Brisbane Bug in a Box

My plan today was to transfer the contents of the box of goods into our magical file for the immigration folks next week. I’d get to it any minute.

Any minute.

As I watched just one more bowl from an Aussie bowler to a Kiwi batsman, just one more, I suddenly heard this very low rumble. It was like a helicopter, but not because the thing it came from was much smaller. I turned my head in time to see this fucking beetle thing flying and buzzing like a helicopter lazily through the open terrace doors. He seemed uncomfortable having to fly, as though he didn’t completely know what he was doing.

Then the buzzing stopped, signaling that he had, of course, landed somewhere next to the couch I was sitting on. I moved the couch, pushed a pile of papers around, and then heard a slight something or other that made me stop and look. And there it was.

I don’t like bugs. I don’t like things that fly. No, it’s not that I don’t like things that fly. I don’t mind them. As long as they’re not flying around me or in my apartment. Or even flying at me as the case may be. To sum up, I don’t like things flying in my apartment. So what the hell am I supposed to do with this thing? It never moved, but there was no way in hell I was going to bend over to pick up the box. Like I wanted this thing flying at my face in its dull helicopter roar. So we enganged in a standoff.

And then I just decided to remove the box, or, rather, push it out with the handle of a broom. A few minutes later, when he seemingly got sick of baking in the sun, he started climbing out. And I helped him with a little nudge.

To add to the day’s tally, I faced a small jumping spider and a cricket, both of which I took care of with the broom.

I Was Almost Killed by a Magpie

When you’re walking through a small corner park with four green reusable bags of groceries in the middle of a sunny day and listening to talk radio with your face forward, you don’t pose much of a threat. But there was a magpie yesterday whose midst I entered, and it wanted me dead.

Okay, so it didn’t actually almost kill me. It didn’t really touch me, either. And I really have no way of telling for sure if he even got that close to me. An inch? Ten feet? Who can know? But something happened. A gust of wind by my right ear, maybe. A message from those who came before me (look out!). It was something, and it made me slow my pace and peer over my right shoulder.

And that’s when I noticed the black and white bird settling on the grass, wings still flaring a bit, beady damn eyes looking right at me.

Magpies are seemingly harmless creatures, but they suddenly make you feel like you’re in grave danger, Alfred Hitchcock style. I don’t even want to think about the havoc a town full of them would wreak.

After a few more steps, I turned around again. Yes, I was a little unnerved. Seeing the bird in the same spot, still looking at me, I quickened my pace, feeling that it would take flight at any minute and swoop till it clipped the back of my head. With that image in my head, and now a little more spooked, I turned around once more. Thankfully, I was no longer a threat.

Entire Web pages are dedicated to helping the helpless avoid their wrath. Here is a summary of what I have to contend with down here:

Why do they swoop?

Birds swoop to scare you away from their nest. A swooping bird:

• clacks its beak
• flies down towards you
• flaps its wings above your head and then
• may attack your face, eyes and head with its beak.

What do you do in a swooping-bird area?

• Avoid the swoop area. Walk or ride a different way.
• Cyclists should always wear a helmet. Get off your bike and walk through the swoop area.
• Put up warning signs for other people.
• Travel in a group. Most swooping birds only swoop individuals.
• Wear a hat in an area.
• Wear a hat with ‘eyes’ painted on the back or wear sunglasses backwards. This may stop magpies swooping.

Yeah, I’m really going to pain eyes on the back of a hat or wear sunglasses on the back of my head. So, in the event of an attack, what could I do?

• Be confident and face a swooping bird. Usually it attacks you from behind.
• Hold a stick or umbrella over your head.

Here is an example of how they go about their swooping business:

Damn them. Damn them all.

Lizard Tale

Because spiders aren’t enough to contend with, now Australia has thrown lizards, or geckos as they’re more commonly referred to as, right in our faces.

We noticed him the other night, minding his own business on the wall. After consulting with her sister, Meredith felt assured that he would not harm us. He was, in fact, only about three inches long. And kind of cute, actually. Then he disappeared. Meredith covered a hole we thought he was getting in and out of.

Well how come tonight I saw him again? Chillin’ like a reptile chills when he’s on a wall? I felt confident. I was going to scare him back into the hole he came from.

