Kuala Lumpur

Friday, Feb. 11.
It is again smoggy today, but it is today or never to go up the Menara (K.L.) Tower. We walk across to the free shuttle, receive the “concession” rate, and ride to the observation level. Each visitor is given an audio-guide with commentary for each of the fourteen window areas. We circle about three times finding new buildings each time. Although it is too smoggy to get a picture, at one point we do view the limestone mountains in the distance. I am glad we did the tour before doing this attraction as we are familiar with the buildings and some of the history.
By the time we begin the walk to the PRETONAS Twin Towers, it is lunch time. On route, we pass a side street where many office workers are headed to eat or to take-out. We view the various stalls and decide on one where we each figure we could find something. Wow - tasty and filling and RM 10 - yes all for under $3.50 total! My tummy full, we continue our walk to the Twin Towers.

These two plates of food for $3.50 and Peter had a drink.

Peter still eating in our restaurant. It is not exactly 5 Star!

To go up to the “bridge” or “observation level” is not expensive, but you must queue up between 7 and 8 a.m. to get a ticket for sometime later that day. The Malaysians really believe in “fair play”, as you must bother to do it. I assume there is a business in town who will “get you a ticket for a price” by sending someone to line-up for you, but we are unaware of this. We settle for a ground level viewing. Even this is impressive. One tower is for the PETRONAS company while the other is six levels of retail, a theatre, some kind of aquariam and the rest is business rental.
We wander through the KLCC, the malls, for about an hour. I can’t believe that this isn’t bigger than the West Edmonton Mall. There are six levels. There is a supermarket with foods from all around the world. We see only a small section. We decide to go to visit the historic Central Market, opened in 1888.
We get instructions to the monorail station in the KLCC. It is cheap, clean, efficient, and fast. We go the four stations in about 5 minutes. As we make our way to the market, we are approached by three teeny-tiny, beautiful young ladies who request that we fill-out an information sheet for them for a college assignment. They are studying tourism in a three-year program. They take our pictures, maybe as their only Canadian participants. We take their pictures. Who can resist these beautiful women?
The market is fun, and surprisingly non-aggressive. I expected more pressure from venders. We wander around for about an hour and a half. We don’t buy much, but what we do get is exceptionally inexpensive.
By the time we return to the KLCC, the skies have opened. We take a taxi back to the hotel - not a bad idea as we have walked miles today.
The taxi driver is from the government-approved company, but he does ask if we are going to the airport tomorrow. He works out a deal with Peter to pick us up at 7:30. He assures us that, although the trip is metered, it will be cheaper with him than if we take a “hotel” taxi. Whatever - you have to admire a guy for hustling.
We have a quick swim before the pool closes at seven and just nibble on the stuff we have in the room for supper. I think the double ice-cream I had at two-o’clock is still being digested.
Tomorrow it is off to Seim Reap and the temples at Angkor Wat.



The mosque is the building with the dome, and the line of people are the worshipers returning to work in the Twin Towers after Noon prayers.



The ants in this people are on the first of the six levels of shopping at the KLCC shopping mall.

Four of the six levels.

The PETRONAS is clad in glass and stainless steel.

Peter between the towers taken from the viewing point a city block in front of them.






The beautful college students beside the old lady.

Happy Year of the Rabbit!

Pictures from Perth and Margaret River trip

These are a few pictures from our trip to Margaret River and from Perth. I have the Kuala Lumpur post ready to go, but it is too late tonight.
Don’t forget you can make the photos bigger by “clicking” on them. Especially the young girl swimming.

Peter viewing Bunbury from the Rotary lookout.
The almost empty beach at Bunbury.

The jetty at Busselton.

A young girl practicing for the Jetty Swim tomorrow.

The forest between Margaret River and the ocean.

A wool fabric picture of Margaret River area.

Marilyn's new friend in Perth.

A beautiful old tree in downtown Perth.

Adelaide to Alice Springs to Yulara - Ayers Rock

This bus picture goes with Jan. 28. You will understand the signifigance when you get there!

The blogs from Jan. 26 until Feb. 6 run chronologically.

We have done so much and there are only five more weeks. The time has moved slowly each day, but has flown by.

