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Novelo Rectangle

A week later they were on the plane. They already had passports, unlike most of their friends. They’d always wanted to travel, but had never felt they deserved to take the time away from the business. Now they were doing it for the most ridiculous of reasons, and they were both completely happy about it.‘Twenty-eight hours and twenty-one minutes,’ she said. ‘Who knew it was so far away?’‘And that’s just to Perth. Stopping at San Francisco and Melbourne. And then drive to Bugarrup. Ye gods - this had better be worth it. How did Sharon and Bruce cope with it on the way out?’‘Oh, they’re seasoned travellers. Don’t get the wrong idea just because they live out in the middle of nowhere. They’ve only been in Bugarrup three years. They were in Sydney before that. And they travelled quite a bit – driving, flying. They’ve been to Europe three times. That’s a twenty-four hour trip.’‘Good grief. We don’t know we’re alive. How did they manage it? Did they run their own travel agency or something?’‘Oh, no. Bruce was an engineer and Sharon was an industrial chemist. They could afford to go overseas pretty often.’‘Good grief. How did they manage to get that kind of a deal?’‘Apparently it’s normal in Australia. They have to have four weeks holiday a year. It’s the law.’So why did they move to Bugarrup?’‘They got tired of the rat race. They run a motel now. Quite slow moving, not much trade most of the year, but they make enough to get by, and they’re happy with that.’‘The more I find out about these two the more bizarre it gets. I thought they were a couple of Aussie stereotypes, though, two fisted pioneers.’‘I think you’re right about the pioneers. They say Bugarrup’s pretty isolated. And it’s pronounced Ozzie. They told me.’‘Amazing. Remind me what we’re doing here?’‘I got a crazy phone call from myself, so we decided to fly to the other side of the world. Simple.’‘Simple. That’s us. But I have to tell you honey, I’m enjoying it. It’s liberating, somehow.’Bruce and Sharon were back in what they called cattle class. Megan and Brad had offered to upgrade them to business class with themselves, but they’d said no, they were happy where they were.‘Enjoying it, darl?’ asked Sharon.‘Oh, yes. Going back home. I think they’re going to be in for a surprise, though. They don’t know what they’re in for.’Across the United States, New York to San Francisco. Then the Pacific Ocean, direct to Melbourne in the south-east corner of Australia. And then across the continent 2500 miles to Perth. ‘Look at that down there!’ said Brad. It’s never-ending! It goes on forever. I had no idea Australia was so big!’‘Yes. I’ve been doing some reading. It’s as wide as the continental U.S. But most of it’s desert. Most of the people live on the coasts.’‘Well, I’ll be glad when we get to Perth. I hope we get a chance to rest before we set off again.’‘Yep. I made the reservations. We’re staying in Perth for two days, and we’ll spend the night in a hotel.’‘I’m glad of that. I’m whacked!’‘Maybe we’ll get a chance to see a bit of Perth.’‘I think all I’ll see is a bed and the inside of my eyelids.’But they saw a fair bit of Perth, with Sharon (‘Call me Shazza, that’s what all my friends call me’) and Bruce showing them around. The river, the view from King’s Park overlooking the city.‘It’s a pretty small city,’ said Brad.‘Yes, but obviously very wealthy, going by the buildings. And what a beautiful setting!’They picked up their car to drive to Bugarrup. It was small and old by American standards. But there was enough room for all of them and the luggage.‘How long before we get there?’‘About two hundred k’s. Just under two hours.’‘What’s that in miles?’‘About a hundred and thirty, I suppose. We don’t do miles any more. Changed to kilometres way back in the nineteen seventies. It’s easier.’‘Do we have enough petrol, honey?’ asked Bruce.‘Yeah. I went to the servo before we left on the plane. Remember, darl?‘Good-oh. Wouldn’t want to run out on the way.’‘Servo?’‘Service station. Where we got the petrol. Gas station and gas to you. Oh, by the way, when we get there, don’t be surprised if someone calls you Septics. It’s not an insult, just a bit of fun. Rhyming slang. Septic tank – Yank.’When they finally arrived, there was an enormous spider on the wall in the bedroom, grey-brown and furry. They both backed off. ‘What the hell’s that thing?’Sharon picked up a glass from the drinks cabinet and a piece of card. ‘Just a huntsman. They’re harmless. They eat flies and mosquitoes.’ She put the glass over the spider, slid the card under its feet, carried glass, card and spider outside and let it go.A man turned up behind them. With something of a shock, Brad and Megan saw his skin was black.‘Bruce, you old bastard! How was the trip?’‘Johnno! Good to see ya, mate!’ And they shook hands vigorously. Sharon wrapped him in a big bear hug. ‘How’s the place been going while we were away?’‘No worries. Pretty quiet, really. Had to evict some bikies who were getting out of hand, though.’‘Any trouble with them?’‘Nah. Pussies, the lot of them.’‘Oh, Megan, Brad, this is Johnno. He’s the night manager here, and he’s been good enough to take over the place while we were away.’‘G’day Megan, Brad. Nice to meet you both. Septics, are you?’‘Er yes,’ said Brad, remembering Bruce’s warnings. ‘From the U.S.’Well, good to see you. I hope you have a good time here.’ He turned to Bruce. ‘Gotta go, mate,’ said Johnno. ‘I got stuff to do in the office. Just thought I’d come and say hello.’After he had gone, Brad asked ‘You have an African American working here?’Sharon and Bruce erupted into peals of laughter. ‘Oh, no! Not American, not African!’ laughed Bruce. ‘He’s Australian – more Australian than me and Sharon! His people have been here about forty thousand years. Us whitefellas only arrived a bit over two hundred years ago. We’re Johnny-come-latelies compared with him.’