October 16, 2001-On The Barbie
We went to a 71st birthday party today. It was billed as a real Aussie BBQ. The birthday girl, is a hoot. She’s always promoting something for some organization, selling raffle tickets, or soliciting for a luncheon. You know the type. You run the other way when you see her coming. She’s from Liverpool by way of Los Angeles, Melbourne, and three husbands. She’s quite intelligent and still works as an editor and records books on tape. Her English is of the Oxford school and I never have trouble understanding her.
The hosts were celebrating their 53rd anniversary. They're a stunning couple. Her younger sister was there and she's 71. She looks about 60. The sisters are from New Zealand and have nine siblings. The hosts live in a very large home (4000 sq. ft.) that prompted the discussion, once again, of how big our house is in Australian terms. We finally figured it out. They measure buildings here in square feet, but the lots are measured in square meters. The terminology, though, is different than ours. For example, a 2000 square foot house is referred to as being 20 squares. That was easy. No need to convert to square meters. I was also advised that Australian realtors are among the best liars in the industry. They will even grossly exaggerate the size of rooms. Everyone at the party knew I’m a realtor and delighted in telling me that Australia isn’t as litigious as the U.S. yet. Lawyers here are teaching the public the American system of suing for any reason. They’re now going after realtors.
The menu at the “real Aussie BBQ” was: crumbled fish (breaded), thin steak well-done, chicken, canned asparagus, rice salad, rocket salad (curly leaf lettuce), cucumbers (pickles), potato salad, coleslaw, olives, beef bangers (sausage), and buttered bread. There were about five different desserts followed by fresh fruit. It’s not too different from an American BBQ. Food Channeling A commercial on TV just informed us that Kraft makes a Vegemite snack pack. Gag! That reminds me. A woman at the party said that when she was twelve years old she decided to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She’d heard they were popular in America and wanted to try one. The only problem was that here Jell-O is called jelly. It was years until she realized her error and tried a real PB&J with jam.
I didn’t want to miss my afternoon ice-cream cone, so after we came home, we walked over to my favorite supplier. It’s a gelato store. We took the inland route and came home by the sea. There are tons of birds here and they all seemed to be flying about getting settled for the night. It was very noisy and we kept looking up into the trees. It was risky business considering the number of feathery creatures and the nature of their digestive systems. There were birds of all shades of brown, black, and white, but all of a sudden, a green body streaking past. Then there was a splash of yellow. There we were on an early evening stroll watching wild parrots. It was so exciting. I’m sure the joggers along the path thought the crazy Americans craning their necks to look into the trees were daft.
The Home Front
David has a sore throat. It’s really raw. He hasn’t been carrying Purell with him. The other day someone shook his hand and then said, “Don’t kiss me, I’ve got a cold.” I’m sure I’ll get it. We’ve been lucky to avoid getting sick up to now considering where we’ve been and all the hugging and kissing that went on here during the holidays.
We “talked” to Vikki and Alex today by Instant Messaging. Alex told us she scored the winning goal for the Lippman soccer team. Good on ya, Alex!
Toby
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
GLBT Issues
October 15, 2001-Heaven
I just got a call from Shelley. She’s the leader of the PFLAG chapter (Parents, Family, & Friends of Lesbians & Gays) where we spoke on Saturday. She wanted to know more about how we ran our meetings and our chapter in Akron. She’s a volunteer for the AIDS Council in Brisbane and PFLAG was a spin-off of her work there. She seems to be a one-woman show. In the course of our conversation, I learned many things that made me think the group we spoke to must have been left with a feeling of pity for the poor Americans who have it so hard. I realized just how far behind we are in GLBT equality. Shelley’s son is a police officer. He’s out and a member of the police GLBT organization at work. He works in Brisbane, which, if you recall, is in Queensland: not the most open and accepting part of the country. Gays are allowed to serve openly in the military. If they’re diagnosed with HIV they’re honorably discharged. There’s no way a person can be fired or thrown out of housing for being gay. I asked if there was special legislation for this protection. She said that it was just a basic right of every citizen.
Have I died and gone to GLBT heaven? What the hell is wrong with us in the States? Why should we need ENDA (Employment Non-Discrimination Act) and hate crimes legislation? I guess the answer is in the ranks of the Falwells, Robertsons, and Phelpps. They don’t have a strong fundamentalist political movement here yet. It’s still very small and without power or influence. It will grow as it has all over the world, but at least Australia will have the policies in place before the right wingers gain the same control over politics they have in the U.S. Then the Aussies will be fighting to retain the way their laws have been interpreted instead of fighting to establish new laws. Our Constitution does speak to the equality issue, but we ended up making a laundry list of exactly who is to be treated equal. It’s very hard to get on that list. I hope the Australians don’t have to start itemizing the classes for whom equality pertains as we did.
An article in the paper today reported that a court just ruled that a marriage is valid between a woman and a female to male transsexual. The man who had always perceived himself as being male had been living as a man since 1994 and started hormone treatment in 1995. His birth certificate was changed from female to male in 1998. He has not had surgery to construct male genitalia. He was married to a woman in 1996 and they have a baby through IVF. Family Court ruled that the definition of “man” should be “based on contemporary thinking and not on outdated ideologies.” Wow! Are all you GLBT’s ready to apply for residency?
Hell
David is speaking to the Mormon group on Sunday night and I just got a call from the man who is organizing it. They want a resume of our family to include in their program. That sounds appropriate since it’s an awards dinner for Traditional Family Values. They haven’t a clue as to what they’re getting into. Before the dinner we’re having tea with several people at one of their homes. At tea will be Dr. John Herron who is a medical doctor as well as a senator. He is the minister for aboriginal affairs and president of the Conservative Party. I don’t know if that really means conservative, as we know it. Here the liberal party is conservative and the labor party is liberal. Dr. Herron is a member of the Church of England. Mr. Young will be there too. He’s an advisor to John Howard, the Prime Minister of Australia and a member of the Salvation Army. Mr. Glen, a lecturer in economics, is an advisor to John Huntsman, who, I am told, owns the chemical industry in America. He’s a Mormon. I was assured that all of the people are religious. Did I ask? They were gracious in inquiring about food restrictions. At least they have a clue about that. David called back to see if he could email the information instead of faxing it since the Temple doesn’t have a fax. They asked if we’d like one. David thinks that the offer of a fax and perhaps the invitation to speak might be withdrawn once they get the resume. We’ll see. I know this is in total opposition to GLBT policy I wrote about above. It will be interesting to see how it evolves.
