Forever A Hillbilly: Ending - Australia on a Shoestring

Forever A Hillbilly: Ending - Australia on a Shoestring:      That night, we washed our clothes and Barbara packed the bags. She allows no help from me, and I'm fine with that. If I helped, we...

Forever A Hillbilly: Ending - Australia on a Shoestring

Forever A Hillbilly: Ending - Australia on a Shoestring:      That night, we washed our clothes and Barbara packed the bags. She allows no help from me, and I'm fine with that. If I helped, we...

Ending - Australia on a Shoestring

     That night, we washed our clothes and Barbara packed the bags. She allows no help from me, and I'm fine with that. If I helped, we probably could not have gotten everything in. She's an expert packer. Now, I realize, from what I tell you about Barbara on our trips, you who do not know us may get the impression Barbara wears the pants in the family, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Barbara simply would not allow it.

     We again, on our last night, ate at a Chinese restaurant, and bought a meat pie at a pie shop. We had found these two places were always inexpensive. That's not a general rule world wide. We found Chinese restaurants were one of the higher places in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. Every country has its places “Where the poor people eat,” if you just find them. If not, poor people would have just starved to death, or left, by now. Regular touristy restaurants would have sent us to the Poor House, or sent us home way early. As it turned out, we traveled 45 days on about what a guided, ten day tour would have cost us, and we saw the same things and so much more. However, we sometimes didn't know exactly what we were seeing. But, they all spoke English, and Barbara could always find a local “tour guide.” As a rule, always try to travel with a well dressed, pretty, outgoing, nervy woman. As a bonus, we got to interact daily with interesting people from “down under,” and from all over the world. Traveling alone around the world is often stressful, But as long as I can carry “half of what we own” on my back, and Barbara can get us there and back again, and bonus flier miles and our meager funds hold out, that will we our MO.  The danger factor lessens as we get older. If we die in a foreign country, what have we lost? Six months, maybe a year at most:)  Our children began to realize, years ago, “Don't be expecting a big inheritance.” It sometimes looks like we plan to spend our last dime with our last breath, and I realize their inheritance will probably be boxes of pictures from all over the world. Which, no doubt, will be in the trash within the week. There will be time aplenty to enjoy our beautiful scenery at home, out our nursing home picture window.

     The large sign we passed under when loading on the plane said it all. “Every flier who ventures across oceans to distant lands is a potential explorer: In his or her breast burns the same fire that urged explorers of old to set forth in their sailing ships to foreign lands.”

      

     We again had an overnight layover in Los Angeles, and we noted a sign in the airport that advertised reasonable rates and shuttle services, so we went for it. We got settled into our room, then ventured out for supper. We soon realized we were in one of those places foreign tourists “Just don't know not to venture into,” as our British friend in Australia told us. All the businesses had guards, bars on all the windows, cashiers in a cage, and we were the only tourist types about. Being the only tourists around was a very bad sign, we had learned in Washington, DC and in Mexico. We ate quickly, got back to our room, locked all the locks, and stayed there. Welcome to Watts, California.

     There was a very large project of some sort right behind our motel, and people had to go through our motel lobby to get there from this side. Screams emanated from there starting before dark, and continued all night. Loud people ran up and down our hallways all night and tried to get in our door.  We were packed by daylight, and we, along with all the other tourist types, were lined up, waiting for the first shuttle out, early. Everyone had a horror story to tell on the way to the airport. One poor lady was so happy to see the airport, she hopped off at the first stop, taking no suitcases, strangly enough. We were the last passengers off, and the driver had suitcases remaining, probably belonging to that first lady to get off, several stops back.

     Barbara gave the airport authorities fits about letting unsuspecting tourists venture into dangerous areas after reading enticing signs put up there, without fair warning. They were glad to see her leave.

     We spent most of the day in the airport, again, then headed toward familiar country. Good old Arkansas had never looked so good. As Dorothy says, “There's no place like home!” This feeling usually lasts almost until our bonus flier miles build up enough to go anywhere in the remaining world, once more.

