In which our heroine goes down the river

On Boxing Day, we were invited onto a boat by Sandra and Ian, Kevin's parents. They have a lovely speedboat which we launched into the river close to their house. The river is very wide, winding north alongside the coast, between banks of tea trees and eucalyptus. Unfortunately, because of the recent fires, the banks were full of rather sad charred trunks, some areas still smoking. Further up the vegetation started getting green again, though, and we stopped briefly by some unspoilt mangroves to haul up a crab pot which had been left there earlier in the week. Kind of like a lobster pot, seeing the two crabs caught in it frantically claw their way away from the entrance and Ian's hand made me once again vow to give up all forms of meat. Anyone who saw their little eyes searching for an escape would never again claim that some animals have no fear or pain. Luckily, one was a female and the other a juvenile, so both were released back into the river. We continued on up the river and into a wide and very choppy lake.

On the far side of the lake, the bottom suddenly became very shallow and we had to manoeuvre our way between sandbanks to reach the entrance to the network of rivers beyond. Safely past the banks Lisa spotted a ray, languidly making his way along, occasionally scuffling at the sand, hunting, perhaps, or trying to hide himself.

Further up the river, the waters became a deep red, apparently from the tea trees along the banks. Swimming in it reminded me of swimming in Silvermine Dam in Cape Town - MUCH warmer though! It was so warm it was necessary to kick down deep to disturb the cooler waters!

It was a lovely spot to have a picnic lunch, so we did.

Coming back to the shallow lake we passed the sandbanks again, this time covered with little groups of pelicans, clacking their beaks at each other and eyeing us in case we tried anything silly. And it would be silly - those birds are much bigger than Finding Nemo makes them look...

In which our heroine goes wild... sort of...

With our schedule tight for the rest of my stay and no more koalas in plain sight, Lisa and I decided to head to Australia Zoo down near Maroochydore on Tuesday. We caught the free shuttle bus from a park just across the river from Lisa's house and immediately regretted our eco-friendly decision not to take the car. This about turn was brought on by the tiny feet jammed into the back of my seat, the owner of which was meanwhile competing with her sister to see who could cry for mummy loudest. They were joined by several more en-route. Oh what fun we all had! Luckily the hour-long journey passed quickly, as it tends to do when you're having a good time, and we were soon turning onto Steve Irwin Way. I'm sure most will remember the grief following his death in 2006; the hero-worship continues today in Australia. Steve Irwin Way begins at a monument showing Steve wrestling a crocodile; the monument's obscured slightly by a digger waiting to start work on widening the 2-lane highway to accommodate all the cars and tour buses.

The zoo is absolutely enormous - 70 acres in total. It's only the third I've been to in my life - the vaguely distressing Joburg Zoo in my preteens, and London Zoo on a blue-skied summer's day, my first in London, being the other two.

Pictures of the Irwins are everywhere. Statues abound. Even the mannequins in the designer clothing store are modelled on the kids, Bindi and Robert. Enormous billboards announce Bindi's summer concerts and her cutesy, heart-embellished signature adorns everything from pillars to pony rides. No wonder she's such a confident young girl, this kid is a walking brandname. Occasionally it feels like the whole Zoo is just there to promote her.

Now, we all know that Australians are... well, they're a bit different. They talk funny for a start. And the whole sports thing, the way their teams lazily win every game they try their hand at, even if it's not normally played in Aus. They're always 5 shades darker than us because they spend all their time on perfect sandy beaches under perfect blue skies. They're a bit smug, really. And did I mention they talk funny? Anyway. Aussies are different. And Nature didn't stop there, with the humans. No, she did it to the animals too. Australia, even Noosa, with its lovely, neat streets and expensive yachts, has a bit of a prehistoric vibe going on. Everything's bigger here, a bit more primal. The light is brighter, the sounds are more raucous. It doesn't even follow the rules the rest of us stick to - here, mammals can lay eggs. Some nurture foetuses outside the body. And come on, seriously - the echidna? Who thought that one up? Sometimes I feel like all the Australians are snickering at us behind their hands. Some of these animals can't possibly be more than a prank. Take dingos for instance. Really, they're just yellow dogs from the shelter they stick in an enclosure then spread malicious baby-stealing rumours about so we'll come spend our $55 to see them!

My favourite place was the kangaroo enclosure where red and grey kangaroos and little wallabies roam about among the trees and green lawns. We bought "roo food" from a vending machine, and had whiskery noses snuffling at our palms in no time at all.


















It was very chilled, sitting amongst the munching animals under the gumtrees! We even saw a few joeys in pouches. In fact it seemed to be baby season - several koalas were also cuddling sweet mini-koalas.


The cassowary was also amazing - its feathers are long and soft, and the bony protruding headpiece makes it look, well... prehistoric...


I'm not sure how, but Lisa and I completely forgot to check our schedules and therefore missed Bindi and her Big Summer Tour in the Crocoseum! Ahem... But missing Bindi's perfectly choreographed display had its upside: Lisa and I were able to wander through the kangaroo enclosures in almost total isolation while everyone else clapped and cheered in the auditorium. It was great. I couldn't resist conforming to one Great Australian Cliche though. Lisa and I queued up for ages with all the other tourists to hold a sleepy-eyed koala. He was very cute! When I finally took my place in front of the potted palm, the keeper showed me how to cup my hands at my waist, then she deposited this adorable, cuddly marsupial in them, at which point he hooked his long claws over my shoulder and into the bare skin. Luckily the keeper interpreted my grimace fairly quickly and rearranged him into a position to suit us both. He was very sleepy, laying his head on my arm and sinking his bulk onto my body like a supportive branch. So sweet!



