The Australian Lassie

Last night after juggling practice, we all went out to a little cafe for milkshakes, frappes, and other wholesome beverages. There were a group of about 12 or so, and we took up 2 big tables. The jugglers are regulars there on Wednesdays, but this was the first time I'd been. There were about fourteen thousand different conversations going on — just like during practice, but without the racket of dropped clubs, balls, and rings. Also absent was the occasional crash of a unicyclist.

In situations like this, there is inevitably one point where there is absolute silence. And usually in that split second of silence, there will be at least one person who says something completely embarrassing that is heard by EVERYONE.

For once, it wasn't me.

Instead it was our friend Mark, down at the end of the table, who in that tiny lull of silence was heard making a sort of "tick tick tick" sound, much like that which you might make when imitating a chipmunk or a squirrel. I couldn't help but laugh.

"What is that sound you are making?" I asked him.

"Skippy the Bush Kangaroo."

"Who?!?"

All heads turn to me and Crash, the poor, uncultured Americans.

Almost at once everyone, in a grand state of disbelief, cries, "You don't know Skippy?"

Crash asks, "Does he have a cereal named after him? Cuz I've seen that."

Blank stares return his question. Then a small debate begins with one faction of the group over whether or not Skippy would sell out.

Suddenly, a voice rises out of the chatter, loud and clear. "So there's this TV show, and this kid, who is friends with a Kangaroo. But kangaroos can't talk, see, and so they sort of just chatter, like this: tick tick tick. And the kid, who can understand him, answers back. "What's that Skippy? Someone's trapped in the mine?"

And that's when it all makes sense to me:

Skippy is Australia's Lassie.

When Pigs Fly

As I start to wander further and further off the main streets around Sydney, I'm noticing that there is an awful lot of graffiti art.

There are the occasional obscure tags here and there, but if you duck down any one of the alley ways in our neighborhood, you're in the middle of a huge colorful rainbow of art — and a lot of it's quite good. It's sort of like when Dorothy leaves the black-&-white boredom of Kansas and steps into color-ific world of Oz.

(Which, I just realized, is a funny correlation to make since this place is also called Oz.)

Anyway... these images are close-ups of a small mural on the side of a little corner grocery store not far from where we live. I'm not sure I could ever find it again, though, given the maze-like structure of the streets.

Beach Culture

Yesterday morning was nice and sunny and so I grabbed the maps, some water, snacks, and my bike and took a solo trip out to Bondi Beach to see the South Pacific Ocean for the first time since arriving in Australia (keep in mind it was the Coral Sea I saw at the Great Barrier Reef, not the Pacific).

My plan was to to bike to Bronte Beach, then walk north along the coastal trail to the famous Bondi Beach (pronounced "Bond-eye"), which on a prime summer day can have as many as 35,000 people. (I wonder how high the ocean rises when they all get in?)

On my way to Bronte Beach, I biked through Centennial Park. It was so big that it not only had a bike trail separate from the walking trail; it also had a separate trail just for horses!




Bronte Beach

This is the approach to Bronte Beach, from the hilltop neighborhoods:




On the Beach:












A closed "bath" (swimming pool normally filled with salt water from the ocean):




A glimpse at my "Old Men in Speedos" series (these guys were even hanging out playing chess in their "swimmers"!):






Surfers at Bronte Beach (keep in mind it's winter here!):






Coastal Walk

Looking back at Bronte Beach from the trail:




The trail makes it easy (and quite enjoyable) to get from Bronte Beach to Bondi Beach:

















Bondi Beach

This is probably the most high profile beach in Australia. But today, being a winter day, it was pretty empty.

Views of Bondi from the coastal walk:








Sea Fishing:












The famous Bondi Icebergs Club — the home of winter swimming since 1929! It's quite the institution at Bondi.


















Bondi Beach:








The Bondi Beach Skate Park — full of graffiti art and people of all ages:


















Evidence on my very long bikeride home (ok, yes, I sort of got lost) that it really IS fall/winter here:








It was a great day at the beaches; for the most part the bike ride was good but my butt was sore as was my knee — I think this had something to do with me refusing to look at a map on the way home until I realized from the flight patterns of the planes that I was too close to the airport and not close enough to our apartment. I actually walked the last 10 minutes home, that's how sore I was; I barely made it home before dark.

Good times.