Strange Bedfellows...

When I first moved to Darwin in 1984 there were a host of personal adjustments that I needed to make.  Some of these were weather related because Darwin is in the north or “Top End” as the locals refer to it.   If you drew a line around the earth you’d see that Darwin is at the same latitude as Lima, Peru and if you flipped it to the Northern Hemisphere Caracas, Venezuela would be its equivalent.  Dare I say it’s hot all year round, as it only 1378 kilometres from the equator?

Darwin, Australia in relation and proximity to Asia

It took me about a year to get used to the climate or one full cycle of “wet” season or monsoon and one cycle of the “dry”, each approximately six months in duration, both with an average temperature of between 34 – 36 Celsius each day, except that in the wet season its 100% humidity so you sweat just by thinking let alone being under the hot tropical sun whereas in the dry season it’s the same temperature but with the cooling trade wind from the Indian Ocean and adjacent Timor Sea.

I was always amused whenever I’d catch the news on television, especially the weather forecaster.  In his exasperated tones would declare that it was going to 34C…again, with a likelihood of it being so for the next six months.  His only saving grace was that six-month intervals it would change from “ no chance of rain...for six months”, to “late day thunderstorm every day...for the next six months”.  Too funny!

However, his true excitement coming when he could forecast a cyclone (the equivalent of hurricane or typhoon for those in the northern hemisphere), which was about four or five, times a season, he'd always announce it with a broad smile breaking across his face, I guess to celebrate. 

The weather for that first year was oppressive in the wet, but sublime in the dry and after a year and one full cycle I was in the groove.  In short you dressed for summer every day of the year, except showering 3 or 4 times a day in the dry to wash the incessant sweat off your body that would cling to you mercilessly.  J

Similar to the house on Harvey Street, Darwin

My brother, Laurie and his business partner Ferg owned a Car Repair workshop on the corner of Barneson and Harvey streets in Darwin, which in those days was mostly an industrial area just north of the city center.  It was in the old part of town and as such was not considered prime real estate.  Next-door on the land was an old house built pre World War Two, clad in asbestos siding and sitting on stilts about six feet in the air.  The house, if you could call it that was completely run down and over grown, it was a mess inside but after about a month of work on it we made it livable and into which I moved all of my worldly possessions.  It was so old that it didn’t even have any overhead fans in it, although it did have banks of louvered windows, which were the norm in this part of the world.

Strangely if you’ve ever been in an industrial park you’ll know that there are generally lots of animals hanging around – feral cats, wild dogs, rats, mice plus every bug known to man.  Surprisingly I noticed that we had no such problems or concerns.  I put it down to them keeping the place litter free and therefore nothing for them to eat and hang around for but I was to find out the real reason quite by surprise.

One afternoon after school, I came home pulling up out front, I quickly jogged across the lawn ready to bound up the steps and into the house to get changed for football training but as my head came level with the front porch I noticed a movement on the top step but my momentum kept me moving toward the bottom step…

I slide to a grinding halt when I was confronted at eye level with a large goanna who was sunning himself on top of the step.  Now for those of you that don’t know what a goanna is, it’s a large and I mean very large lizard. 

My watch-lizard - affectionately
named "Liz"

My newly acquired pet and clearly the protector of my house was almost 1.5 meters in length and stood about 45 centimetres in height.  I must admit it frightened the bejesus out of me and most probably took a year or two off my life as I involuntarily screamed and leapt backwards when I saw it.  I’m not sure if it was because it was unexpected or if in fact it was that he was so gnarly and scary looking…likely a little of both!

I quickly made my way around to the back steps and entered the house via that entrance, but now I knew at least to always keep my doors closed whenever I was out rather than be surprised with a new housemate when I got home.  It also explained why there were never any wild animals around…sweet.  J

On more than one occasion I would laugh to myself when I’d hear that well know involuntary scream of another new victim as they approached my front steps.  A few moments later I’d invariably hear the familiar yell from the street something along the lines of “hey Wallis do you know you’ve got a bloody big lizard on your porch?” to which I’d reply “yeah that’s my watch-lizard”.  

At night he'd sleep under the house and so became my official protector and guardian lizard. Of course I named him "Liz" (wow, I'm so creative with names aren't I?).

