I awoke yesterday morning to the sound of my name being repeatedly called from outside my window, “Alisi! Alisi! Alisi! Alisi!” My neighbor was standing outside and he wanted to get the vegetable seeds from inside my house to soak in water before we planted them this afternoon. I gave him the seeds, and he informed me that in school in the morning we were going to have a nutrition class about eating plants, and invited me to attend. Now, in conjunction with the garden we’re planting I’m working to create lessons/presentations about healthy eating and tie that into environmental issues. So, I was a bit upset that no one had told me about this before, or asked if I wanted to help. Nevertheless, I told him I would love to come, and brought along a notebook and pencil to take notes. This proved to be both foolish and an indication of the fact that I am still not totally immersed into local culture.
However, as it was Friday, we first had our weekly teacher’s meeting and Ministry of Education radio broadcast first. Apparently there is an influx of pirated DVDs of “Prison Break” and “24” in circulation at the moment, and we spent a good hour and a half discussing these captivating shows in surprising detail. Sadly, as I have seen neither, I wasn’t able to contribute a whole lot to the discussion, but I did put in a plug for “Heroes” (yes, I just finished season 1, and while I didn’t really like it at first, I am hooked now) and “Lost” (I got season 4 and part of 5 from Kate and Brett this week…this only spells trouble and a loss of productivity- all of my London girls can clearly vouch for this).
As our “meeting” was winding down I noticed a large number of mothers driving into the school yard and unloading truck-loads of food. They all came and sat outside the classroom with what amounted to a huge feast. This, of course, should have been another clear indication that a Tongan nutrition and plant-eating class may not be precisely what I had in mind. Still, I was completely taken by surprise when all the kids from classes 5 and 6, along with their siblings in other classes (so, practically the whole school) came into the classroom and sat on the floor around large lengths of table cloths that stretched across the entire room.
One of our teachers then walked up to the front of the room to begin the lesson. First, the children named every different type of food that was on their plate. Then, the teacher stated that eating food was good for you, and eating food from plants was also good. After that, she explained that black people and Chinese people were usually very skinny because they don’t have enough food. Also, they eat a lot of vegetables. But, the Tongan people are sino lelei (sino means both “fat” and body”, lelei means good; thus sino lelei is a good body because one is fat) because they have plenty of food and they eat meakai fakaTonga (Tongan food). Then she named some Tongan food that she particularly liked, mostly various root crops. Finally, our principal came to the front, blessed the food and said a prayer, and then everyone commenced literally stuffing their faces. And that was it. That was the school’s nutrition class, and it lasted maybe five minutes.
Of course the mothers jumped into a frenzy because I wasn’t eating and began snatching food away from their children and piling it in front of me, but, as soon as I was able to pick my jaw up off the floor, I jumped down and sat with the kids to eat. And eat we did; these kids meant business. Many of them started unbuckling their pants and untying their dresses. One kid even ate so much he threw up. Looking around at the array of fried foods, fatty, processed meat, and simple carbohydrates, I tried to spot some vegetables, as this was also ‘eat plants time’. The closest thing I found was pele (a leafy green that tastes like kale) mixed with kapa pulu (canned grade-D corned beef) and smothered in coconut cream.
Once I got over the initial shock and twinge of anger, I had to admit it was pretty funny, and periodically burst into laughter which the Tongans loved, even if they didn’t understand what I found so amusing. And yes, I am definitely rethinking how to conduct my nutrition classes, if I am able to do them in the future.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Children’s Sunday
Sundays in May are a big deal, and for the entire month, a specific Sunday is dedicated to honoring a section of the family. First there is Children’s Sunday, followed my Mother’s Sunday, and then Father’s Sunday. And, as I am neither a mother nor a father, it was decided that I should participate in Children’s Sunday. I was told that the children would recite biblical lessons, read hymns, do action songs, reenact biblical stories, and sing songs. All the children from pre-school through high school would be participating.
The week leading up to Children’s Sunday there were rehearsals every night, and I would stop by for a bit to watch. Usually though, after two hours or so, I inevitably got bored and would wander home. I also noticed a huge influx in the number of women weaving, and, as the week progressed, many groups of them would stay up all night weaving, as I finally figured out, new ta’ovalas and kiekias for their children and sewing new clothes.