Paradise
On our walk home from lunch, we saw some people looking up at a tree. There was a lot of bird commotion going on so we too looked up. There were three colorful birds just yammering away. David thinks they were lorakeets. We watched for a while before it struck me that it was kind of amazing. This really is paradise. As we continued on, I kept glancing to my left. There was really nothing to see beyond the apartment buildings. That’s the point. We are living at the end of the world. Beyond the buildings is the Pacific. What a wonder! We stopped at the bottle shop in our building to get some wine to bring to a birthday lunch tomorrow, went upstairs, and settled down on our balcony to gaze at the pool and read.
Toby
I just got a call from Shelley. She’s the leader of the PFLAG chapter (Parents, Family, & Friends of Lesbians & Gays) where we spoke on Saturday. She wanted to know more about how we ran our meetings and our chapter in Akron. She’s a volunteer for the AIDS Council in Brisbane and PFLAG was a spin-off of her work there. She seems to be a one-woman show. In the course of our conversation, I learned many things that made me think the group we spoke to must have been left with a feeling of pity for the poor Americans who have it so hard. I realized just how far behind we are in GLBT equality. Shelley’s son is a police officer. He’s out and a member of the police GLBT organization at work. He works in Brisbane, which, if you recall, is in Queensland: not the most open and accepting part of the country. Gays are allowed to serve openly in the military. If they’re diagnosed with HIV they’re honorably discharged. There’s no way a person can be fired or thrown out of housing for being gay. I asked if there was special legislation for this protection. She said that it was just a basic right of every citizen.
Have I died and gone to GLBT heaven? What the hell is wrong with us in the States? Why should we need ENDA (Employment Non-Discrimination Act) and hate crimes legislation? I guess the answer is in the ranks of the Falwells, Robertsons, and Phelpps. They don’t have a strong fundamentalist political movement here yet. It’s still very small and without power or influence. It will grow as it has all over the world, but at least Australia will have the policies in place before the right wingers gain the same control over politics they have in the U.S. Then the Aussies will be fighting to retain the way their laws have been interpreted instead of fighting to establish new laws. Our Constitution does speak to the equality issue, but we ended up making a laundry list of exactly who is to be treated equal. It’s very hard to get on that list. I hope the Australians don’t have to start itemizing the classes for whom equality pertains as we did.
An article in the paper today reported that a court just ruled that a marriage is valid between a woman and a female to male transsexual. The man who had always perceived himself as being male had been living as a man since 1994 and started hormone treatment in 1995. His birth certificate was changed from female to male in 1998. He has not had surgery to construct male genitalia. He was married to a woman in 1996 and they have a baby through IVF. Family Court ruled that the definition of “man” should be “based on contemporary thinking and not on outdated ideologies.” Wow! Are all you GLBT’s ready to apply for residency?
Hell
David is speaking to the Mormon group on Sunday night and I just got a call from the man who is organizing it. They want a resume of our family to include in their program. That sounds appropriate since it’s an awards dinner for Traditional Family Values. They haven’t a clue as to what they’re getting into. Before the dinner we’re having tea with several people at one of their homes. At tea will be Dr. John Herron who is a medical doctor as well as a senator. He is the minister for aboriginal affairs and president of the Conservative Party. I don’t know if that really means conservative, as we know it. Here the liberal party is conservative and the labor party is liberal. Dr. Herron is a member of the Church of England. Mr. Young will be there too. He’s an advisor to John Howard, the Prime Minister of Australia and a member of the Salvation Army. Mr. Glen, a lecturer in economics, is an advisor to John Huntsman, who, I am told, owns the chemical industry in America. He’s a Mormon. I was assured that all of the people are religious. Did I ask? They were gracious in inquiring about food restrictions. At least they have a clue about that. David called back to see if he could email the information instead of faxing it since the Temple doesn’t have a fax. They asked if we’d like one. David thinks that the offer of a fax and perhaps the invitation to speak might be withdrawn once they get the resume. We’ll see. I know this is in total opposition to GLBT policy I wrote about above. It will be interesting to see how it evolves.
Paradise
On our walk home from lunch, we saw some people looking up at a tree. There was a lot of bird commotion going on so we too looked up. There were three colorful birds just yammering away. David thinks they were lorakeets. We watched for a while before it struck me that it was kind of amazing. This really is paradise. As we continued on, I kept glancing to my left. There was really nothing to see beyond the apartment buildings. That’s the point. We are living at the end of the world. Beyond the buildings is the Pacific. What a wonder! We stopped at the bottle shop in our building to get some wine to bring to a birthday lunch tomorrow, went upstairs, and settled down on our balcony to gaze at the pool and read.
Toby
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Options
October 14, 2001-Sleepless
Living here is like living in a fraternity house. At 2 AM we thought we heard a loud group carousing outside. When we looked out at the pool area, we realized it was raining. No one was out, so the noise must have been coming from an open balcony door. Syd Bruce said he could check to see if there were quieter locations in the complex, but David won’t give up our pool view. I can’t say that I want to either. I also don’t think this kind of noise can be eliminated by location. The tenants change each week. It was pretty warm and muggy so our bedroom window was open. We ended up closing it and finally got to sleep around 4 AM. We hardly got any sleep!
Moving Moments
I was going to drive David to Temple this morning for Sunday School, but decided to sleep in. The plan had been for me to go to the building at noon for his brown bag lunch class. I didn’t know who was planning to go so I didn’t call anyone to hitch a ride. The turnout for that and the Hebrew class he had earlier in the morning was much larger than he’d anticipated. They ran out of printed material for both. He said he felt like a one armed paperhanger with all the things he had scheduled. There was the regular Sunday class schedule, a meeting, counseling, Hebrew class, and the discussion group.