Australia Day celebrations begin with a Rotary Breakfast raising funds for the flood victims in Queensland, and citizenship celebrations.

The way to the beach in Glenelg.

Wednesday, Jan. 26.

Happy Australia Day!
Another holiday. I am beginning to feel like I’m in Mexico. The Rotary Club are putting on a breakfast this year to raise funds for the flood relief. As we line-up we notice the canopied area is obviously for some kind of ceremony. Turns out the local citizens to receive civic awards will be honoured and the new Australian citizens will be sworn-in. What a great idea to do this all at once.
The breakfast consists of egg-in-the-hole, a slab of bacon, and two long, non-greasy, delicious sausages, as well as a juice or tea or coffee. Quite a deal at $7. We sit with a local couple of about our age who are here to celebrate the new Australians. They are proud of their ethnic mix. We stay through the Citizen of the Year presentation then excuse ourselves as we are on our way across town to Port Adelaide.
A tram and bus ride get us there in about an hour. The area is deserted as most shops and restaurants are closed for the holiday. It is a pretty area of wide streets and century-old buildings. The Maritime Museum is our destination. For one of the first times in Australia we are given the concession rate to enter. It is quite a delightful museum with a totally accessible sailing ship in one part. The museum appears to be occupying an old warehouse building. There are three stories in all. About halfway up the wall in the bottom level is the markings for the level of the outside street when the building was constructed.
Besides the area set-up as the inside of a migrant’s ship, I think I enjoyed the collection of figureheads that have been restored and displayed. Besides our picnic lunch, which we take outside at a shaded table, we spend over three ours here. Finally we take a quick walk to the lighthouse and up the spiral staircase to the top from which we view the entire harbour town and down to Adelaide city. Now it is time to return to the downtown for the Australia Day parade.

The historical lighthouse at Port Adelaide and the spiral staircase within.

Figureheads restored from old ships in the Maritime Museum. the lady is Hannah and reminds me of our equally beautiful Hannah.

We arrive at North Terrace at about 5:15 and the parade is to start at 6. Other than the orange cones stacked by the corner and a few people sitting on benches (some with little flags) on the park side of the boulevard, there is no indication that this is to be the parade route in 45 minutes. I think more people line-up earlier for the Sun Fest parade in Castlegar! We sit beside two sisters about our age, one lives here and the other near London. Yes, this is where the parade will pass. Finally, the cones go into place on the side streets, then the traffic stops and the band is heard in the distance.
The naval cadets lead the parade with their band, followed by groups of immigrants, in alphabetical order, who march (walk) waving the Australian flag, many dressed in their native country’s clothing. A cadet leads each group carrying a sign naming the country represented. There are also kilt-wearing bands scattered between the groups. Some groups have their own band, while others have a float. It takes about an hour for everyone to pass our spot. I think it broke-up soon after passing us as some of the marchers walk to Rundle Mall at the same time we do.
This is a nice way to say goodbye to Adelaide. Tomorrow we are off to the interior and then the west coast.

The sea cadets begin the parade.

A colourful float.

Waving for the camera!




All dressed up and somewhere to go.

another float.

Beautiful women.

The hardworking Clidesdales end the parade, only the scooper comes after.

Sorry, don't know how to turn! This is the tram from Glenelg to the city.

