Saint Barbara and Old Men

    This series of posts feature our six week visit to Australia and new Zealand, in chronological order.
                                                                      *


 Driving on up the coast the next day, we passed a fancy club with dozens of old men, dressed to the teeth with broad white hats on, rolling balls around on a lawn. Well, we had never seen anything like this. Barbara said, “Park, and I'll go see what's going on.” I stayed in the car, knowing full well what was about to happen. But, I'm an understanding husband. let Barbara have her fun. Well, she almost caused a riot! They all stopped what they were doing, and quickly gathered around her, all wanting to explain the game to her, many wanting to hold her hand to make sure she rolled the ball correctly. They apparently were not accustomed to having a bold foreign lady, and pretty too, interrupt their play. She quickly learned a lot about Lawn Bowling, and a few things about old men.

     We visited a Koala hospital - - Barbara has a thing about koalas, and could never pass one without stopping.

     We stopped at a rain forest, then ate at Hungry Jack's-- their version of Burger King.

     Going on up, we were attracted to the sight of dozens of hang glider's filling the coastal air. When we investigated, we found many were taking tourists up for a ride. They leaped off a cliff, with a tourist  hanging below in a bag, soared over the ocean for ten minutes or so, then they soared around and landed back exactly where they took off from. We noticed all the tourists going up were young Japanese, no one else. I asked about this. An Aussie told me, “Well, the Japanese traditionally let their young people go wild for a year after they complete their education. They try to pack a lifetime of adrenalin rushes into that year, then return home to work out their life in an 8x10 cubicle.” I don't know this to be factual, but I did notice, throughout the trip, that the bravest of the risk takers were always young Japanese.

     We moved on up to Brisbane, stopping at the Airport Motel outside of town. We had noticed that most all large airports had at least one reasonably priced motel near by. The next day, we parked the car on the outskirts of town, and took the Jet Cat in. I was not anxious to repeat my Sydney driving experience.

     I called Tim Hoyle, a former student of mine and a friend of our son Corey's, and arranged to meet him later that day. Many years ago, his family lived in Arkadelphia, Arkansas. They reduced everything they owned to a pickup full of bags, and moved to Australia. He had called us a number of times later, usually in the middle of the night. A girl answered at first, then quickly got another girl on too, and they just kept me talking as long as possible. I began to realize, they just loved to hear my  American/hillbilly accent, so I poured it on. I began to realize that my accent was a true chick magnet in Australia, but I already had a chick. But what's a little flirting, after her lawn bowling episode?. But then, Barb's not quite as understanding as I am - - - her patience with my fun phone call soon ran out.

     A major calamity struck us, especially Barbara, that day in mid-city. When she took her new, digital camera into a photo shop to get some pictures printed, the girl in charge forced the card back in, and bent something. It was dead, never to live again. We searched for a place to repair it, but to no avail. Barbara could not tell any of the camera repairmen our problem easily. “We are in the first week of our trip of a lifetime and-” the tears began to flow. We got loads of sympathy, but no help, so we finally bought a film camera. Our budget did not include another digital camera. They were still pricey in those days. Now days, we've stopped talking about "Trips of a lifetime." Just how many of those can two people logically have?

     After seeing Brisbane, and meeting Tim for a visit, we retraced our steps back to our still-pretty (but for how long?) car. We moved on up to the north side of Brisbane,  and called Father Anthony and Philomena. They soon came to guide us to their home.

     A great meal followed, and while Barbara and Father Anthony washed and dried the dishes, Philomena and I poured over her road maps. We then spent a fun evening talking. He was royally insulted when Barbara told him they sounded British, informing us that Brits sounded like they “had a plum in their mouth, and were far more pompous.” Barb and I both thought that was a really good description of how he sounded, but as his guests, we let it drop.  I, in turn, was offended when he indicated American football players were somewhat less that manly, having to wear head gear and padding, while Australian Footballers used none. He had to admit, however, that many of their young men got an awful lot of concussions. We didn’t mention that most of their footballers were Mauri, much stronger and bigger, while white kids played soccer. Never inflame the host, ya know.

     He showed us a photo of him carrying the Olympic torch, and showed us their Church. At that time, it was only a small building in their back yard. He said he was placing a photo of us over the alter, and they would pray for us daily.

     Their Church, he explained to us, was just like the Roman Catholic Church, except that the Priests were not celibate, an unnatural thing, and, since Jesus excluded no one, neither did they. Since that time, the Church has grown very rapidly, with branches in many countries, and became very attractive to lonely Priests. There is an orphanage named after him in Africa, and he is now the Presiding Bishop. He was 65 at that time, she 70, and they are still going strong. We still stay in touch regularly. It was nice to sleep in a real house that night, and we awoke to many strange and beautiful bird sounds.