I moved toward him and he ran down the wall, finding solace behind the ironing board. So I tapped, tapped and tapped some more on the board until it finally drove him out from behind it. Standing next to the fridge, he cowered, waiting till my next move. I could think of nothing else to do but head in his direction, hoping he’d consider exiting under the front door. So I did. And he didn’t. Instead, he scurried beneath my feet to places that are currently unknown. (I will admit to a muffled shriek. Meredith, as though nothing was wrong, was asleep.)

Despite knowing better, I feel like he is perpetually scaling my leg. Good stuff.

A Clean in Lismore

Meredith and I went to Lismore yesterday to clean her apartment. Most of the cleaning she did was the brush around the perimeter of the unit, as well as going over the stuff I said I cleaned. (I’ve never exercised attention to detail when it comes to cleaning; I can admit this.)

The only thing I can really say for certain about Lismore is that it goddamn loves its spiders. For the love of god. Since I’ve been here, I’ve encountered them in lettuce and closets and yesterday found one — about a foot in width and length and height and all that — hanging on its web between two trees. It also had little satellite spiders chilling on the either side of it and one in front. It was like the big one was the god spider and the others were its underlings sent to catch gnats for dinner and then were to later become dinner themselves.

We finally headed out with a dresser and other random items in tow that we couldn’t get rid of. On the way home, we stopped off to go to the store, taking advantage of the fact that we had a car for the day. We whipped through three aisles before the store closed and headed back to the car.

I have to say here that something I noticed — and very much appreciate — about Australia is its catalog fetish. Everywhere you go, it seems, you can pick up a catalog. Usually it will be a four-color, well-designed affair highlighting the particular store’s best items. The grocery store had one last night. I picked it up, because I love a catalog.

Back to the car, Meredith and I headed, I with the lone grocery bag in hand, she with the keys. I opened the back passenger door to put the bag in next to the dresser and there, attempting to scurry away but change its mind because somehow it knows I am afraid of it, is ANOTHER SPIDER! It’s getting really very old. I get it, Australia. You love a spider. I bow to you. Now get over it.

I called Meredith over and, well, she doesn’t like ‘em much, either, so we both kind of stared at it, hoping it would just jump off onto the ground and go on its merry way. No. Instead, it ran up toward the top of the door. I, thinking it was officially out of the car, shut the door in a panic. I shut it right up in there. So I opened it again, hoping it hadn’t gone back into the car, because if that were to happen, Meredith and I would have had to sleep in the parking lot car park. Thankfully, it was still there and used its new freedom to scurry up to the roof then down to the windshield wind screen. Fuck.

We followed it around and around the car, with grocery store employees (two of them) watching us from afar. At one point, the spider, having made its way back onto the wind screen, kind of looked like it got up on all eight of its tip toes. Or tip legs. Whatever. And it just stood there. Probably staring at the both of us at the same time — me one one side of the car and Meredith on the other. Finally, it ran back to the original site of the car, and I took the catalog from the grocery store and, in one motion, took a big step, raised my right arm, and swiped at it. We flew into the car, did a quick check (though I’m not sure that was such a good idea, because, really, what would we have done had we spotted more of them?) and went on our way freaking out and scratching the phantom spiders we felt on our arms, necks, and legs.

I’m over the spiders. Oh, and the apartment’s totally clean. No more Lismore. The End.

All I Wanted Was Some Lettuce

I love a salad. A really big, meaty, full-of-protein-and-all-that-stuff salad. And, of course, it’s got to have Paul Newman’s Light Balsamic Vinaigrette dressing (which they have here).

I have mostly chosen to the go the plastic bag route, because the sight of little worms and things is a bit jarring when I know I’m about to devour it. I know it’s all natural and organic, but I just don’t want to eat bugs. The dirt is fine. I get that. But I don’t trust myself to wash it thoroughly enough to remove the living things. The other night, I had decided to choose the non-bag stuff, determined to clean it, confident that there would be no bugs.

There were bugs.

Frogs And Brisbane

We took a drive up to Brisbane the other day to begin the tiresome apartment search. It’s hard to land in a  new place — a new country — and have to pick right back up and do more packing. I’m very tired of it. But we’re moving from a place called Lismore. And if you like the country and its wildlife, Lismore is a great place.

If fate had kept us here, it would have been just fine. I’d have adapted just like I do with everything. Chico, Sacramento, New York. You know, the normal places. I might even have grown accustomed to all the crawling and flying things that I have encountered every day.

The other night Meredith was held hostage on the landing out front due to her own encounter.