Day 14: New Year's Eve in Brisbane

The day has finally arrived. People across the globe have waited a whole year for it. We all do - once we're old enough not to view our birthday as the most important day in the year. It's New Year's eve, and we are in Brisbane.

I have only been to Brisbane once before: two years ago for a day visit. My memories are a little vague, but I remember feeling good about the city then. Will it be the same today, with the knowledge that this might be the city we decide to live in?

We arrived on the train from Gold Coast just before lunch, just in time to catch the busy flow of after-Christmas shoppers in Queen Street. Once again I am struck by the thrill of walking in the busy city centre. Somewhere I can hear a saxophone playing amidst all the other sounds. A few times the aroma of coffee and pastries reach my nostrils. You can sense it in the air: people are excited.

One of the best parts about Brisbane is its many parks close to the city centre. A few minutes' walk and one ferry-crossing away, you find yourself on the South bank with it's beautiful promenade - winding its way past huge swimming pools to a stretch of restaurants offering world-class cuisine. This is also where thousands of people will gather later to celebrate the New Year...

With twilight, people start arriving. Families with picnic baskets. There will be an early display of fireworks especially for them. People keep pouring in. Women in tiny tiny dresses, and long gowns rush towards the many pre-booked venues - all with stilettos that are bound to be kicked off as the party progresses. Amazingly enough, I don't spot a single tattoo. It seems that people wear their tattoos to the beaches and theme parks, and when gathering in masses on the riverbank, but NOT to restaurants with foreign names. Something worth remembering.

Tic-toc..... tic-toc.... 5..... 4..... 3..... 2..... 1..... Fireworks explode in the Brisbane river in a colourful display that lasts 10 minutes. Green laser-worms dance on the buildings across the river. Cellphone towers are flooded with messages: Happy New Year!!

South bank walkway on a quiet day

Brisbane Fireworks

Day 11: Strawberry Farm

Today started with quite a bit of excitement in the family: we were going to the Strawberry Farm to..... well, pick strawberries. A few weeks earlier, when visiting Cape Town, my husband and I visited a strawberry farm there: Polkadraai. My mind painted a similar picture: rows and rows of strawberry bushes, golliwog-faced scarecrows scattered all over, and of course: buckets of sweet, blood-red strawberries....

You can very well imagine our surprise and disappointment when The Strawberry Farm had no strawberry fields! Yes, there is a little shop and café with everything even remotely related to strawberries, but no fields of them. And there hasn't been for the past five years. Instead, there is a little camp and paddock with two sheep, a few goats, a calf and a few geese. For a couple of dollars you can buy pellets, carrots, or a bottle of milk.

Now my farmer's daughter's instinct is to give the carrots to the goats, the pellets to the sheep, and the milk to the calf. Clearly the animals and kids didn't share the same instincts. The goats and sheep got milk. The calf got pellets. Everyone wanted carrots and then no-one wanted the last one. And it didn't seem to matter. It also didn't seem to matter any more that there weren't any strawberries to pick. 

Sometimes it would be good if we as adults can go back to that youthful enthusiasm to embrace whatever adventure comes your way: if you expect to pick strawberries and get to feed sheep: be happy and enjoy it!

Feeding sheep at Strawberry Farm

Scarecrow at Polkadraai

Day 10: Meeting Bruce

Today we had the priviledge of meeting Bruce. Bruce must be the primal Bruce - the one after which all subsequent Bruces were named and the person everyone has in mind when they think of Bruce. 

Bruce is wild. Or rather, he looks like someone who could tame a wild beast and survive in the Outback at least 7 times longer than a James. He is at least 6ft 2" tall, with red curly hair, a slight beard, and the face of one who has weathered many blazing hot Australian summers. He also happened to be our guide on a 4x4 trip around the northern part of Moreton island. 

The trip itself was quite an enlightening experience. Particularly since my expectations were of an island trip in one of the most developed countries in the world. Somehow, I managed to overlook the fact that this country also has one of the largest uncultivated, unconquered and hugely unpopulated spaces!! 

The whole continent cultivation only balances on the very edges with large cities and civilisation. (Although it is markedly heavier on the Eastern side.)

The 4-hour long trip along sand roads, through two small townships and hours of driving through seemingly undisturbed island reminded me of that. Australia is a place of contrast. First-world civilisation vs Outback. 

Sydney Opera House vs outlaw Ned Kelly. 

You are mostly allowed to drive on the beach, provided you stay within the speed limits (which are always well-indicated, and enforced by the beach Police!)

You can loose you driver's license for driving over the alcohol-limit, but if you live on an island, no-one raises an eyebrow if you open a can of beer when driving. Except of course tourists, craning their necks to verify they ARE in fact seeing a friendly local driving past with a BEER in hand!

My conclusion then on Moreton Island: if you expect lofty hotel foyers, rows of beach chairs, colourful umbrellas, waiters bringing exotic cocktails at the raise of a finger, and delectable cuisine you might be sorely disappointed. However,  if you bring a 4x4, snorkeling/scuba gear, a boat of some sort, a hat, and plenty sunscreen lotion.... it is an ideal destination. And of course, if you like historic lighthouses!

