Жизнь Экспатрианта

Really, can any more be said?
Here I am.
Next time in either Indonesia or Russia...
Thanks for reading!

3/12 10:09 Sydney time

Here I sit, having hit my first snag in an otherwise perfect last couple days. And boy, what a biggie. Let me recap:

Yesterday was spent driving with S M and W M (salesman from the Rocklea dealership) around the area north of Brisbane to visit a customer in log-hauling up in Goomboorian, and another in general freight in Beerwah – distressingly close to, as they all mockingly call it here, ‘Steve Irwin’s zoo’. This was superb. The day was glorious, the ride was excellent, and the customers were, generally speaking, exactly what I could hope for in terms of liking what we sell and having some useful feedback for me in terms of improvements that could be made.
Follow this off with a Thai-themed meal in an outdoor cafe on the Queen Street Mall, watching the city go by. Can’t be beat.
Then, I got my car out of the hotel parking garage, and hit the highway towards the airport, keeping a sort of eye out for a place to stop for the night. Since I was in a leisurely state of mind, I stopped to peruse the Kingsford-Smith memorial. The Kingsford-Smith refers to a famous (here, at least) Aussie pilot who was first to do a whole host of things, like fly cross-pacific, from Oz to England, and around-the-world (though not non-stop, and not solo). Okay, so that was that. Still no place really appealing to crash for the night.
I hopped back on the highway north, getting more and more inclined to actually see the coast for the one time this trip. Eventually – and probably, not after too much longer – I got tired of looking and selected an exit towards a likely named place. Turns out this exit put me on a strip of the old highway, part of which is a quite long bridge over some-bay-or-another. I ended up hitting the salt water at a town called Redcliffe. As luck would have it, the very highway I was on ended at a sort of park type area on the coast, with a nice parking lot. I pulled in and, after taking a quick stroll around, got myself situated in the back seat of my car and started trying to go to sleep. What with the local kids making all manner of noise, the periodic headlight beams playing through the inside of my car, and the fact that a 6’-plus guy was trying to find a position of minimal discomfort in a perhaps 4.5’-wide car interior, I’m not certain I got a whole heck of a lot of rest. Still, when the street sweeper trucks cleaning up the parking lot woke me up, the sun was just breaking the horizon, the wind was up, the sky was only dotted with puffy clouds; what a morning!
So, I got myself together, and trekked back to the Brisbane airport, somewhat early for my 10:00 scheduled departure. When I got there, since I was flying a domestic airline, and there are a ton of flights from Sydney to Brisbane, I asked – on a whim – if it would be possible to catch an earlier flight to Sydney. Once I got there, you see, I would be waiting in the international terminal, in the business class lounge. Which is sure to have showers and a good breakfast / lunch. Surprise, the girl got me on a flight that was just starting boarding the moment I arrived at the gate. Unbelievable luck!
Arriving in Sydney, the whole thing comes crashing down. First, because of idiotic “security” measures, I had to pick up my bags at claim and drag them all the way over to the international terminal to check them in. Next (and this is the real kicker), it turns out that for similar “security” measures, I can’t check in until three hours before my flight leaves. That is, I am stuck sitting against a wall at the place where cars drop people off at the airport for the next three hours. Further, I heard an announcement just recently which (and I didn’t catch the whole thing) seemed to be telling me that passport control (which is really what you need to get through before you can do anything like relax or take a shower) only opens one hour before a flight. At that point, I wonder if I’m going to get a shower at all before I get home. It’s been better than 24 hours already, including a day of driving and a night spent sleeping in a car. It can’t be pleasant to be around me right now.
So, it has been decided. To my ‘hate’ list (currently only occupied by LA and Southwest Airlines) gets added the city of Sydney, Australia. I was going to make it all of New South Wales, but I guess Wagga was pretty good...

3/10 08:36 Brisbane time

I get an email from A yesterday. Mount Saint Helens erupted while I was away!!! It's enough to make you want to weep.

Last night was dinner with G J and the marketing manager for the conglomerate of companies, of which our Australian distributor is but a part. Talk was mainly economics and history, though in this case they were doing most of the asking. If I screwed anything up, they were polite enough not to let on. All things considered, between any two of the three of us (a Canadian, an Aussie, and me) on any particular topic there was significant similarity -- but only extremely rarely did for all three of us on the same topic. Some things, you have to be British (or commonwealth, or whatever), some things, you have to be North American, and some things, you have to be convict stock (sociologically speaking).