The Thursday before the big day one of my neighbors who works at the airport came up to me and told me I would be reading a hymn on Children’s Sunday. What he failed to mention, but I astutely discovered at the dress rehearsal that evening, was that I would be doing my reading with his 5-year old son, who is in class 1 at my school. And, since the program starts with the youngest children and works its way up, who do you think started off the service? Oh yes, yours truly. And, all the kids had been practicing for months, and all of them, even the 4 and 5-year olds, had their verses and hymns memorized. I, as you may guess, very much did not, and with only two days until Sunday I just accepted the fact that I wouldn’t and was resigned to my fate as the only child reading from a hymn book.
On the Sunday itself there was the normal morning church service, followed by a huge feast in honor of the children, for which I made some pretty delicious custard cake parfaits, if I do say so myself. Phil, Kate, and Brett joined me for church in the morning and for the feast that followed, which made it all a lot more fun, even though there was a pig’s butt literally inches away from my face the entire feast. All of the children were dressed in white for church, and it was amazing how quickly a room of children dressed in white at a feast get collectively filthy.
After the feast, everyone ran home to change, and an hour later we were back at the church ready to start the program. Lupe, my neighbor, and Vasiti, the mother of a girl in class 1, decked me out in true Tongan fashion with a woven shirt, three ta’ovalas as my skirt, and a giant necklace of woven palm leaves. Once we got to the church Sā, my five-year old buddy, and I did our recitation/reading to start off the services, and all went smoothly until Muimui, my dog, saw me up on the alter and decided that’s where he should be too. Now, dogs in church are definitely frowned upon, but dogs on the scared alter- giant faux pas. Lupe ran up and grabbed him, and I finished my reading to wild approval and tears from the older ladies in the village (they loved me) and laughs from my students at my mispronunciations and the fact that I was reading with a class 1 student (obviously, they were less impressed).
I shuffled back to a pew- it’s really quite difficult to walk in giant woven mats- and was trying to find a way to sit without sliding off the bench when Muimui came bounding back in. This time, he saw Fotu, my neighbor’s four-year old son, reciting his lesson. Lupe and I brought him outside and tied him to the outside of the church, but after about a half hour he was whining so loudly you could hear him over the singing (Tongans sing incredibly loudly, so this was actually quite impressive) so we untied him, and he spent the rest of the service sleeping under my pew.
Three and a half hours later we finally wrapped up Children’s Sunday. Everyone did very well, although the older kids’ lessons took twice as long because each one of them would start to cry and have to stop until some small child ran up with a handkerchief from someone. It’s a Tongan thing to get very into your speeches and bible lessons and cry. I was very happy to get home, take off the woven clothing (which is very beautiful but a bit lacking in terms of comfort and ventilation) and relax.
The week leading up to Children’s Sunday there were rehearsals every night, and I would stop by for a bit to watch. Usually though, after two hours or so, I inevitably got bored and would wander home. I also noticed a huge influx in the number of women weaving, and, as the week progressed, many groups of them would stay up all night weaving, as I finally figured out, new ta’ovalas and kiekias for their children and sewing new clothes.
The Thursday before the big day one of my neighbors who works at the airport came up to me and told me I would be reading a hymn on Children’s Sunday. What he failed to mention, but I astutely discovered at the dress rehearsal that evening, was that I would be doing my reading with his 5-year old son, who is in class 1 at my school. And, since the program starts with the youngest children and works its way up, who do you think started off the service? Oh yes, yours truly. And, all the kids had been practicing for months, and all of them, even the 4 and 5-year olds, had their verses and hymns memorized. I, as you may guess, very much did not, and with only two days until Sunday I just accepted the fact that I wouldn’t and was resigned to my fate as the only child reading from a hymn book.
On the Sunday itself there was the normal morning church service, followed by a huge feast in honor of the children, for which I made some pretty delicious custard cake parfaits, if I do say so myself. Phil, Kate, and Brett joined me for church in the morning and for the feast that followed, which made it all a lot more fun, even though there was a pig’s butt literally inches away from my face the entire feast. All of the children were dressed in white for church, and it was amazing how quickly a room of children dressed in white at a feast get collectively filthy.
After the feast, everyone ran home to change, and an hour later we were back at the church ready to start the program. Lupe, my neighbor, and Vasiti, the mother of a girl in class 1, decked me out in true Tongan fashion with a woven shirt, three ta’ovalas as my skirt, and a giant necklace of woven palm leaves. Once we got to the church Sā, my five-year old buddy, and I did our recitation/reading to start off the services, and all went smoothly until Muimui, my dog, saw me up on the alter and decided that’s where he should be too. Now, dogs in church are definitely frowned upon, but dogs on the scared alter- giant faux pas. Lupe ran up and grabbed him, and I finished my reading to wild approval and tears from the older ladies in the village (they loved me) and laughs from my students at my mispronunciations and the fact that I was reading with a class 1 student (obviously, they were less impressed).
