Happy New Year! La multi ani!

After a week in Perth, I am happy to celebrate a reasonably warm start of 2013 in Melbourne. A significant 15-degree higher temperature in Perth (41C) for three days in a row was a good reminder that as much as weather here in Melbourne is unpredictable, it’s still better than being stuck with one hot choice for enough time to feel as if living in a large oven. New Year’s Eve was devoid of BBQ, prawns and heavy drinking for me, so I fail the Aussie citizenship “test” again, but watching the 10-minute Sydney fire works from the comfort of our nice home while eating really good cheddar cheese and Romanian “sarmale” surrounded by family was a wonderful way to cross another time border, 2012-2013. No resolutions and no high expectations, just the wishes for a year of peace and health. The trip to Perth gave me enough material to post again more often, as in the past two months I didn’t have enough material for regular blogging. Today’s picture is that of the London Court, a pedestrian lane/shopping arcade that goes between the Hay Street Mall and St George’s Terrace. I thought of it as a good reminder that Australia is essentially a British relic still searching for identity.

Christmas Preparations Down Under

Ten days before Christmas and the action is on. This is a list of random things that I did, happened, or happened to make me think of Christmas and prepare, at least mentally, for it. I start it with the difficulty of finding a parking spot at the largest mall in the Southern Hemisphere, Chadstone Shopping Centre. And I will end it with the two little caterpillars curling like a Yin and Yang on a half-eaten leaf, which seemed to wear cozy coats like I used to wear in the harsh winter of Macin, Philadelphia or New York. So here if the rest... On Monday, I stared long enough at the bloomed paper-bark trees on my street until the fuzzy little flowers clouding up at the top seemed nothing else but a layer of fluffy, pristine snow. I wiped the sweat on my forehead as I walked into the sweltering summer heat, just as I used to do as a kid back in Romania after walking into one foot of fresh, powdery snow for about half an hour. I took a deep breath as I walked into the bakery yesterday, surrendering the Christmas flavors of savory and sweet bread, as if they just wrapped around me in the kitchen of my childhood. Finally, I played some Romanian carols sang by the Madrigal Choir and I cooked some bean soup, after which I knew I was ready for Christmas.

Hot Christmas

This is my fourth Christmas in Oz and I’m still not used to wearing sandals and a summer dress, going to the beach, and being content with no more than a salad “feast” on that Christmas Eve. Last week-end we put together the Christmas tree, huddled the fake snow together at its base, and hung the “icicles” on the top branches. All this under the air conditioning unit, since there were over 92F (33 Celsius) outside! The city is decorated with holiday lights, red and green, but they’re invisible most of the time, because the sun sets late, close to 8PM, when all shoppers have gone home with the gifts they bought and the only shops open are those selling alcohol… It’s dark after 9PM and the lonely Santas and Christmas lights brighten the path of those rushing to go home. I imagine a very sweaty Santa dressed in thick layers of fur-trimmed clothes landing by our tree to deliver melting chocolates and a pair of skates. Roller blades maybe...

Silky Oak Tree

I haven’t neglected my blog, but I simply ran out of interesting things to share about Oz. Today I found one, the silky oak tree, and thus my return to posting for you. Soon I’ll be going to Perth and that should give me lots of material for the blog. The silky-oak tree (Grevillea robusta) is the largest plant of the grevillea genus. I love its dark yellow, almost rusty orange hermaphrodite flowers that embellish the tree in late spring-summer. They look like large brushes with curly hairs, are loaded with nectar, and buzz with busy bees. The leaves are also beautiful, lacy and of a dusty green. I guess the first part of the name comes from the silky wood that is used for furniture making and in construction. Yet, why it’s called “oak” when it belongs to the grevillea genus, I don’t have the slightest idea. This tree can reach 30 meters in height, but its shocking similarity to the low grevillea plants turns it into a giant exception of the plant world. At least in my eyes, delighted to admire this unique Australian beauty.

Socially Awkward?

Ever since I moved to Melbourne I am trying to figure out if Melbournians are cold, filled with an almost royal chill, but every time I conclude that I meet someone exceptionally nice and I brush off this idea, even accusing myself of having misconceptions. The fact that I made many good friends in this city strikes me as the ultimate proof that Melbournians are actually nice. However, among them, and is not so different in other places, are some truly socially awkward individuals re-enforcing ridiculous social rules. What’s very sad is that such rules every day, and this is ran under a state government initiative. It’s extremely helpful for working parents like us and it’s not expensive. My daughter, being the only child, always loved little kids and asked for a little brother or sister. This never happened, but she plays with small kids at school and is very nice and gentle with them. They are the brothers and sisters she never had… Well, until yesterday, when the after-school teachers told my daughter and the little girl she played with for a long time, that they are not allowed to play together anymore because they have to make friends of their own age. The ridiculous rule hurt both kids and can only explain the socially awkwardness behind some of the grown-ups I have seen occasionally. Yes, I will talk with the personnel caring for the kids, but I am offended I even have to bring up the subject. The situation throws me back in time, about 100 years ago, in the Aussie or British orphanages I dread even reading about, because of the cruelty the carers imposed on small children.

Running Around, Asleep or Awake

I am in the Arkaroola Village, a very remote place in the Flinders Ranges. A $65 a night room feels like a shoebox with two beds and a shower, no soap, TV set, fridge or any other luxuries. You walk in straight from the parking lot, and the room windows are big holes that barely separate you from the street through a cellophane-thick sheet of glass. It’s a place where you have to arrive exhausted, crash into bed, sleep and then go the following morning… Spiders hang in observation, strategically, from two opposite corners of the room. They are watching me, the old furniture reflected in the dark brown linoleum, or the warning signs of a mouse plague hanging on the wall? The covers, a rodent grey shade, are lighter than the sheets, and I can almost distinguish footprints on them. I pray the sheets are clean and at no moment of the night I touch the covers. I smell disinfectant, old poison and spider feet, then I fall asleep. I dream that I am not in Arkaroola, where I just enjoyed seeing the stars like light bulbs through the heavy lens of the Arkaroola Observatory. I am back in Melbourne, watching a pink and purple sunset with boats, crystal waters and a sweet flavored breeze. I am walking alongside St. Kilda Beach thinking of how I got there and how easy I hover, asleep or awake, among all these places I’ve seen in my life.

How close can you come with nature?