Thursday, Jan. 27.
As luck would have it, the chesterfield in our room was never picked-up, so for being obliging customers, we are rewarded by just a cut in rate and no inconvenience.
The Adelaide airport seems very new and is blight and cheery. I like the fact that everyone can go through security and see their friends and relatives off at the boarding gate.
The trip is quick, broken-up with the usual tea & cookies. But in Alice Springs you walk down the stairs to the tarmac and pow - once you exit the plane the heat hits you head-on. I am reminded of our first visit to Jamaica and to San Jose del Cabo in April. We discover later that this is a record for today; over 46 degrees. Dry or not, that’s hot.
Our accommodations are certainly not luxurious, but we have our own bathroom and there are two swimming pools. Our room is not ready, so we stow our luggage, don our hats, and walk the “10 minute” into town. We figure everyone tells you the walk to your destination is ten minutes so you won’t think it is too far. It is closer to a 20 minute hike, but like “the mad dogs and Englishmen” we once again are out in the midday sun.
We find the tourist information office and I sign-up for the flight around Uluru (Ayers Rock) and also around the Kata Tjuta group on Saturday. We should arrive in time for the flight tomorrow, but I just want the extra cushion in case anything goes wrong.
Whether it is the heat or the cost or the lack of interest, we just wander the main mall area and head back to the hostel, bypassing the museums available. We do have a swim in the tepid water in the pool and talk with some (very young) people visiting and/or working here. The Chinese girl from Hong Kong remarks that Peter knows more about the history of China than she does and about the history of Germany than the German girl. He answers modestly that he is a lot older and has had more time to learn.
After 6, we head to the bowling alley - air-conditioned - for a wood-fired oven-baked pizza. They are quite good, but still not to Greek Oven standard! Lenore & Peter - I’m dreaming about a #24!
There is a store in town that stocks an “Outback” label of clothing which is of good design and quality. It’s times like this I wish I had more room in my suitcase and more money in my pocket!
We get ready for the morning as our “pick-up” is at 6:30 a.m. for the bus to Yulara - better known as Ayers Rock Resort.

My Australia Day outfit. I only wore the top into town.

Friday, Jan. 28.
The good, the bad, and the great. What a day!
We have toast and coffee at 6:15 and await our 6:30 pick-up until closer to seven. Anyone who knows Peter knows that he is convinced we have been forgotten. But, no, we are just near the end of the pick-up route.
The driver is very informative, telling historic facts and stories about the places we pass in this vast Outback. The Stations, as they call their ranches, are immense. It takes 2 square kilometres to feed just one head of cattle. Just go figure. One station I noted is 12,500 sq. km., and that isn’t the biggest.
We are rolling along nicely at 100 km/hr, the driver watching for Road-Trains - trucks with multiple trailers hitched on - which he says tend to take more than their share of the road. The car limit is 130 km/hr, which helps people cover the vast distances more quickly. He says it also helps to keep drivers alert on the straight, empty stretches as you must concentrate to drive at that speed.
We make a stop at the Stuarts Well roadhouse, where they keeps camels. They offer rides - five minutes to the end of the paddock and 30 seconds back. We pass on the experience. I wouldn’t mind riding a horse, but camels are just too smelly. We are off and running for another hour and a half when suddenly, there is a beeping sound. The driver slows and pulls off the road to stop. Without a word, he goes back to check the engine. The long and the short of it is, we have an overheating engine, so he will limp along without the air-conditioning going to the Erldunda Roadhouse only a few kilometres ahead. The bad news is the mechanic who comes to take a look can’t fix it so we must wait another two hours for a replacement bus. The good is the company is allowing us to order a meal from the menu to a limit of twenty dollars. (we find out later this is because we will now probably miss dinner!) But the bonus is, the driver has mentioned the people (other than us) who are on the bus for three days and will be doing the sunset tour tonight need not worry as there will be time to get this done. My ears perk up. We had not signed-up for this and we want to do this, so Peter quietly talks to the driver and asks if we can be included - of course for a price. About half-way through our wait-time, the driver very quietly informs Peter that he has spoken to the company and we can join the others for half the regular price. Bargain. We sign-up.
Eventually, the new older bus arrives and we all clamber aboard. The rest of the trip to Yulara is uneventful. We do glimpse Cooper Rock that is often mistaken for Ayers. But it has a flat top, not the iconic rounded top of Uluru. We also see three feral camels munching on the long grass by the side of the road. One is big and white while two are smaller and tan coloured. They are all disinterested in us.

The long, straight road through the Outback.

Peter pats a dingo.

The bus is "broke"!

Peter's seat for the long wait.

Coopers Rock, sometimes mistaken for Ayers Rock/Uluru.










The rain is falling but it is not reaching the ground - it is evaporating in the heat. 46.something today!