Another interesting co-habitant of my house on Harvey Street turned out to be almost as big a shock.  One night late after being out with my mates at the Casino I got home rather late and rather than turn on the lights and add heat to the already oppressive conditions I just came in, flipped on the standing fan in the bedroom and stripped off my clothes and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.  It was always especially hot at night sometimes only getting down to 25C or 26C.

However, before taking a shower I decided to use the toilet.  Sitting there in the darkness all of a sudden something wet and slimy made contact with my bum.  Again, I scream (do you notice a pattern here?), and jumped about six feet in the air.  I quickly switched on the light to find a huge Cane Toad in the toilet bowl.  I mean a toad the size of my fist or larger.   How on earth did he get in there I wondered?   Remember I’m naked and still trembling from my near death experience with Mr.Toad, so I begin trying to flush him back down the toilet but he’s not budging.  In fact I think he was rather enjoying the water pouring over him as I tried in vain to purge him from my toilet bowl.

So I quickly formulated a plan where I would reach in and capture him, although as you could imagine he was extremely slippery and difficult to hold, then holding him march to the back door and launch him into the night sky and surrounding bush from my back steps – that would teach him I thought!  

Mr.Cane Toad to you!

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts I finally got hold of one of his big fat legs and did as planned.  Showering and finally settling down to sleep I was awoken by the sound of rather loud croaking.  Wow, that sounded as if it was in the house?   

So again, rather than by turning on the lights I crept toward the sound which was now emanating from my bathroom, and quickly flipped on the light.  To my astonishment, lo and behold there was the toad once again ensconced in my toilet bowl…   I looked blearily at my watch and it had been a grand total of two hours since I finally exited him last time. 

Wow, such a persistent little bugger!   I pulled the top down on the toilet, turned and padded back to my bed – what the hell. 

He can stay as well I thought, why not?  

And so for the rest of my days on Harvey Street I had two permanent houseguests.  Although at times the incessant croaking got to me I seemed to sleep through it for the most part, isn’t it amazing what you can sleep through? 

And if ever I had to go to the toilet I’d have to capture him and place him in the shower until I was done and flushed before putting him carefully back into the bowl.  Also I had to be certain to warn any guests!   Very important note to self, because believe you me getting a surprise like that when you’re least expecting it can be very messy. 

Oooh gross!

Deep in my genes...

Someone asked me recently if I ever got sick of traveling…   No seriously they did!  How do you respond to that?   I mean really…it’s me they’re talking to.  Traveling is my lifeblood; it’s the thing, other than Zach and Sami that gets me up in the morning.  It’s in my genes…deep!

I’m not sure if I have a favorite part of traveling, I’m just as excited at the prospect of planning a new adventure as much as I am of embarking on it.  

I’ve always had a very fertile imagination, which was developed at an early age and quickly refined into an art form.  I guess in actuality it was a form of escapism for me, as often I’d sit as a child wishing I were always somewhere else rather than where I was at that moment.  That imagination was formed in the crucible of poverty and alcohol abuse that surrounded me as a child growing up.  I would often retreat into my imagination whenever I felt like I needed to be somewhere else, which to be honest was quite often.  I just wanted to shut out the sounds of constant arguing which was the day-to-day soundtrack of my life.  My escape was often finding solace in the images of far away and exotic lands.  A place where I could be in control of the story line…

Here is the National Geographic
magazine from my childhood
January 1962

I still remember reading a discarded National Geographic magazine from January 1962 sometime in the mid to late 1960’s, which had a photo expose of Hong Kong in it.  I was completely taken with the vibrant colors teasing my senses and its photos firing my imagination and I suddenly longed to be in Hong Kong, strangely I can still see the deep colors in my minds eye…even today.  

And so began my thirst for images and stories which would transport me from the “here and now” to another place in my head, a place that had no conflict or anger, where alcohol wasn’t served, you weren’t surrounded in the blue haze of second hand cigarette smoke and your parents didn’t argue or yell at one another.  Clearly I was dreaming, but I’m pretty sure it all started there.

There were times when I contemplated running away from home…sure, like most kids who go through this phase the reality of actually leaving is such a tall order that I found myself frozen and unable to do much beyond dreaming about it, I felt completely powerless and frustrated by my inability to act.  I suppose even in those days I was the eternal pragmatist  – How will I survive by myself?  Where would I stay?  How would I get money to live?  
When you evaluate the situation on those terms the reality of your situation strikes home, and you're stuck for the time being.  Leaving home was hard enough when I got accepted into University at 17, but if nothing more it was an opportunity to fulfill that dream albeit a few years late.