This is an encounter that took place in a park, but it’s very typical to have very close friendly encounters with wildlife in this country. It’s also possible to have extremely unfriendly encounters, such as those with sharks, crocs and venomous snakes, but I’ve already talked about our scary encounter with a brown snake in a river in the Northern Territory... So the encounter with a koala taking a stroll, relaxing, posing, or just interacting with us happened in the Koala Conservation Centre in Phillip Island. The walkway literally takes visitors through the gum trees in which live the koalas. I believe the animals are almost domesticated, because with so many visitors, they just climb down onto the suspended walkway. I do not have a picture for another friendly encounter, but while walking on a street in Sydney, very close to the centre, a crimson rosella landed on my head. It didn’t peck or anything, but I am sure it was a bird used to getting food from people, so just tried to see what it could get from me. I almost felt guilty for not stocking up on food for it, but I had nothing to offer, so the rosella flew off afterwards… Kangaroos and wallabies often lie down or graze close to the walkways of national parks and as long as you don’t approach them, they continue their activities while keeping an eye on you. This richness and the closeness with wildlife are unique to Australia and deeply touch my heart.

Another Personal Post (The Poetry of Moving)

So how does it feel to change countries? Not once, but twice. Does it matter what countries? A lot. Changing countries is like going through an earthquake so strong, it remodels the landscape, it shakes your deepest nerves, and the aftershocks of all kinds stay with you for a very long time. When I say remodeling the landscape I’m thinking of ten kinds of parrots eating birdseed every day in front of your window. I am also thinking of the week-ends when you lay down on a gorgeous beach where only a few other people and kangaroos visit. The hurricane that became a cyclone, the spelling of mom that changed to mum. How the move shakes your deepest nerves is by emailing every day the friends and family left behind, far, far away, just to maintain an illusory closeness, by driving on the wrong side of the street and through roundabouts, and by relearning the school system, the healthcare system and internet access. Aftershocks? They are the moments you go visit the other countries and meet a much older mother than only two years ago, or the moments you visit another country and feel like you never left those places because even when you are far, far away, you’re still reliving them in your mind almost every day. But the wind blows in your life and you get carried away like the fluff of a dandelion, you change countries again because you are curious to live there, or you got a better job, or you just cannot stop changing countries anymore… You plant a passion fruit, a hydrangea, a grevillea, and a lily-of-the-valley, and as much as you love them, they are the only things related to you that grow roots. Together with the new friends that you made and you cannot take with you if you move again…

Melbourne Cup

Melbournians call it “the race that stops a nation,” and the definition is very close to the truth. I have a day off, so I do no work whereas the horses do it all. The first Tuesday in November, every year since 1861, is the biggest sporting, social and cultural event in Australia, the Melbourne Cup. The event revolves around the horse races, but it has a social side, a fashion-loaded aura and a typical Aussie flavor. People celebrate summer, have a picnic, and again, they relax… Not to forget the betting and the drinking. Phew… I recommend you never look at the after-race pictures, because so many people waste themselves and trash the Flemington grounds that photographers capture this after show with dark enthusiasm. The things I like about this event are to watch the hats and fascinators and the big race. I also appreciate the beauty of the venue, Flemington Racecourse in Melbourne, and its British elegance, especially because the track is a superb green lawn, not a dirt track like in Santa Anita, California (the only other horse race I have ever watched). I attached a picture of a different kind of horse, which will calmly continue to graze today and sweetly posed for me somewhere in the Yarra Valley.

Hard Work (!?!)

Here are three stories from my daily life in Oz. Story #1. Months ago a storm knocked down a part of our fence. It is an old fence. Our landlord didn't rush to fix it or to replace the broken area of the fence, but eventually, he had to. This past Tuesday, someone dropped off timber for a new fence in front of the yard. They just threw it carelessly on the lawn next to the footpath. On Wednesday, someone came and removed the old fence. On Thursday, nobody came because there were showers in the morning. On Friday morning at 7AM someone came and cut some vegetation that was obstructing the fence building in the back. They threw tree branches and trunks over the lawn, as if they hated my garden, knocking off some of our plants. I don't know... Are they waiting for me to clean the mess? If its their job and I'm just the tenant, why should I clean up? Story #2. I went to one of the few Post Offices open on a Saturday morning. The line extended outside, and two people in front of me were sipping coffee calmly. I read lots of Jamie Oliver recipes from his latest book, which The Post (that's what they call the Post Office here) sells for $50 ($27 on Amazon.com). This line is common sight on a Saturday morning, because the Post is open only from 9 to 5 during the week and most are closed on week-ends. Story #3. The real state company that manages our property for its actual owner is supposed to fix everything around our house (rental). For the last three weeks I emailed and called once a week asking them to do number of jobs, all common sense, such a trimming the trees that are growing over the Hills Hoist, repair the light fixture that cannot hold light bulbs in one bathroom, etc, but they don't respond to my emails and when I call, they rush to hang up on me as soon as they hear that I have PROBLEMS. What do all these stories have in common? I am guessing the lack of desire to work hard. And much more... Unrelated, but a favorite of mine, today's picture shows an Australian eagle. Tiziano took the picture in the Flinders Ranges, when we didn't know where to look first, at the magnificent landscape or the surprises in the sky...

Figs Again… (sigh)

I never thought I’d be writing a blog about the price of figs… I wrote one about the little wasp that lives inside the fruit and whose lifecycle miraculously matches that of the figs. I wrote also about the fig in my garden that is in full activity in spring and summer (September to March). But now I must write about the price of the first figs to appear in the stores. This is because lately I lost control of my shock at my gas bill, the car tyres and … many other things I haven’t written about in this blog. Things like food, houses, cars and make-up. Coffee, toll roads and tennis racquet stringing… Anyway, today I’m in awe, my vision is blurred (thus the shaky picture) and I’m speechless (luckily this post is written). One kilogram of figs in a regular (not fancy, not organic, not home-grown) fruit & vege store is $50. Fifty. Or $25/lb. Of course I haven’t bought any, although I was tempted to buy three figs, one for each member of the family and see how much would be the price of one. Cheaper or more expensive than the $3.20 I pay for an espresso? I don’t live in the fanciest area of Melbourne, my suburb is far from being the richest, and meat disappears faster than fruit and vege from the shelves of my local supermarket. I am tempted to visit this little fruit & vege store every day and ask if the figs are on sale. Is this because there is barely any consumer protection in Oz? Or because the store owner has to pay his own huge gas and electricity bills? Or is it because water sources are scarce here? This can’t be true. The figs in my garden are not dried up. I guess I need to buy a good tree cover, throw it over my fig tree so birds, bats and possums don’t eat the fruit before I get to it, and wait until I have my own figs, free and sweet! And I can donate to charity all the money I would have irrationally spent on figs this spring…

Popping In, On and Out

Aussies love the “pop.” Not as in pop music, I am not sure about that, but the frequency of usage for the word pop is overwhelming. The doctor says, “Pop in this gown” or “Pop your tongue out.” The gardener advises, “Pop these bulbs into the soil in a sunny spot,” or “Pop your gloves on before digging into soil.” The mechanic squeaks, “Pop out of your car and turn off the engine.” The teacher screams “Pop your hats onto your heads when it’s sunny out!” My boss invites me, “Pop into my office when you’re ready to meet.” As you see in the picture, the sunflower popped its head out into the sun, too!

