Crocodile Doesn't Really Rock

They say when in Rome, do as the Romans do.  So why not the same for Australia? 

In that spirit, I was adventurous and brave today and just finished my first Crocodile Caesar Salad.  I should have gone with the Camel Burger because the meat was tough, tasteless and gamey. Frankly I gagged a little with the first bite. But I had to eat something since, in another twist of scheduling insanity, I had to be up at 4:00 this morning to be ready for my next tour. With every bite I took, all I could think of was the image of the rather unattractive animal I was consuming. 

The tour to King's Canyon (Australia's version of the Grand Canyon) was originally scheduled to leave this morning at the buttcrack of dawn- 5:15.  But as I entered my room yesterday afternoon upon returning from my extensive and magical trek around Uluru, I found an envelope neatly placed on my bed addressed to "Mr. John" from AAT Kings, the tourism agency that is organizing most of my tours here in Central Australia. It read something the effect of: "Please note that your tour bus to King's Canyon will be ready to pick you up tomorrow morning at 4:50 and not 5:15 as your itinerary stated previously.  Please be ready 10 minutes prior to pick-up. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you."  Once again, all I could think (once again) was- REALLY?!

What kills me is that we, the tourists, are here "on holiday" (as the Australians call vacations) and supposed to be relaxing, taking it easy and enjoying ourselves - not losing sleep, keeping up with schedules that no human being should expected to adhere to and dragging our tired asses around from sheer exhaustion.  Who dreams up these unrealistic and laughable timetables anyway?!

So it was just another in a string of Candid Camera moment for me, and I could only laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all.  I simply shrugged it off and uttered to myself an expression that I hear at least 150,000 times every day: "No worries!"  Aussies love that one, and it really does represent a very core philosophy of Australian culture.  They are extremely calm, patient, down-to-Earth, laid-back and light-hearted people. Chipper would be a good label for them. It resonates with my Irish heritage; I'm fairly chipper myself.

I hear laughter everywhere here. Not once in the short period in which I've walked this land have I heard anyone angry, upset, impatient or frustrated, so I'm trying my best to assimilate that same mindset with all of the small complications and hoops that I've been asked to jump through.  In the big picture of life, small inconveniences are just that: small.  So I'm learning to be more like an Aussie and so far succeeding. I am inspired by it.

The two hour ride in the blackness of night provided me a few more stolen moments of much-needed sleep. The Pioneer Outback Hotel apparently believes its patrons don't need coffee early in the morning because I inquired at the reception desk where I could get a cup of java as I was checking out at 4:40, and yes- I made it on time.  The sweet Chinese girl at the counter informed me that coffee isn't served until 7:00 a.m. even though there are guests (like ME!) coming and going at all hours of the day and night *and* ridiculously-early morning. With no caffeine surging through my system, I was able to drift off  and doze briefly a few precious times. I hope I wasn't snoring.

At King's Canyon, we were given two options. Option 1:  Climb 500 stairs up to the top of the high ridge and walk the entire upper rim of the canyon for a total of 3.5 hours and 7 kilometers of hiking trail. The guide said it was thrilling but stressed it was very strenuous and not for anyone who isn't physically fit. Option 2: A gentle, easy-paced, 1 kilometer stroll down to the riverbed below to see the canyon from a lower perspective.  I consider myself very physically fit for a 60 year old dude, but today I was just not in the mood for another challenging, hot, sweaty, tiring and surely-sunburning experience. 

I chose Option 2 and went along with the dozen or so grandparents and thoroughly enjoyed the hell out of it.  It was shady, quiet, cool, refreshing and relaxing and gave me an opportunity to photograph some extraordinary rock formations, flora and the majestic cliffs above me.  It didn't bother me one bit that I hung out with the white-haired, elderly folks!  When the Option 1 group returned to the bus- dripping wet, indeed many sunburned, panting and exhausted, I knew I'd made the right choice for myself today. 

Survival in these conditions is all about pacing.  So no worries!

I'm on the bus now, that oh-so-memorable crocodile meat in my belly (for the first and surely last time) and on the highway to Alice Springs- my next destination for one night before flying on to Melbourne for the final leg of my adventure Down Under.  Outside my window, I can see sprawling fields of brightly-colored wildflowers just blossoming from the recent generous amounts of rainfall in this area (although today is warm, sunny with perfectly clear skies).  From time to time, wild camels are seen grazing in the sparse patches of green, tenacious vegetation that springs up from the red Outback.

Giant desert oaks struggle to survive in the arid, sandy soil, many of which are blackened, broken and charred from wildfires and lightning strikes. Small groups of feral horses wander throughout the prickly brush in search of watering holes and something green to munch on. The land is mostly flat with an occasional rolling sand dune appearing from mile to mile.  And everywhere, as far as the eye can see, the red earth of the Outback covers the ground like an ever-present blanket. This is wild, tough, unforgiving territory and not for the faint of heart.  Aussies are a sturdy, rugged bunch to live on this land. 

The next time I'm in Rome, it will be lasagna -not crocodile - for this world traveler.