Forever A Hillbilly: 11 - Australia on a Shoestring

Forever A Hillbilly: 11 - Australia on a Shoestring: 11      We unloaded from the ferry at Wellington, the capital, in a driving rain. We took in the Te Papa Museum, saw the Capital Building...

11 - Australia on a Shoestring

11

     We unloaded from the ferry at Wellington, the capital, in a driving rain. We took in the Te Papa Museum, saw the Capital Building, and as I hate strange city driving in the rain, we headed on up the island. We were getting into a very volcanic region. We drove for miles along a very large lake that we could barely see across, that was formed by a giant volcanic explosion. We knew this part of the country just had a very thin crust over unimaginable volcanic power potential. I just hope we get past it before it struts its stuff. We passed a bad but not fatal car wreck, and the country is so remote there it was thirty minutes before we met an ambulance coming to the scene. We almost passed a waterfall sign, but decided to go back and see it. We have came upon some amazing sights by accident in our travels, and this was no exception. Beautiful aqua blue water, covered with foam, poured over the huge cliff. The water came from the large volcanic lake we had been passing.

     After lunch we reached Rotoroua, listed in Fromer's Travel Book as one of the top ten cities in the world to see. All over town, large pits of boiling mud, water and steam were on the surface. Even on the golf course. Talk about playing the rough -  Most of the people had used the hot water to heat their houses, until it was recently curtailed. Well, as one would suspect, this town had tons of motels, etc. But, just our luck, again, this was their “Labor Day,” our third Labor Day we had experienced that year. No lodging was to be found. Barb picked out a nice looking lady manning the Visitor's Center, and gave her sob story, “Here we are, on our trip of a lifetime, and - “ I had heard this all before, but, once again, it worked. The lady looked us over a long time, and made a call. She had judged us to be “safe,” well dressed and clean, and obtained a home stay for us. I have to admit, if we had been dirty and looked like bums, that would never have happened. We might have had to sneak out on the golf course, and sleep beside one of the boiling mud pits that night to stay warm. I guess, its just my lot in life, carrying half the clothes we own, around on my back, all over the world. Actually, they were in our car, but sometimes one just has to extrapolate a little in the interest of being interesting.

     Our home stay turned out to be with a very nice lady, five years a widow, in a very nice house.

 She gave us a key, turned the whole bottom floor over to us, and left for the rest of the day. The exchange rate was better in New Zealand than in Australia, and our $105 cost converted to about $70 US.

     We had a long visit with her that night, after a great supper. Her son had gone on “walkabout” for a year, years ago, met a woman in Ireland, and never returned. Breakfast the next morning was no less good, and the coffee was almost too strong, even for Barbara. Barbara prides herself on being addiction free, but has walked  miles before, early morning, to find a cup of coffee.

     We went to a farm show that day. We saw a man shear a sheep in two minutes, and got to see expert sheep dogs work. Needless to say, the big selling items in stores were wool.

     The next day, we stopped at a motel an hour from Auckland. We had one more day to “see things,” and we made the most of it.      

     Beautiful bright green mountains sloped for miles down toward the sea, covered with cattle and  sheep. We passed, then came back and photographed, a flock of a dozen or so (Since I may put that picture in later, maybe not quite a dozen) wild turkey gobblers in full strut, each trying to look more glorious than the others, for the benefit of the few hens around. Barb carefully stalked them at first, getting distance shots. As she gradually got closer, she realized they were not as wild as we expected,  and besides, the Gobblers only had eyes for the ladies that day. She got a great photo.

     We went to Hot Water Beach. The area between high and low tide had many hot springs seeping and shooting up through the sand, and it was now low tide. Dozens upon dozens of people show up. They dig a hole in the sand, and lie in the very warm water. It was still cold weather, the sea water was very cold, and when a very large wave came in, it turned everyone's hot bath into ice water, sending us scurrying out screaming. In places, if you were not careful, the water coming up was almost scalding,  and we hit one of those occasionally.

Forever A Hillbilly: Post ten - Australia

Forever A Hillbilly: Post ten - Australia:      The next day we moved on, making our turn back toward the north island. We traveled through green stone country, where jade abounded. ...