The Mighty Australian Sun

Oz is rich in many things, including beaches and sunny days. I talked before about the Aussie sky, which is intensely blue, more than I have ever seen it from any other part of the world. The sun also has features I have never felt before. The most impressive is power. By this I mean that even in the winter, if the sun comes out and you’re simply basking, it will burn you. It feels as if the sun makes holes in your skin, and ashes fly off from your scorched body... I believe this has to do with the ozone hole so generously spreading over most parts of Antarctica and this continent. Ozone blocks the harmful rays, and without it, nothing else diminishes their power. Directly related to this is the high incidence of melanoma, the skin cancer everyone who ever went sunbathing should worry about. Of course, most Aussies being of British or Irish descent, their skin is white and burns easily, so the fair skin persons are at much higher risk. If they live in the sunny center or the North, they are more exposed to the sun and thus to the risk of melanoma. The weather forecast is always accompanied by the UV levels and rarely they are lower than “extreme” for most of the day from spring well into the fall. The good news, from a few days ago, is that the ozone hole is shrinking and by mid-century it should be back to where it had been in the nineteen eighties. So living in Oz means enjoying the sun while fearing its power and respecting its effect.

Out of Stock – The Revenge

Would you believe I have to continue on this subject? Led into thinking that my car’s tires were of uncommon design or dimensions, I celebrated (too soon!) when the second place I called told me that they got two tires and could replace my “not road worthy” worn-out tires the same day. Too busy at work, I didn’t ask for a quote, and too scared that nobody else has the tires available in stock, I drove to the “shark” nest! They made me pay $118 for each tire, which are so small and thin, you could not tell if they are for a Suzuki Alto or a bike. The pressure of limited stock made me accept to pay this ridiculous price, but I learnt a lesson. More than in the States, you have to shop around in Oz. And you cannot wait until the last minute to buy anything. Literally. I called them sharks because not only they ripped me off with the price, but they tried to talk me into buying two more tires. I let the guy play his part, explain why it’s better to change all four in the same time, etc. Then I informed him that at $118 a tire, I will not even think about it. It may not be any different in the States, thus the “sticker shock,” but where the Aussie frills come in is the shop closing at 5 during the week and taking the last appointment at 4, and with way to many free workers sitting on tires at 4 and I drive in to have my car fixed. They look like the guys who close the shop at 5:01PM and for whom the liquor shop is actually open every day until 9PM… Or anyway, that is what comes to my mind when they overcharge me and make me leave my work early to have my car fixed…

Out of Stock

Car tires, furniture, clothes and shoes in the right size, cars, school uniforms, plane tickets, you name it, it's out of stock in Oz. The more you need it, the faster you need it, etc, etc, the more likely you are to hear "sorry, this item is out of stock." That's bad news also because to get it back in stock, it often takes weeks or months. Concrete examples now. When we moved here and shopped around to buy a car, besides the exorbitant, tax-overloaded car prices, the empty stock of cars also limited our buying options. Most cars we wanted were out of stock, although one of each was available on the floor of the respective dealerships to test drive. We could not wait for the car to be delivered, because we had no other car. So in the end we had no choice, bought the one car that was available… Last week-end we wanted to buy an armchair. Again, the ones we liked and wanted were out of stock. Yes, we could wait, but when were told that the object would be delivered in 9 to 11 weeks from China, we simply gave up. Final example. Last week I found out that I had to get the wheels aligned on my car and replace one very worn out tire. I went yesterday to a place specialized in tires and alignment, but heard the same story: we're out of stock! If I wanted to order them via the dealer, it would take four weeks. So off I go, calling all places I can, hopefully I can have the job done in a few days. I wish tires were like candy (called lollies in Oz). Look at the stock of candy in today’s picture! I guess they never run out of stock…

Research Grants

I will post today a sarcastic description of the research year in Oz. With the summer extending from December until March, and with Christmas and New Year's Eve happening in the heart of the summer, pretty much all January is a month of vacation, or the equivalent of the European August. Everyone goes on vacation and research is at its lowest point. Nevertheless, the largest governmental body giving funds for research (health and medicine), aka NHMRC, schedules the only one deadline for grant submissions at the end of February/beginning of March. This does not deter researchers from relaxing in fun places; it just annoys them by forcing them to also think of grants, maybe even start preparing them... And yes, you heard (read) it well; there is only one deadline a year, only one round of applications submitted, and one round of grant reviews and financing. For a country as small as Oz, this translates into a review crisis. Your direct collaborators cannot review your grant (conflict of interest), and of those who are in the field besides you and your collaborators, now they have to review all grants that are submitted in a year in that area of research. Reviewer exhaustion I call it. This leads to a grant being reviewed by a postdoc who has little experience in the field, or by someone who has so little experience in the field, they don't understand what you are talking about. They will ask some questions and you will send a rebuttal, but in the end that’s not taken into consideration and the recommendation for funding will go to another grant. Let's pretend you got a grant though. If you didn't, you'd need to wait for another whole year to apply and by then you may already be fired (sorry, this word is not used here; what they say is "your contract is not being renewed" and since everyone is on a contract, it really, honestly means that you are fired). My description would be too short. The happy scenario in which you got a grant continues with you paying a postdoctoral fellow a salary so good they will never want to leave your lab to be independent. Basically, double the salary of an American postdoc and you know the number of dollars an Aussie postdoc makes. And double also their days of vacation! The postdoc then will go on to have a baby, because the institution will keep her job for a year and will pay her the salary for at least 3 months. But you don't publish papers this year without a postdoc, and the cycle of grant applications is on again. OMG! The reviewers who are really not so able to review your grant but can count your papers will be stuck at zero, you will not get funded and you have looped back to the sad scenario: your contract is not being renewed! Sorry!

Downtown Signature

Although I lived mostly in big cities in the US, I also travelled and spent a bit of time in small towns. The same in Oz. We live in Melbourne, but have travelled extensively in Victoria and South Australia, browsing through several small towns where we often stayed in a hotel overnight. Never more than one night, because we always drive through to a new place... The itinerant foreigners. But every time we had to stay in a small town, I took notice of its downtown, which is called “town centre” here. Like in the US, it’s most often a small street that has a café, maybe a bakery and a gas (petrol) station, and a hotel. The hotel always has the name of the town and invariably looks like the one in the picture. Victorian style, built in the late 1800s or early 1900s and never updated, just repainted. The hotel serves more the purpose of housing a gambling spot “Tatts” and bar where locals enjoy a few (too many) drinks. The few hotel rooms have irregular shape. One time, we even had a room in which we could enter only directly from the street! Bathrooms and hotel structure probably never change. The bathroom is sometimes with a shower room like in a gym, but also with the faucets for hot and cold water separated by the entire length of the sink. Try mixing them to wash hands! Anyway, the air of these old hotels is antique in itself, and the dusty, lacy balcony adds to it.

Confession: Why I Wash My Car Once a Year...