I shuffled back to a pew- it’s really quite difficult to walk in giant woven mats- and was trying to find a way to sit without sliding off the bench when Muimui came bounding back in. This time, he saw Fotu, my neighbor’s four-year old son, reciting his lesson. Lupe and I brought him outside and tied him to the outside of the church, but after about a half hour he was whining so loudly you could hear him over the singing (Tongans sing incredibly loudly, so this was actually quite impressive) so we untied him, and he spent the rest of the service sleeping under my pew.
Three and a half hours later we finally wrapped up Children’s Sunday. Everyone did very well, although the older kids’ lessons took twice as long because each one of them would start to cry and have to stop until some small child ran up with a handkerchief from someone. It’s a Tongan thing to get very into your speeches and bible lessons and cry. I was very happy to get home, take off the woven clothing (which is very beautiful but a bit lacking in terms of comfort and ventilation) and relax.
Friday, May 1, 2009
My Triumphant Return from the Land Down Under
Well, I’m back in Tonga, land of the boiled ‘ufi and kapa pulu. Australia, which may henceforth be know as land of the dead kangaroos on the side of the road and large expanses of straight and open roads, was absolutely amazing and wonderful. I flew into Melbourne, which is pronounced without the "r”, from Sydney and had a wonderful reunion with Eric at the baggage claim (read: I almost tackled him and made a big scene), and within minutes we were driving through a city, on a highway, and I was freaking out a little bit. Reintroduction to city life and culture was and will continue to be a bit of a challenge.
Eric had recently purchased a functioning little car, and we drove to our hostel in the St. Kilda neighborhood of the city, which was nice and cozy yet strangely populated with a large number of permanent and semi-permanent Australians who all knew one another and spent every evening have parties in the common room. All in all, it was a bit awkward at times, especially given the state of mine and Eric’s social skills compounded with the fact that I’ve been living in Tonga and he had been driving around the Outback alone…winning combination right there. But, there were hot water showers (!!!), mechanical laundry facilities, and a kitchen, which more than canceled out our own social clumsiness.
Melbourne was an adorable city, and I really enjoyed our time there. As you might imagine a fair amount of our itinerary revolved around finding and consuming food: culinary highlights from Melbourne include an all vegetarian restaurant that Eric willing went to without smuggling bacon in, the Queen Victoria market (every kind of fruit, vegetable, herb, cheese, and olive available), an epic search for bagels in the Jewish neighborhood which ended in vain because the city was practically shut down on Good Friday (government holiday there, who knew?), the awesome burgers and veggie burgers we found after failing to find bagels, real bakeries and lots of bread, sidewalk cafes on almost every street, a neighborhood of cake shops, lots of sushi, an awesome bar in the upstairs of a shop in a tiny little alley, and a six-pack of Sam Adams that we located in a specialty beer shop.
Aside from food, we did a lot of walking and exploring the various neighborhoods of the city, all of which would aptly be described as cute, riding the snazzy public transportation trams, and generally seeing the sights, including a great art museum with lots of older and modern Aboriginal art. Melbourne was by no means a large city, and it had an incredibly cozy feel to it, along with the most variety of neighborhoods and ethnic centers of all the cities in Australia. We also took a day and drove part of the Great Ocean Highway, along the coast of Australia. It was indescribably beautiful and there were plenty of overlooks and small paths down to cliffs overlooking the ocean. And, definite highlight of the trip, we saw several koala bears, just chilling in their trees! There were just as adorable as I had hoped they would be and all looked like grumpy old men. We unanimously decided that if Eric were to be reborn in animal form, he would most definitely be a koala.
We stayed for 5 days in Melbourne, and then it was time to hit the open road. We drove for two days through the ‘bush’ and then through the outback, sleeping in Eric’s tiny car, a feat of no small achievement, and cooking on a small propane burner at rest stops. And, I was more than successful in convincing and demonstrating to Mr. Ashcroft that living and eating out of one’s car does not mean one must subsist solely on pb&j sandwiches. In addition, during our time on the road, we saw many cows, ridiculous road signs warning about the cows on the road, even more ridiculous and rhyming road signs warning against driving while tires (favorites include: Fatigue is Fatal; Take a Break, Stay Awake for Safety’s Sake; and Survive This Drive), road trains (giant trucks pulling at least 5 trailers while driving on the wrong side of the road on tiny little two lane roads- terrifying), and dead kangaroos. Now, if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I have a small bone to pick with Australia: I came more excited to see kangaroos than anything else. There are hundreds of thousands of kangaroos all over the continent in many colors, shapes, and sized. But, despite the fact that Eric has seen more than he can remember, from the second I get to your country the only kangaroos I see are road-kill. Why? Also worth mentioning are the flies. Insane numbers of flies live off of who knows what in this wilderness, and instantly swarm anything that is moving slower than a car. Thankfully they disappeared at night because it was so cold (I bought a giant pair of sweatpants, socks, and a sweater in Melbourne- the tropics have made me weak!).