The people here still don’t get it. They’re so starved for programming they fantasize about how it would be if he stayed on. He’s looking forward to being retired again. He had a taste of it before coming here and really liked it. Even if we stayed, he’d have to avoid getting sucked into working at the temple. We’ve discussed it and although I have been giving it some thought, David said he hasn’t considered moving here. As much as I like it, I’m leery. For one thing, I don’t think Australia has a healthy Jewish community. The Hasidim along with the extremely orthodox are the majority and are dominant. They are fundamentalist and unhealthy for the growth of a well-balanced Jewish atmosphere. By nature they are exclusionary. Even though the number of Jews on Gold Coast is the same as in Akron, they don’t have a presence. They’re mostly unaffiliated with any Jewish institution whereas in Akron there is a high affiliation rate. Brisbane doesn’t even have a well-organized progressive/reform presence. David thinks it’s a lack of progressive rabbis in the country. The Hasidim send a bunch of rabbis over here so it’s inevitable they’ll be more influential.
Another issue is that I really don’t think our kids would move here. Being this far apart is hard enough for nine months, but it’s too far for forever. I know Daniel and Vikki would love it here on Gold Coast and Wendy would like either Sydney or Melbourne. But they have too many ties and I don’t think they’d want to leave. They‘d have to earn more than they do now in Australian dollars to have the same amenities here. We, on the other hand, could live quite well since we’d be spending U.S. dollars. What we need to do is find a place in the States that mirrors this where we can afford to live.
The other realization is that we don’t need a lot of living space. This apartment is too small for a permanent residence, but I realize how much simpler life can be in a smaller and more efficient space. We should say a “Shehechyanu.” That’s a prayer recited when something happens for the first time. David went swimming. It was 28-29 degrees today (Celsius), so he thought it was warm enough. I lounged on a chaise in the shade and read.
Toby
Living here is like living in a fraternity house. At 2 AM we thought we heard a loud group carousing outside. When we looked out at the pool area, we realized it was raining. No one was out, so the noise must have been coming from an open balcony door. Syd Bruce said he could check to see if there were quieter locations in the complex, but David won’t give up our pool view. I can’t say that I want to either. I also don’t think this kind of noise can be eliminated by location. The tenants change each week. It was pretty warm and muggy so our bedroom window was open. We ended up closing it and finally got to sleep around 4 AM. We hardly got any sleep!
Moving Moments
I was going to drive David to Temple this morning for Sunday School, but decided to sleep in. The plan had been for me to go to the building at noon for his brown bag lunch class. I didn’t know who was planning to go so I didn’t call anyone to hitch a ride. The turnout for that and the Hebrew class he had earlier in the morning was much larger than he’d anticipated. They ran out of printed material for both. He said he felt like a one armed paperhanger with all the things he had scheduled. There was the regular Sunday class schedule, a meeting, counseling, Hebrew class, and the discussion group.
The people here still don’t get it. They’re so starved for programming they fantasize about how it would be if he stayed on. He’s looking forward to being retired again. He had a taste of it before coming here and really liked it. Even if we stayed, he’d have to avoid getting sucked into working at the temple. We’ve discussed it and although I have been giving it some thought, David said he hasn’t considered moving here. As much as I like it, I’m leery. For one thing, I don’t think Australia has a healthy Jewish community. The Hasidim along with the extremely orthodox are the majority and are dominant. They are fundamentalist and unhealthy for the growth of a well-balanced Jewish atmosphere. By nature they are exclusionary. Even though the number of Jews on Gold Coast is the same as in Akron, they don’t have a presence. They’re mostly unaffiliated with any Jewish institution whereas in Akron there is a high affiliation rate. Brisbane doesn’t even have a well-organized progressive/reform presence. David thinks it’s a lack of progressive rabbis in the country. The Hasidim send a bunch of rabbis over here so it’s inevitable they’ll be more influential.
Another issue is that I really don’t think our kids would move here. Being this far apart is hard enough for nine months, but it’s too far for forever. I know Daniel and Vikki would love it here on Gold Coast and Wendy would like either Sydney or Melbourne. But they have too many ties and I don’t think they’d want to leave. They‘d have to earn more than they do now in Australian dollars to have the same amenities here. We, on the other hand, could live quite well since we’d be spending U.S. dollars. What we need to do is find a place in the States that mirrors this where we can afford to live.
The other realization is that we don’t need a lot of living space. This apartment is too small for a permanent residence, but I realize how much simpler life can be in a smaller and more efficient space. We should say a “Shehechyanu.” That’s a prayer recited when something happens for the first time. David went swimming. It was 28-29 degrees today (Celsius), so he thought it was warm enough. I lounged on a chaise in the shade and read.
Toby
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Lessons
October 12, 2001-Learning
Along with the supremely satisfying sounding town names of Barrumbuttock and Tittibong, I would like to add Blackbutt. It pays to read letters to the editor.
My culinary skills are being challenged. The utensils I’m using are inadequate for all but basic fare. I just made a kugel by using an undersized saucepan to cook the noodles. I had to do it in three shifts. I don’t have a strainer so I used a pasta fork. It was a messy but efficient way to drain the noodles without loosing them down the sink. Speaking of losing things, a pot lid handle came off as I was lifting it to see if the water was boiling. Pieces and parts of the handle went floating off in the boiling water. I fished them out and repaired the handle. Did you know that a fork tine is useful for tightening a Phillips screw? I used an oversized salad bowl to mix the ingredients. I’m going to bake it in an aluminum foil "grill drip-catcher" pan of some odd dimensions at 200 degrees Celsius and hope it comes out ok.
October 13, 2001-Terminology
The kugel was fine and everyone enjoyed it. It’s fun to experiment with foreign cooking measures. We’ll invite the Bruce’s over for dinner. They’ve agreed to bring their own utensils and dishes if necessary.
