Home Thoughts From Abroad

I was up at 5, as I usually am when I have to drive a long distance. It used to drive the kids nuts when they were younger. I would bundle them all into the car with their jammies and their pillows and drive two hours before they were awake enough to want breakfast. Today we got to Carnavon, about 250 clicks south before we stopped for gas and a coffee. Another 250 clicks got us to Bilabong Roadhouse for more gas, lunch and a ten minute kip before we hit the road again. That left us only 200 clicks after lunch. We got into Geraldton about three.

We saw our first (live) kangaroo today, bouncing across the road in front of us and then along the verge as we drove down the road beside it. It finally found a hole in the fence and bounded away into the outback. We saw an emu along the side of the road as well, looking bemused and unconcerned, and what was either a very skinny dingo or a fox slinking into the scrub. The wind in this part of the world is constant and strong and driving an extra height camper van is more like piloting a boat in a gale than driving; my forearms are weary from fighting the wind for seven hours.

In Geraldton I finally found a jack splitter so we can both listen to Pam’s iPod, and as a bonus we picked up a couple of campchairs at Kashie’s Kash Konverters. Would that make them kampchairs I wonder? They are a nice addition as they allow us to eat outside the van and be a little more sociable with our camping neighbours. Some German would help as well, as many of our fellow travellers are from Germany.
We bought a barbeque chicken along the way, and warmed that up with the leftover potatoes from last night. It looks like it is going to be another early night for the old folks tonight, as it has been an early start and a long day on the road. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and we have a hotel room booked in Perth for the night as a special treat. I am hoping to get this first week’s worth of blogs uploaded when we get to town, along with some pictures. Internet has been patchy at best, with slow service and coin operated machines that will not allow for thumb drives.

We saw pictures of the camp site destroyed by the cyclone just up the coast from where we were staying. There wasn’t much left. We are so grateful for the way the Lord has been watching over us on this trip. We are coming up on three thousand kilometres of travel over some pretty barren roads. If we did have car trouble, it would several hours in the blazing sun before someone else came by on some of the more barren stretches we have been on. He has always been so good to us in this regard, and we count this among His many blessings to us.

With the cruise in the outer reef behind us, we settled for a day of snorkelling from shore. The coral in Coral Bay comes within a few feet of the beach. In fact as we put on our masks and tucked our heads under water we were startled to see huge, almost transparent fish staring back curiously at us. We had not noticed them against the white of the sand.

Further from shore, maybe 20 feet, the coral started and what a variety of it there was. Stuff that looked like giant cabbages, stuff that looked like brain matter, pink and purple coral that looked like amethyst, great heaps of almost circular mounds and long spaghetti strands. And among the coral all manner of fish; tiny little electric blue neon fish, stately angel fish and brightly striped clown fish, fish that looked like they had been painted by an interior designer, with chevron stripes meeting each other on different angles, bright yellow fish with bright pale blue tails, thin yellow fish with dark eye spots on their tails, charcoal black fish with body length fins along their backs. It was wondrous.

Fortunately we had kept our wet suits from yesterday, as the water even close to the shore was too cool for our tropically adjusted skin. Even then we could stand no more than 30 minutes before we would have to get out and warm up in the sun before we could go back. And go back we did, for most of the day. Finally at around 3 we had to stop for lunch and reluctantly returned the wetsuits. We bought some Aussie beef at the local supermarket – the cheapest meat by far – and cooked it up with some potatoes and peppers on the campsite’s grill; a very nice meal at a reasonable price for a change. We had an early night as we are facing the longest drive of our trip tomorrow: 700 clicks to Geraldton.

There is a cyclone playing havoc with the north coast around Broome, and the effects of it could be felt in the waves and the wind at Coral Bay. So far we have managed to avoid any really nasty weather, and we are hoping that the cyclone doesn’t move any further south. We heard news that a trailer camp up the coast had been totally wiped out, but there is nothing to be done and nowhere else to go at this time of day. The cyclone is still 600 clicks further north, so we hope to be gone tomorrow before it gets this far south.

We had kind of a slow start to the day, the long drive yesterday taking its toll on both of us. When we did finally stroll down to the water to check out our snorkelling gear we were in for a nasty surprise. The waters off the coast of Australia, even in the tropics, where Coral Bay is located, are no match for the warmth of the South China Sea, or the Andaman Sea, our usual haunts. We were cold; too cold to snorkel! The locals assured us that it was warm; a balmy 24 Celsius. That’s 75 Fahrenheit by my calculations, and that is cold! We scooted back to the cruise office and inquired about wetsuits. Fortunately they were available to rent at a reasonable price, and thus equipped we caught a quick lunch in the van and headed out to sea.