Finally, after countless outback towns consisting of a gas station and a motel and opal mines, we reached Uluru. After pitching our cozy little tent at a very overpriced campground in a small town built and inhabited totally by tourists (admittedly, it was a little strange) we drove out to Uluru, formally, and less politically correctly, known as Ayers Rock, to watch the sunset. While it was a bit overcast and slightly anticlimactic, we did hear an amazing country song fittingly entitled “There’s a Rainbow Over the Rock” chesseily (yes, I’m trying to make that an adverb) blasting from one of the many 4WDs that Australian families had rented for their outback vacation. Classic. Aside from being constantly terrified of the numerous things that can kill you in the outback, I really enjoyed our time here.
For the next couple days we perfect the art of rapidly making morning beverages and oatmeal for breakfast before the flies could descend, and spent the rest of the next two days hiking around Uluru and Kata Tjuta, which are both part of the same national park and a World Heritage Site. First, Eric and I did the base walk around Uluru, which was pretty amazing, despite being covered in flies for the majority of the time. Eric even bought a hat with pictures of flies on it in some effort to trick them, but alas, it was to no avail. Although I did enjoy making fun of him for wearing the hat. Uluru itself is immense, and there are caves, overhangs, and Aboriginal carvings around a large portion of the rock. Most of Uluru are sacred Aboriginal sites for either the men or the women, and as non-Aboriginals we aren’t privy to the information or details of why or where each of these exist. There was some more information about the importance of Uluru to the Aboriginals and some basic versions of important myths and tales that occurred there in a very well run visitor’s center that we visited a few times, and all of it was really interesting. There was also information about how the National Park Service and the original Aboriginal landowners have recently formed a governing board to jointly manage the land and parks services. Once last note on this is how impressive it is that a civilization could flourish in the middle of a desert, and some of the survival techniques and sources of food and water are just amazing. We also went on a short guided walk with a park ranger the following morning to a small water hole (but, it being the middle of the desert, the water level was pretty low) and aside from one ridiculous woman (there’s always one) it was really great. Also, Eric got the first of many chance to demonstrate his impressive knowledge of rocks and geography to himself and me, which is always fun.
We also hiked Kata Tjuta, somehow anglicized to “The Olgas”, which, frankly, I loved, even more than Uluru. It was about 45 kilometers away from Uluru, and the loop trail lead down into a lush valley surrounded by twelve giant rock formations. The views were stunning, and there’s no way I can describe how lovely it was with any justice. Sufficed to say, this was my favorite part of the entire trip.
We came out to Uluru with the set intention to climb it. It’s a pretty difficult climb, especially in the heat and sun, and we wanted to make sure we started early enough in the day to climb the tough ascent before the sun really kicked it and that we had plenty of water, food, and proper attire. The first day we set out to climb, the trail was closed due to high wind. Same thing happened the second day. On the third day, our last shot at climbing, what do you think happened? That’s right, it rained. In the desert. In a place where it rains a few times each year. And it wasn’t even enough rain to create awesome waterfalls and such off the rock. Just a small steady sprinkle. Needless to say, we were, and probably still are, highly disappointed.
I suppose the plus side is that we ended up leaving a day early and thus were able to make it to Adelaide with a fair portion of a day left to see a bit of the city. The most notable event from our two-day drive to Adelaide was our flat tire in the middle of nowhere (thankfully we had a spare in the trunk), and our eventful hour at a rest-stop town in which I proved to be quite gifted at playing the damsel in distress who doesn’t know anything about cars. Seriously, I need to learn how to change a tire. In Adelaide Eric and I were somehow delegated out of the main hostel and into what amounted to the couples dorm across the street, which was actually very nice and comfy, and meant we didn’t have to deal with or talk to that many hostel people. We wandered a bit, and after several thwarted attempts to eat fun vegetarian food on a Sunday night in a town where everything is closed, we were successful in locating a Chinese restaurant (hooray for the Chinese and their long business hours) and had a very pleasant last meal together accompanied by an extremely intoxicated group of young professionals.