I am sorry you are all now disappointed in me and my cleanliness standards, but my car just turned two and has only had a wash so far. Basically the “birthday” present for my car is a wash, and the one for this year is due next week. A bit after the event… A good friend teased me about it this past week-end. Although there was not a lot of dirt on the outside, it was enough for her to be able to write “Wash me, please!” on the trunk (called boot in Oz). So I started to wonder myself why I don’t wash my car. I think of myself as a clean, well-groomed gal, up-keeping even a house of too many bedrooms and closets in excellent conditions… I’m not a pig and I used to regularly take my car for a wash in California, so I cannot say I never washed my cars. What is it then? Why do I wait for a whole year until I wash this vehicle to return it to a tomato-red color? There are two reasons that equally determine my attitude. First, it’s the fact that the car wash is open 9 to 5, when I am at work, and on week-ends closes even earlier and the line is longer. I don’t want to do it myself because I’d use too much water and I don’t have a good car vacuum cleaner to also clean the interior. I believe it’s more environmentally-friendly to have the car washed professionally. Second reason comes from my rebellious nature. I didn’t want to have a car and drive a car because the transit system is broad and strong in Melbourne. Buses, trains, and trams make the city and suburbs buzz with activity. However, I had to have a car, because despite the presence of the trains and buses, their schedules and routes beat the whole purpose of their existence. All trains go into the city and then out and moreover, they do a loop around the CBD. There is no circular line, like a belt around the city, and therefore, I’d need to change three trains. Instead of travelling for 40 min one way, my commute (one way) would be 1h15min long. Double. Buses have so many stops that it would take the same amount of time, even if they don’t go through the center of the city. My point is that I was forced to drive and thus have a car, so I literally bought the car from the dealer floor, the cheapest but most reliable (considered) type I could, and never made peace with this issue. To be forced not to use a serious transit system and produce instead my own large carbon print in a country that prides itself (falsely) as being protective of the environment is quite frustrating. So, I am saving a lot of water by not washing my car, except on special occasions! The end. P.S. I didn’t know what picture to include today, and since I said I was not a pig, I found this one, of a cappuccino and a funny napkin (called serviette in Oz) from the “Hog’s Breath Café” Enjoy, eat with your mouth closed, and save some water!

Empty Walls

Is it just me or everyone has the "waiting room mood” altered by the waiting room looks? Especially in medical offices and hospitals, where waiting equals a diverse mix of anxiety, impatience, and boredom... At least in my case. Hospitals are about sick people who need to be healed or made feel better, and I am certain the hospital environment plays a role in this process, too. Imagine feeling feverish and nauseated and being seated in a waiting room in the corridor with just a poster of emergency measures hanging lonely on one wall, while elevator doors and clerk windows break the white of the other walls. That would enhance my anxiety and invite me to run away. Even if there is not much space available, a few walls to separate the waiting room from the main corridor would help. And if pictures of beautiful landscapes, animals or people, or any art work inductive to relaxation and positive thinking could be hung on the walls, that would improve my mood. Oh, aquariums, too! I dare say it may also ease my nausea and I'd certainly be a more patient patient. Hospitals here in Oz, as well as Pathology centers and small medical offices, have empty walls maybe with a big TV screen blasting some sort of news at you. With so many free pictures to download from the Internet and so many artists who would donate some of their work to be exhibited for free, I cannot (for the life of me) understand why nobody thinks of covering the walls in a way that helps the sick. I was also fortunate to have worked in a large medical center in the US where drawings, paintings, pictures and even art created by patients (big or small!) added so much warmth to that hospital environment, it was healing in itself! Rebelling against these empty walls, I've added a picture entitled colors with this post. It is from the tulip festival.

Taxes and Bananas

I just prepared my taxes last week. The technological landscape of Oz does not know Macs, thus, I couldn't use any of my home computers to do my taxes. I borrowed a PC laptop from work. I am a zealous citizen, too, because besides this effort, I also made the actual effort of paying on time, which very few of my friends/acquaintances here do. I confess I was hoping for a rebate, because besides the medical spending I had this year, I also made a few substantial donations. Bad luck! This will not happen and moreover, I owe the tax office a good amount. This is why. A few cyclones hit Australia last year and the government, which already takes substantial taxes from its citizens, decided to instate a flood levy. This is a one year tax (2011-2012) that is 0.5% of the income between $50K and $100K or $250 plus 1% of the difference between $100K and the taxable income. Needless to say that if a government is not prepared to absorb flood damages in a country that does have them every 10-15 years, is a bad sign. Meanwhile, right after cyclone Yasi I paid $8 for a pound of bananas because the banana plantations were directly hit by the cyclones. I hope with all the insurance coverage, money from the flood levy and the profit they made from the golden price of bananas, at least the farmers in Queensland will sell their bananas at a reasonable price this year… In this spirit, today's picture is that of a flooded road in the Northern Territory. I took the picture from the car window, while crossing the flooded road. Because such floods are rare, there are no bridges, and the road gets occasionally flooded, although I secretly wish my flood levy contribution would go towards raising some roads in these areas, as at times, we were afraid of getting stuck in the middle of the water.

Odd Sports and Flowers

Just when I thought I had nothing “cool” to report today I got an idea! It jumped at me from an email message sent by my daughter’s primary school. They are listing all the sports teams and special groups (choir, environment club, etc) at the school, asking parents to reply with what team/group picture they want their kids to be in. At the end of the month a photographer will take pictures of these teams/groups for a fee (always substantial!). I felt compelled to share with you some of the sports names, which I had no idea existed and whose name I had to search in the dictionary. They are: bat tennis, bootball, Danish Rounders, hooptime, Kanga cricket, and matball. Even my spell-check function on the computer sees them as typos and kanga cricket didn’t make it yet to Wikipedia! I was not sure why school kids need to play sports like this, so I did a little search for kanga cricket. I found out that “the aim of Kanga Cricket is to enable EVERY player to have a chance of success, as well as participating in an enjoyable game. To achieve this, game Coordinators should adopt a flexible attitude and be prepared to adjust wicket length, speed of bowling, etc to suit each player’s size, strength and ability. Coordinators should be prepared to offer ON THE SPOT coaching/assistance when the need arises – this also includes encouragement and reinforcement.” This introduction to the summary of rules turned me off from trying to find out anything about the other sports. I thought all sports enable EVERY player to have a chance to success and all are enjoyable to those who decided to participate. However, to adjust a sport to suit the players’ abilities sounds less like sports and more like ordering from a restaurant menu, where there is “something” for everyone. Gluten-free, vegan, peanut-free, etc… Today's picture is that of an unusual flower that is actually called "tree echium" as the blooms can reach 3-4 meters in height! I have never seen it in the US, but apparently it is cultivated and it grows there, too.

