The More We're Oriented The More Different It Seems

September 9, 2001-Taking Care of Business
(photos:
scrub turkey,
our trusty Mitsubishi,
roo crossing sign)

In the latest box to arrive we were excited to find refrigerator magnets along with photos of Daniel, Vikki, Alex, and Wendy. Our refrigerator now holds many smiling faces. The washer is no longer leaking and the dryer is drying faster. I knew you all wanted to know this. The manager suggested using less detergent in the machine so it won't bubble up from the floor drain. I have to wash everything on fast spin or it takes forever to dry in the dryer. Also running everything on the high setting in the dryer tends to produce less damp clothing that needs to be hung around the apartment. The apartment can now be transformed from looking like the boudoir of a sloppy hooker into a home.

This morning I read the local paper with my breakfast. Clinton is here, but the real eye catcher was an add for Internet service that was headlined, ”Get More Than You Bargained For.” It featured what appeared to be a woman in a bikini. On closer examination, the bikini-clad cutie was a man in drag, chest hair and all.

Shabbat Services Saturday started at 10:00 AM. They do a Torah reading on Saturday, not on Friday. Different people come to Friday and Saturday services. There was the reading of the Torah portion in English then David read from the Torah scroll. A congregant stood next to David and followed along. In the traditional fashion, it’s his job to correct the reader. David did well. Only one correction was needed. This group has a good Hebrew background with a scattering of Israelis to keep everyone on their toes. The haftarah (a portion from Prophets) is also read. There are many aliyot (honors) including three for Torah blessings. David was hoping to be able to end the service in 1 hour and 15 minutes, but it went over by about 10 minutes. I’m pretty sure I’ll stick to Friday nights.

It has been interesting to talk to congregants and learn their histories. Yesterday, a man named Sam told me how he and his family went to London from Eastern Europe in 1914 when he was four years old. His father worked in the lady’s garment industry and soon had his own shop. Sam worked with his father learning the trade step by step. When he was in his mid-20’s, the family went to Dover, England on holiday. Sam looked out over the English Channel and realized there was a huge world to explore. He headed for the Continent and met his future wife in Brussels. She was training to be a concert pianist. They married and returned to London. There was plenty of business for everyone so he didn’t feel badly about opening his own shop and competing with his father. After WWII, he decided that Europe was not a safe place to raise his children. He’d heard that Australia was an open society and headed here. They landed in Sydney with the names of two people who were in the garment industry. The first man offered him a job at a very low wage. The second man was Jewish and allowed him to buy in as a partner. Sam took business trips to places that were only a train stop and a tin shed. He never looked back. The people here are much like early pioneers in America. They’re like my father’s widowed mother who took a leap of faith while searching for a better future for her children. Or my father who gave up a thriving business in the fur industry in New York City and followed his heart to Florida, returning to the land and becoming a farmer as his father had been in Poland. One grew potatoes and one grew oranges. They’re a gutsy lot.

I may have inadvertently started a rumor during services. Those of you who know how I feel about hakafa (marching around the sanctuary with the Torah) know that I do not kiss the Torah as it passes by. During hakafa here a woman moved aside so I could reach the scroll. I declined, joking that it was against my religion. She smiled and said, “I thought so.” It didn’t dawn on me until later that she might have meant that she thought I wasn’t Jewish. Oy! Well, as I’ve always maintained, they will talk about us anyway, at least this will be harmless and give them grist.

Finding Our Way

We spent the afternoon exploring starting at the mall food court. The selection of foods is astounding: Pizza Hut, KFC, health food, ice-cream, Middle Eastern, Chinese, Japanese, McD’s, Aussie tucker, salad bars, fish and chips, Mexican, and that was just on one level of one of the food courts in this mall. We had roll ups. Mine was Thai chicken and David had Cajun chicken with salsa.

