accoutrement  he may have overlooked that would surely complete the living space.  

     Every marathon starts with a first step.    Mine was to the local thrift store, also called Op Shops here.  The thrift stores at first were a disappointment.  They did not have the breadth and quality of goods I was used to back home. But then, I knew where the better stores were back home.  And I am more knowledgeable here now, also.  Anyway, back to our story.  I had nearly broken my neck twice slipping on wet tiles when stepping out of the shower, so the first item was to fulfill  functional and safety requirements.  There was a small table full of rolled and rubber banded towels all in disreputable condition: bleached out splotches, holes, fraying ends, etc.  Hiding amongst them was a very heavy, white, terry cloth thing that I thought would work well as a bath mat. I didn't even open it. Just paid the 50 cents and headed out.

     Turns out that it is a genuine bath mat....with its previous owner's name woven on it.  Shiba Park Hotel.  Kev laughed  but the quality was high and it still works ... if a little frayed now.  Fast forward to this afternoon.  I was in an entirely different thrift store up the road.  On my way to looking for something else, I spotted something interesting in the stationery section.  [Stationery. a serious weakness of mine]   There were a handful of red and blue trimmed Airmail envelopes personalized with a pre-printed  return address.    The Shiba Park Hotel!   Oh look, more Shiba Park business envelopes made from serious cotton rag.  Oh, this hotel in Tokyo does their stationery right.  And who pilfers this many envelopes from a hotel? Perhaps the same person who packs bath mats into their suitcase as well?  

      You know I had to have them.   From here on out I am keeping a sharper eye on the local op shops. Sooner or later, my bedding is going to show up. I am also hoping for a few wall hangings and a tea set for the living room and dining room. My bathroom and office are covered.  Clearly, Fate and Destiny want my house to have a 5-star Asian resort look.  I accept my Fate, however long it takes to materialize.

    

Vietnam & Cambodia: Sparklettes

     Just a few random thoughts and photos before the postcards start again from Australia:

Saigon Park

  The Vietnamese loves their parks and plan them for maximum use. Badminton (BIG here) lines are painted everywhere, topiary, chess, shade, etc.,etc.  This is one of my favorite pictures of the whole trip. A mom was teaching her little boy how to jump rope. The rope wasn't moving at all, he was practicing the jumping part. And doing a spectacular job of it.  I regret not getting her address to send her a copy. She loved the shot when I presented it in playback.

Small small businessman

    Not every business needs premises. This scooter repairman set up on a street corner, as did a bike repair guy, a shoe repairman, the lady with a portable gasoline pump, a barber with a mobile clientele, a cold drinks vendor and a slew of fast food merchants. Low overhead costs- we pass the savings unto you!

tailor made in Vietnam

  Going to Thailand or Vietnam?  Get a worsted wool suit made for $60. A dress shirt for $17. Dress slacks for $25.  Having bespoke (that is, custom or tailored) clothing made is high on the list for many tourists. Smart customers bring pictures and give sufficient time to the task. Quality dips on an overnight order. But at these prices...?

AK 47 ammo

           Cu Chi and its underground tunnels and meeting spaces vexed the American army 35 years ago.  Tours now are interesting. Downright tempting  was the offer to shoot clips of ammo for Russian weapons, AK 47s and M60s, etc. We cheaped out of this ("only a whole clip, not individual bullets?") otherwise we would have joined the others on the range. I skipped the claustrophobic tunnel walk.

   Young girls selling bananas to temple tourists in Vietnam over their back fence. Our guide tells us this is good charity.  The money made helps pay for schoolbooks.  We're good with this.

Tortoise soup at Phu

      And finally, what is an exotic vacation without an exotic meal or two?  In Ho Chi Minh (formerly Saigon), there was an unpretentious restaurant named Phu that had a wide variety of meats and dishes. Wild boar, goat, eel, snake,  snail, guinea pig, chicken feet and Kev's new favorite, tortoise. O.K. turtle. Not as cheap as the chicken but Kev does have an adventurous palate.  Phu was popular with businessmen, probably because the relatively high prices (Turtle was a walloping  $11) kept out the riff raff. Couldn't be because of the child size chairs and tables Phu used...

Phu for us

     Time to put the fork down.  Get on the plane -  or click your heels three times - and get back to OZ.  Hope you enjoyed the postcards. There will be an Australian cancellation on the next postcard.

P.S. Let me know what you think. Write Back! Just Post a Comment at the bottom of any postcard.