Koalas held: 1
Prehistoric birds: 5
Monuments to the Irwin family: 18

In which our heroine goes shopping

On Saturday, with Lisa back at work, I spent the whole day lounging on the verandah in my pyjamas with several cups of tea, watching the visitors to the bird bath. There were a lot of them I couldn't identify. Some I could guess, like a shy dove, although he differed from African doves with his black mohawk and speckled shoulders. Wader-like loners popped in, princesses on their long limbs, taking flight at the least provocation, unlike the others, to whom I might as well have been a statue for all the attention they gave me.

The most regular were completely unrecognisable to my untrained eye; wearing way too much blue eyeshadow, the honeyeaters arrived in small flocks, trilling to each other as they played in the water.


Other unfamiliar birds were easier to name: bright white cockatoos with a spray of yellow feathers on their heads, hanging upside down from palm fronds, screeching merrily at each other and me. Another parrot - the Rainbow Lorikeet - also made frequent, gaudy appearances - green, yellow, red - as though they were pictures in a very neat child's paint-by-numbers book. They always rocked up in pairs, the better to enforce their clear status as the undisputed mafia thugs of the birdbath, viciously attacking meeker supplicants with maximum noise and a great deal of wing action.

At dusk the songs of all the birds, thugs and princesses alike, combined in the park before Lisa's verandah to make a sweet bedtime lullaby, flocks whirling overhead until they'd found a suitable site for the night. It was a very peaceful end to the day.

On the Sunday we drove to a mall to do some clothes shopping. Every single pair of jeans I own has recently sprouted unsightly tears and holes and I needed some replacements. It was a bit of a surreal experience really. Just imagine: nobody stared. Nobody shouted "Big size here!" at me. I didn't get ushered out a single shop by an anorexic salesgirl, anxious that I shouldn't sully her store's good name. And oh! Oh! The pleasure in being allowed, nay, invited to try things on before purchasing... I left with my ego intact and my wallet light!

Plus, on the way back, Lisa stopped alongside a golf course, and I got to see my first kangaroos, lazily lolling on the grass as golfers whacked balls over their heads...

That evening I cooked a roast chicken. What pleasure to be able to eat free range again, and to know that the veggies came from down the road instead of across the seas. We ate outside on the verandah by candlelight, birds cooing in the trees, mozzies gnawing on our toes... heaven...
















Koalas: 0
Kangaroos: 6
Lifers: 10. 11. No, wait... 12...

In which our heroine finds a Koala...

Who knew? Aussies really do say "g'day mate" and "no worries!" in real life! It took me 18 hours to get from English Village to Brisbane International Airport, via a garlic-flavoured taxi (and when I say garlic-flavoured, I mean I may actually have been put off the stuff for life...), a luxurious bus to the airport and a cramped night on a Korean Air flight - the first long-haul plane I've been on in at least 5 years that doesn't have individual TV screens. With a one-hour delay in Seoul, I'd already missed the airport shuttle in Brisbane, and it didn't get any better when I saw the queue for customs, which doubled back on itself four times before even reaching the official zigzag queue area. Every single person had their luggage opened and checked, and sniffed by a sniffer dog... An hour and a half after landing I finally got out into the tiny Arrivals hall. Another hour and a half later the shuttle driver arrived - the coastal highway had been blocked into Brisbane by a major accident. I shared the minibus up north with a family of four, the son an obnoxious 10-year-old with a mouth dirtier than mine, who started asking "How much further Dad?" as we left the airport gate.

But when the driver pointed out Lisa's house and I saw my sister jumping and waving in a frenzy... well, the journey here wasn't so bad!

Lisa had to go back to work for the afternoon but when she got home at 5, we went out to do some shopping. We took the scenic route around town with Lisa pointing out all the lovely things that surround her new home. Noosa's really pretty with an estuary breaking up the town into a collection of suburban islands.


We drove into the national park's carpark to make a U-turn, but when we saw a car leaving, Lisa got so excited about a space being available we just had to stop and take a walk.

That part of the park ran alongside the coast with a wooden deck path curving through the teatrees. We left the path once to clamber down the rocks to a curve of white sand, the grains so fine they squeaked underfoot. Just then Lisa spotted some people further down the path pointing up into the trees. I laughed, remembering my statement earlier that day that I expected koalas, kangaroos and wallabies in abundance, please, if she would be so kind. When we reached the group and looked up into the trees, I couldn't hide my surprise at my unusual luck. This is someone who spent 3 days in a tiger sanctuary in India without spotting a single stripy cat. And now there, far above me, nibbling on eucalyptus leaves, was not just a koala, but a mummy koala, with a baby clinging to her furry front. As she cautiously stepped along the branch, clutching twigs and stuffing her mouth with leaves, we could see the little round ears and flat nose of the baby as he, three paws firmly buried in his mum's fur, reached out for the leaves she pulled closer to him. It was so sweet to watch!






















A fellow spectator told us there was another one a few trees away so we went to look, but he was less interesting, being fast asleep and wedged into the crook of a tree, and we quickly returned to ooh and aah at the mother and baby.

Shopping that evening was a joy everyone should experience at least once in their lives. Litchies! Smoked salmon! And who knew how exciting Cheerios could be! Korean supermarkets are fine, but a tingle went down my spine at the cereals aisle...

Koalas: 3
Kangaroos: 0
Highways named "Bruce": 1