3/9 16:17, Brisbane time

It always seems like the last quarter of every trip is spent mostly just counting the hours until I hit the airport for home. This time is no different.

Looking forward, S B and I have discussed for my next trip running through New Zealand, since he needs to visit there sometime in the second half of this year anyway, and may as well stack both our visits together. That'll make quite a week.

Not much eventful today. At lunch, I discovered that Subway sandwiches taste the same no matter where you are (and similarly, no matter where you are, if you don't keep a hawk's eye on the guy making yours, he'll screw it up).

I've fairly well certainly decided to spend the last night in Oz in the back of my rental car at a truck stop, since my hotels got screwed up for my weekend jaunt to Charleville, and I ended up being booked into -- and charged for -- the Medina in Brisbane for the same night I spent in Miles. I can't figure any way to escape having to cover the overage myself, so rather than pay with money, I'll pay with mild discomfort. I sure better get a good seat on the airplane (and no worries, they have showers in the airport lounges; I'll be freshly scrubbed before leaving the country).

Last couple days, though. I'm meeting G J tonight for dinner; I'll make sure to hold to my 'nothing-more-than-beer' pledge.

3/8 19:01 Brisbane time

Today we met with a couple more major customers, as well as surveying the major dealership in Rocklea (you will, of course, recall M M, the manager of said dealership). Meeting was over lunch (to start with), and once the topic strayed from The Company’s product directly, we ended up discussing the Aussie economy, particularly as it related to the labor market – particularly as that relates to... you guessed it, trucking.

Turns out that the boom in demand for minerals is somewhat of a mixed blessing around here. Having a rather small labor force to begin with, as well as the US-style overattendance of college for the past twenty or so years, capped with a rather restrictive immigration policy pertaining to low-wage-worker-source countries, means that the trades have a hell of a time recruiting and retaining people. And once they do find, for example, an apprentice mechanic – paid in the neighborhood of 100K, Aussie, to start with – he’s as like as not to be snagged by a mining firm which base pays about the same, plus a generous housing allowance and bonus wages for ‘remote work’ (plus being in a reduced-tax zone for the same ‘remote’ areas). And this is for mechanics -- a moderately skilled job. The situation in finding drivers is even worse. No one for the past twenty years has even hinted at allowing their kids to grow up to be truck drivers, and no one with a college degree – even a ‘liberal arts’ one – will even consider driving, even though the pay is far beyond what they can expect to get off their degree. It begins to put a serious strain on business. M M related a recent tale of trying to get an electrician to come out to his place on a weekend. Only five were listed, most told him to piss off, and the one who ended up being willing to come out was fifty years old and charged him an arm and a leg. I’d hate to be dependant on tradesmen here ten years from now – and really, who isn’t dependant on them at least sometimes?...

3/7 20:00 Brisbane time

A bit of excitement towards the end of the day. Suffice to say, as I often claim, our Aussie market acts as a coalminer’s canary for The Company at large. Sadly, though fairly simple to identify, the resolution of this problem has fallen victim to what the Aussies term, “the tyranny of distance”. That is, while it’s all fine and good for us to discuss what might be done, the rest of the world (by which is meant in this context, Europe and America) is not only still in bed, but still on weekend. It’s quite frustrating to know that, basically, in Oz (and NZ, one supposes) a work week has only four meaningful days.

On the other hand, the single biggest export market for Australian goods is China. On a radio news program the other day was a segment about the relatively recent mega-boom in the economy here, an how it is largely thanks to the growing resource – particularly mineral -- demands of the Chinese. It’s enough to make at least a few Aussies wonder why their country is so doggedly obedient to the whims of a country which is actively cooling its relations with the Chinese. The justification that we all speak a common language begins to wear thin.

Fun fact: Not only did ANZAC (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps – they were both part of Britain at the time, and I guess the Brits didn’t want them contaminating the general corps) troops fight with some distinction in the European theater during WWII, and not only did Australia get seriously attacked by the Japanese (bombing all over the north, particularly in the region of Darwin; submarines in the southern harbors), but they are taught in school that their contribution to the Allied cause is what tipped the scales. Raise your hand if you even knew what ANZAC was before I told you (my hand stays down, too, by the way). Double points if you know in what country Gallipoli is located (hint: there are monuments to the fighting there literally all over Australia).

What’s particularly interesting, I find, about working with folks in foreign lands, is the occasional disparity between what they find important about where they live, and what we in the States find important about it. Much easier than poring over references in tourist or history or other general reference books is to ask a local to go over the major events in his country’s (or city’s) history. I doubt the picture you get is more or less balanced than you would in a book, but it is certainly more real. Particularly if you get to talk to more than one or two locals.