We went to the PFLAG (Parents, Family, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) meeting in Brisbane today with congregants formerly of Toronto and Florida. Their son and his partner live in Sydney. On the drive up we passed a car dealer that advertised “Roo Proof” cars. Hitting roos on the road is a major hazard. We also learned that if we wanted to find any bedding in a store we needed to ask for Manchesters. That’s what they call it. It’s an English term and probably derives from the area of England where they were manufactured. Another term they told us about is “bowser.” It has nothing to do with a dog. It’s what they call a fuel pump. No one seems to know the derivation of that one. Last night one of the Bruce children asked if we knew what poppers were. We defined them as we knew the word pertaining to the drugs used in gay bathhouses. Here they’re just juice boxes. The term I like is one that’s used right before David walks onto the pulpit. A leader of the congregation will stand on the pulpit and announce, “Will everyone please be upstanding.” At that point they all rise. It’s a stitch. I’ve never heard upstanding used in that way. David loves that he comes in to a silent, but standing ovation.
PFLAG
There were about 20 people at the PFLAG meeting. It was more than usual. We gave them a picture of GLBT (Gay, Lesbian, Bi-Sexual, Transgender) life in our country then asked them about Australia. There was agreement that Sydney was the Mecca of GLBT acceptance. They even have a contingent of Jewish parents who march in their Pride parade. Queensland, unlike New South Wales, is more redneck (their term) in their attitudes although Cairns to the north is more accepting and is opening some gay resorts. Aussies aren’t open about GLBT adoptions or artificial insemination, nor are they for any singles becoming parents by adoption or AI. There’s no guaranteed safety for students in the schools except for a few private high schools. It’s easier at the university level where there’s a policy of equal rights that’s enforced. The military was unclear. Everyone agreed that there were gays in the military, but they didn’t know if they were open and accepted. I seem to remember reading somewhere that they were. One of the most interesting pieces of information came from an aboriginal mother of a gay son. She said that aborigines were very accepting. Since they'd been so oppressed, they have a live and let live attitude. We mentioned that in the U.S. it was hard for some minorities to get past the image of the macho male and on to acceptance.
Cultural Exchanges
Had lunch at a Subway and didn’t know how to order the sandwich size. They’ve gotten some signs and banners from the U.S. and have had some made locally. There were 6 inch or 15-cm. Subs as well as foot long and 30 cm ones. Ah, the dilemma. David had the Aussie. It was basically an elongated hamburger with a choice of toppings. Yes, beetroot was among the choices.
We went to an art center in Gold Coast tonight to see the movie Liam. The center has other cultural events including dance and live theater. It’s a lovely modern building with a good selection of entertainment. The movie was about a young boy whose world falls apart. It takes place in Liverpool, England and is set in 1930. It shows the beginnings of fascism and anti-Semitism .It was well done and we only needed sub-titles for part of it.
Toby
Along with the supremely satisfying sounding town names of Barrumbuttock and Tittibong, I would like to add Blackbutt. It pays to read letters to the editor.
My culinary skills are being challenged. The utensils I’m using are inadequate for all but basic fare. I just made a kugel by using an undersized saucepan to cook the noodles. I had to do it in three shifts. I don’t have a strainer so I used a pasta fork. It was a messy but efficient way to drain the noodles without loosing them down the sink. Speaking of losing things, a pot lid handle came off as I was lifting it to see if the water was boiling. Pieces and parts of the handle went floating off in the boiling water. I fished them out and repaired the handle. Did you know that a fork tine is useful for tightening a Phillips screw? I used an oversized salad bowl to mix the ingredients. I’m going to bake it in an aluminum foil "grill drip-catcher" pan of some odd dimensions at 200 degrees Celsius and hope it comes out ok.
October 13, 2001-Terminology
The kugel was fine and everyone enjoyed it. It’s fun to experiment with foreign cooking measures. We’ll invite the Bruce’s over for dinner. They’ve agreed to bring their own utensils and dishes if necessary.
We went to the PFLAG (Parents, Family, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) meeting in Brisbane today with congregants formerly of Toronto and Florida. Their son and his partner live in Sydney. On the drive up we passed a car dealer that advertised “Roo Proof” cars. Hitting roos on the road is a major hazard. We also learned that if we wanted to find any bedding in a store we needed to ask for Manchesters. That’s what they call it. It’s an English term and probably derives from the area of England where they were manufactured. Another term they told us about is “bowser.” It has nothing to do with a dog. It’s what they call a fuel pump. No one seems to know the derivation of that one. Last night one of the Bruce children asked if we knew what poppers were. We defined them as we knew the word pertaining to the drugs used in gay bathhouses. Here they’re just juice boxes. The term I like is one that’s used right before David walks onto the pulpit. A leader of the congregation will stand on the pulpit and announce, “Will everyone please be upstanding.” At that point they all rise. It’s a stitch. I’ve never heard upstanding used in that way. David loves that he comes in to a silent, but standing ovation.
PFLAG
There were about 20 people at the PFLAG meeting. It was more than usual. We gave them a picture of GLBT (Gay, Lesbian, Bi-Sexual, Transgender) life in our country then asked them about Australia. There was agreement that Sydney was the Mecca of GLBT acceptance. They even have a contingent of Jewish parents who march in their Pride parade. Queensland, unlike New South Wales, is more redneck (their term) in their attitudes although Cairns to the north is more accepting and is opening some gay resorts. Aussies aren’t open about GLBT adoptions or artificial insemination, nor are they for any singles becoming parents by adoption or AI. There’s no guaranteed safety for students in the schools except for a few private high schools. It’s easier at the university level where there’s a policy of equal rights that’s enforced. The military was unclear. Everyone agreed that there were gays in the military, but they didn’t know if they were open and accepted. I seem to remember reading somewhere that they were. One of the most interesting pieces of information came from an aboriginal mother of a gay son. She said that aborigines were very accepting. Since they'd been so oppressed, they have a live and let live attitude. We mentioned that in the U.S. it was hard for some minorities to get past the image of the macho male and on to acceptance.