My thirst for travel and adventure came hand in hand with my need to get to where I was going; I always seemed to be in a hurry.  To this day I’m still not a big fan of dawdling, and its only in recent years that have I actually been able to slow down sufficiently to “smell the roses” or observe with unhurried curiosity the snow capped peaks or the wood smoke slowing spiralling upwards from a campsite and take it in my stride to appreciate it's true beauty. Sometimes I still catch myself rushing to the next adventure without really fully taking in what’s right before me.  I guess I’m a work in progress on that front... ☺

That familiar feeling of excitement courses through my veins even when I’m planning a trip, and by the time I’m about to embark on it I will have thought of little else for the days leading up to the trip.  By the time I’m actually at the airport its pure excitement mixed with nervous energy that propels me forward towards the waiting plane and destination beyond, smiling inwardly to myself - another escape!

Sami has her heart set on living it up on our
Los Angeles Canadian Thanksgiving adventure
next month

In fact this week I planned a trip with Zach and Sami to Los Angeles for Canadian Thanksgiving.  This trip is at the behest of Sami who wants to go see the Hollywood sign, walk along Hollywood Boulevard and hang out with the movie stars on Rodeo Drive and Malibu…   I booked us into a hotel quite close to Venice beach which will be an eye opening experience for them both, on my previous trips to Venice its been quite the “slice of life”, with all sorts of sights and people watching to be had. ☺  I’m already excited to go but its still three weeks away, but that time will fly by.

After that, our next big trip will be to decide where to go in December, as you recall for those following along at home last year we had a road trip to Florida, which was awesome!  This year we have a couple of places in the running: both of them want to go to Europe – Sami to Paris (to shop), Zach to Munich (to watch his beloved Bayern Munich play soccer), and my choice would be to go ski out west.   As you can see I have a fair bit of resistance ahead of me on this one…we’ll have to wait and see!

So many places to go, so many places to see… ☺   

I want it all, is that too much to ask?

What Accent?

Whenever I get back to Australia I’ll go into a shop and they’ll ask if I need any help, of course when I respond they almost always say ”oh, what part of the states are you from”?

WTF!   I then try and explain that I was born and brought up locally to which they often shake their heads and with a look of disbelief think I’m taking the piss out of them…

It’s particularly strange because when I’m here in either Canada or the US that’s the first thing people say to me “where are you from?  Are you Australian?”   Quickly and often followed by how long have you been here as if I’d just got off the boat.  And its then that I endeavour to explain that I’ve actually lived in Canada for many years, to which they invariably shake their heads and say “yeah right”.

Clearly I can’t seem to win on where I actually belong based on my accent. 

Very useful on your trip to Australia
Read it before you arrive though as you
don't want to look like a "dag".

Now occasionally it works to my advantage, there was the time I got pulled over by a female police officer for speeding on the ramp to Richmond Street from the DVP here in Toronto.  When she strode up to the window she asked me why I thought she had pulled me over.   I sheepishly said, “was I going too fast officer”, at which she leaned into the car window and smiled and said are you Australian?   This is the best part; I blushed and stammered, “well yes I am”.  She said she had always wanted to go to Australia and asked me what it was like there.   As I smiled my best smile, she handed me back my license and insurance and told me to slow down.  I’m going to give you a warning today she said smiling, she then nodded knowingly and slowly walked back to her police cruiser…    Technically I used my evidently and supposedly “sexy” Australian accent to my advantage on that one.

As well, I may have used it to my advantage once or twice over the course of my lifetime, always for good and never evil! ☺

Now Zach and Sami have become accustom to my odd naming convention and unique “home-made” words for everyday items, actually most things tend to take on a rather Aussie tone.   For example when use the word “wooly jumper”, they know exactly what it means…yes a sweater here in North America.  And the fact that I use the word “mate” in most sentences is a bit of a novelty, yet they now translate it with ease, often having to help their friends navigate and translate the idiosyncrasies of my lingo whenever they’re around me.   

A few others include: Barbie (BBQ), bloke (guy), chook (chicken), bush (countryside), footy (Aussie rules football), ute (pick up truck), milk bar (corner store), uni (University), mozzie (mosquitoes)....yes, the list is endless!