Also, they really enjoy an ignorant person showing interest in their land. Everyone likes to feel like an expert, and there’s no better expert on a location than a local.

3/7 13:10 Wacol time

So, back in operation in Wacol (where the main distributor's offices are - just outside Brisbane). Fairly well as I expected; I'm spending the day with G J, going over various product quality issues that they try to catch before the things get to their dealers. Being a canadian, G J tends to have a worthwhile perspective on things Aussie; today over lunch we talked tax and highway markings. Tax was nothing exciting, though I find out that a large part of the disparity between Noth America and here regarding the truck life cycle is because depreciation at home is fairly well over with after three years, whereas here it continues for the life of the vehicle. So, they keep their stuff longer -- so, they expect better stuff up front (and pay a fair bit more for it). The effects just cascade on down...

The other topic regarded the make of the highways around here as it contributes to traffic and accidents (note: they only barely have what might be termed 'traffic' in Queensland, barring a five-car pileup or the like). The merging lanes are maybe 100m long, meaning that you have time to either get up to speed or find a place in traffic. Most simply opt for the speed and trust that traffic will see you coming and get out of the way. And that doesn't even take into account the wildlife crossing the roads whenever they feel the urge.

Yesterday afternoon, I walked a goodly chunk of Brisbane (about 3 hours worth of it). I made it over the hill away from the Story Bridge, and then followed the river around back to where I started. The trip took me right through the Brisbane Botanical Gardens, attached to the local university. All in all, not a bad unplanned jaunt.
Sadly, when I returned to the hotel, the restaurant was closed, and the other eating establishments in close distance were all less than 15 minutes from shutting, themselves. 7-11 (they have those here, unfortunately) does not make a particularly tasty dinner..

3/6 11:10 Brisbane time

Of course, I wouldn't be the type to sit, all scruff and un-tooth-brushed (they arrive tomorrow morning, and I've been rinsing heavily! Sheesh...), in my hotel room and bemoan my lack of Internet access. No, sir. I chucked out first thing this morning, dragging along my laptop and gear, to walk the sweaty streets of Brisbane in search of an Internet cafe. I now heartily plug for IYSC cafe, Adelaide street (near, but not actually on, the Queen Street Mall), Brisbane. The AC is screaming, the lines are broadband, and the prices, at $3AUD/hour are fairly reasonable. Plus, it is worth mentioning that, while they are not the first cafe I found, they were the only one that thought it might be nice to let me use my own gear over their lines. Hail to IYSC! May their cooler of pop, juice, and bottled water never run dry!

My room at the Medina is unbelievable. I'm working on playing with the shutter speed on my camera to get a good night shot of the riverside, right outside my window/balcony!! Frankly, I can't hold stil enough to make it work the way I want, and the chairs don't give me a good enough angle.

So, today is my screwing-off day (yeah, right, like the Charleville jaunt was work-related...). I'm not really interested in driving around, so I'll likely just take the sweating-tour of the city.

Did I mention it's hot and humid here? Where are the thunderstorms I was promised in the Wagga airport?

3/5 22:21, Brisbane time

You, of course, won’t notice, but I’m checked into my hotel for the week, and still without Internet service!!! The backlog is piling up and up and up, and I’m starting to think that the guy that replaced my high-speed modem at the same time screwed up my phone modem. I’ll spend a chunk of tomorrow seeing if I can find a BYOComputer internet cafe. Otherwise, it’ll all have to wait for Monday (unless something else goes wrong...)

The drive back from Charleville was almost uneventful. I made goo dtime, nonetheless, and no lasting ill effects were attained. Getting back onto the Warrego Highway after stopping to pick up that rock just outside of Charleville, I fell in behind a gent who was doing well over the posted limit of 110kph. Figuring he would make a good scout/decoy, I matched him nearly half way to Roma, losing him only when I stopped to ‘sprinkle the bush’. I figured, getting back in the car, that his was a good deal (I was even saving a couple of L/100km following in his slipstream), so I punched it up to ~160kph to try to catch up. Coming around the bend and up a rise, scant minutes later, I caught sight of the bubbles on top of what could only be a cop car. Since I was on a rise, and he was actually just slightly beyond the crest, I was able to see him (and brake, heavily) before he saw me. Whew. Good luck, that. I gave up catching my scout at that point, and dropped back down to ~140 myself, slowing down, of course, whenever the signed limit showed below 110.

