Australia on a Shoestring

     The big day was upon us! We were leaving for Australia today, flying out on tickets costing us $75 each for the trip. We had been saving bonus miles on our credit card for a long time, so the out-of-pocket expenses were the taxes

     Being of modest means, we planned very creatively. Spend no more for food that we spend at home. Every country has to have inexpensive eating places, since poor people are found everywhere. Just find those places, and eat out of grocery stores until we do. Peanut butter sandwiches  are a good, nourishing standby. We planned to do a lot more looking than spending. A costly side trip had to be very special, and chosen carefully. We made no reservations, knowing less expensive stays were not available for booking in other countries. Also, we wished to not be tied to a schedule, just go where the notion strikes us. We knew we might possibly wind up in our car overnight, as a last resort, but in all our travels, that has never happened. Yet. We felt we could stay six weeks, on our own, for what we would have to spend on a private, guided tour of ten days or so, and we wished to deal with the locals, not tour guides. That has proven to be true. Barbara, with her Dunnahoe nerve and her ability to make new friends instantly, always finds us an excess of local "tour guides." That could be dangerous, you say? Yes, it could. But it has not. Yet. Our main "extra" expense will be the car, and lodging. 

     We flew out of Little Rock early on September 15. We had a long layover in Los Angeles. Fortunately, our friends Dwight and Patty picked us up at the airport for a fun day. We started the 15 hour flight just after midnight, and were lucky enough to get the second flight out to Sydney that day, and it was not crowded. As we slept during that very long night, September 17 just melted away and disappeared into the sea. We arrived in Sydney early on the 18^th,  Barbara's birthday, fortunate not to lose her birthday on the long flight. Years before, she had lost a good part of one birthday. She was on a ship anchored off Fanning Island. When the 18^th showed up, she crossed the International Dateline on the launch to the island into September 19^th, then came back into her birthday that night. If she had lost another birthday, how would she ever keep up with her true age? Then again, maybe that's a good thing.

     We picked up our luggage at the airport, almost breaking a luggage cart down. Barbara had long held the conviction that you dressed well, stayed neat and clean while traveling, and people treated you better and were more helpful. And, I have to admit, the Lord knows, we did need help.

My conviction was, you just carried along a few clothes, folded up your dirty clothes when you took them off, placed them in the bottom of your bag. When they recycled back to the top of the bag, they were clean again. However, as she did the packing, she won out.

     At the car rental booth, I quickly noticed, to my horror, that all the cars had the steering wheel on the right (wrong) side. When I asked the seemingly sensible question, “Are you sure you don't have at least one car around with the correct placement of the steering wheel?” I began to draw a crowd. Agents from surrounding booths gathered round, and laughed “with” me about this and my Arkansas hillbilly talk in general. We finally settled for a flawed car, and continued wandering the airport, trying to pull our new lives together. Barb came up with a great phone card, which, if you didn't mind dialing 25-30 numbers,  one could call home cheaper that in-country! As we started wheeling our mountain of bags down the airport hallway yet once again, we heard one lady comment, “Those poor people! They've been wandering around the airport all morning!”

     As we had no reservations, since we did not want to be tied to a rigid schedule, we searched for lodging. We finally made arrangements to stay at the Kriskringle Guest House. Someone in Arkadelphia had mention staying there, and recommended it. Father John, a married ex-priest, the director, picked us up. On the way, he asked if we were Christians. Informed we were non-denominational Christians, he smiled. “Thats good. That's what Jesus was!”

     Upon our arrival, Father John gave us each a coffee cup. “This is your cup for your stay here. If you lose it, that's tough.” He did relent, though, when I promptly lost mine. We were to eat our meals there, together with the others from all over the world, and they were mostly covered by the daily charge. We were to wash our own dishes and put them away. The rooms were simple, but functional and clean.

     We found our way to the subway, then the ferry, and thus began our 5 days of exploring Sydney. We probably would not have stayed quite that long, but I was fighting back a panic attack about driving a car with the steering wheel on the wrong side, on the wrong side of the road. Our plans for leaving Sydney involved going north, up the coast, and driving completely across the city was necessary. I figured I would settle down about that, with time. But alas, it just got worse! 

     Shopping that first day, Barbara realized to our horror that her purse was missing! All of our important paperwork, at that point, was in it! I sprinted back to a park bench we had sat on, three stores back, and there it was. Safe and intact. Does it not say somewhere, “God will protect those unable to protect themselves?” (Barbara gave me THE LOOK over that line, but I stressed it applied to both of us, not just her.) All of our important papers and most of our money and cards quickly wound up in my little hidden pouch around my neck and in my hidden belt compartment. I left only a token amount in my wallet, so that a successful pickpocket would assume we were really poor, and leave us alone. That has never happened, either.

   

     Dinner that night was at a table with eight others, representing five countries. Of interest to us was was a high priest from Fiji, in full native dress. A nice lady from Iraq did all the cooking.

     The next day we went to Darling Harbor, ate at the G'day Cafe, (good but a bit pricey.) We discovered early on, once we started eating on our own, that regular, touristy restaurants charged 2-3 times what we were used to, and the plane didn't fly out for 6 weeks.

     At dinner that night, we met a new couple, some of Father John's friends, who were there for the night. Father Anthony and his wife, Philomena. He was a current priest, and I didn't then understand about the wife. We later learned they were just starting a new branch of the Catholic Church, which became the Independent  Catholic Church of Australia. Marriage was a part of the package for them. After a short visit with them, he asked us to call them when we got to Brisbane, and they would come get us and lead us to their house.

     After another day or two of criss-crossing Sydney on the public transportation, during which we went to the Opera House, saw the Olympic Village, and watched the daring hikers walk across the top of the Sydney bridge, the time to pick up our hire car had arrived. The moment of truth. Put up or shut up. My worst moment in all our travels.

     We went to the airport, secured a bright, new, red Falcon. I wondered if it would still be pretty after I drove it 4 weeks. I practiced driving it up and down in the airport, but finally, I had to jump off into the rush-hour traffic.


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     Our six weeks in Australia and two weeks in New Zealand will take up the next 5 or 6 posts. They will be posted 5-6 days apart. Thanks for your time, and your attention, a very valuable commodity for one such as I who writes for the love of writing. Pat Gillum  barbandpat66@suddenlink.net