The interesting thing about my accent is that when I speak I think it sounds the same as everyone around me, with no hint of accent but stock standard Canadian, but when I tell others that they mostly just laugh and exclaim “really????”

The urban myth is that if you spent your childhood in one country its very difficult to actually lose the accent, which would be true for me as I left Australia when I was almost 30 years old so it was well and truly cemented before I departed for my adventures backpacking or indeed Canada.

The mix of accents...interesting!

Often times when I go to Sami’s school for an event or to watch her play school sport, her friends will circle around us and fire questions at me so I can say words in “Australian”.  I think Sami is okay with it, initially she was embarrassed but her school friends have all seemed to embrace it and have fun with it, which has made it easier on her.

Zach uses some of the words to his advantage at times, selectively deciding to use the odd word here or there to either confound or impress people depending on the audience.   In fact, he’s pretty good at the accent when he wants to put it on although I laugh at times when he puts it on because he sounds as though he’s part Irish and part English, but rarely Australian...although to him he sounds just like me.  ☺

Surprisingly even my family back home in Australia now think I sound funny…and I suppose at some point I’m just going to have to give into the fact that I have Canadianized Aussie accent or is that an Aussie Canadian accent...whatever!

Inevitable

It was always on the cards, but now its arrived in full force!   This week both Zach and Sami went back to school, Zach to start year 9 in the senior school and Sami to begin year 7 the first year of middle school.

The kids are with me this weekend; Sami and I had a wonderful day, which included going for late lunch (she only had a ½ day of school today), and then a long stroll along the Danforth in the beautiful afternoon sunshine.  As we neared home she sheepishly asked if she could go to a friends house for a sleepover tonight.  What was I going to say but yes.  

So tonight after dinner I dropped her off at her friends house, then in the morning I’ll pick her up before her soccer game, which is her first game with her new fall league team.  
Can you say taxi service? ☺

Zach's Gr.8 Academic Award -
History & Geography
2012-13

Zach’s first few days of school this week were spent at a camp up north with all of the grade 9 boys.  Surprisingly it was the same camp as he goes to during the summer so he was familiar with the surroundings. He was tired after three days of team building activities and late nights of shooting the shit with his mates.  So I guess I was a little surprised when I picked him up after school today, he mentioned that he was going to go meet up with his friends tomorrow and hang with them.  And here I was hoping to be find something cool to do with them both...not so much.

So even though they are with me this weekends it seems to be in spirit only, maybe just for a meal or two.  Clearly they are starting to exhibit their growing independence, which is terrific, and really you wouldn’t want it any other way.   But that being said it’s me that has to adjust to the change not them…I guess that’s the hard part to accept in this equation.

Relegation to the taxi service and the “necessary” parent demands is a right of passage I suppose but sad just the same.  

As I sit here I’m trying to remember how my teenage years rolled…I guess I was no different in that I immersed myself in sports and engaged it every variety of sports known to man, mostly just to get out of the house and the family environment. Fortunately for me I know that part isn’t true for Zach and Sami.

Apparently my weekend is now somewhat freed up except for dinners and the occasional drop off – so what to do?

Fate intervened!  How so you ask?

Last night I received the Editorial Evaluation back from my publisher on the manuscript I submitted recently.  It’s always interesting to get feedback from someone who’s never read your work before. The feedback was both complimentary and to the point.  It highlighted some grammatical weaknesses that needed to be addressed but for the most part it "made the grade" and once corrected was ready to move forward to copy-editing.  

So this evening after dropping Sami I finalized the changes to the manuscript and re-submitted it.

My book cover design - hhhmmm...any ideas?

Next step is the copy-editing phase while in parallel I’m starting to work on ideas for the cover design and synopsis for the inside and back covers.  These have to be completed and ready for the design team by the end of the weekend, yes this weekend!  

Fortunately for me I'm learning a ton as I go through this process...truly fascinating to be honest.   The target is still to have it published mid to late November, prior to the holiday season, so hence the snappy turnarounds and tight schedule - trust me its all good!

When I told the kids this afternoon they were both excited about the upcoming book, and glad that it had passed the first hurdle.  I think they’re proud of me for following through and writing the book, they were especially excited knowing that the book will be dedicated it them both.

I guess its sort of cool to say that your dad just wrote and published a book. 

We'll see ☺