This worked great, up until a scant 10k outside Dalby. This time, I was on a flat straightaway, and didn’t ID the cop coming towards me until he flipped on his lights, passed me (already pulling over, muttering ‘crapcrapcrap’)and whipped around and in behind me. Nice guy; asked me for my license and the rental car contract, then told me he clocked me going 149kph. We chatted a bit, I giving a masterful performance as the ‘ignorant, but well-intentioned American business traveler on his day off’, he as the ‘cop who caught you going one klick below the limit for dragging-off-to-jail’. Long story short, I explained about Montana’s lack of a limit on the deep Interstates, and that I’d been told Australia was the same way (not strictly true; I’d been told – accurately – that the Northern Territories is the same way as Montana; a grain of truth that may have held together the happy ending – but let’s not skip ahead), and that I’d been doing those kinds of speeds since Charleville and hadn’t been pulled over. Please note, this last is not information I volunteered without prompting, and per my snap judgment of the situation, a full-disclosure-of-past-unknowing-wrongdoing would best fit the role I was aiming to play. Suffice to say, it worked (???I know, I was just as surprised as you are???) and the cop indicated that, in lieu of exercising the standard option of issuing me a $500 fine, invalidating my International Driving Permit, and noting with the IDP authorities that any future permits I got were to be marked, “Not Valid In Australia”, he was going to let the warning stand on its own.

Funny thing is, he got the last laugh. I didn’t go above 120kph (and that only to pass, which is permitted here, I happen to know after chatting with the cop) the whole rest of the way back into Brisbane. I guess the warning worked. And from now, the longest drive I’m taking is 20 minutes in town.

3/5 12:55 Charleville time

Here I am.


Evidence 

I write this, sitting next to a dry (well, not completely dry – I drank a lot of pop on the way out here) riverbed about 200m from the Charleville city center (spelled here, ‘centre’, in the annoying British manner). The photo below was taken from a bit up the road, and where I sit now is a few feet in front of my car.


The view 

Truth, it’s just as dull as everyone said it would be; not that that surprises me. Still, it is, as all the signs say, ‘Queensland’s Outback”. Just East of town, on the higway out, they are doing road construction, complete with cutting away into a small hill, which should provide me with a ‘geologically valid’ rock sample. I’ve also taken the advice of S B and picked up a ‘stubby holder’ (not what it sounds like; they call 12-oz beer bottles here ‘stubbies’, as opposed to ‘long necks’) at the place I ate lunch.

Perhaps most interestingly, though the ground out here is red, there are plenty of gum and eucalyptus (among others I don’t know) trees and not a small bit of ground cover. I guess to get out to the movie-Outback, you have to go as far as Ayers Rock (not in the plans; it’s a three-hour plane trip from Brisbane. Otherwise, the Outback is dry, mainly not occupied by any large animals, and swarming with termites, locusts (the small kind), and various other flying (but non-biting – so far) insects. And lots and lots of roadkill. In one spot, there were seven kangaroos in various states of decomposition / being eaten all within a twenty-yard stretch. I did my part in clobbering a meter-long lizard foolish enough to walk out in front of a vehicle travelling 140kph.

Having done what I set out to do, I am now turning about and heading back the way I came. Depending on the time I make, I may sleep tonight in Roma, Dalby, or maybe even (but probably not) Brisbane. Going back, I’ll take a bit more time and stop if something seems interesting, you see. The ground is starting to burn my butt, and I’m going to take that as a sign to pack up and head out.

Hello/goodbye, Charleville. I’ll most likely never come here again (sound of line being drawn through item on list.)


West end, Warrego Hwy 

3/4 23:55 Miles time

Well, I decided to knock off a bit before reaching my goal, mainly because, after all the delays (and our connecting flight in Sydney was held back even beyond the delay of our Wagga flight), and after dropping S B off at his place in Ipswitch, I really didn’t get started until around 9. It’s just too damn late for that much driving, though fact of the matter is, I’m not particularly tired. This time around, I’m rolling a candy-red station wagon version of what I had last time – Ford Falcon. No dramas with it at this point.

I did get a chance to check out the stars from one of the many middles that – apparently – ‘nowhere’ has. The Milky Way is still there, as is the upside-down Orion. No moon yet; I’m starting to wonder if it is an early morning, rather than evening riser. In which case, I put my chances of seeing it as rather slim.