The day was dreary and damp so we explored in our trysty car. We headed for the mountains we can see from the shore. We figured that if we drove up the coast and turned left we’d eventually run into them. It seemed a good plan at the time. Continuing on our adventure, we eventually found the M-way. It’s their interstate highway (motorway). David said it was unsettling entering an expressway and merging from the left. He really was doing great until we exited at the wrong spot and needed to turn around. He made the turn then set off back the way we’d come. He was majorly and happily on the right (wrong) side of the road. As it was deserted and in the bush, I let him coast along for a few hundred feet before mentioning it to him. He stayed left after that.

The bush is what we’d call rural. Then we were in farmland. There were many examples of the Queenslander style of house. It’s built off the ground on posts with a porch wrapping around the entire house. It’s cooler to be elevated and the porch provides shade and outdoor living away from sun and snakes. Houses had round corrugated metal cisterns next to them into which rainwater from the gutters flowed. The woman in Leidley whom David had visited the other day said she always had a cistern and drank the untreated water. She’d have it no other way.

We followed signs to Tambourine Mt. and found ourselves climbing a narrow road with no shoulder and a fairly hefty drop. We’d gone from the rolling hills of the bush to a pine forest. I wasn’t too worried about the drop-off because there were huge trees growing out of the ravines that would break our fall. As we climbed, I realized the trees had gotten taller and were towering about 100 feet overhead. When I felt brave enough to look away from the road to the tops of the trees, I saw they were palms. I’d never seen such monsters. We’d found a rain forest: Joala National Park. We stopped at a teashop and saw scrub turkeys for the first time. They have black bodies, red heads, and bright dangling yellow collars of wattle around their necks. They’re an amazing sight and another of the odd birds we can add to our collection of Oz’s best.

It was going to be dark soon so we started down towards home. Fortunately, we didn’t have to return by way of those hairpin curves but we passed some interesting signs. One warned that koalas crossed at night, another indicated a kangaroo crossing, and an irresistible sign promoted the sale of “horse poo.”

Vindaloo Who?

We were really hungry when we got home, but David had enough driving for one day. We walked a block from our apartment to an Indian restaurant. It turned out, to be the best Indian food we’ve ever eaten. We started with kulcha crammed full of onions. I ordered chicken tikka masala and David had the goshd (lamb) vindaloo, extra spicy. We both resisted the offering of vindaloo roo listed under kangaroo meat selections. I tell you no lies. The menu assured us that all meat was “hallal.” Once again it’s evidence of the large Muslim presence here. Those of you who know about the long standing tradition in our home to always have “old” food available will be happy to note that we left the restaurant with a doggie bag.

Mentioning the Muslim presence reminded me that the security here for the high holidays is a lot more than we have in America. There has been trouble elsewhere and threats, so they hired armed guards to stand at the door of our temple. No one is allowed in without a ticket. No one includes us. They don’t use any of the parking lots adjacent to the temple. All parking is on the street.

Sunday School and Sunday Culture

David had his first morning at Sunday School. There were two teachers and one administrator for 7-12 children. Two kids, a brother and sister, ages 10 and 12, were new. They’re from Palo Alto, California and have been sailing around the world with their parents for two years. They’re being home “boat” schooled and have been in religious school and at services when on Fiji and when moored in the States. Their boat is a 53-footer with a broken main beam. It will take nine months to repair, so they’re renting a place near here. The kids are in regular school now and said they finally have English-speaking kids to talk to but don’t understand them.

A throwback to the 50’s is there are still blue laws dealing with Sunday closings but in this area of Queensland shops may be open due to the high number of tourists. Economics trumps religion. We went to a grocery store called Coco’s that was supposed to have a line of kosher products. We got Shabbat candles, yahrzeit (memorial) candles, gefilte fish, and matzo ball mix. The rest of the store was pretty lame. Across the street from Coco’s was the Carrara Market. It’s an open-air weekend only market with permanent stands. They sell everything including kitchen sinks. They had produce, meats, snacks, karaoke, hardware, light fixtures, meat, toys, gold jewelry, sunnies (sunglasses), pets (puppies), cosmetics, “Tweety Bird” t-shirts, and a head shop complete with rolling paper and water pipes. We didn’t understand the sign about marijuana smokers being welcome since it’s illegal here. Unlike our flea markets, the one thing it didn’t have were socks.

Toby