Yulara, Ayers Rock Resort, is just an oval shaped road with resorts/motels/campgrounds/shopping centre around the perimeter. Its only reason for existing is to house the visitors to Uluru. We are in the cheap ($150 a night) cabins at the campground - loo and showers along the path. Other than my encounter with a wasp and a cockroach, it is quite adequate and would sleep six if you happen to have a family or any friends!
Our tour around the rock takes about 1 ½ hours. Again, the driver is full of stories and geological history. Also, I find our why the shops were selling nets to protect the face. The flies don’t bite, but they do swarm. I will no longer feel sorry for the African children in the ads who look so forlorn with flies covering their faces. This is how it is. I think, eventually, you would just get tired of swatting and let them crawl over your eyelids, nostrils, ears, and into your mouth if you are foolish enough to talk.
I guess the fact that makes the rock so special is its size and that it is a monolith (is this correct Patrick?) which they think is only partly exposed and which was tipped onto its side so the layers of earth packed down over hundreds of thousands of years are seen vertically instead of horizontally. The aborigines would have noticed the difference of this rock to the others (Cooper & Kata Tjuta) in the area. There isn’t much else to look at but sky.
The bus takes us the nine kilometres around the rock with walks into two water holes and to a cave area. There are cave paintings in one spot.
After the tour, we make our way to the sunset viewing area. There are five or six other groups, as well as individuals, at the parking lot. Our group is given fold-out seats and snacks - cheese, crackers, salsas, wine, and orange juice. We are busy chatting with other tourists and snapping pictures as the colours of the rock change with the sun’s decent. As we begin the ride into the settlement, the sky puts on a show of both sheet and fork lightning. Like any prairie storm, it is spectacular. A lovely finish - like fireworks - to an event-filled day.

What do you call a dead kangaroo on the road?

A “was-a-roo”. (The bus driver’s joke.)


Uluru from the bus. The lush vegetation is because of the wet year.

A water hole at the base - sideways as I couldn't change it.

Pictures painting a story on the rocks.

The rock ar sunset.

The amazing sky before the storm.

Peter in the pool. Has he gotten whiter on the trip?

A little friend trying to cool himself.

Saturday, Jan. 29.
For the first time in my life I have seen one of Peter’s favourite words written in public. Yes, kids, your Dad always had his ablutions case, well now we have used the “Ablution” building in the campground. Other than the beetles (not cockroaches as Dad thought) that infest the place, it is quite adequate. It is a bit of a hike at four o’clock in the morning, but the stars are nice and it is warm.
My flight is not until 4 p.m., so we swim (I finally lose my old toe nail from my left foot, the new one is growing nicely.), sun, laze around. We walk across the oval to the shopping area and get some post cards (did you get some stamped from Yulara, kids?), by golf shirts on sale, and wander back for another swim. I take my sea-sickness pill with lunch as I want it to stay in my stomach while we fly.
The young man who picks us up at 4 is the chauffeur, guide, and pilot. He has a nervous laugh which does not instil confidence. When Peter asks, he says, yes, the temperature limit for flights in 45 degrees, but we are in luck because it has not yet gone over 44 today. There is one other couple with me. They live in Cyprus, but are British. He has a very “Coronation Street” accent and talks a little, but she seems to have sucked on too many lemons or has a bowel problem as she doesn’t so much as acknowledge that I am a fellow passenger. I guess we, from the colonies, are beneath the likes of her.
The flight itself is very bumpy on the way up through the hot air, but once at 2000 feet, it is fine. The only three things outside of flat land and sky that can be seen is Uluru, Kata Tjuta, and Cooper’s Rocks. From above, I get a real appreciation of the toughness of the aborigines. How they could survive in this hot, flat, almost waterless land is amazing. Both the Bedouin in Arabia and the Aborigines in the Outback must be admired for their toughness.
Something that amazes me is the green patches on the top of Uluru. The pilot has only been here seven months, but he says it has been a very rainy year and that is probably why the plants are growing there. This you can’t see from the ground.
After circling Uluru, we fly over and around the cluster of rocks at Rata Tyuta. These have the layers of sediment stacked as they ought to be. Otherwise, the top is rounded like Uluru. On the way back, the pilot points out just outside the resort some white tents on platforms in a cluster by a huge white tent. This is an exclusive resort that is approximately $1,500 a night. Of course, you get pampered and feed gourmet food and wine, but just a little out of our price range. I bet they don’t have the fun I have that night as I enter the cabin and a wasp flies in with me. As I am swatting at him a HUGE cockroach dashes across the floor directly at my feet. I end up a screaming-idiot on a chair. Gallant Peter comes to my rescue with the handy bug spray and shots them both. An exciting end to a once-in-a-lifetime day.

