The Mighty Huntsman Spider

The first time I met one, the huntsman spider was sitting on the bottom of the roof, just above my head when I opened the main door. I screamed and ran away! Then I took a deep breath (isn't that what my mother taught me when I was in danger and had to stop the panic?), crawled back inside the house right under the spider (again, I know) and grabbed the killer spray. With miraculous force, I sprayed it from about 2 meters away, but what a useless, cowardly move! I got closer, sprayed and prayed, then felt so sorry seeing the poor creature fight the torturous chemical while melting away! Very sorry... They are large spiders without a web, but with a stealthy elegance. They run very fast sometimes, when threatened by a much bigger creature. But they eat flies and mosquitoes and are not aggressive with people. Tiziano and Chloe taught me that. I started to like the huntsman, and their size (huge, trust me) just made me think of them as of hairy-cuddly-elegant giants. It took me a while, and if Tiziano did not bring a few home to keep them as pets for Chloe, I would still be quite (unjustifiably) scared of them. They are social, too, so we probably have quite a number of them in the roof and garage. I still shiver when I see one, but I never kill them. I respect them, like Tiziano and Chloe do, and allow them to live with us. As long as they stay a bit further away... Look at this mother huntsman guarding her brood and tell me if she's not amazing!

Renting in Melbourne (Part III)

I sit on the entrance steps and cannot believe the change. I lived most of my life in apartments, and the only gardens I enjoyed were public parks. Now I have a garden in the front of the house and one in the back, even if I didn't want them... They came with the rental house we liked. The lease said that we had to maintain the gardens the way they were when we moved in, detail which made me ask Tiziano to not sign the lease and continue looking for a place with a maintained garden. What a dream!? They don't exist. And how naive of me?! Only apartments in the city have no gardens to (enjoy) and maintain. In the suburbs, rental houses have at least one garden or front yard with a lawn and some flowers and/or trees. The owners of the rental properties want the tenants to maintain the green, which is no easy task. I know because my father gardens. Of course I LOVE having the trees and flowers, and both front and back yards look beautiful with the green grass, but I am not good at gardening. I don't know how and when to weed, trim, and chop. I don't have the tools and time for it. And it's simply not my garden... The owner is getting his garden (barely) maintained on our expense now. We first paid a gardiner to mow the lawn and spray weed-killers, but he wanted to do the job even in the hot summer time, when no grass was growing. We fired him and bought a lawn mower, yet, our job is so poor! Our nice neighbor decided to help, so when she can, she mows the front yard. Two years into this difficult garden maintenance job, we called the rental company to ask that they trim the trees, which had branches covering a large part of the roof and blocking the gutters. As per protocol, they called the owner, who (weeks later) sent a "tree killer." I call him that because this gardiner mutilated the garden by chopping the trees into torturous forms just so they did not cover any part of the roof. With his saw, I have no doubt, I could have done a better job. He didn't care at all about the garden, he just followed the order to clear the roof, because he refused to cut even a dead tree that still sits in the middle of the front yard to remind me of the dead desire everyone has for the garden to look great. (sigh) Today's picture is hot from the oven! I took it this afternoon while driving home (yes, my windshield is wet), when the sun came out through a curtain of thin clouds and painted a perfect rainbow. Enjoy!

Renting in Melbourne (Part II)

We signed the lease one rainy afternoon, got the keys and came to see the house. We wanted to see the house again, because initially we loved it, but were rushed through by the agent who showed it to us. Now it was our rented house! But we found dog hair in most rooms, brown spots of burnt oil in the overn and just old paint staring at us balankly from the walls. Yes, the rental company forgot to clean the house. The next morning we called them and in another two days they steam cleaned the carpets and ignored walls and oven... We had to move in anyway, and the lesson we learnt was that walls are not painted when a new tenant moves in, not one nail can be shot into the walls without the owner's permission and the oven, well, they just didn't care about it! When the first leak occurred, water started to drip through the ceiling. We called the rental company, who callled the owner. The owner decided to find someone to go up on the roof and check the roof tiles. He also decided that painting was a job the rental company could assign to someone, or better, the insurance company could take care of it... The timeline for this is as follows: leak appeared in February; roof repairman came in late March (Thank God it didn't rain much in a month!); first painter called in May; it's end of June and the ceiling is as brown as the rain left it... Luckily we don't use the guest room right now. If we'll ever use it again, I'll tell you. But we continue to pay the same rent, while we pray that nothing else breaks. Story number two. We also had a window that didn't open anymore. The owner and a painter he trusted decided that the problem was the bare wood of the windowsill. The painter came one day and painted the window on the outside. SHUT! We complained right away to the rental company, and they sent a repairman. He laughed at the painter's job, forced the window open, repainted it and, finally, made it work. I know you feel tired just by reading these stories. I do, too, but from waiting for months for something trivial my father could have fixed in an hour... Today's picture (totally unrelated, sorry) introduces to you another Australian parrot, the Rosella!