Sadly, I had to leave early the next morning, and after a tearful goodbye and a delayed flight I made it to Sydney where I had an eight-hour layover before my flight to Tonga. I figured out the train system, which is wonderfully run but horribly expensive, and went down to Circular Quay to see the bridge and the Opera House, snap a few photos, wander around, and grab lunch. Then, it was back to the airport and the Kingdom of Tonga.
The trip was a wonderful break, and the company was indescribably needed. I loved Australia, and only wish I had had more time there. Now, it’s back to work and real life, although the tim-tams I brought back will make it a bit sweeter (excuse the pun, I really couldn’t help myself [I know Thom, even after that NY Times op. ed. piece]) for at least a week.
Eric had recently purchased a functioning little car, and we drove to our hostel in the St. Kilda neighborhood of the city, which was nice and cozy yet strangely populated with a large number of permanent and semi-permanent Australians who all knew one another and spent every evening have parties in the common room. All in all, it was a bit awkward at times, especially given the state of mine and Eric’s social skills compounded with the fact that I’ve been living in Tonga and he had been driving around the Outback alone…winning combination right there. But, there were hot water showers (!!!), mechanical laundry facilities, and a kitchen, which more than canceled out our own social clumsiness.
Melbourne was an adorable city, and I really enjoyed our time there. As you might imagine a fair amount of our itinerary revolved around finding and consuming food: culinary highlights from Melbourne include an all vegetarian restaurant that Eric willing went to without smuggling bacon in, the Queen Victoria market (every kind of fruit, vegetable, herb, cheese, and olive available), an epic search for bagels in the Jewish neighborhood which ended in vain because the city was practically shut down on Good Friday (government holiday there, who knew?), the awesome burgers and veggie burgers we found after failing to find bagels, real bakeries and lots of bread, sidewalk cafes on almost every street, a neighborhood of cake shops, lots of sushi, an awesome bar in the upstairs of a shop in a tiny little alley, and a six-pack of Sam Adams that we located in a specialty beer shop.
Aside from food, we did a lot of walking and exploring the various neighborhoods of the city, all of which would aptly be described as cute, riding the snazzy public transportation trams, and generally seeing the sights, including a great art museum with lots of older and modern Aboriginal art. Melbourne was by no means a large city, and it had an incredibly cozy feel to it, along with the most variety of neighborhoods and ethnic centers of all the cities in Australia. We also took a day and drove part of the Great Ocean Highway, along the coast of Australia. It was indescribably beautiful and there were plenty of overlooks and small paths down to cliffs overlooking the ocean. And, definite highlight of the trip, we saw several koala bears, just chilling in their trees! There were just as adorable as I had hoped they would be and all looked like grumpy old men. We unanimously decided that if Eric were to be reborn in animal form, he would most definitely be a koala.
We stayed for 5 days in Melbourne, and then it was time to hit the open road. We drove for two days through the ‘bush’ and then through the outback, sleeping in Eric’s tiny car, a feat of no small achievement, and cooking on a small propane burner at rest stops. And, I was more than successful in convincing and demonstrating to Mr. Ashcroft that living and eating out of one’s car does not mean one must subsist solely on pb&j sandwiches. In addition, during our time on the road, we saw many cows, ridiculous road signs warning about the cows on the road, even more ridiculous and rhyming road signs warning against driving while tires (favorites include: Fatigue is Fatal; Take a Break, Stay Awake for Safety’s Sake; and Survive This Drive), road trains (giant trucks pulling at least 5 trailers while driving on the wrong side of the road on tiny little two lane roads- terrifying), and dead kangaroos. Now, if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I have a small bone to pick with Australia: I came more excited to see kangaroos than anything else. There are hundreds of thousands of kangaroos all over the continent in many colors, shapes, and sized. But, despite the fact that Eric has seen more than he can remember, from the second I get to your country the only kangaroos I see are road-kill. Why? Also worth mentioning are the flies. Insane numbers of flies live off of who knows what in this wilderness, and instantly swarm anything that is moving slower than a car. Thankfully they disappeared at night because it was so cold (I bought a giant pair of sweatpants, socks, and a sweater in Melbourne- the tropics have made me weak!).