The lighthouse on the northern point of Moreton Island

Day 9: Sundivers, Beachwalkers and Tatoomies

For a few days after Christmas, the family booked to come to Moreton Island - the fourth largest sand island in the world at about 35km in length.

Location of Tangalooma Resort on Moreton Island

The most likely way to arrive is by the Tangalooma ferry, which, if you're lucky, is a 45 min trip on a big double-deck cat, or if you're not that lucky, a 60 min trip on the much smaller 'Express'. We were not that lucky. I almost kissed the ground as we docked, but the idea of sand between my teeth fortunately brought me to my senses in time.

The island seems to be a popular destination - for humans, birds, dolphins and even whales in the cooler months.
To the casual observer, the most common species on the island is the bare-footed beachwalker. It is certainly true that there are plenty of them here, but if you observe carefully, you would notice at least half of them are in fact red-nosed sundivers. Of these, a good number have already transformed onto red-necked and red-shouldered sundivers. It is best to avoid these and not try feeding or touching them, even though they appear quite tame. They are in fact a very irritable species, and best left in the shade until they loose their distinct red colouring.

The careful observer will also spot a good number of lesser-striped and even greater-striped tatoomies. 'Striped' as a descriptor for this species is in fact very liberally used, as the range of different patterns proudly worn by these is truly mind-boggling. These can range from tiny patterns on females, looking remarkably like flowers, to intricate woven and banded designs mostly seen on the front and hind legs. It is not entirely certain why they sport these designs, as no obvious function has been observed. Some speculate it may be a sign of rank and superiority amongst the males. Another popular theory is that it may play a role in courting. Urban legend even has it that members of this species are in fact the descendents of the now extinct convictus that once freely roamed in Australia. One of the mysteries that will remain...

Below a picture of what may at first glance appear to be bare-footed beachwalkers, but are in fact lesser-striped tatoomies. They are generally quite camera-shy, so sadly I couldn't get a close-up!

Striped... on the beach next to the wrecks

Day 7: Two days of Christmas

Christmas Eve in Australia. Houses lit up by millions of lights. (Believe it or not: There really is a house somewhere behind the lights below!) Gammon and turkey and sumptious deserts. Kids struggling to contain themselves for all the excitement of the past weeks culminating this evening and Christmas day.

My thoughts go to my family, and other people who are strangers in a new country. Some less fortunate than me and being alone in a time everyone else is spending with family. And I wonder for how many people the lights and the glitz are only there to coat one day in a thin layer of happiness that will disappear as quick as Boxing Day specials.

Me? Pensive, but grateful.

Winner of the annual Gold Coast Lights competition - since 1999

Day 6: Bad tidings

Today started off like any other day - cup of coffee, breakfast, chatting about the day ahead. It was very much another holi-like-day, just without any admin for a change.
However, that feeling quickly changed early tonight when I had word from my family back 'home'. All is not well.

The last year has been an extremely difficult year for my family in so many ways - not least of these me and my husband's decision to move to Australia. The bad tidings today signal yet more difficult times to come.

It is not really a gift anyone would want for Christmas.

Maybe this will be one of the hardest things: when someone needs you back in South Africa, and you simply can't be there.

Here then a picture for my brother. It is one I took a number of years ago when we went to Rietvlei Dam for some early-morning fishing and photography.

Wild flowers at Rietvlei Dam, South Africa

Day 5: Finding Cocoa

I came to two conclusions today - both independent from our new location. First: The superiority of cats.

The last few days have been reasonably filled with admin-related outings, visits to and from family, exploratory outings to shopping centres (you HAVE to get to know your surroundings!), and generally being surrounded by people. After all, we ARE staying with family! So when the opportunity arrived today to stay alone at home for the morning, I graspes it with both hands.

'Alone' in this case is a concept used fairly liberally, as the house is also inhabited by one times parrot, and two times cat. Ragdoll cat to be specific. Ragdoll-stay-in-the-house cat, to be even more specific. It is a Very Special type of cat, and their specialness are vey much appreciated in this household.

You can then understand my apprehension when I got up from behind my laptop about an hour after the other human inhabitants have left, to find the front door wide open. In South Africa this situation would be deemed irresponsible due to who might enter the house. Here, the concern is largely around who might EXIT.
Close door. Locate Cat One. Humphrey. Located. Sleeping on bed. Check. Locate Cat Two. Cocoa. I repeat: locate Cat Two. Locate Cat Two. Cat Two, show yourself!

The parrot somehow got the gist of the situation and started repeating Come here. Come here. Hello Cocoa. Hello Cocoa. Come here. Come here. at the best f times cats are not known to listen to birds. Let alone colorful birds in cages that manage to always be juuuuuust out of reach.

Forty-two minutes passed as I looked for Cocoa. Under, behind, inside, on top of everything. Nowhere. How am I going to explain losing the cat? Evenif I didn't leave the door open, it was still on my watch that the terrible thing happenned. Not the best of ways to set the tone with the family-in-law-you're-visiting-with. The stay might just get a bit shorter.

Agony. Stupid cat.