     After breakfast, they drove us to the beach for a walk. They literally walked us both into the ground, several miles. They offered us the use of their beach house, half a day up the coast, but we had to decline, since we wanted to cover as much territory as possible during our stay. They led us out of town and got us started on the correct road, after giving us their official Catholic blessing.

     Since we have returned home, we have, as I said, stayed in regular contact with these friends. I told him once if they ever came to the US, we would come see them. Soon, he called, saying they were going to Hawaii for the official ceremony to make him a Bishop, wanted us to come. How does one explain to a Bishop that one can't keep his word? I had to start out by explaining how far Hawaii was from Arkansas.

     After he became Presiding Bishop, he once told Barbara that he was taking on the name of McCollip, in honor of a Saint. Then he said, “I personally believe, there are many living Saints  in the world, today, like yourself.” Well, that bothered me some. Even though it was an off-hand remark, it was, after all, said by the Presiding Bishop of the Independent Catholic Church of Austraila. Just how official IS that? How does one live with a Saint? Can I still kiss her on the mouth? No more French kissing? Can I sleep in the same bed? Must I always walk 5 steps behind? Just an awful lot I don't know about all that.

     He once wrote to tell us their small dog, whom we knew, had got into a fight with a Cain Toad and died. How could a toad kill a dog? I looked it up. A Cain toad has a poisonous skin. Bite it, and die. Australia is full of deadly creatures.

     We stopped for lunch at the Hippo Cafe. I left a tip on the table for the waitress. We were a block away when she chased me down. “Oh, sir! You left your money!” she said, waving it in the air. I explained to her it was a tip. “Oh, I could never accept that!” she said, returning it.Australian waitresses usually will not accept tips, but then, their friendliness and services seems to suffer. "Want more water? Sure. There's the pitcher. Right up there."

     We stopped at a nice little motel just across the road from a golf course. The country along the coast that the course occupied was every bit as scenic as Pebble Beach, but the course itself was not nearly as nice. We went by the club house, and they invited us to come to a big meal and party there that night. They actually had ice in their water, a rare thing. Mostly, they just loved to hear us talk. Barbara's “look good, stay clean” thing really worked for us that night.

     We moved on up to Bundaburg and found a nice little inexpensive motel. This was at the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef. We booked a snorkeling trip, but since the weekend was coming up, we had to wait there 3 days. We were determined to see this. We made the most of it, and took several shorter sightseeing trips. On one of these, we saw an animal in the distance that was as big as a cow, but was something else. When we finally found a way to drive up close to it, it was a giant red kangaroo. When it stood up and looked at us, it looked seven feet tall! I understand they can be deadly. Never take on a red kangaroo in a boxing match.

     When Monday finally rolled around, we drove to the town of Seventeen Seventy. It was named after the year Captain Cook explored that coast. We got in a very fast Jet Boat, and  we tourists sat down in the middle area, unable to see out. It was a very rough ride, and the people sitting on both sides of us, and in front and back, and many others, threw up. We did not. I guess you could say we were lucky, somewhat. We didn't produce any of it, but we caught plenty of our neighbor's produce. It saturated the air. We felt like Galley slaves of old.

      After two hours, we reached the Great Barrier  Reef. We stopped at the Lady Musgrave Island, several acres. There was absolutely no soil there. It was formed by a few trees growing up, with Nodding Terns visiting and nesting there. The trees, at times, secreted a sticky substance, trapping many birds. The Island had grown up from bird waste, rotting trees, and decaying bird bodies.

     We ran into a woman who was stranded there, and had been for days.  A boat had dropped her off, and just did not come back to pick her up. She begged for a ride. The last time I saw her, she was still begging the captain.

     We moved into the beautiful blue lagoon to snorkel. Barbara was a marginal swimmer, she was sucking in a lot of salt water, and I swam over to her and told her I was just barely holding my own, and not to count on me to be able to save her if she got into trouble. She finally went back to the boat and requested a life jacket. We had a fun day, and saw many kinds of colorful fish and coral.

     The ride back was long, but not quite as rough, and besides, we were all too tired to mess with throwing up by then.  On the way back to the motel, after dark, we learned that kangaroo, unlike our deer, just felt it was their obligation to jump out in front of us if we came anywhere close. We slowed down.
Continued when the readers slow slow down, usually 4-6 days. Thanks for reading.