Finally, after countless outback towns consisting of a gas station and a motel and opal mines, we reached Uluru. After pitching our cozy little tent at a very overpriced campground in a small town built and inhabited totally by tourists (admittedly, it was a little strange) we drove out to Uluru, formally, and less politically correctly, known as Ayers Rock, to watch the sunset. While it was a bit overcast and slightly anticlimactic, we did hear an amazing country song fittingly entitled “There’s a Rainbow Over the Rock” chesseily (yes, I’m trying to make that an adverb) blasting from one of the many 4WDs that Australian families had rented for their outback vacation. Classic. Aside from being constantly terrified of the numerous things that can kill you in the outback, I really enjoyed our time here.
For the next couple days we perfect the art of rapidly making morning beverages and oatmeal for breakfast before the flies could descend, and spent the rest of the next two days hiking around Uluru and Kata Tjuta, which are both part of the same national park and a World Heritage Site. First, Eric and I did the base walk around Uluru, which was pretty amazing, despite being covered in flies for the majority of the time. Eric even bought a hat with pictures of flies on it in some effort to trick them, but alas, it was to no avail. Although I did enjoy making fun of him for wearing the hat. Uluru itself is immense, and there are caves, overhangs, and Aboriginal carvings around a large portion of the rock. Most of Uluru are sacred Aboriginal sites for either the men or the women, and as non-Aboriginals we aren’t privy to the information or details of why or where each of these exist. There was some more information about the importance of Uluru to the Aboriginals and some basic versions of important myths and tales that occurred there in a very well run visitor’s center that we visited a few times, and all of it was really interesting. There was also information about how the National Park Service and the original Aboriginal landowners have recently formed a governing board to jointly manage the land and parks services. Once last note on this is how impressive it is that a civilization could flourish in the middle of a desert, and some of the survival techniques and sources of food and water are just amazing. We also went on a short guided walk with a park ranger the following morning to a small water hole (but, it being the middle of the desert, the water level was pretty low) and aside from one ridiculous woman (there’s always one) it was really great. Also, Eric got the first of many chance to demonstrate his impressive knowledge of rocks and geography to himself and me, which is always fun.
We also hiked Kata Tjuta, somehow anglicized to “The Olgas”, which, frankly, I loved, even more than Uluru. It was about 45 kilometers away from Uluru, and the loop trail lead down into a lush valley surrounded by twelve giant rock formations. The views were stunning, and there’s no way I can describe how lovely it was with any justice. Sufficed to say, this was my favorite part of the entire trip.
We came out to Uluru with the set intention to climb it. It’s a pretty difficult climb, especially in the heat and sun, and we wanted to make sure we started early enough in the day to climb the tough ascent before the sun really kicked it and that we had plenty of water, food, and proper attire. The first day we set out to climb, the trail was closed due to high wind. Same thing happened the second day. On the third day, our last shot at climbing, what do you think happened? That’s right, it rained. In the desert. In a place where it rains a few times each year. And it wasn’t even enough rain to create awesome waterfalls and such off the rock. Just a small steady sprinkle. Needless to say, we were, and probably still are, highly disappointed.
I suppose the plus side is that we ended up leaving a day early and thus were able to make it to Adelaide with a fair portion of a day left to see a bit of the city. The most notable event from our two-day drive to Adelaide was our flat tire in the middle of nowhere (thankfully we had a spare in the trunk), and our eventful hour at a rest-stop town in which I proved to be quite gifted at playing the damsel in distress who doesn’t know anything about cars. Seriously, I need to learn how to change a tire. In Adelaide Eric and I were somehow delegated out of the main hostel and into what amounted to the couples dorm across the street, which was actually very nice and comfy, and meant we didn’t have to deal with or talk to that many hostel people. We wandered a bit, and after several thwarted attempts to eat fun vegetarian food on a Sunday night in a town where everything is closed, we were successful in locating a Chinese restaurant (hooray for the Chinese and their long business hours) and had a very pleasant last meal together accompanied by an extremely intoxicated group of young professionals.
Sadly, I had to leave early the next morning, and after a tearful goodbye and a delayed flight I made it to Sydney where I had an eight-hour layover before my flight to Tonga. I figured out the train system, which is wonderfully run but horribly expensive, and went down to Circular Quay to see the bridge and the Opera House, snap a few photos, wander around, and grab lunch. Then, it was back to the airport and the Kingdom of Tonga.
The trip was a wonderful break, and the company was indescribably needed. I loved Australia, and only wish I had had more time there. Now, it’s back to work and real life, although the tim-tams I brought back will make it a bit sweeter (excuse the pun, I really couldn’t help myself [I know Thom, even after that NY Times op. ed. piece]) for at least a week.
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