Fruit Fly Enemy

I learnt about fruit flies when I was in the last year of high school and was introduced to genetics. After Mendel and Morgan, my genetics manual said that fruit flies (aka, the gnats I chased off of my endlessly flavourful apples or damagingly sweet grapes and plums) had such a variety of characteristics (genetic traits), they made an ideal medium for genetics. Better than Mendel’s peas! After that I treated fruit flies with less animosity and, dare I confess, I started to like them. Did they have red eyes? Short wings maybe? A few more genetics courses later, during graduate school, and I started to respect them. So much of the progress in genetics was due to them and so many of their genetic traits were similar to those of mice and even humans, who wouldn’t tip their hat to THE gnat? This relationship was momentary, and soon gnats fell off my interest, but one interesting trip to South Australia twenty years later and gnats returned to intrigue me. Indirectly. Three quarters of Australia's irrigated crops and pastures are grown in the Murray-Darling Basin, as the mighty Murray River is the third largest navigable river in the world after the Amazon and the Nile. This fruit and vege basket of Australia is apparently fruit fly free and, in this entire area, fruit flies are a feared pest. So much so that approaching the Basin, warning signs bloom on all roads, telling drivers to discard in special containers any fruit or veges they may be carrying with them. The problem is that there is no information offered as to why this food has to be discarded. No explanation is given about the Basin being free of fruit flies and that these creatures, which I assumed are omnipresent in the world, would need to be kept off the area. No sign explains that fruit flies destroy the crop by using it to reproduce. The choice of fruit and veges in Oz is very limited and the prices are ridiculously high, so past this threatening sign ‘throw it out or pay a fat fine’ kind of thing, I was thinking “should I trash THE big, red, healthy looking, juicy apple in my backpack or should I sneak it in and eat it as planned after dinner? IF I don’t get caught and lose the apple anyway, just in a more expensive way…” I decided to take the risk. I ate the apple in the hotel room after dark, with the curtains down, fearing an imaginary fruit and vege police. Still, I could not grasp why the insignificant gnat is an enemy of such proportions! Locusts, yes, but gnats? The following morning we hopped back in the car and drove from Mildura towards Mungo National Park. It was a week day and a few kilometres outside the town there was a fruit and vege check point. We stopped behind another 10-20 cars and waited (forever!) to be checked (car and trunk) for the “forbidden fruit”. You can see in the picture the signs posted at the check point, but we had the confidence of being “clean”. A seriously unfriendly lady refused to tell us why fruit flies are such a threat (she didn’t look like she knew, anyway), asked us to open the boot (trunk), she looked around and then found a cooler. We let her open it and there it was, another apple, the one left over from yesterday’s lunch! She suspiciously asked if there were more, took it and threw it in the rubbish (trash). No fine (what a relief!), but off we went after being 20 min behind schedule and with about 500 km left to drive for the day. We sped from the checkpoint happy not to had been fined, but, short-lived victory, a police car started to flash its lights right behind us very soon... Ooops, we realized we literally sped off from the checkpoint, maybe too happy to remember speeding is also fined. At least we knew why we paid the fine!

Adjusting My Blog

When I started this blog, I confessed to trying to achieve two goals. One was that to create a routine for myself, where I'd write every single day, and which would help me strengthen the habit of writing. I am not a procrastinator and I don’t suffer of writer’s block, but I need to build routines so that other things I do are not interfering. I am thinking chores here: cooking, running errands, doing dishes, preparing healthy lunches, taking the kid to do her extracurricular activities, etc. Posting daily blogs helped me, indeed, sit down and dedicate time to writing. Besides the blog, I managed to write/revise/re-write my memoir and some personal essays. This is work-in-progress that benefited from the writing routine I developed. The second goal of my blog was to share with my friends and family from the Northern hemisphere as much as I could of the experiences I/my family had in Australia. Although we didn’t do much travelling between June, when I started posting, and now, even opening the back door to the garden offers encounters worth writing about (look at today’s picture, which I took just yesterday right in my backyard!). I shared most of the time things, impressions, experiences that I thought would not occur in the US or Europe, but you all would like to know about in an anecdotal way. Now I’d like to change my blog and commit to posting notable experiences whenever they occur and I have access to a computer. If I travel, it may be twice a day, like I wanted to do the other day in Sydney (if I only had Internet access all the time!). If routine swamps me for a few days, you may not read any new posts and that may as well be a sign I am finally adapting to life in Oz… Finally, if pictures only are what I can deliver, there will be at least that. So far, I enjoyed blogging, challenging myself to observe the uniqueness of Oz and to relate it from the eternal foreigner’s perspective (I am an eternal foreigner doesn’t matter how much I struggle to belong). I hope you continue this trip with me!

Sunrise in Sydney

I had such a wonderful evening with my friends the night before, in Sydney, I could not sleep. Still excited, I witnessed the sun rising just in front of my window, above the Sydney Harbor, a bit after five the following morning. It reminded me of the time I used to go to the Black Sea as a student (twenty years ago? Oh, no!), just once a year, and how I struggled to get up early and see the sun rising from the sea. For me, who lived away from the Black Sea, this was one of the most thrilling events of the entire summer. When I moved to California, I wanted to see the sun setting in the water as much as Tiziano wanted to meet a rattle snake. He did, this is not a sarcastic comment! Indeed, the sun's falling under the horizon line, just above the steel grey ocean, had an almost religious effect on me. The colors, energy and voice of the world before and after sunset and sunrise are polar opposites. So sitting at the window in my hotel room in Sydney, I relived solar transitions in many other places and times of my life.

Hot Day in Sydney

I’m back from my business trip to Sydney. I was lucky to stay centrally, in a hotel just opposite the Milsons Point train station. This means that from my room on the 11th floor I could see the water on each side of the strip of land called Milsons Point (last picture), and I had a glimpse at the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House, too (on the side of the second picture). But being outside was even more rewarding: sunny, 30 Celsius, posh cafes and restaurants, and elegant houses built on the cliff and overlooking the water (picture). I do give Sydney credit for being more attractive than Melbourne, with warmer weather and more sunny days and waterways giving it a Venetian flavor. It’s just my opinion, and I stick to it. One striking thing about Sydney that I experienced in this trip was that cab drivers didn’t want to use the air conditioning unless I asked for it. Thirty degrees Celsius is 88F, and cars get hot quickly in the sun, but these drivers invariably (2 rides to the airport and 3 within the center) wanted to drive with the windows down even in the tunnels, with the excuse that they are well ventilated. I asked them to turn on the AC and charge me. And they did.

Blue Tree

Just when I thought that only small flowers could be blue, this is a blue tree posing for me from a garden around my home. By all means, I am endlessly amazed here by the variety of colors and I am sure my posts (pictures and words included) continue to reveal this feeling. This post is brief, as I am going on a two day trip to Sydney. I'll come back this week-end with more pictures and impressions.

