Making it to Nightfall

I've spent nearly ten nights in Australia, and making it to nightfall feels like an achievement every time.  This sounds strange, I know, but its the truth.  With temperatures reaching over 100 degrees in some parts of the country, simply surviving the heat long enough to feel the temperatures drop to mid 60's and 70's at night feels like an actual accomplishment.  Where I'm living in Perth, daily high's usually do not surpass 90 degrees, but imagine places like Alice Springs, which is in the center of Australia's Red Center and the average temperature is 95 degrees during summer months.  I can imagine it feeling similar to holding your breath all day and letting out a full breath of relief as the sun sets over the horizon.  Makes one feel triumphant every day :)  

Quote/Thought of the Day

Day 1, Cottesloe Beach

My first night here, I went to bed at 6:30 p.m. and did not open my eyes again until 6:30 a.m. the next day.  I woke refreshed and ready to go though!  On today's agenda:  the beach, so I hopped on a bus and headed out.  I was told I had to see Cottesloe beach. It took half an hour to get from my apartment, or unit as it is called Down Under, to the beach.  I took a bus, then the train, as Cottesloe beach is in a suburb of Perth.  I arrived there around noon, and got a bite to eat before staking out my patch of sand.  The beach front was full of surf shops, pubs, fish 'n' chips, gelato parlors, and restaurants.  I ate lunch at Amber Jacks, my first fish 'n' chips ever. 

 Now, I've only been to the beach once before in my life, so this was pretty meaningful for me.  The Indian Ocean was captivating; the water was warm enough to swim in, the waves were tolerable, the wind felt good while lying on the beach, and the sand was warm between my toes. 

The beach was filled with people of all ages, from groups of teenagers to families and older couples.  You get the sense that coming to the beach is part of a daily routine for these people, which sounds like it'd be the perfect solution to a crappy day.  Also while there, I noticed that every old man, and I mean every (no exaggeration) had a speedo on.  So, I suffer, you suffer:  

 

Leaving the beach I got a glimpse of beach front property.  My dream home is a two-story house with wrap around porches on both levels (my Forrest Gump house), guess I'll just move to Cottesloe Beach, Ambassador's Row:

Quote of the Day

I found this on a bench in a children's park at Cottesloe Beach.  For those who don't know, J.M. Barrie wrote the play Peter Pan:

The View

Here's the view from my bedroom, a pool and lots of sunshine:  

 

Kalgoorlie, Western Australia

Sauteed chicken and rice, and a glass of Australian Chardonnay

I apologize for the posts being a bit sporadic, but now I will share with you my night in Kalgoorlie, Western Australia.  The Indian Pacific rail line arrives in Kalgoorlie on its final night in the Outback.  After crossing the Nullarbor Plain, which means "no trees" in poor Latin, and looking at miles and miles of desert, all passengers aboard become eager to arrive in Kalgoorlie.  The city sits on Australia's richest gold mining belt known as the Golden Mile.  Before arriving, I was told that Kalgoorlie would be full of hardened gold miners and brothels, which I did not believe because it sounded too much like an old, American Western movie.  I stand corrected.  My friend Jelena, whom I met on the train, and I ate dinner at the York Hotel (NOT a brothel, I would like to point out).  However, a few of my fellow passengers ventured down Hannah Street, Kalgoorlie's main street, and were invited with enthusiasm into bars (or brothels) by scantily clad women hanging in the doorways.  Jelena and I kept our distance and enjoyed dinner and a glass of wine in the company of an old gold miner named "Crooky", a very sketchy character.     

Crooky bought Jelena and I our second glass of wine, which I guess entitled him to sharing his point of view on life in Australia with us.  From him I learned that to be called a Yank or a sewer tank by an Australian is an insult.  I also learned how many white Australians view Aboriginals today.  Aboriginals are seen as drunks living off the government's welfare, and as if to prove this point, I looked outside and a drunken Aboriginal sauntered by the York Hotel.  As a gold miner, Crooky believes Aboriginals make a fortune off gold mining companies.  He stated that as soon as a bone is found on a mining site, the site is declared sacred ground and Aboriginals receive a pay-out from the company.  In his own words, "It could be a dingo bone for all they know, but no its sacred ground."  Obviously these views are racy and I do not know if there's any truth behind them, but I wanted to relate to you my night in Kalgoorlie as accurately as possible.  As the conversation turned to the York Hotel, I was told I had to take a picture of David Beckham's signed jersey, and a picture of the St. Kilda Saint's logo, the best Australian football team in all of Australia.  So, here they are:  

 Also while at the York Hotel, another gold miner was showing off his token piece of gold, or his golden pistol, as he calls it:

Before boarding the train, Jelena found a statue/water fountain of Paddy Hannan, the Irish man who first spotted gold in Kalgoorlie and started the town.  I would like you to meet 'Ole Paddy and Jelena: 

Transperth, Perth's Public Transportation

Never before have I had to rely on public transportation, so getting around Perth using the bus system is proving to be a challenge.  I was looking up fares and bus routes and I came across this expression, any ideas as to what it could mean?