My plane.

The Outback.


Uluru/Ayers Rock from the sky.

My camera giving up in the 44 degree heat.

Perth

We have no photos to publish from Perth as my camera konked-out in Yulara. Maybe the heat, maybe just old-age. The new camera has a new program we have not figured out yet. We'll work on it! there is a last gasp picture at the end. Now, instead of lines, all is white.

Sunday. Jan. 30.
My Mom’s birth-date. I’m glad I remember this day to say I love her instead of the day of her death which I can never remember.

I had planned to get up at 5 a.m. to see the sun rise over the rock from the look-out in the oval, but the thought of the dingoes and the poisonous snakes and figure it is fool-hardy to go it alone. I am once again covered in bites. Could it be bedbugs? Must research this. Anyway, last night I took two of the antihistamine pills I was given for the same itchy-oozy swellings I had from the Blue Bottle sting. Now I can’t wake-up. As we go for the plane to Adelaide, I have trouble holding my head up. It feels like a dead weight. Also, my tongue seems swollen and I can’t articulate. I am speaking with a lady who was on the bus with us and excuse my slurring. She brings her husband over and, from the questions he asks and the manner in which he asks them, I assume he is a retired doctor! I tell him I am drinking lots of fluids and will not take the antihistamines again. I dose off and on all the way to Perth.
The lunch served on the plane helps to clear my head. We pick up our little car at the airport and I drive while Peter navigates us through the city. It is good to arrive in a strange city on a Sunday as the traffic is light. Margaret Moir’s house is in an older, but beautiful neighbourhood. The stone and brick houses are neat, many with short, stonewall fences. Margaret’s friend, Brian, has the key and he gives us directions to Margaret’s house and to the shopping district. It is lovely, although a little intrusive, to stay in a real house filled with mementoes of a lifetime. Pictures of Bill Gordon are prominent around the house. We cannot thank this gracious lady enough for allowing us to stay here while she is away on a cruise to South Africa.

Monday, Jan. 31.
Today is a “catch your breath” day. I do the laundry, hang it out, we shop for groceries, I make dinner, Peter figures-out the computer and we relax. I phone the kids as well, as we have not been in touch much lately.

Tuesday, Feb. 1.
The laundry from yesterday needs ironing, so that is first on the list. I put together a lunch and we are off to the beach. Scarborough Beach is just down the road about 10 minutes. It is lovely with few people there on a weekday. I have a quick dip in the lovely, warm water of the Indian Ocean. I am reading the Australia travel book in the tent-shelter about how the wind picks-up in the afternoon as the wind picks-up outside. By the time we have eaten lunch and Peter has struggled into his bathing suit (just picture it - Peter sitting with a towel draped over his privates wiggling out of his undies and into his bathing suit - it’s a scene that should have been videoed!), the wind is in full gale. We do go into the water, but swimming is out of the question as the undertow is now quite noticeable. Our tent-shelter is on the verge of being blown away, so we pack up and head home. There is not one cloud in the sky, but sand into everything.
When we get to Margaret’s, Brian is watering a few sections of the grass that the auto-sprinklers don’t hit. He and Peter enjoy cold one together. I think he is missing the camaraderie of “the boys getting together.” We finish the day with another “home-cooked” meal. that can be such a pleasure when you have been traveling for four months.

Wednesday, Feb. 2.
We finally make it into the city. We take the bus from the shopping center and are downtown in 15 minutes. You can see the skyline from Mount Hawthorn, where we are staying. Our first impression is never altered. This is a clean, tidy, walkable city. There is quite a bit of construction going on, so it must be prospering, also.
We take the free CAT bus to the car rental office to check on the location and to confirm that dropping it off early will not be a problem. We have decided to keep it only until Saturday, after I attend my Weight Watcher’s meeting. I am required to weigh-in once a month, and this will be my February meeting. Still on track - but I will admit it is not easy “on-the-road”. There are just too many temptations and not enough exercise. The monthly “accountability” weigh-ins are helpful!
The Mint Museum is around the corner from the car rental, so we drop in for a look. It is quite interesting. The brick we see poured - 99.95 pure - has been melted and poured for seventeen years! The room itself has been “scraped” on the inside and hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gold were recovered. The clay pots that the gold is melted in last only seven days, then they are collected, crushed, and the gold in them is recovered. It is all very interesting.
We walk down to the Swan River and eat our lunch whilst watching a bunch of over-weight (and a few fit) office workers play football (soccer) on their lunch hour. We walk along the beside the river to the Bell Tower, then up the hill to the shopping area. There are two streets which connect through buildings and lanes and both are pedestrians only. There are buskers and street people, girls in short shorts and mini tops, guys with tattoos, tourists like us gawking at everything new. I pick up a $5 jumper (not a sweater) which will be nice in the hot weather in Vietnam.
We ride the bus home and, after another home-cooked meal, pack our back-packs for a two day trip to Margaret River and some more wine tasting.