Shopping in Melbourne

On a scale of 1 to 10, I think I’d get myself a 5 for shopping. I enjoy this activity somewhat, but most of the time I shop out of necessity. Don’t blame me for being boring or old fashioned, but I found out what shopping was when I was 24 years old, during my first visit outside Romania, in Paris. In Romania we had small stores with limited, very limited choices of any item, and one large general store, which seemed to be a bazaar with items from all the small stores gathered in one building. People shopped out of necessity, not for pleasure. My trip to Paris was short, yet, there I met the mall and the haute couture. My mouth never quite closed on that trip and I came home equally impressed with what I saw in the Louvre and the Printemps. The problem was that I left Romania with $20 for the entire month I spent in France with my friend Nicole, so I didn’t really do more than window shopping and gratefully accepted the gifts Nicole gave me. A year later I moved to the US. The shopping scene bent me over. I still remember the first trip to the mall in New Jersey and the first walk down Madison Avenue in New York. So in all these many, many years in the US I learnt to shop, I shopped sales and then new-season items. But the Romanian girl remained frugal while enjoying the dizzying number of choices, the fun of trying on “stuff” and browsing even late at night. The perfume, the music and the people, i.e., the atmosphere of shopping… mmm…. Well, so this is the hiatus. I arrive here in Melbourne and discover these things: very few sales (when was last time you saw a 5 or 10% sale in the US?), a lot fewer choices, and 9-5 opening time! Ok, except Thursday and Friday, when the stores close at 9PM. Except the liquor stores (called Bottle Shops here), which are open late every day… My manageable shopping pleasure and desire are now suffering in Melbourne, and I haven’t even discussed prices yet! So I am ending my post today with a nostalgic comment: overall, what I miss the most about the US and I cannot find here is “the” choices. Wait! Except for these tulips. When it comes to tulip color, you can see that choices are endless!

Yarra Valley

I haven’t written about this beautiful area North-East of Melbourne as I haven’t visited it in about a year and I wanted to share “fresh” pictures. Yarra is the main river in this area that also passes winding through Melbourne itself. The hills around the river outside the city create a perfect wine territory. In spring it looks less lush, but the energy of the budding vines equals the feeling of pleasure, at least in my case, which one normally gets in the summer, when thick green, parallel lines comb the hills from your feet to the horizon. We had yesterday our wedding anniversary lunch in a small café at the Yarrawood Winery. So many years after tying the knot on the 56th Floor of a Manhattan hotel, we got to sip wine in a candid, relaxed environment, much closer to the sea level, but happily remembering the small wedding at the “top of the world.” The hills of Yarra Valley are a busy backdrop for many weddings in Melbourne and the area, just like everywhere else from Toscana to Sonoma Valley. What is different here is the warm-blooded component. Galahs and cockatoos fly constantly over the vines, ducks and geese bathe in the ponds that actually serve to calm the thirst of many horses, cows and sheep. Rabbits zigzag around bushes and not far away kangaroos sometimes hop into sight, too. As usual, it's nature that impresses me the most in this far-away country...

Tulips! Spring!

I felt very nostalgic yesterday. Every time I visit a park, garden or farm overflowing with flowers of countless colors I remember the Descanso Gardens in the spring with the Camellia Forest an explosion of all shades from light pink to dark red. Yesterday I missed posting because we spend half a day at the Tesselaar Tulip Festival at the same name tulip farm in the Dandenong Ranges, just 30 km East of Melbourne. The Tesselaar Farm breeds, grows and sells flowers, shrubs and trees throughout the year, but the highlight of their activity to any Melbournian is this tulip festival. It was a typical Melbourne spring day yesterday, with bright sunny moments, clouds, rain and hail. For who didn’t know this was again the best exemplification of “four seasons in one day.” But such unpredictable weather did not prevent us and many other people from walking among thousands of elegant flowers growing in straight lanes or well-groomed mini-gardens. I was happy it was not sunny all morning because the colors seemed more vivid on the grey of the sky. Dutch treats, wine tasting and coffee make the day at the festival even better. We had a really good time, although we missed the Grand Final of the Australian Football League. Chloe and my friend Debra rooted for the Sydney Swans (see the post from last week) and they won! Hurray!

Curlew

I wrote about this Australian bird a few days ago, but I am dedicating an entire post to it today because it is a unique bird and I have a good picture of it to share. The first time we met the curlew was in Port Douglas, Queensland, in the North of Australia. We were in a nice hotel by the beach with sprawling gardens. The first night in the hotel, a screeching call woke us up and only when it kept repeating we realized it was a night creature and not a nightmarish dream. We asked the hotel personnel the next morning what was the loud sound that woke us up and laughing, they told us that we had just been introduced to the stone-curlew, a bird that lives in the hotel garden and the nearby golf course. The curlews are active (screamingly so!) at night. When the hotel person described the bird to us we realized we had seen it the night before in the hotel parking. It had a striking look, which we absolutely loved. Tall legs and big eyes (to see better at night), walking like a stork… Hmmm, so curlews are indeed adorable looking (please look at the picture and agree with me!) but terrible sounding. Since this bird woke us up pretty much every night we stayed in Port Douglas and it is endangered in Victoria, but quite common in the Northern states, we always joke that before reserving any hotel we should call and ask about their curlew population…

Canola

One surprising crop that adds to the yellow wattle landscape of Australia is the canola (rapeseed). Although the third most common crop here, and by any means, of unequaled culture beauty, canola has been cultivated only in the past 30-35 years in parts of South Australia (where I took the picture) and Western Australia. The canola (Canadian Oil, Low Acid) oil is one of the healthiest ones, even if the benefits may be cancelled by the rest of the Aussie diet, predominantly consisting in meat products. Of course, canola belongs to the controversial category of gene-modified plants, so it is not very welcome in Australia. This third most common crop serves more to improve the quality of the soil by rotating cultures rather than to fill up the oil jugs.

Antique or Obsolete?

Obsolete. And now I will explain. There are so many things that look old in Australia, that I constantly wonder whether they are antiques or just obsolete. After counting so many of such things, from house windows to TV sets, cars, conference room seats and café furniture, I am convinced they are obsolete. I think that unlike the US where old is replaced by new at a fast pace, in Oz this doesn’t happen. I still see the very old computer monitors being used in my institute, bathrooms with hot and cold water coming from two different faucets, heat and cool air coming from two separate units, hot water bottles being used for warming beds, etc, etc, etc. One shocking thing was this phone, which has a dialing wheel. Even if I grew up with it, I cannot believe it still exists in old elevators (called lifts here). It’s only for emergencies, but I am always tempted to pick up the heavy banana-shaped receiver, put my finger in the tight round hole and dial a number, just for the sake of re-living that strong feeling of making a phone call that left me when this type of phones were taken out of use. Twenty years ago in the US I had my first phone with buttons and I thought it was so modern, the first time I went to visit my parents in Romania, I brought them one, too! Nowadays dialing a number feels so light! It takes a light touch on a smooth screen…

