We went to the airport, secured a bright, new, red Falcon. I wondered if it would still be pretty after I drove it 3 weeks. I practiced driving it up and down in the airport, but finally, I had to jump off into the rush-hour traffic. I got lost a couple of times, but we finally arrived at the Guest House near dinner time.
Our cook, the nice lady from Iraq, approached Barbara secretively. “You are a born-again Christian, aren't you?” “Yes, I am.” She then smiled. “And I, as well,” she whispered. Barbara hugged her. “We are leaving here tomorrow, but I will see you again in Heaven.” Her face lit up with great joy. “Yes, you will!”
Our last dinner that night had ten nations represented at our table. As always, we were the lone Americans. We got great, but troubling, insight into how the rest of the world feels about America. They loved American clothes, music, cars, etc., they liked us as individuals, but strongly expressed their dislike for America. One young British couple, traveling the world with two kids, had bought an old station wagon when they got to Australia. He said, “We have traveled most of the world, but we would never go to America.”. I asked why. He declared, “In some of the places we have been, maybe Africa, people will beat you up and take what you have. But only in America will they shoot you in the head and take your stuff.” I tried to explain.”That's overplayed in the press. Our families, and even our extended families, have never been the victim of a violent crime.” He looked at me a long time, and stated, “You're lucky.” Everyone else nodded in agreement. “Well,” I said, “I know there are bad places. One just does not go to those places.” He replied, “We don't know where those places are.” We were at a loss to persuade them, sitting in a country with almost no violent deaths the year before.
An Australian man, who had earlier lived in America a short while, was later referred to by Barbara as a semi-American. He got very red, very angry, as the table roared, “Wooooooo!” I'm Australian!” he asserted loudly.
Another man later told me, “A woman like Barbara always travels with the big guy!” We really did not have a good answer to the assertion, “America hog's the world's resources”, as we dined there with no paper napkins, or any other throw-away items.
Father John ran a tight ship, and he was definitely the captain. He went out every morning in his van, and always came back with a load of vegetables, fruit, dessert items, etc. We suspected he salvaged what was left over from restaurants, etc. Once, a load of fruit was being carried in. The big “semi-American” started to swipe a fruit off the top. Father John roared, “Get out of that!” and the man jumped back about 3 steps! Even though his customers were full-grown adults, he tolerated no improper behavior. The building our room was in had two tenants, us and a single woman. Late one night, as we came in, we had forgotten our building key. We knocked on the outside door. The woman came to the door, and whispered, “Fred, is that you?” Well, we didn't see a “Fred” around, so we said nothing. Finally, after this was repeated a few times, and no Fred stepped forth, she unlocked the door and quickly fled back to her room.
I studied a road map that night. It just did not make good sense to me at that time. I asked Aussie friends about driving across Sydney, but I did not understand their speech at that point enough to benefit from it. We were on our own.
We left at daylight, before the traffic picked up. The guest house was on a hill, and we could barely see the Sydney Bridge in the distance, across the very large city. The moon was still up, right above the bridge, so I set out to navigate toward the moon.
The roundabouts and their rules of behavior were new to me, and some of them had four lanes. The other drivers gave me lots of help in learning the ropes in the form of hand signals, some indigenous to America, some totally new. Finally, we saw the bridge approach-road, just after passing it. After a turnaround or two, we got it, and were on our way up the coast.
We stopped at a small park to eat breakfast, consisting of our old stand by, Peanut butter and honey on bread. An Aussie, as was customary, sat down and shared our table, so Barb fixed him a sandwich. We told him of our situation, and our drive across Sydney. He said, “Gutsy maove' matey!”
The beaches up the coast were breathtaking, and even here, in the most populated part of Australia, they were nearly empty. One Aussie told me, “We get offended if other people come within sight on our beach!”
Driving on up the coast, my most dangerous driving weakness soon showed up. The right hand turn. Not being used to checking oncoming traffic with a right turn, and being very cautious to turn into the LEFT lane, I forgot to check the oncoming traffic. Driving became a partnership thing. I needed Barb's eyes, ears, and brain to supplement mine, watching my back. And, my front! I didn't get offended at all by her driving help, like I always do at home.
Pulling off the road to see a lake, we noticed what we assumed was a cultural difference. A man was standing beside a parked car, talking to a smiling woman inside, and he was totally naked! She was calm, so we knew she wasn't in danger, but he was obviously very excited. Since we never saw this repeated again, I guess it was just an isolated incident. The fact that they now had an audience bothered them not at all.
Continued Thanks for reading!
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