Finally I decided to share the misery and send an SMS - or should I say SOS - to husband. Then, just as I rounded the same corner for the umpteenth time, I look straight into Cocoa's eyes. Silly human. You really don't know where I was, do you? And I'm not going to tell you either...

Which brought me to my second conclusion: I really am more of a dog-person!

Cocoa - Cat Superior

Day 4: Getting Disturbed and... Connected

I discovered the first real disturbing thing about Australia today: Chicken sushi. Chicken sushi? Really?? Are they serious??? It's like warm ice-cream. Or well-done steak tartare. Or mild Durban curry. It simply doesn't exist in any logical world. It HAS to be the one or the other.
Unless they are simply putting words together in a very loose way, and insinuating that consumers are somewhat ignorant.
The alternative - real chicken, RAW pieces of chicken thinly sliced in sushi-style - is not a thought I can bear to entertain!

Disregarding that little anomoly, the second day of admin turned out reasonably successful.
Getting connected in Australia is certainly less expensive than in South Africa. One of the few things that are, I have to add.
For $30 you can get about $220 cellular value plus 500MB data, which would roughly equate to 200 mins talk time. So for less than R250 I get the same bundle I paid over R600 for in SA.
And for $10 more you can double it. Not bad. Not bad at all!

On top of it, it looks like it may rain soon...

Lightning across the canal

Day 3 - A License to.... Everything

One of the nuisances of moving to a different country is all the administrative tasks that go along with it. No wait, just about ALL the nuisance revolves around paperwork and forms and more forms. And just when you're done with the one lot on the one side, the next list builts up on the other side! Bank account. Driver's license. Telephone. Medical. Well that's the ones we started with anyway.

Different to South Africa, it turned out that opening a bank account was the easiest of the lot! Friendly, efficient, helpful staff at a small branch of the Commonwealth bank. Also different to SA, The Critical Document To Have is a driver's license. It is the one piece of plastic that define Who you are. It is a Category A proof of you are who you claim to be, and clearly you are a responsible person because you managed to get It. You can't get a cellphone contract without It. You can't get medical without It. You can't open bank accounts without It. But in order to get It, you need to proof Who you are. Which is rather difficult without IT!! The ONLY reason we managed to exit the circular loop, is that we stay with family who, thankfully! are in posession of the all-critical piece of plastic, and could give sworn statements that they really really do know us..... Phew!

First step in converting our SA licenses: write Learner's Test. Done. Next step: book and go for Driver's Test. Now just to put things in perspective: if you are an Aussie getting a license, it would take anything from about 3 years to 7 years to progress through all the different levels of provisional licenses and log books to finally having the coveted Open License. SEVEN YEARS.

Small wonder they put so much value on it!

(Sorry, no pic today. Don't have IT yet!)

Day 2 - A New Family and Chocolate

We are more fortunate than most people immigrating in that we have quite a strong family network in the Gold Coast. 'We' in this instance more accurately my husband. Be it family or family-in-law, they welcomed us like old friends: plenty of food served with a good dollop of first-hand advice.

'You will find everything you need at Coles or Woolworths. No I don't know if it's the same Woolworths. Taste the cheese - it's good but I miss the Gouda from South Africa. And the chocolate. It took me months to find chocolate here. Now I only buy Lindt. The Australian chocolate isn't nice. The Whittaker's is also good.'

The chocolate part wasn't news. Earlier the day we scoured the local shop for a good quality dark chocolate. Being a bit of a chocolate snob, I don't consider anything with less than 55% cocoa solids a true 'chocolate'. Belgian is good, Swiss is better. 55% cocoa is good, 75% is better.

In the end we settled for 3 slabs: Cadbury's Old Gold 75%, Cadbury's Old Gold Dark Chocolate with Almonds, and Green & Black's Organic Dark Chocolate (85%). The last turned out to be imported from Poland, and satisfyingly intense, although not made super-thin as one would expect. The Cadbury's Old Gold 75% was most disappointing. Do they use different cocoa beans? Vegetable oil? Who knows..... All I know is that I will be making chocolate brownies or ice-cream sauce with it in order to avoid eating it neat!

The Almond one turned out a pleasant surprise after that. Mostly, I guess, as one tends to chew it instead of allowing it to melt slowly on the tongue.

It didn't take a lot to convince me that I will be buying Lindt as a standard!

Bars of Cadbury and Green $ Black's dark chocolate

Day 1 - Arrival

Day one of immigrating to Australia is now officially completed.

Day flight from Kuala Lumpur: 8 hours. No sleep. Watching series on iPad as the plane had no in-house entertainment system. When offering the choice of food, the long-lashes air hostesses had the big smiles of
salesmen who KNOW you will regret the choice the moment you have the product in your hands, but with the knowledge that you have their product, or..... Nothing.

Brisbane International Airport. Survived without any casualties.

First night sleep - wouldn't have survived without half a sleeping tablet. Serious sleep-deprivation combined with the emotions of ARRIVING caused a good measure of panic around 3am. I would have taken ANY plane ANYWHERE - except that I couldn't decide where to go! It was a horrible feeling realising I can't go 'home'. There is no 'home' back home. This...... THIS is now 'home'.

Route to Australia - via Kuala Lumpur