Oh

Oh how the dry days roll by at a cracking pace! My last post chronicled the signs of the dry, and now, dear reader (s), the dry is almost at its end. The humidity has soared. The tourists are slowly refilling their motorhome petrol tanks litre by litre and buying up big at Coles for the long journey home. I see a light at the end of the outside broadcast/event calendar, signalling quieter days at work and some much-needed planning/recuperating time in the office.

The Darwin Festival is in full swing, so a gig/ art gallery/ dance hall/party is permanently installed in the park across from work. I walk past every afternoon at around 6pm, watching the lights being put up in the trees and the people slowly flooding in to sit at long trestle tables and eat delicious Hanuman curries before the gig.

The last of our long line of visitors left on Monday, returning our haven to the perfect place for three (inc pooch). We revel in this by spending nights at home, making glorious dinners, lighting candles and eating on the deck with Arthur at our feet or on the steps where its cooler. We spend weekends going for bike rides; foostering in the garden; watching the sprinkler, enchanted (you can't do that in Queensland); having long barefoot walks on the beach; reading Wuthering Heights aloud and seeing movies.

Yesterday I was overcome by a tingly wave of affection towards life. So much has been going on in life lately with visitors, work events, festival, love, writing, sewing, living. Holidays are booked in, work is slowing down, the wet season is coming (!) and life is good. I feel like going to a remote beach somewhere and letting off fireworks. I'm going to try and remember this feeling. Its nice to be reminded when things are good and life is wonderful. My adventures are very bright right now.

the signs of the dry

The dry season is near. We are on the cusp of cooler days, infused with the smell of burn offs and months of festivals. The harbingers of the changing of the seasons are everywhere.

Dragonflies orbit. The rain stops. Deckchair Cinema reopens. Mindil Beach market owners set up their stalls. Long-socked grey nomads are spotted hiking the periphery of the city. Work has become outrageously hectic.

Waiting for the bus, I sat across from an man at the bus stop who lives in the community across the road. He told me the 'knock-em-down rains' were still to come. That's when the long dry grass is flattened by heavy rain. It's a season in itself. But the dry is near.

The sunsets remain the same.

one week = one year

The last few weeks have been a blur; a jam-packed week-long holiday in Queensland for Dad's birthday; my boss in town for interviews and Tiwi Islands Grand Final weekend; and .... soon to be moving house!

Oh yes the lady shack has been usurped by a more grown-up abode. I have returned to the land of co-habitation. The house is a typically Top End pad; louvres from the floor to the ceiling, plunge pool, big yard, tropical garden, tranquil locale. As soon as I peered through the fence I envisaged lying in bed in one of the many bedrooms, watching the rain through the louvres on a wet season morning.

Pity they are heralding the dry season's return, oh well. And, best of all, I get to procure my pup ! The yard is large and dog-friendly ie lots of room to run and no way of escape. There is a shed too. I'm sure we'll find things to put in it. I've never had a shed before.

And so to the visit from the boss. We had many-a-social-occasion, having important business lunches and lolling at the Ski Club. He also timed it to be in town for the Tiwi Islands Grand Final at Nguiu on Bathurst Island. The day was long, hot, yet so rewarding and fun. We boarded an early flight on a light aircraft to get over there in time to set up the broadcast, which we did from an old truck which the locals dragged over to the side of the oval for us for the day. We busied ourselves setting up, then spent a few hours looking at local art sales. I bought some amazing Tiwi fabric and a 'goose'; a wooden sculpted magpie goose, intricately painted.

And the kids! They were so enthusiastic and talkative and interested. And super cute.

The trees around the oval had been chopped down, so there was little to no shade for the thousands of southerners to shelter within. At one point during the day, I saw a group of people huddling in a line of shade cast by a large pylon beside the oval. Someone was heard to ask; what are you lining up for?

Despite the heat, the lack of shade and the sandflies; the day was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I came home with chafe, bites and sunburn, but so happy to have had the privilege to see it. It was such a reflection of life in the NT. You really do live life with the volume turned up, life at 200%. The experiences I have had in one week up here have been more meaningful and exciting than one year of living in Brisbane. I am constantly reminded and gladdened by my decision to move here.

An update on my latest junket....

In a bid to become re-inspired, I packed up my new co-owned esky and headed to Kakadu for the weekend to enjoy my surrounds. We drove out past Jabiru to Nourlangie Rock, just as some imposing black clouds descended upon it. Parking the car, we hiked through isolated showers to a sacred place. The sign said that Aboriginal people once sheltered here for thousands of years.

Just as we arrived, a huge storm hit, preceded by swirly wind and heavy heavy rain which lasted for about 20 mins. We were the only ones there, and completely sheltered under this natural rock formation. It was so freakin magical.

The hike took about half an hour, and it rained most of that time, but it was so beautiful. This place is so different during the Wet Season. And there are no tourists.