Cultural Exchanges
Had lunch at a Subway and didn’t know how to order the sandwich size. They’ve gotten some signs and banners from the U.S. and have had some made locally. There were 6 inch or 15-cm. Subs as well as foot long and 30 cm ones. Ah, the dilemma. David had the Aussie. It was basically an elongated hamburger with a choice of toppings. Yes, beetroot was among the choices.
We went to an art center in Gold Coast tonight to see the movie Liam. The center has other cultural events including dance and live theater. It’s a lovely modern building with a good selection of entertainment. The movie was about a young boy whose world falls apart. It takes place in Liverpool, England and is set in 1930. It shows the beginnings of fascism and anti-Semitism .It was well done and we only needed sub-titles for part of it.
Toby
Monday, March 8, 2010
Nuances
October 10, 2001-This & That
They have a peculiar way of using the word “scheme” here. They talk of government schemes to help pensioners get better dental care and mean it in a positive way. “Scheme” seems to be used as we use the word “plan.” But every time I hear it or read it I think of something devious.
There was nothing devious about the talk of the brothel that was just approved to open in the industrial estates. Prostitution is legal here. Brothels must be far from schools and houses of worship, so an industrial estate, or industrial park, as we call them, meets the requirements.
I think I’m ready for a social life of my own. I answered the phone just now and found myself talking on and on with the person at the other end just because it was a familiar voice. We’ve been very busy with the holidays so I haven’t noticed, but I think I need something to do besides email. Tomorrow I’m having lunch with a retired realtor. She’s also a Holocaust survivor. She wants to talk real estate and compare notes. Should be fun. I just called to book lunch next week with a woman who’s studying for conversion and hopes to return to Israel. She’s the one who was deported for being in the hostel that housed a millennium sect. Her last name is Christianson. When she becomes Jewish she wants to change it to Cohen. She said that name would be less conspicuous in Israel. Duh!
We’re watching the news about the anthrax found in Florida. I hope the U.S. looks to Israel and how they’ve been handling that kind of threat. We’re worried about you all, but Australia’s not immune. The American Express offices in Sydney were evacuated due to a bomb threat. They found the man they think torched the Mosque in Brisbane a few weeks ago. The Muslim community is rebuilding and is happy the police have a suspect.
October 11, 2001-Survivors & Surviving
This is not a joke: A stupid American walks into a grocery store in Australia and goes to a dairy case where there’s cottage cheese. She needs sour cream for a kugel (noodle pudding) she’s taking to Shabbat dinner the next night. Not seeing sour cream, she walks up to up to a stock clerk and says, “ I’m looking for sour cream. What would you call it?” The stock clerk says with a straight face, “Well, I’d call it sour cream if that’s what I was looking for.” The stupid American thanks him profusely and follows his directions to the other dairy case where the sour cream is sitting next to the yogurt. Feeling self-conscious about her poor grasp on this foreign language, she hesitantly sidles up to a different stocker and mutters, “Where would I find the serviettes?” He instantly points to the paper goods aisle and, voila, there are oodles of napkins on the shelves. The moral of this story: “She who has the guts to make a fool of herself walks out of the store with all her supplies.” So went my trip to the grocery store.
I had lunch today with Sue. She’s 73 years old and a retired realtor. As we settled into our seats at the Food Fantasy Buffet in Jupiter’s Casino across from our apartment, I asked her to tell me her story. I was unprepared for what happened next. She reached into her purse and pulled out a thin paperback book. She’d written it several years ago when her children insisted she write her memoirs. The story came to her in the form of poetry that she wrote in the voice of a child. We’ll bring a copy home for the Temple library in Akron. The book was self-published and she’s sold 250 of the 500 copies in print. The other day someone wanting to help her market it approached her. Who knows, she may be on the Today show soon.
Sue was celebrating her 9th birthday with her family in Vienna, Austria when Hitler invaded and her father was captured. She was very aware of what was going on around her. She made up her mind that the only safe place for her was England. At age 9, she convinced her mother to send her on a train alone, without a ticket, and without papers, to England where she had a great aunt. But they couldn’t reach the great aunt before Sue left. She traveled through The Netherlands and was put on a boat to England where she ended up in an internment camp. Many people wanted to take her into their homes, but she insisted she was waiting for her great aunt. The aunt finally came for her and took her home. She was quite elderly and after a year Sue felt she was too much of a burden for her aunt. At age 10, she wrote a letter to the Quakers whom she knew were helping the Jews. They placed her with a lovely family. Shortly after that, her mother wrote to tell her that her father had escaped and had made it to England. Well, that’s as far as I got in the book. I can tell you that they were all reunited and moved to Australia. She met and married a Zionist and moved to Israel where they lived for 40 years. She became a realtor and raised three sons there. One by one her sons began to explore her past, visited Australia, and fell in love with it. They’re all living here now. The front cover of the book has a picture of her when she was nine. The photo looks like a typical schoolgirl of the time and bears a strong resemblance to Anne Frank.
I’m reading Bryce Courtenay’s Australian Trilogy. The books can be gotten separately. The first one is The Potato Factory. It gives a very real and graphic picture of who the early Australian settlers were and how they arrived. I’m finding it fascinating. The second is Tommo and Hawk. The third is Solomon’s Song. It mentions that Australia is unique as a country of Europeans in that Jews were among the first settlers. They came as prisoners, like the rest. Or maybe they came for the weather. All of you who are sick of hearing about our good weather will be happy to know it’s raining. Of course, it’s nighttime, so it doesn’t matter.
Toby
They have a peculiar way of using the word “scheme” here. They talk of government schemes to help pensioners get better dental care and mean it in a positive way. “Scheme” seems to be used as we use the word “plan.” But every time I hear it or read it I think of something devious.
There was nothing devious about the talk of the brothel that was just approved to open in the industrial estates. Prostitution is legal here. Brothels must be far from schools and houses of worship, so an industrial estate, or industrial park, as we call them, meets the requirements.
