I finally got around to downloading some pictures I took as we left Lismore last week. There is one thing I have to say about Meredith’s place there: The scenery is pretty fantastic if rolling green hills are your thing. And despite the endless rain, Lismore skies give good rainbow:
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.
The movers removalists are coming in the morning and moving us up to Brisbane. Finally. There’s a cold beer waiting for me somewhere in Fortitude Valley! Bye, Lismore…
Tropical Fruits! Yes, yes … we rang in the New Year in the midst of lights, cameras, fireworks, drag queens, bad music and DJs who forgot their universal duty to lead a countdown to midnight. Oh but it doesn’t start with yesterday.
It’s raining. Not right this minute, but just give it some time. It feels like it’s been raining since I was born. I think I saw Noah walking around with a bundle of lumber flanked by two magpies. For the better part of about three days, the sky has been full of clouds, sometimes unassuming and white, and others menacing and ready to dump. When it finally dumps, all you can do is watch, hopelessly, from your dry place inside. Then, about ten minutes later, the clouds plug up and the rain ceases. And if you’re of the naive sort, you’ll believe it will be this way forever. You’ll believe that no more rain will fall and that, perhaps, New Year’s Eve will be a dry celebration to be had outside, under no need of cover.
But that wasn’t to be.
Meredith and I headed to Tropical Fruits, an annual end-of-year gathering for gays and any interested friends. There are stages, dance floors and bar tents. And dirt paths, which had been battered for a few days. We went. I wore flip-flops. I am of the naive sort.
Each step we took on our long walk to the main event was steeped in mud. We slipped a bit, we bitched and moaned a bit more. We went in search of coffee, which can make anyone feel better, and settled in our sheet-covered haystack seats for the first-ever cabaret show.
Some highlights:
I always enjoy a drag queen. Usually doesn’t matter whether they’re good or bad.
We pulled up a good haystack. Convenient. This butterfly had some issues with the rafter things above her head. But she worked it.
The best part; Meredith said he had a good point. I believed her.
I’m sure the crowd would have been worse without the rain, which continued throughout the evening and into today. I’m pretty sure it will be raining until at least early February 2010. But a crowd, with all the mud, might not be a worthy crowd to find oneself in the midst of. So Tropical Fruits. A first and last time. I came, I saw, we’re moving out of Lismore in two days.
Well, it’s still pretty warm, but the sideways rain and enormous gusts of wind have been the case for the last couple of days. Weather warnings and what not prevail. Oh well. We’re still seeing fireworks tonight.
For tonight we’re going to Tropical Fruits, Lismore’s version of a gay New Year’s Eve party. Have a gander at the flyer:
People were camping yesterday. It was raining.
In other news, Australia creamed India in four days. It didn’t take the five. There were some excuses on the Indian side, of course: A lack of preparation caused by a washed-out match earlier in their stay meant they couldn’t acclimatize themselves. Pshah.
It turns out this test stuff comes in a series. Australia’s up 1-0. Next test is this week in Sydney. I have a hankering to see if I can hit a cricket bowl with a cricket bat. I asked Meredith if there were cricket cages. She said yes. Stay tuned.
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. Read More
The final leg of this multi-day trip to Lismore required a flight on a Jetstar plane. If it weren’t for some of the pictures I took, I wouldn’t have remembered the one hour and fifteen minute flight.
The plane:
Some outside action:
And finally, nearing the ground of Ballina, NSW, an even smaller town than Lismore and 30 minutes away by car. So this flight was not the last leg.
After two weeks, three plane rides, a multitude of airport personnel, numerous lines, rental cars, and one really very nice Northridge, Calif., hotel, Meredith and I arrived in Lismore, NSW, Australia.
I’m dripping with sweat from the humidity, which I’ll take over the snow of Brooklyn any day, actually. I was geared up to write a long-ass post, but why try to take care of it all at once, I say. I’m minutes away from heading outside to go do something Australian with my new sunglasses on (apparently the sun is more intense down here). But before that, I’d like to tell a little story. Read More