Overwhelmed by Wildlife

We saw this green tree frog in the park of the hotel where we stayed in Port Douglas two years ago. Port Douglas is on the North East coast of Australia, in Queensland. Most Aussies dream about living in that beautiful tropical area, but what we enjoyed the most, again, was the wildlife. Both on land and in the sea, as just North there is the Daintree National Park and 10-20 km East from Port Douglas is the Great Barrier Reef. We posted many pictures from the reef on our website www.tirophotos.smugmug.com, as well as pictures from the tropical forest and the beaches. What I want to tell you today is how even the hotel grounds, park and buildings, were a wildlife treasure. Countless numbers of moths sat at night on the walls surrounding light bulbs, and it was hard to find two alike. These moths were the smart ones that already avoided being eaten by the geckos. They showed their jelly bodies and large round eyes from every corner outside the building, in the vicinity of the lights. I am sure they also feasted on the tiny but nasty mosquitoes and lots of kinds of spiders! Some cane toads hid in the leaves and grass, curlews screamed from the golf courts and … frogs put up subtle concerts. The green tree frog in the picture came for a date with us two nights in a row. We took her in our hands and her wet skin felt like luxurious silk. I could not believe we were in a hotel, in a city, and not in the middle of the forest! It is possible that the lights around the hotel and the grounds attracted all the activity, I don't know. But I expected to see something flying, hanging or jumping wherever I turned my head, day and night. And I was never disappointed!

Eastern Rosella

I missed posting yesterday because we went to a tennis tournament. Wonderful tennis, but seeing 10 or 12 year old girls dragging tennis bags half their size even if they never use more than a racket and a bottle of water in an entire day, is quite disturbing. The bags extend from the neck to mid calf and cover the entire back; I sometimes expect their weight to flip the girls backwards. I'm guessing this is their parents’ choice, and if nothing else measures up the parents' commitment to push the girls into a long tennis career, the torturing sophistication of the bags does. Anyway, yesterday was a gorgeous spring day, warm and sunny, but no wind. When we came home from the tournament (they call it "tournie" here), I sat on the sofa in the living room to reflect about the day. Suddenly, an Eastern rosella flew into the garden and sat on a branch looking for the birdseed I normally hang in the tree. Unfortunately, there was no food, but at least I got the chance to see this bird that looks as if it bathed itself on a painter's color palette first! These birds are shy, so at the first attempted movement they sense coming from inside the house, they fly away. I was lucky yesterday to get a picture, although you can tell it’s not so great, as it was taken through the window. I am a bit like this bird, definitely not with respect to color, but in shyness and lack of aggression. If rainbow lorikeets or galahs are eating the seeds, the Eastern rosella flies away immediately. They are also very intelligent and if kept as pet, they can learn songs and even words. However, they prefer to fly in large spaces and do not like being “petted.”

Aussie Footy and Sydney Swans

This is a short blog. I confess I do not know much about the Aussie rules football (footy) and just seeing these men tackle each other on TV, just like the American football players do, except without any body protection, I just cover my eyes and run away. It seems to me that it is a hybrid of soccer and rugby, and if it wasn't for Footy Day today in schools, I doubt I would have written much... The last day of the third term in Aussie Schools is frequently Footy Day, and kids are allowed to wear the colors of the team they support, they have a BBQ, and you get the idea, it's not much schooling going on. During the following two weeks of school holidays, the most significant events are the footy semifinals and Grand Final. My daughter roots for the Sydney Swans team, like my friend Debra. The team used to be in Melbourne, but many years ago financial problems led to its relocation. Club colors? Red and white, as you see in my picture. I will let you know if they win the AFL final!

Magic at the Corroboree Rock

For all those who think there can be no life outside the Earth I say they are wrong. If this plant in my picture can grow from a rock in the middle of the Outback, life can sprout in the harshest conditions. I sometimes link the places and names I am referring to with Wikipedia and other popular information sites, but I do it for two reasons. First, I don’t want to overlap with sites out there that provide this kind of information and don’t want to overload you with things within reach on these other websites. Second, all these other websites focus on the BIG things, the most popular stuff. I like to focus on the magic of the “other” things, the details that touch us in a more personal manner. For example, just walking through the East MacDonnell Ranges, the desert and ancient mountainous formations stand out. I thought that the red rocks and ridges fragmented by old age and extreme heat and changes in temperature are what Martian landscape looks like. But a slow walk around the Corroboree Rock in late spring led me to this magic discovery of beautiful pink flowers on the side of it. I saw it as a small symbol of life’s victory over nothingness. I was not sure if some water accumulated during the generous spring rains in a hard to see slit in the rocks, but with the heat of the days when we visited, it’s hard to believe that water was sufficient to sustain the plant’s life. Or maybe at night, the cold air condenses on the rock and turns into precious water that then drips into the slit to still feed the flower… I am not sure, but the simple beauty of this plant and its strength in clinging on to life and the rock come back to my mind first when I think of the Corroboree Rock. The Australian Outback has plenty of such sites to discover!

Bearded Dragon

This is the story of Fiona, our most beloved bearded dragon pet we had in California. This species is native of the deserts of Australia, but it’s also easy to breed in captivity and to look after as pet. Thus, bearded dragons of amazing patterns and colors are very popular as pets in the US. We named our girl Fiona because she had that oxymoronic quality of having a unique monstrous look that reptile lovers fall in love with, something reminding us of Shrek’s Princess Fiona. So, our Fiona was big, beautiful (how many times did I say this?), and friendly. She ate worms and crickets hand-fed by Tiziano and Chloe. She had a wonderful personality, showing excitement when Tiziano shook the Ziploc bag with vitamin-powdered crickets in front of her, and demonstrating irritation (a bit of a black beard, even though males do that better in this species) at some unknown factor. Sadly, we sold Fiona when we moved to Australia, despite the fact that she should have been given full rights to repatriation. The problem was that if we wanted to bring her along, she had to stay in extended and costly quarantine. We missed Fiona for a very long time, until we met her relatives in the wild in the desert surrounding Alice Springs. They basked on the side of the road (look at the picture) or recklessly in the middle of the road, even bobbing their heads when a car approached. I guess beauty does not associate with awareness of enemy’s size in this species… We were so thrilled to see the bearded dragons in the wild, almost kidnapped one to bring home! Almost. We never thought serious about this because it is wrong to do it and to keep such a pet, we’d need to get a license in this country. If you guessed that we can’t wait to go back to the desert just to see more “Fiona”s, you are right!

Greek Quarters (YUM!)