I think I’m ready for a social life of my own. I answered the phone just now and found myself talking on and on with the person at the other end just because it was a familiar voice. We’ve been very busy with the holidays so I haven’t noticed, but I think I need something to do besides email. Tomorrow I’m having lunch with a retired realtor. She’s also a Holocaust survivor. She wants to talk real estate and compare notes. Should be fun. I just called to book lunch next week with a woman who’s studying for conversion and hopes to return to Israel. She’s the one who was deported for being in the hostel that housed a millennium sect. Her last name is Christianson. When she becomes Jewish she wants to change it to Cohen. She said that name would be less conspicuous in Israel. Duh!
We’re watching the news about the anthrax found in Florida. I hope the U.S. looks to Israel and how they’ve been handling that kind of threat. We’re worried about you all, but Australia’s not immune. The American Express offices in Sydney were evacuated due to a bomb threat. They found the man they think torched the Mosque in Brisbane a few weeks ago. The Muslim community is rebuilding and is happy the police have a suspect.
October 11, 2001-Survivors & Surviving
This is not a joke: A stupid American walks into a grocery store in Australia and goes to a dairy case where there’s cottage cheese. She needs sour cream for a kugel (noodle pudding) she’s taking to Shabbat dinner the next night. Not seeing sour cream, she walks up to up to a stock clerk and says, “ I’m looking for sour cream. What would you call it?” The stock clerk says with a straight face, “Well, I’d call it sour cream if that’s what I was looking for.” The stupid American thanks him profusely and follows his directions to the other dairy case where the sour cream is sitting next to the yogurt. Feeling self-conscious about her poor grasp on this foreign language, she hesitantly sidles up to a different stocker and mutters, “Where would I find the serviettes?” He instantly points to the paper goods aisle and, voila, there are oodles of napkins on the shelves. The moral of this story: “She who has the guts to make a fool of herself walks out of the store with all her supplies.” So went my trip to the grocery store.
I had lunch today with Sue. She’s 73 years old and a retired realtor. As we settled into our seats at the Food Fantasy Buffet in Jupiter’s Casino across from our apartment, I asked her to tell me her story. I was unprepared for what happened next. She reached into her purse and pulled out a thin paperback book. She’d written it several years ago when her children insisted she write her memoirs. The story came to her in the form of poetry that she wrote in the voice of a child. We’ll bring a copy home for the Temple library in Akron. The book was self-published and she’s sold 250 of the 500 copies in print. The other day someone wanting to help her market it approached her. Who knows, she may be on the Today show soon.
Sue was celebrating her 9th birthday with her family in Vienna, Austria when Hitler invaded and her father was captured. She was very aware of what was going on around her. She made up her mind that the only safe place for her was England. At age 9, she convinced her mother to send her on a train alone, without a ticket, and without papers, to England where she had a great aunt. But they couldn’t reach the great aunt before Sue left. She traveled through The Netherlands and was put on a boat to England where she ended up in an internment camp. Many people wanted to take her into their homes, but she insisted she was waiting for her great aunt. The aunt finally came for her and took her home. She was quite elderly and after a year Sue felt she was too much of a burden for her aunt. At age 10, she wrote a letter to the Quakers whom she knew were helping the Jews. They placed her with a lovely family. Shortly after that, her mother wrote to tell her that her father had escaped and had made it to England. Well, that’s as far as I got in the book. I can tell you that they were all reunited and moved to Australia. She met and married a Zionist and moved to Israel where they lived for 40 years. She became a realtor and raised three sons there. One by one her sons began to explore her past, visited Australia, and fell in love with it. They’re all living here now. The front cover of the book has a picture of her when she was nine. The photo looks like a typical schoolgirl of the time and bears a strong resemblance to Anne Frank.
I’m reading Bryce Courtenay’s Australian Trilogy. The books can be gotten separately. The first one is The Potato Factory. It gives a very real and graphic picture of who the early Australian settlers were and how they arrived. I’m finding it fascinating. The second is Tommo and Hawk. The third is Solomon’s Song. It mentions that Australia is unique as a country of Europeans in that Jews were among the first settlers. They came as prisoners, like the rest. Or maybe they came for the weather. All of you who are sick of hearing about our good weather will be happy to know it’s raining. Of course, it’s nighttime, so it doesn’t matter.
Toby
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Foolishness and Folly
October 9,2001-Fools
David has just taken a glass of pop and a book out to the balcony to watch the swimmers in the pool. The bikinis here are spectacular. This is Simchat Torah for us, so he doesn’t have to work this afternoon.
We didn’t know until about 5:00 PM yesterday about the air strikes in Afghanistan. As David was getting dressed for temple he heard it on the radio and we turned on the TV. The warnings to Americans abroad to keep a low profile struck home. I cautioned David about accepting speaking engagements where he would be exposed to publicity or where the other guests might be hostile. In the old Native American tradition of counting coupe, or tagging your enemy, he would be worth many points as an American and a rabbi. As I’ve mentioned before, this area is heavily populated with Muslims. I will prevail upon him to be careful and, if need be, I will become obnoxious about reigning in his desire to give the congregation a public presence. He did accept the Mormon speaking gig and was assured they love Jews. The PFLAG meeting is this Saturday afternoon and will, by nature, be low profile. He will be one of many guests at an interfaith gathering in Brisbane. I’ve already warned David that he will have me to contend with if he tries to do something foolish.
Folly
Last night and this morning we experienced the most “froelich” (joyously celebratory) Simchat Torah we’ve ever known. It's the celebration of completing the reading of the entire Torah scroll (Five Books of Moses) and beginning to read it all over. The place was packed. The evening service had standing room only. In Akron, the honor of carrying the scrolls was doled out in an orderly fashion. Here it’s whoever wants to have a go. There are three large scrolls and six tiny ones. Appropriate Israeli songs were played on a boom box and everyone sang along, swaying to the rhythm and clapping to the beat. I lost count of the number of times they marched around. As one person finished his or her circuit of the congregation and handed the Torah over to the next honoree, they took a drink of “schnapps.” In this case, it’s Scotch since the head of the ritual committee, is Scottish. When things settled down, David said that services would not continue until he was sober.