Thursday, Feb. 3.
I start the drive out of the city while Peter navigates. This seems to work well. Once we are in the country, it is evident that it has been a dry year in the south west. For miles, the fields are yellow with the dryness. I wonder what the cows can be eating as there is no visible grass. As we come to the coast at Bunbury, we go to the I-site for information. The lady suggests we drive to the lookout for a view of the area. It is up a circular road through an upscale area. The Rotary have built the lookout. It is quite new. We climb the 89-step, spiral staircase to the top. It is a lovely view of the harbour, the beaches in both directions, and the town in general.
Peter takes over the driving and we stop by the sand-duned beach just south of the look-out. There are only two people on the expanse of beach there. Certainly, a lovely place to live.
I read about the jetty in Busselton, so we stop for a look. It is two kilometres long. It is a restoration project which - as told by a couple from England who summer here - unfortunately has been delayed as the first contractor went broke and a new one has had to be found. The weekend is to be the celebration of the “refurbished” jetty, but it won’t be ready. There is a tram that runs the length of the jetty and locals fish from its side. The main event of the weekend is the annual swim the jetty race. It is an almost 4 k swim. They get a thousand participants. Sounds like fun. Anyway, the festivities are taking place despite the construction.
We move on to Margaret River, centre of the south-western wine district. Our Golden Chain accommodations are in a trailer park but are surprisingly comfortable. We have a one-bedroom completely-equipped unit. Unfortunately, we plan to eat out for the one night we are staying. We take a tour out to the Margaret River Resort to view the menu. It is an interesting ride as we see the fully-treed area between the river and the coast. It is as thick as the trees were in the Blue Mountains. This appears to be a rough coast. I view the river as we drive back. It is engulfed by trees on both sides.
After a walk down the main street, we settle for take-out in a little food mall which is catering to people like us who want to eat and not feel ’ripped-off”. I think $30 for Bangers and Mash is just a little excessive. We have a quiet evening in and I outline our plan of attack tomorrow so we can taste wine, chocolate, olives, and beer.

Friday, Feb. 4.
Now Peter is getting bit. Of course, he is suffering “bravely.” Our first stop is at an olive grove. They grow many different varieties but use them for oils. The tasting is terrific at least for me; Peter hasn’t a lot of interest. I buy a little sample of the garlic & chilli infused oil (we will try it in Mexico) and a parmesan cheese infused as a gift for Margaret. We move on to the first wine cellar. We taste the Shiraz and the Cabernet. On to the Chocolate factory. They are making bars of chocolate today. We watch the girls filling the moulds. Seems very repetitive work! On the machine the gauge shows 98.0, so I wonder if that is the temperature of the melted chocolate.
There are dishes of milk chocolate, white chocolate, and dark (75%) chocolate discs that you can scoop out and eat. We get our fill.
We buy a package of truffles for Margaret - we don’t need any!
Peter pulls into a cellar not on my list. It is a lovely place. The lady in the cellar obviously loves her work and we engage in a conversation about wine, countries, and the plight of living in a tourist area. I take a picture of a wonderful picture hanging over the bar which is constructed of hand spun, dyed, woven wool by a local lady when she was in her eighties - now deceased. The wine I like best has a touch of Malbec in it. That’s a surprise.
Our final wine stop is at an outlet, owned by the local wine industry, that sells, at very reduced rates, wines that are at the end of their shelf life and need to be drunk soon. I buy an originally $30 wine for $10. It actually has a cork - something unusual for Australia. We get two six-packs - one Chardonnay and one Shiraz. Each contains six of that type of wine but all are (or may be) from different wineries etc. and have been relabelled to sell off. What a unique concept. I wonder if they do this in the Okanagan.
It is time for lunch, so we drive up a most unlikely road to the Bush Shack Brewery. That’s it - a shack. The beer, though, is quite good. All there bottled beer is sold-out, so we can’t buy any to go. We sit at a picnic table, accompanied by a family of magpies, eat our lunch and drink our beer. It’s been quite a day already.
We decide to take the coast road home. Well, it may be closer to the coast, but you never see it. The high dunes are between us and the beach. We decide that I will drive into the city from Mandurah, cutting across country to the freeway that, by our map, begins about sixty km. south of Perth. In the time I can’t see the coast, I look at the map book and find the route to Margaret’s place from the freeway - a very easy hop. Then I notice a sign to Hwy 2, the freeway, south of Mandurah. We assume the freeway has been extended. We continue into town and I take over as planned, but I get to do the easy bit - the rest of the way at 110 km/hr. Lucky me. As it is Friday, we hit a bit of traffic through one short stretch in the city, but it is clear sailing. We could have saved about an hour of driving if we had known this route yesterday.