‘So like the First Nations people in the U.S.?’‘Yeah, a lot like that.’‘Do you have problems with them?’‘Nah. It’s more like they have problems with us. It’s better than it was, but it used to be pretty horrible. Massacres, stealing their land, taking their kids away from them and training them up to be servants for white people. Not good. Hell, they didn’t get the vote till the nineteen-sixties. It’s still not perfect – there’s a long way to go. Still racism, they don’t live as long as whites, plenty of problems. I don’t think it’ll all be solved for a long time yet. But we’re working on it, lots of people are working on it. I didn’t hire Johnno because he’s black – he was the best man for the job.’‘Anyhow, let’s get you two settled in. Once you’ve unpacked, we’ll show you around a bit.’They went for a walk in the forest that backed onto the motel. Tall majestic trees towering overhead, as far as the eye could see. Birds, so many birds – black and white, (‘Magpies,’ said Sharon. ‘They sing beautifully.’) parrots in green and yellow and blue, or pink and grey, or bright red and dark blue, and the sound of laughter coming through the forest, enchanting, infectious. ‘It’s beautiful!’ said Megan. ‘I thought it was all red dirt and desert!’‘A lot of it is,’ replied Sharon. ‘All the middle bit, and most of the north-west, too. It’s just the south-west corner that’s like this. And the eastern states are pretty good. We have rain forests in Queensland and Tasmania. But it’s very peaceful here; we love it.’‘But was that someone laughing a moment ago? I heard several of them.’‘Oh, just a bunch of kookaburras. That’s their call. They’re sort of a giant kingfisher, but they’re brown and white. I’m hoping we’ll see a roo or two as well. There’s a mob of them live in the bush around here. If you don’t see them today, maybe tomorrow.’‘Brad’s worried everything’s out to kill us,’ smiled Megan. That’s not true is it?’‘Not down here. Too far south for crocodiles or stone fish or blue-ringed octopus. The only thing to watch out for is snakes. We do get them. But if you wear thick socks and heavy boots and make a lot of noise walking through the bush, you should be pretty safe. They’ll get out of the way, quick - they’re more scared of you than you are of them.’‘What about drop bears?’ asked Brad.‘Who’s been talking to you?’ she smiled. ‘Someone’s been pulling your leg. There’s no such thing – they’re made up to scare tourists.’‘Drop bears?’ asked Megan. ‘What are they?’‘Oh, they’re supposed to be a huge vicious relative of the koala that drops on you out of trees and tears you into pieces. Made up, like hoop snakes. No, you’re pretty safe here.’‘It’s so quiet here,’ smiled Megan. ‘Except for the bird song. So peaceful.’‘Yeah, that’s why we settled here. We love it, especially after Sydney. I dunno how you stand it in New York – that’s so much noisier!’‘Oh, don’t put our home city down!’ said Megan. It’s got a lot going for it.’‘Oh, I know. But the simple life for me. Can’t stand the high-pressure life. We’re lucky – the motel is busy enough to get us an income, along with the caravan park attached to it. We get a lot of grey nomads coming through, and that adds to the income.’Grey nomads, thought Megan. Of course – retirees with caravans or RVs. ‘You get a lot of them?’‘Oh, yes. Depends on the time of year. Some of them drive all around Oz and end up here. It’s very beautiful and restful after the Red Centre. And we get the truckies – truck drivers - come through a fair bit – going south to Albany or north to Perth. Most of them stop at Bev’s roadhouse. It’s one of the only old-fashioned ones left. You can tell if the food at a roadhouse is good – the truckies all stop there. Steak sandwiches, hamburgers, fish and chips – you name it. But Bev’s getting on a bit now. She’s been trying to sell the place and retire for yonks.’‘There you go again. Yonks?’‘Donkeys’ years. Forever. Tell you what – we’ve got a little restaurant at the motel, but it’s not a patch on Bev’s. Do you want to have dinner there instead of here? Bruce’s a damn good cook, but we’ve just got back, and I think he could do with a rest.’The food at Bev’s was everything Sharon had said it was and more. Hamburgers with egg and bacon and lettuce and slices of tomato, and tomato sauce – and beetroot! ‘It’s not a proper hamburger without beetroot,’ said Bruce. ‘I’ve been missing them while I’ve been away.’‘And the coffee! It’s fantastic!’ said Brad. ‘Why can’t we get this at home?’‘Oh, we pride ourselves on our coffee,’ replied Bruce. ‘But if you want the best of the best, you have to go to Melbourne. Ours is good, but the Melbournites are obsessed with the stuff. There’s a certain American chain of coffee shops that shall remain nameless, that failed spectacularly in Australia. They just didn’t understand.’Bev came bustling over. She was an older woman, short, solid, white-haired, full of energy. ‘Food okay?’ she asked. ‘Amazing!’ said Brad. I’ve never tasted a hamburger like it!’Bev dimpled with pleasure and gave a little bow. ‘Why thank you, kind sir,’ she smiled. ‘Nice to be appreciated.’‘Oh, come on, Bev. We always praise your food up. You’re a real artist.’‘Yeah, thanks, Shazza. But I’m getting a bit tired of it, to be honest. I’m old enough to retire now, and I’d like to get on to doing things for myself. A bit of gardening. Painting – I could do that. I’ve always wanted to have the time to see if I could be a real artist. But nobody seems to want this place, even though it’s a goldmine – almost a license to print money.’Megan was very thoughtful that evening in the motel room. ‘A goldmine,’ she said.

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THE WIZARDS OF OZ

egfroth

Steven Lowe

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CHAPTER 2 - AUSTRALIA

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