The boat was glass bottomed, and with only a few of us on board, there was plenty of room for all of us to see the wildlife floating by underneath us, and there was plenty to see. Unlike the Great Barrier Reef off the East Coast, which can take over an hour to reach by fast boat, the Ningaloo Reef starts just a few metres off shore. The coral lives in symbiosis with a plant which needs to photosynthesize to produce the food the coral live on. The coral provides the structure in this mutually beneficial arrangement. As a result the Ningaloo Reef is in shallow coastal water, and thus easy to get to and see. Some coral mounts actually break the surface of the water in low tide.

On our way to the outer reef we saw an abundance of fish and a staggering variety of coral configurations. The highlight of the wildlife was a two meter long tiger shark, looking powerful and completely at ease prowling through the reef for turtles that nest in this area. With three tiger sharks on the hunt – other two just menacing shadows that we failed to float over – turtles were not abundant, and we only saw one loggerhead, too briefly seen for much of a picture.

Safely down current from the sharks we anchored to snorkel. Both the coral and the fish were amazing, and after a slow start to get accustomed to the strong currents on the outer reef, they had to drag me out of the water to get underway again. I keep thinking of Finding Nemo while we explore along the coast in these waters. The animators of that show did a good job of capturing the appearance of the clown fish and the seagulls in this part of the world. Today I saw the prototype for Marvin from that film, austere and self-assured feeding among the coral.

We had to settle for supper from the van again tonight. The local restaurant wanted 26 bucks for fish and chips. I guess when you are 100 clicks from the roadhouse on the main highway which is 500 clicks from anywhere significant, you can charge pretty much whatever you like. We had a baked potato and some beans from a can, and retired early again, our heads still floating from the cruises of the last few days.

We took our time waking up on our first full day in Oz. The night had been cold, just as our friends back in KL had warned us. But Wise old folks that we are, we had rented a heater and had plugged it in the night before. A quick flip of the switch and the camper was toasty in no time. Fortunately I had kept my hoodie handy in the night, and I slipped into that and back into the sleeping bag for a few extra zees while the place warmed up.

The campsite was well equipped and we both had lovely warm showers before hitting the road. We took a few minutes to organize where things were going to go in the van and plotted out our breaks and lunch stop for the day. The day’s drive took us along the edge of the Indian Ocean. Jurien Bay was on the ocean so we had already seen it, but we weren’t prepared for the spectacular views that we saw today. We stood on a cliff 100 metres above the pounding surf, the winds just tearing through the limestone out to sea and the view quite literally took our breath away. Earlier we had taken a walk along a much gentler cliff, investigating the many blowholes and watching the tide tug at the seaweed as it receded.

The road itself meandered through the scrubby landscape, much like the Yorkshire Dales. We saw no kangaroos, at least no live ones, although among the road kill along the side of the road there were plenty. Sheep were everywhere, dotting the hills, and the few trees looked as if they were all pushed over – some of them almost flat – by the prevailing south-westerlies which are the dominant climate feature of this part of the world and serve to keep the stated temperature much colder than the thermometer reads
But everywhere we drove today it was the sea that keep luring us on: so blue it was almost electric, flecked with whitecaps from the constant wind. Finally at Kalbarri, our destination for the night, we had to take a quick dip, very quick for it was icy cold. Supper in our camper was another quiet affair: some bread and cheese, washed down with Australian wine. Lunch had been much more lush: grilled fish in a salsa sauce in a restaurant overlooking a gorgeous stretch of the ocean in one of the many –and nearly barren – seaside towns along the coast.

We love to travel this way: at our own pace, able to carry the things that we like to have along to keep us comfortable without actually having to carry them. Being able to stop whenever we like to take pictures or go for a walk. Being able to go to bed in absolute privacy anytime we feel like it and fixing our own breakfast just the way we like it. It is our idea of a holiday.

Australia is nothing like Asia. For a start there is no one here. We have driven 600 kilometres up the major road north out of Perth and we have probably passed fewer than 100 vehicles going in both directions. Kalbarri is the largest town north of Geraldton, and a lovely tourist destination. There are probably less than 100 tourists in town in total, less than 10 at this campsite. Yet the campsites are totally clean and well run, something else that is clearly not Asian. Even the flora is not Asian, scrubby and sparse. But then Australia is not in Asia is it? It is in Oceania, and that makes a difference.