Oakleigh is a small suburb of Melbourne, where my friend Debra and I go for the most amazing Greek treats you can imagine. It’s a mini-version of Astoria (Queens, NY). Debra (Greek) introduced me to the area about two years ago and I am now addicted. The best place to be in Oakleigh is Eaton Street, a pedestrian mall just off of Atherton Road, buzzing with locals and LOTS of cafes and restaurants, plus some and retail shops, all with Greek names. Best things to eat there? The list could fill pages, but what we always get is the café frappé (metrios, or medium sweeet), loukoumades and spanakopita. Café frappe is a foam-covered iced coffee drink made from instant coffee that was originally invented by the French people (thus the name). Frappé coffee is very popular in Greece but in Romania, too, especially during the summer. The loukoumades are deep fried balls sprinkled with cinnamon and soaked in a honey syrup. Heaven! In the ancient Greece, these deep fried dough balls were served to the winners of the Greek Olympics as "honey tokens", which says it all. Spanakopita for me is the equivalent of the best Greek bread, filo dough with spinach and feta, also with some amazing spices. In the picture I posted are the stuffed capsicum (red peppers) from Café Nikos, the place where Debra and I go religiously. The bakery/patisserie department is normally off-limit because I could buy and eat half of it. It’s just scrumptious stuff!

Figs

I am blushing... No post yesterday. I am sorry, it was just a busy day in which it was hard to sit down in front of the computer even for the 20-30 minutes I need to write and post a blog. I promised to write about figs the other day. The fig tree is one of my favorites because I LOVE figs (raw, on pizza or in burnt fig jam), we have one fig tree in the garden here and my parents have one in their garden in Romania, and finally, although the fruit is easily visible, but the flower is hidden. I love the mystery associated with this tree. The fig is an angiosperm or flowering plant, but the fruit is the actual flower, i.e., flowers line the inside of the fruit, which is called an enclosed inflorescence. Even more interesting is the pollination, which is performed by a small wasp that burrows into the flower. I have never seen any wasps buzzing around our fig tree and I don't know how the wasp followed this type of tree around the world, as it was brought from continent to continent due to its high productivity and delicious fruit taste. The secret to this elusive wasp is that the life cycle of the fig wasp is closely entangled with that of the fig tree it inhabits. In the beginning of the life cycle, a mature female pollinator wasp enters the "fruit" through a small (visible) opening, which is covered in “male flowers”, and deposits her eggs inside the cavity, which is covered in “female flowers.” The wasp often loses her wings and most of her antennae while squeezing in, but she deposits her egg and the pollen she picked up from her original host fig. This pollinates some of the female flowers on the inside surface of the fig and allows them to mature. Then the female wasp lays her eggs and dies, her body decomposing inside the fig. The fig matures and the wasp eggs hatch and grow into adults, which mate inside the fig. After this, a male wasp digs a tunnel out of the fig, for the females to escape through. The males then die, but the females, covered in pollen, find their way out and fly to another tree of the same species where they deposit their eggs and allow the cycle to start over again.

Insect Love

Yesterday's picture inspired me to write more about bugs. This in not necessarily your most favorite subject, but in Australia bugs represent a richer source of life and excitement than you can imagine. There are spiders, wasps, bees, stick and leaf bugs, butterflies and moths, termites and so on, just an endless list of amazing creatures. They are killers, such as the Sydney funnel web spider and even the centipedes or scorpions, but not many people die bitten anymore, as the anti-venome is widely available. Bugs don't kill people like people kill other people, in wars and criminal or terrorist acts, they just defend themselves and in the process they inflict some terrible pain onto us. What I wanted to write about bugs today was love. If you thought they are not capable of showing love, think twice. Just look at today's picture of two children’s stick insects, female in green and male in peach-brown! Seeing this natural affection certainly makes me feel love towards these bugs, too. I said in other posts that I rush out the door in the morning scared of the huge spiders hanging just outside the main entrance, but when I think about it, I realize I have to learn to ignore and respect bugs. They are not chasing me. I think they are after me, but are they? If I don’t bother a wasp nest in the garden, will I ever get stung? I think the variety of bugs and some of their incredible habits are a source of inspiration, too, which should make everyone love bugs. Tomorrow I will write about such a fact related to figs. Surprise!

Overprotecting Parents

Yesterday I got a message from my daughter’s school that was asking parents to react at the refusal of VicRoads to implement a 40 km/h restriction on a street that does not pass directly around the school, but in its vicinity, and is a main road. Currently, the speed limit there is 60 km/h. Children often cross that road at a traffic light near the school, but because the road is important, there is a lot of traffic and the associated dangers. Just yesterday morning, before reading this message, I saw a car crossing on a red light at a similar pedestrian crossing, where there was no intersecting street and no red light camera. So I agree that reckless driving is a danger but it is a danger to everyone, kids or adults, at all crossings. In my opinion this has to do with the fact that the law here gives priority to cars, not to pedestrians, thus instilling a lack of respect towards everyone walking. Pedestrians have to allow the cars to pass first at the corners of secondary streets, and of course, the number of drivers who have the courtesy to let a kid cross first even around the school is extremely low. I know that from my own experience and I have been scared to step into even a very small street to cross it if a car came in the same time, as most of the time the car would be passing very fast. Too fast! Cars drive too fast in general in all suburbs on the small streets because there is no sign for speed limit, like on the main roads. So back to the message from school, I think that kids must get used to the traffic dangers in this country and their parents have to stop being overprotected to illogical extent: for roads too far from the school, traffic lights are just enough. The kids have to learn to make eye contact with the drivers of the cars, to make sure they stop on red, and have to cross in groups when possible, to be sure they are noticed. Parental overprotection made me think of two things: big city traffic and the animal world. Primary school kids in New York and other big cities cross six lanes of traffic without ANY speed limit imposed on traffic. The centipede mother in the picture Tiziano took a year ago in Wilson’s Promontory is protecting its brood of eggs with understandable dedication, because if she doesn’t lick them continuously to keep them clean, fungus kills them…

Paradise Boat

A few years ago we spent one week in East Gippsland, three-four hours East of Melbourne. We stayed in Metung, but explored parks and beaches around Lakes Entrance and the Ninety Mile Beach (marine miles, which makes the beach 94 miles or 154 km long). Rivers coming towards the sea dump the water in enormous lakes (King, Victoria and Wellington) that eventually make way through quite a narrow opening into the Bass Strait at the properly named place, Lakes Entrance. A thin strip of land consisting mostly of bush and beaches creates this really fragile border between the lakes and the ocean. Just looking at the map of the area you get the feeling about the uniqueness and beauty of this place. The white sand is often covered with birds that nest or live in the area. People cannot reach the Ninety Mile Beach in most part due to lack of access, unless they own or hire a boat to navigate that way. We took a boat tour to visit some of the lakes and were enchanted by the birds, landscape and in some instances (see picture) by the places were people live or camp. After the large congregations of Australian pelicans and a few dolphins that greeted us unexpectedly from the middle of the lake, I thought this boat moored onto a shady area was the most beautiful thing I encountered in that tour. It inspired me to think of a very simple life in the middle of nature, halfway between water and land, paradise and earth…