Not far from the
main streets of Cairns lies a small train depot. At this particular train depot, we found
ourselves at 8:00am the next morning, having taken a shuttle driven by a man
named Rob (who looked much more like a Rick or a Steve) to the depot. At the depot, I found a café and on the café
menu was listed "American cup of coffee". Being American myself, I was attracted to the
offer for a cup of my home country, but wasn't sure how that could be
accomplished. Upon inquiring, I learned
that it was "percolated" coffee, which is a rarity in Australia,
where most people drink French press or "plunger" coffee or instant
coffee. You're more likely to find a
pink kangaroo than a regular old coffee pot.
I ordered some "American coffee" straightaway.
Like a couple of
Wild West adventurers, we stood on the platform until the train came in with
its metallic groanings and stepped aboard.
As the train chugged and wended its way up in the mountain, we caught
whiffs of sweet and spicy jungle plants.
Later the scent changed to the heavier one of sunshine and green vines
and rich earth. Twice, the drifting
aromas were punctuated with the sound of rivers flowing vertically, tumbling
down the craggy precipice to resume its placid horizontal journey.
Near the top of the
mountain, the train ended its journey at Kuranda, a little jungle hippie town
nestled in the towering palm thicket. We
hiked up the hill and took the quintessential picture by the "Welcome to
Kuranda" sign. Then we
shopped. There were candy shops, opal
jewelry shops, Australian photography galleries, cafes, and souvenir shops by
the dozen. We left the river of tourists
streaming down the sidewalk to venture into a small hippie shop emanating
incense-y smells. They were having a
headband sale, so we bought a few. I
rather think my head is the wrong shape for headbands, as they have an
impertinent habit of sliding off my head, but I bought them anyway.
At lunch, we
listened to a street musician playing his ukelele, which he did
masterfully. More shopping without
buying things, a honey tasting, and we were pooped. We hiked back down the hill and got in line
at the Sky Rail station. The Sky Rail is
a great way to go down the mountain because they put you in a giant glass
bubble strung on a line and send you slowly bobbing down the mountain suspended
high above the ground. You could call it
a gondola, but that reminds me of Venice, not jungles.
The views were
stunning, and we had a couple of stops along the way to get out and sightsee,
before jumping back in a bubble and continuing the journey. As we dropped down for the final descent into
the valley, we could see dark patches of reef, islands, and the town of Cairns,
bordered by its sugar cane fields. The
shuttle took us back to our hotel, where we inquired at the front desk about
the whereabouts of a theater (cinema) and show times for The Hunger Games.
While my first
impulse is usually to resist bandwagons, I am almost inevitably drawn to them, The Hunger Games and Downton Abbey being the most recent. So we saw The Hunger Games, which I'm going
to stop italicizing now because I can't be bothered, and you know that I know
it ought to be italicized. First of all,
how annoying for a movie to have two leading love interests. Of course you fall in love with
Melbourne-born tall, dark, handsome Liam who plays Gale. He's the best friend lover. Then enters bakery boy Peeta that Katniss
competes with in the Hunger Games. He
fights for her and protects her and is ready to give his life for her. What's not to love about that!? Then they go home and there's Gale again,
still as dashing as ever. Needless to
say, I haven't figured out what's going to happen. I think Suzanne Collins will probably have to
kill one off dramatically in book 3, which I'm still waiting for from the
library. It'll be a tearful goodbye to
one of the heroes, but at least I'll have some literary crush closure!
After watching the
movie, we sat down to dinner and gushed about the movie - casting, costume,
book/movie integrity. The next morning
we treated ourselves to breakfast out, checked out of our hotel (late, oops),
and caught a plane back to our temporary little home. On the plane, we sat with an American guy who
was traveling in Australia/New Zealand for 10 weeks. He'd been in the Air Force and was
reenlisting in the National Guard. He
was a fabulous extrovert, chatty without being annoying. He told me he'd gotten his Master's degree in
Intelligence, and then he told SG his name was "...George". He hesitated.
If he did intelligence, he probably got a B on his final in "small
talk alias creation". People don't
name 26 year olds, George. His name was
probably Jason.
So ended our grownup
vacay. We finished the night with hang
out time and communion at Cath and TJ's new abode. It was good to see the
friends again. I had a conversation with
Joel about the comical genius of Danny Kay and showed Sam and TJ how I'd been
practicing my Aussie accent. There was
also a whole group conversation in which SG and I tried to sort out the
differences between puddings, cakes, slices, and sponges. Ohhhh, culture, how it permeates us like holes in Swiss cheese .
Love from Down
Under,
Little Miss
Sunshine
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