Brian Buzzard the Bush Balladeer dropped by our campsite to ask if we liked country music. He looked a little wild, as only the older Aussies can, so I gave him a ‘Yeah, well it’s not my favourite’ so as not to seem overly duped. He invited us to hear him sing, and after he left we decided that he looked relatively harmless, so we did just that.

We had driven about four hours to get to this particular campsite, about 300 clicks north of Perth. The camper van we rented turned out to be even better than advertised, almost brand new with all the cooking utensils, pots and pans, and cupboard space we could possibly use. It did not, however, come with insurance, but a quick call to American Express took care of that. Back in June I had signed up for a platinum card with Amex which came with complimentary insurance coverage on rental vehicles. I figured the annual fee would be well worth it if we ever had to rent a vehicle over here, and they confirmed my request with a phone call. Feeling smart and happy we headed to the nearest mall to stock up on supplies.
It looked like the mall in Cambridge Jon and Nic took us to when we arrived back in Canada. The layout and even the stores were almost identical. The people though were not. Aussies are an odd looking lot. The older ones are weathered and decidedly shifty looking. They look like they had sat too long staring into the sun while the sand etched their faces. The middle-ages one were invariably overweight, looking distraught and burdened. The only ‘normal’ looking ones were the teenagers, bright and engaged, like kids almost everywhere are.

We had a little trouble getting out of town, but once on the highway we made good time, only stopping in Cervantes for gas and a decent map. The map showed us how to get to the Pinnacles, something we had read about in the Rough Guide book. We took the detour to have look. Years ago there was a limestone cave on this barren point, with stalactites dripping and stalagmites growing under them. The cave and the stalactites eroded away under the steady south-westerly winds leaving only the stalagmites, like a terra cotta army, planted among the sand dunes. It was eerie and odd, like much of what we had seen in Australia.

We were both beat by the time we arrived at Jurien Bay. Not much sleep on the plane and a lot of driving over unknown terrain had worn us out. Fortunately, due to Pam’s excellent planning, we not only knew where we were going, but had the place booked and fully paid for in advance. So yes we were happy to go and listen to a little local music. And local it was. Aside from the two Johnny Cash songs – Brian didn’t know any Canadian folk singers, so that was as close as he could get – all the rest were Australian folksongs, as local and indigenous as the flora we had driven through that day. There were songs about the strangeness of the land, its animals and its people, and there were songs about beer, lots of those, but there were not many songs about love, strangely enough. I couldn’t help thinking that Aussies were a lonely lot. Brian certainly was. We were glad that we went and gave him a little company for the evening, and happy to retire to the orderly warmth of the camper.

This will be our third Christmas in Asia, and we still have trouble adjusting to the heat at this time of year. Of course Christmas for Christ was probably pretty warm as well if the shepherds were still out at night with the flocks, don’t you think? But still Christmas without snow and a tree and the fireplace is not the same for those of us who have grown up with those comforting things around us.

Unlike North America, where Christmas seems to be under attack from every side by those claiming that as Christians we have no right to intrude on their lives with our celebrations, Christmas is celebrated with enthusiasm in Malaysia by everyone. So is Deepavali and Ramadan, Hari Raya and Thaipusam. Despite the problems of this country, this is one area in which I think they have a superior attitude to our own.

Instead of trying to eliminate every reference to religion from public life under the notion that it will offend someone, Malaysia celebrates every faith’s special event in the understanding that if it is meaningful to someone, it should be honoured. Asians recognize that faith is an important part of being human, and celebration is not only enjoyable but necessary if we are to understand and respect one another as people.

So a Merry Christmas to all, even those who grow resentful at the joy of others and wish the world was as mean-hearted as they imagine it to be. Great joy to you as well, for the King of Joy has come to earth and shown us what great love and joy lay in store for those who like Him seek to fill this world with good deeds and kind spirits. May His spirit be a blessing to all of you at this blessed time of year.

Love is not a river,
nor a heartache, nor a gain,
not a flower, nor a hunger,
nor an endless aching pain.
It is not these things, no.

Love is a commitment
that you make to one another;
it’s a promise, an agreement
to be brother, father, lover.
To be friend, and foe.

To be them all in each their season;
past regret and nights alone,
past contentment, even reason,
to an end you cannot know.
Hand in hand together, go.