Post ten - Australia

     The next day we moved on, making our turn back toward the north island. We traveled through green stone country, where jade abounded. Pancaked rocks emerged from the sea. Most bridges were very conservative. Single lanes, honk before you start across, with a railroad track down the middle. No need to spend all that money on exotic bridges, just use it to buy more sheep. Many public facilities, gas pumps, etc. were antique-like. Like we had in America 50 years ago, or more. We found  a motel near the Franz Joseph Glacier, the only glacier in the world that close to the equator, and it reached down almost to the sea, but, like ours, it was receding fast. Barbara was tired, so I drove in to the glacier area alone, and walked the last mile or so. I picked up a young British hitch hiker who accompanied me. He was typical of hundreds of young people from around the world who, usually after graduating college, took a year or two and backpacked  around the world. Most backpacker facilities, and there were many, provided a bed in a large room filled with beds,  but we found that most had a few private rooms for old fogies like us, providing privacy at a little higher price. However, we almost never, or actually never, ran into more old “backpackers.” They often grouped up and bought an old, old car to travel in, then when ready to leave, tried to sell it, then if not successful, often just drove it off into a quarry. Local newspapers complained about the the quarries filling up.

     The next day, we arrived at Pincton, the jumping off place for the ferry back to the north island.  We went to make arrangement for the ferry crossing the next day. The nice lady told us to “Just look for the big blue chicken sign.” When we could see no sign of a chicken, we had to come back and inquire further. Finally, we figured out we were looking for a “Check-in” sign. More than a month here, and the local accents were still giving us fits!

      We checked in at the Villa Backpacker's Motel, billed as the nicest one in New Zealand. Hundreds of young people. Once again, no other old people. Many of the European women walked around with almost nothing on. So, I had to apply what one of my pastor's had told me years ago. “If you look at immodest women, you risk going blind. So, if you must look, cover one eye. Only risk one.” We stayed up late and visited with many people from all over the world.  Most could speak English.

     We boarded the ferry at 7 AM, sure enough, right under the big, blue, “check-in” sign. It was a long voyage, hours. As always, Barb gathered crowds of New Zealanders around her, and we talked about lots of things, and learned much. We griped about their accents, they griped about ours. One man joked with Barbara for her pronunciation of  “bird.” He tried to say it like her and drug out the word into “buuurd”. She asked him how he says it. “Beard,” he said.

     “Beard? That's not bird. You're talking about hair on your face!” They roared.

      Another asked her, “Let me get this straight. If you are drinking water in the middle of the winter, would you still put ice in it?“

     “Yes, of course.”

     “Why?”

     “That's just what we do.” That went back and forth a long time. They enjoyed our “blue chicken” story. Barb's gift for gab is always a  major asset to our travels. She will just not let anyone be reserved around her. Quickly, they will be laughing and talking like best friends. One New Zealand lady helped her with a crossword puzzle.

     But we have been warned. Our international spy friend we  hung out with in Austria, a couple of years later, told Barb when we parted, “You travel far too lightly about the world. People will entrap you. You should never have let me into your car yesterday.“

     Barbara informed him we had him outnumbered.

     He informed her he was not worried. He waved Barbara’s camera off, allowing no pics. No e-mail address. No mailing address. But, he said, “ I will e-mail you.“ We’re still waiting.

    

     We unloaded from the ferry at Wellington, the capital, in a driving rain. We took in the Te Papa Museum, saw the Capital Building, and as I hate strange city driving in the rain, we headed on up the island. We were getting into a very volcanic region. We drove for miles along a very large lake that we could barely see across, that was formed by a giant volcanic explosion. We knew this part of the country just had a very thin crust over unimaginable volcanic power potential. I just hope we get past it before it struts its stuff. We passed a bad but not fatal car wreck, and the country is so remote there it was thirty minutes before we met an ambulance coming to the scene. We almost passed a waterfall sign, but decided to go back and see it. We have came upon some amazing sights by accident in our travels, and this was no exception. Beautiful aqua blue water, covered with foam, poured over the huge cliff. The water came from the large volcanic lake we had been passing.