We headed off to find a spot to eat rice paper rolls and homemade muffins. As we were gobbling our food, we noticed a blue-winged kookaburra, perched on a sign. I was able to get really close to take his photo.

After eating, we saw that there was a 250m walk we could do to a lookout. Thinking it wouldn’t take us long, we scooted off merrily, not bringing camera or water. We carefully jumped over a body of water (with slight concerns of disturbing nesting crocs), climbed a man-made ladder and then started an ascent up 45 degree rockface. It was like a rock kingdom up there, with wattle trees growing from the cracks and as we climbed higher, the view became more and more sublime. It felt like we were explorers, discovering this place for the first time.

There was not a soul to be seen, and it was oh-so-quiet, apart from the birds. We could see a huge billabong at the foot of the escarpment. FULL to the brim with crocs.

We booked a room at a nearby lodge with ‘Territorian’s rates’ and enjoyed the pool and BBQ facilities before turning in for a night of Movie Channel action.

The next morning we cruised the calm waters of Home Billabong and Yellow Waters, watching birdlife and the multitude of flowers which sprout up during the wet. Then bought Billabongs to eat, filled up the car with petrol and headed home, via Fogg Dam.

It felt like a true holiday, in only two days.

Looking ahead makes me happy

I'm feeling those northerly winds a-blowin.....

I have noticed my increasing tendency of casually investigating Spanish job search sites, and opening and scrutinising the emails promoting volunteering in Argentina that fill my inbox.

Yes and so returns that monkey on my back, the niggling longing to escape, the search for broader horizons. Instead I'll travel to nearby destinations. Maybe a weekend trip to Katherine Gorge or a drive to a remote community.

Time to throw myself into work again. Time to plan for the future, for 2009. Time to make goals, budgets, and to-do lists.

Looking ahead makes me happy.

1. Go bush walking
2. Write on streeteditors more
3. sell my writing/ get further pieces published
4. Take Spanish lessons
5. Run and yoga regularly
6. Get out bush once a fortnight
7. Give blood
8. Buy bike
9. Ride bike plenty
10. Save $
11. Do walks in Katherine Gorge
12. Visit Uluru
13. Try camping
14. Buy all vegies from local markets not Woollies
15. Spend more time drawing
16. Grow tomatoes
17. Nurture my garden
18. Spoil Dad on his 60th
19. Eat more raw foods
20. Think about buying a dog
21. Call family and friends more
22. Make coffee at home
23. Buy a typewriter
24. Play more tennis (maybe a set night a week)
25. Do more stuff that scares me
26. Reactivate volunteer xchange
27. Seek future opportunities in BCN and Argentina
28. Join the library
29. Write in my diary more

Visits from special southerners

It is the day after my two special visitors have left and I'm a tad forlorn.

Sister E was here for a week which was glorious; we went bike riding, took the croc to Litchfield, ate at restaurants, floated languidly in a pool and celebrated the new year together. We caught up on milestones, as well as the little stuff that you miss out on when living in different parts of the country.

J arrived at 12.30am on New Year's Eve. We picked her up after the party, retreated to my place with a bottle of champagne tucked under my arm, and talked into the night. We had lazy mornings drinking coffee and eating fruit and croissants. We realised J's dream to sit in a waterhole on NY day, and spent a blissful afternoon at Buley's Rockhole. We patronised the iconic Ski Club in between downpours. We sat in air-conditioned comfort to watch the Tiwi Bombers annihilate Southern Districts.

We sat on the wharf basking in the sunset light and eating fish and chips. We experienced an important part of the Top End's history through 'Australia'.

I remembered what a glorious place the Territory is.

It's oh-so-quiet....

.... in Darwin this week. With four others, we make up the skeleton staff at the station in the days leading up to Christmas. We're embracing late starts, long laksa lunch breaks and early knock-offs to walk on the beach.

The streets seem quite deserted also. Most people I know have gone south for the festive season. The usually packed car park is half empty and once-humming cafes are closed.

Neighbours in my apartment building have left also.

A guy at work who has been here for 30 years reckons there used to be a time when 50% of the population left at this time of the year. He describes walking down the main street and not seeing a soul (I imagine tumbleweed blowing by).

The plan is for an orphan's Christmas this year. For lowly orphans, we have lots of options. We'll join some friends on the foreshore for oysters and champagne in the morning, then head home and open presents, listen to music and play cards, maybe have a nap, then at around 3pm visit a friend who has invited us poor things into her home to eat ham, mango and prawns and lie in the pool for a few hours. Then off to another bash for Christmas dinner with a motley crew of random individuals. I'm bringing rice paper rolls and red wine.

My family has sent a care package of goodies to keep me warm over the season. There are presents and cards, plus grandma has continued the divine tradition of making my favourite Christmas treat, home-made rum balls which I will gobble up over the next few days. I can't wait.