When we got back from Bangladesh we bought an old house on Myrtle Street in St. Thomas, probably still the house that I love best. After spending a couple of years fixing up the downstairs so we could live in it, we turned our attention to the attic and built a bedroom/playroom for our boys. Pam and I finished and the boys moved in probably around ’89 or ’90. Shortly after that we bought them the first of what was going to be a long line of computers. I think we paid around $100 for it, and it wasn’t much, but it was a real computer, not a game system.

The next morning I went up to the attic to use the computer and found it lying in pieces on the floor. I was speechless. I had looked forward to owning a proper computer for some time and here it was in pieces all over the attic floor. I was too stunned to be angry, but when I looked at Jon sitting among the pieces he turned toward me and with a cheery and confident smile and said “Don’t worry Dad, I know where all the pieces go.” And he did. He had it back together and working inside of an hour.

I could not believe it; I still can’t. I mean, I have got some technical competence. I have renovated three houses, two of which basically had to be gutted and Pam and I have done nearly all the work ourselves. But I couldn’t have taken a computer apart when I was 10 and put it back together. Heck, I can’t do it at 60. But Jon could. The next computer came along pretty fast after that. The one in the picture isn’t it. We don’t have those pictures in Malaysia, but this is close. That was the last Mac we bought, the rest were all PCs because by now our son’s interest was getting serious and we wanted to make sure that he was familiar with Microsoft products, because that is where the jobs were going to be.

He had his own business when he was 14, installing software and setting up computers for new buyers. He wasn’t old enough to drive then, so Pam and I would have to drive him around to clients’ houses to do the work. Years after Jon went off to college some of his old customers would call the house looking for Jon to help them with a computer problem. They hadn’t been able to find anyone else who was as knowledgeable as he was.

When he was 17 he got a contract with the St. Thomas Psychiatric Hospital to set up a computer network for them and used the money to buy a state-of-the-art computer system for himself for college. At Conestoga in Kitchener he took a full course load and worked two jobs, one at Future Shop and one at Rockwell not just to pay his own way, but to gain confidence and expertise in his chosen field. While he was at Rockwell he wrote a program to run some machines that no one else at the company had even thought of. He translated that experience into the first of many positions in IT both in Canada and down in the States.

But today is the payoff; Jon has accepted a position with Microsoft. This is not a position that he applied for. They came looking for him. This isn’t even the first time they’ve come looking, but Jon has been loyal to all the companies he worked for, and he was working on an important project the last time they came knocking and he said no. This time the offer was just too good, and he has accepted.

As you can tell from this post, we are inordinately proud of our son for how he has handled his career and of his drive for excellence. We are sure that he will be a real assest to Microsoft, and the experience will be good for him as well. Just so long as he doesn’t let them know he still has a Mac in his closet!

Not quite as famous as some of the greats of British racing, but a lot dearer to us is our own very own daughter, known briefly as “Crash,” a nickname she acquired on sixteenth birthday on the very first day she drove a car. She drove all the way home from the license bureau quite successfully and even drove into the garage, which would have been even more sucessful if the garage door had been open.

No one was hurt, and the air bag didn’t even deploy, for which I am very grateful as that question always comes up on insurance forms. The car itself suffered almost no damage, and when Liz went West several years ago took the Sunfire with her, as seemed only fitting. It served her well for many years until it was replaced with the little Hyundai you see pictured above.

Despite her lead foot (I think that is genetic) and the constant need to adjust her tunes while she is driving, Liz has turned into quite a good driver, which proves my long held conviction that there is nothing like a good crash to make make you aware of what may happen on the road if you are not careful. I had one myself at 16, a lot worse than our daughter’s, and it did me a world of good.

Dave and Jon both have had their moments behind the wheel as well, but God has been awfully good to all of us, and nothing serious has ever come of any of it. We count the Lord’s favour to us as a blessing as we consider our daughter’s birthday on Monday. So many miles travelled, so many adventures, and yet He has blessed and preserved her through all of them. We are grateful to God for our daughter, our own sweet “Crash,” and trust that she will rejoice in all the good things in her life on her day. Happy Birthday, darling. Drive safely.

My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn’t have to say she’s faithful,
Yet she’s true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can’t buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there’s no success like failure
And that failure’s no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers’ nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she’s like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.

Bob Dylan
Copyright ©1965

Thank you, babe, for always being there for me when I need you.