Renting in Melbourne (Part I)

This is quite a pragmatic subject, maybe less so than the future blog on taxes and immigration, but I need to talk about it. It's so different from the renting landscape in the US and to which I was used, and it impacted my life here from the day I moved, how could I not talk about it? Whereas in the US, in big cities and their suburbs, there are companies that own a bunch of buildings or properties and manage them, too, in Melbourne, rental properties are mostly private properties managed by a third party, the rental company (or real estate company, as they make more profits from sales). These companies advertise the rental property, collect the rent and act as intermediary between the owner and the tenants. And this is where the problems start! The owner normally buys the property as an investment, but then has to pay a mortgage on it. In most cases, the owner makes money from the rent, yet, most of this money is given to the bank and a small chunk to the rental company. Thus, the owner's lack of interest in rushing to fix and maintain the property, the garden, if any, and everything else... Especially in the context of Australia, where prices are very high for everything. The rental company is even less interested in keeping up the property, and amazingly, they are unable to even collect the rent in time. They do not send any reminders to pay the rent, their correspondence to the tenants gets lost, and by acting as intermediaries between the owner and the tenant, they manage to stall the process of repairing and maintenance. I will continue the suject tomorrow, but in the picture I have someone who never pays rent!

Alcolizer?

I just learnt about this machine on Saturday night. The Alcolizer measures the level of alcohol in your blood, which thus indicated whether you can drive or not. This machine was at the exit from Melbourne's largest casino, right by the door going into the parking garage. Australia, Melbourne included, has huge problems with alcohol abuse, especially drunk driving. If there is a place from where it is very likely to leave in a tipsy state, that is the casino. Not only because it's Las Vegas size, but you either drink to sink losses or to celebrate gains. But before you step out of the building, you pay the parking and have a chance to reconsider whether you should drive or not. And calculate the fine, too... Alcolizer provides you with a straw and for a small donation, it gives you an idea about how far you've taken your alcohol intoxication. I like it, but I haven't seen anyone use it in the little while I took to read the instructions and to take several pictures.

Ochre Pits

I am breaking again the line of thought or the theme in these past blog posts, but I could not avoid it because today's subject intrigued me. Last year, when we travelled to the Red Center, precisely Alice Springs, we visited the MacDonnell Ranges. One of the popular places to see there is the Ochre Pits (top picture). The story goes that the Arrernte Aboriginal people used to collect ochre from the pits, mix it with emu fat and paint their bodies for rituals. The place inspires respect, it almost has a religious feel, and touching the colorful rock that in places peels like paper is an experience I will never forget. Against the deep blue sky, the red, brown and beige stand out like in a painting. Now I'll go back to Melbourne. I walk to work every day on a road just above the train tracks between Heidelberg and Eaglemont, in the North-Eastern suburbs. Like in a flash back, I see the Ochre Pits (bottom picture), or anyway something that makes me think of them and the Arrernte people. Only that here the ochre probably gets eroded every day by the fast passing trains and sadly, no Aboriginal people can collect the ochre to use it for rituals. Do you see the similarity?

Growing Daylight Time

Since yesterday (winter solstice), I celebrate the start of growing daylight time! I am still not used to a June when the sun sets around 5PM and I cannot find my slippers in the dark when I get off my bed every morning... I received my first invitation for "Christmas in July," for which I have to cook a filling dish, one that would provide the calories needed for a winter celebration. And I want to yell again "My summers were in June, July and August" But now I understand why there is the winter migration from Victoria and the Southern parts of Oz towards the tropical North, especially Queensland. Summer still lingers there with fewere clouds and more generous temperatures. The frangipani in my picture from today makes me feel like I am in Queesnland, too! Enjoy!