Saturday, Feb. 5.
The day of reckoning. We drive to North Beach and find the W.W. meeting. I am still within limit - cheers! - and stay for the meeting as I doubt I will make one in March unless there is a place close to the Los Angeles airport. It is so hard without enough exercise. The walking we do, which is often a lot, just isn’t sustained. Look out San Jose - I will be striding those hills in March and April.
Peter navigates me successfully to the car rental office. We are once again public-transit users. We walk around the neighbourhood, being very touristy, and end-up in a food court where we both choose a Chinese lunch. More wandering. A guy is busking on the mall and playing some wonderful ragtime piano - non-stop. Another guy is in a gold costume with a sign - money moves me. He engages people with his expressive eyes. They put money in his box and get their picture taken with him. He mimics Peter standing as he does with his hands crossed across his chest and his less than smiley face. Peter doesn’t bite, so he quickly moves on to somebody else.
We take the Blue Cat (free bus) and it takes us to the Highgate area, serious café/bar/nightlife area of the city. We get off and walk the street.
This is when I realize how wonderful it is to be in a civilized country. Like New Zealand, Ozzies acknowledge that human beings need to relieve themselves and, therefore, they provide public toilets in every city and town and provide the signage so they are easily found and the cleaning staff so they are almost always presentable. North America could certainly learn from this example. We both need this facility. The young man who is the “guard/cleaner/user-counter” is not responsible for the futility spelt sign on the door. It says, “Only four aloud in at a time”. He quickly spells “allowed” for me, in his broken English. I tell him he should put “Ha! Ha!” on the sign to pretend it is a joke. He laughs with (or at?) me.
Peter realizes that we are close to the bus depot for the regular bus, so we walk the two blocks, over the railway bridge, and we are there. He checks with the driver if the bus goes all the way to Scarborough beach - it does - so we plan to go tomorrow.

Sunday, Feb. 6.
We awaken with the alarm at 7 a.m., but the wind id blowing as was predicted by the weather forecast last night. We will put off our beach trip until tomorrow. Today will be an organization day, ready for out flight on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. After our first full breakfast in weeks, eggs, bacon, and crumpets, Peter has some reservations etc. to do on the computer and I have all my stuff to go through and organize.
We switch places, and I catch-up on my blog writing and he does his reorganizing. Tonight, we go to the Gourmet Fish restaurant in the local mall. They have been closed for almost a month, so are offering 10% off the menu price for this week. It is a BYO restaurant, but we don’t bring anything, so we settle for water with our meal. A group of seven are drinking when we arrive. The speed with which their dinner is served makes us realize that our long wait is normal. There is one take-out and another couple ahead of us. But, the wait is worth it. My snapper is perfect, and I have one fillet for lunch tomorrow. The chips were perfect - soft inside, crispy outside, and not one bit greasy. We waddle home to a beer and a glass of wine. Tomorrow, hopefully, we will have a quiet day at the beach.

Margaret Moir's beautiful home, between the lines.