Syd Bruce was honored with saying the blessings for the reading of the final verses of the final chapter of the Torah. His wife, Janet, read the English translation, his son, Daniel also said the blessings. His daughter, Rebekka, read Haftarah. I would like to adopt this entire family. Their Uncle Ben was at services last night and this morning. We may have a convert yet. Ben has always gone to the orthodox synagogue, but he confided in me today that this was the first time he said kaddish (a prayer praising God said in memory of those who have died) and knew what it meant.
Several people have already started a campaign to get us to think about staying here. It’s really funny because none of them knows that it’s my decision where we live from now on. As David was planning to retire, we realized I’ve never in my life decided where I would live. I’ve told Syd, especially, that if he wants us to consider it at all, he has to convince our kids to move here. They also don’t understand that David really wants to be retired. His happiest times are when he leaves the temple and is free for a while. If we stayed, they’d still not have a rabbi. It’s very hard to get permanent resident status in Australia, but the rabbi who works for the government told us not to worry. He’d take care of our children. I guess we’re no problem. As retirees, all we have to show is that we have enough in reserve so that we wouldn’t be a burden to the country.
Between 6-7 PM we have to turn on every light in our apartment. Publicity photos are being taken and they want the buildings to show well. I took a great shot of our pool. David thinks I should sell it to them.
David just moved in from the balcony and is stretched out on the couch. I guess the bikinis are gone for the day.
Toby
David has just taken a glass of pop and a book out to the balcony to watch the swimmers in the pool. The bikinis here are spectacular. This is Simchat Torah for us, so he doesn’t have to work this afternoon.
We didn’t know until about 5:00 PM yesterday about the air strikes in Afghanistan. As David was getting dressed for temple he heard it on the radio and we turned on the TV. The warnings to Americans abroad to keep a low profile struck home. I cautioned David about accepting speaking engagements where he would be exposed to publicity or where the other guests might be hostile. In the old Native American tradition of counting coupe, or tagging your enemy, he would be worth many points as an American and a rabbi. As I’ve mentioned before, this area is heavily populated with Muslims. I will prevail upon him to be careful and, if need be, I will become obnoxious about reigning in his desire to give the congregation a public presence. He did accept the Mormon speaking gig and was assured they love Jews. The PFLAG meeting is this Saturday afternoon and will, by nature, be low profile. He will be one of many guests at an interfaith gathering in Brisbane. I’ve already warned David that he will have me to contend with if he tries to do something foolish.
Folly
Last night and this morning we experienced the most “froelich” (joyously celebratory) Simchat Torah we’ve ever known. It's the celebration of completing the reading of the entire Torah scroll (Five Books of Moses) and beginning to read it all over. The place was packed. The evening service had standing room only. In Akron, the honor of carrying the scrolls was doled out in an orderly fashion. Here it’s whoever wants to have a go. There are three large scrolls and six tiny ones. Appropriate Israeli songs were played on a boom box and everyone sang along, swaying to the rhythm and clapping to the beat. I lost count of the number of times they marched around. As one person finished his or her circuit of the congregation and handed the Torah over to the next honoree, they took a drink of “schnapps.” In this case, it’s Scotch since the head of the ritual committee, is Scottish. When things settled down, David said that services would not continue until he was sober.
Syd Bruce was honored with saying the blessings for the reading of the final verses of the final chapter of the Torah. His wife, Janet, read the English translation, his son, Daniel also said the blessings. His daughter, Rebekka, read Haftarah. I would like to adopt this entire family. Their Uncle Ben was at services last night and this morning. We may have a convert yet. Ben has always gone to the orthodox synagogue, but he confided in me today that this was the first time he said kaddish (a prayer praising God said in memory of those who have died) and knew what it meant.
Several people have already started a campaign to get us to think about staying here. It’s really funny because none of them knows that it’s my decision where we live from now on. As David was planning to retire, we realized I’ve never in my life decided where I would live. I’ve told Syd, especially, that if he wants us to consider it at all, he has to convince our kids to move here. They also don’t understand that David really wants to be retired. His happiest times are when he leaves the temple and is free for a while. If we stayed, they’d still not have a rabbi. It’s very hard to get permanent resident status in Australia, but the rabbi who works for the government told us not to worry. He’d take care of our children. I guess we’re no problem. As retirees, all we have to show is that we have enough in reserve so that we wouldn’t be a burden to the country.
Between 6-7 PM we have to turn on every light in our apartment. Publicity photos are being taken and they want the buildings to show well. I took a great shot of our pool. David thinks I should sell it to them.
David just moved in from the balcony and is stretched out on the couch. I guess the bikinis are gone for the day.
Toby
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
New Horizons
October 7, 2001-RACQ
(photos:
No explanation needed,
Easternmost point in Australia,
Sand castle,
Mooball Cafe)
For a time-compulsive like David, the start of the day was inauspicious. We planned to leave two hours for the hour and a half drive to the bar mitzvah in Byron Bay. This gave us time to get lost. We ended up not needing “lost” time, but we did need extra time. Our car battery was dead. I must say that David did maintain his composure and called the RACQ (Royal Auto Club Queensland). Their computers were down, but they assured us that they’d have someone out within the hour.
David went outside to wait and I walked across the street to a service station where I learned two things. The service department is closed on Sundays and jumper cables are called jumper leads. I walked back across the street to see if David had started panicking and found him slightly more agitated, but managing. The people on duty at the reception desk in our lobby couldn’t help but did call the maintenance man to see if he had leads. While we went back to waiting for RACQ, I asked one of the shopkeepers if he had leads. He didn’t, but in typical Aussie fashion he went out of his way to offer help. He was willing to take the battery out of his car and ours, put our battery in his car to charge it, and then put it back in our car. Just about then, the RACQ truck pulled up and we got rolling. We were only 15 minutes late to the bar mitzvah.
Bucolic Bar Mitzvah
How can I describe the setting at the home where this took place? One hundred acres nestled on a hilltop overlooking the ocean and mountains. Do you have the visual? The service took place under a bower covered with palm branches. It was next to a pond and had a clear view of the valley where cattle grazed. The foliage was a mixture of landscaping and natural undergrowth accented by boulders, rocks, and dirt paths. David has done a wedding at a home where a dog settled itself under the chuppah (wedding canopy), but this was the first time he’d done a service with cows mooing in the background.
