Australian Adventure

It's hot. Not just warm-I-think-I'll-just-sit-in-my-armpit-sweat hot, but the feeling as if my whole body is living inside a sauna. When I wake up in the morning, it's as if I'm breathing through a cloud. But, it's a refreshing change, in a way, from the bone-numbing cold from which we left in Rockford. Not better or worse, just refreshingly different.



Life is different. It's a different pace, a different sound, smell and taste. Overall, it has not been a huge shock to my system... yet...



It would be helpful if I described my surroundings, I think, not just the heat and humidity, but the actual vista in which I live. We live in the small town of Laidley, Queensland, Australia. It probably does not have many claims to fame; as of yet, I haven't find too many people that know a whole lot about it, and when we talk to the city folk of Brisbane, they ask, "What would you move out there for?"



Laidley is positioned between to sets of mountains, a small nested valley. The most famous moment in the Lockyer valley (or should I say 'infamous') was six weeks ago when the inland tsunami rushed down the mountain and through the valley decimating villages, ruining crops and destroying the dreams of many. Even just this week, as I was taking a walk along the small main street of the town (three blocks long) I overheard a woman talking to a neighbor telling them that her family was safe, but they have struggled after losing 100 head of cattle. This is as rural as you can imagine, but the people who live here have that hardened look of a group of people that not only survive but thrive when life throws lemons. Just like the floods of Iowa and the Midwest a few years ago, the people have banded together to return life to somewhat of normalcy even if they never return to a complete sense of security.



The flood has changed this place. When it rains people look over their shoulder to see if the water will be rising soon to chase them away from real life again. They are wary, like long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. But they are honest, wholesome people, farmers for the most part, who long to live just a simple life of providing for their families and earning a living tilling the ground and planting food for the country.



I watch some of them go to work in the morning. Laborers, doing all sorts of jobs, leaving at 5:30 in the morning and not returning for twelve hours. I am still on CST of the States so I am up early and down early. I get to watch them as they watch me. It is a joy to wake up here in Laidley. My back, shaded porch opens to the east where the sun slowly scales the hills of the east and wakes the kookaburras that have made their homes in the eucalyptus trees. Other amazing birds inhabit the area, parakeets, lorakeets, cockatoos, willy wag tails. Tonight, even as I went for a run, I came across a man going to his car who carried a parrot on his shoulder.



I'm not making this stuff up.



During the day, I am still focused on driving. It is a whole new experience traversing the backroads of Australia on the left side of the road while positioning myself in the driver's seat on the right. More times than not I have attempted to drive the car away while entering on the left and then sheepishly I get back out while the locals watch me thinking I've gone crazy. As I drive down the highway, the memories of the flood continue to be tattooed on the highways. In some places the roads have been washed out; in others, the potholes still remain, empty, bowls in the side of the road that threaten to swallow tires whole. I have almost memorized where they are already, but it is still a stark reminder of the power of water.



When I come home at night, I love to watch the wildlife change. The birds go to sleep and the bats wake up. At the end of our street, a cul-de-sac, stands an enormous tree with limb the size of beer kegs sprouting even at the top. The fruit bats sit in this tree motionless until the sun seemingly starts to succumb to gravity on the western horizon causing incredible hues of orange, pinks, purples and blues to be painted on the walls of houses and roads. The bats take flight, hundreds - maybe even a thousand - swirling and swooping making their way to the fruit trees somewhere far away from their home tree. It is a beautiful sight even though my neighbors shake their fists at the protected bat species wishing all sorts of atrocities to befall them for the paint eating presents they leave on the cars as they pass overhead.



Then it is dark and the beauty of this country sets in. Supposedly, the clearest skies in the world are found in the Australian outback and I believe it. The stars shine with an intensity that I have only seen a few times in the northern hemisphere. The Southern Cross is a bright reminder of where I am and it's symbolism on the Australian flag leaves me speechless. It is a pleasant place to spend a night, in this a small town in Queensland, Australia. I look forward to carrying you on this journey in life with me.



Solomon once wrote in Ecclesiastes (actually multiple times) "Everything is meaningless, a chasing after the wind." But I will take on the second greatest king of Israel and proclaim that everything has meaning and the only knowledge and meaning that we have comes from our own experiences. I hope you'll enjoy my tour along the Australian adventure.



Peace,



Reid