Those assembled were family from New York and friends. There is a hippie area in the neighboring town of Mullimbimby. I think half the town showed up. At least they dressed the part. The father of the bar mitzvah was in shorts as were most of the men. Children were barefoot and women wore sundresses embellished with shawls, sheer jackets, and an assortment of beaded or tie-dyed anything. Large brimmed hats were passed out at the start of the ceremony to serve as sunshades not as ritual head coverings. The boy read only his Torah portion and David did the rest of the service including all the singing. The woman with whom he’d spoken on the phone and to whom he’d hummed a few bars of “Lo Yisa Goy” decided not to sing. I spent the service following the dogs around as we searched for shade. Their Australian sheep dog & I bonded. I also kept an eye peeled for roos and koalas neither of which made an appearance. There was a reception after the service with music and lunch, but we didn’t stay. We were anxious to be tourists again.
On Our Own
They’d gotten us a room at the Beach Hotel in Byron Bay where our room overlooks the ocean and we can hear the surf through our open windows. We changed into shorts and headed for the once monthly market in town. This area seems to be overrun with youth so it was no surprise when David noticed a special crossing area with a sign designating it as an “aged person crossing.” In case the old people don’t make it across the street there are “refuge islands” in the middle of the street where they can stop. These are clearly marked. We have them too. I think we call them traffic islands.
At the market there were Hippie types who came to sell their wares: clothing, jewelry, pottery, t-shirts. There were food, massage and reflexology tents, and a stall for Greenpeace. Many come from a community an hour away called Nimbin where marijuana is freely, though illegally, used. We may go there tomorrow, although one woman told us it was a sad place. Most of the adults and children are stoned.
The Sight
I didn’t realize how tired I was from the heat, but after an hour at the market, I needed to lie down. I was actually staggering. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and hadn’t had enough to drink. We grabbed lunch and water, but it took a two-hour nap to set me right.
The main site in Byron Bay is the lighthouse. It sits on the easternmost point of Australia and is a popular whale watching area. Alas, the humpbacks prefer the early morning, so we didn’t see them. We started the drive to the point at about 4:45pm hoping to see the sun set. The drive is up a winding road running along the coast. As we climbed, the scenery became more spectacular. This is the rugged, rocky North Coast of New South Wales. Beaches are set into coves where waves roll calmly in after crashing on the outer rocks. The backdrop for it all is the craggy mountains of the Great Dividing Range.
We passed several campgrounds across the street from the beach. It was as close as you can get in Australia to living on the beach. All beaches here are public and usually bordered by paths and parks. Imagine walking out of your camper and into the surf? When we arrived at the top, the lighthouse was everything it promised to be from the distance. It’s immaculately white sitting castle-like on its pinnacle. It’s a working lighthouse so when the sun set and the light came on, it was like a jewel in the crown.
But of course, this is Australia, so, to lighten things up, there were goats. I don’t know why there were goats, but they were busily trimming the undergrowth around the lighthouse which may be there only reason to be there. We’ve waited for sunsets all over the world and seem to be awed by each in their turn. This didn’t disappoint us. As we waited to get the perfect photo, we ended up taking several. Each change and gradation of shading seemed better than the one a moment ago. As the sky turned to pink, fuscia, and then red, we headed back to our hotel.
Winding Down
Before dinner we took a walk along the beach and came upon a sand artist. He does amazingly complex sand sculpture, photographs them, and sells the photos. The one we saw tonight had been illuminated with candles. It was a castle with figures of Neptune and a mermaid as part of the design. It was splendid.
We’ll tour the area some more tomorrow and head home in time for Simchat Torah tomorrow night. That’s the celebration of finishing the reading of the scrolls for the year and starting over again. On the way back we’ll be mindful to “stay in the left lane except when overtaking” as the signs say.
Life Savers
I have additional information about the surf life saving people. I poked fun at them yesterday, but kindly left out the description of the red and yellow rubber swim caps they wear. I would like to tell you that they are an incredibly necessary and respected part of life here since 1909. They are an integral part of the culture. I didn’t know until today that they’re all volunteers. The training is rigorous and the standards high.
October 8, 2001-Happy Hippies, Contented Cows
Our dinner last night at the Mango Jam Restaurant was more than leisurely. They forgot to put our order in, so it took two hours. We got comped 10% for the wait. Syd Bruce had quipped that Australia is the only nation that eats its national symbol, kangaroo. Not on this menu. We weren’t in a rush to go anywhere, so I started counting station wagons. We were perched on the 2nd floor balcony of the restaurant and had a bird’s eye view of the converging roads and the roundabout. I counted well over 50 station wagons. That seems to be the family car of choice over here. Vans and SUVs are available, but not as popular. I didn’t even know they still made wagons.
We drove back today along the mountain route. It was an easier, less trafficked drive, although I thought the coast road was more scenic. We skipped Nimbin since we’d seen the hippies at the market, weren’t interested in cannabis, and had toured tea and banana plantations elsewhere. Going through the mountains allowed us to see Mullimbimby. It’s as cute as its name. There’s not much to see except the people who live there. They were primarily dressed in vintage hippie garb and stores catered to the crystal, herbal, aromatherapy set. One woman typified the residents. She was 9 ½ months pregnant, wearing an ankle length granny dress, barefoot, and using an ATM. We also saw an elderly woman riding an electric cart. She had an open umbrella secured to the vehicle as a sunshade as well as an orange “caution slow vehicle” flag flying on a pole protruding from the back end of the cart. She wasn’t crossing at an “aged person crossing” sign.
We continued home through a town aptly called Mooball. The telephone poles were painted in a black and white cow pattern along with a totally cow splotched Moo Café and Service Station. The lawn trash wasn’t in keeping with the bovine theme: no statues of ducks, geese, roosters, and certainly not black lawn jockeys. One of the lawns did have a kangaroo pushing a cart of flowers.
Toby
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