Brisbane was just on the verge of getting whammed with a massive thunderstorm system, but according to the motel manager, we’re well too far west here to see any of that. After passing through Dalby (some couple hundred klicks back), I’ve been driving through areas completely new to me; unfortunately in the near-total dark. I wouldn’t even venture to guess what the area around Miles looks like. I suppose that will be a surprise for tomorrow morning.

It looks like I’m on track to get to Charleville before noon tomorrow. If there’s enough interesting stuff, I’ll spend tomorrow night there, and Sunday making the drive back. If everyone (and S B had me tell the folks at the rental car desk where I was headed... shock, followed by snickers and ‘whatever would you want to do that for?’ were in abundance) is right about it, on the other hand, I’ll be sick of it before the afternoon has progressed too far, in which case I’ll head out while there’s still daylight and stop whenever it starts getting too dark to get a good look at the scenery. For now, sleepy time.

3/4 14:00 Wagga Wagga time

With S B in the Wagga airport, waiting for our flight into Sydney. Originally, we were scheduled to be taking off right about now; as it stands currently, we’ve another hour and 20 to go. We should still be able to make our flight to Brisbane, as it has also been pushed back. It looks at this point like it’ll be getting dark around the time I pass through Toowoomba this evening. I’ll have to take special care to watch out for roos, as they greatly prefer to be killed on the highways after dark. Should have a good chance to check out the night sky, though. My hope is to make Charleville by midnight (no worries; I’ll be sleeping on the plane rides, and driving accompanied by the soothing strains of American ultra-heavy-metal music blaring over the car’s CD player), but I won’t be too disappointed if I end up having to knock off on the way there. I’ll definitely not be knocking off until I’m pretty close, though. S B assures me that there will be truck stops and hotels all along the highway, and that I should be safe stopping at one of those – provided I see trucks there, if not, keep driving. This will probably be long, long stretches of blinding boring, punctuated by brief spurts of mildly interesting. Still, gotta get a check mark in that box, don’t you know...

It likely won’t be until Sunday that I get back onto the sweet, sweet Internet. I re-iterate my apologies to all those who’ve come here over the past week and found nothing whatsoever, along with the assurance that I have been trying at every place to at least make some sort of brief connection, during which the publication of these postings here would be my sole priority. It’ll be smooth sailing from Sunday on out.

3/4 06:11 Wagga Wagga time

Oog. Let’s just say the Lithuanian of my genes are being put to the test (and passing it, except for the gurgle-gut). I re-iterate my pledge from last evening -- or, more properly, from earlier this morning, I see...
An Aussie maxim, brought here, in the incarnation handed to me, by the Irish grandparents of a Queenslander:
“It’s not how much he drinks, but how promptly he arrives for work the next morning that is the mark of a man.”

Here I am, then...

3/4 00:24 Wagga Wagga time

Holy crap.

They told me all week that this night would be ‘the big one’. No lie, that. The Company’s tab for the evening (less the $120 Aussie that S B paid as a supplement after the first place closed) was $817.96 Aussie, or about $560 US. I don’t think I ever have spent that much money straight out on anything (other than my house). As luck would have it, I was taking out customers, so I have no fear of criticism when I submit my report. Still – holy crap; six hundred bucks, most of which was booze!

Obviously, I’m really in no shape to log at this point. I shall sign off this brief one with the following pledge:

Nothing stronger than wine (and that only if politeness obligates) for the rest of the trip. I’ve drunk way too much this past week. Fricking Aussies. I’m toast.

3/3 19:09 Wagga Wagga time

We morninged with the Shepparton dealership gents, and made another late start of things northeastward to Albury, just over the Victoria / New South Wales border. Made it to Albury in time for a barbeque (steak, and beef sausage dogs – of course). This whole area – and we’ve made it back into the Great Dividing Range – is ranching and farming country. I’ve long ago lost count of how many cattle and sheep herds we’ve passed, or how many fruit orchards (pears seem particularly prevalent). as before, if it wasn’t for the gum trees and the way-too-steep hills (and the being on the wrong side of the car) it could be somewhere in the States. Before leaving Shepparton, we met with a particularly important customer that does milk pickups from a fair number of farms in the valley, and processes the milk into condense, soft cheeses, butter, and whatnot. A good time. Cows are cows, no matter where you are.

Heading towards Albury, we swapped history stories; first R B and S P telling me about Ned Kelly, a famous Aussie outlaw from the old days, who apparently put a thick iron bucket over his head, some iron plates on his body, and proceeded to have a shootout with the police. After laughing, we got to talking about the Aboriginals and the Indians, and I got to give them my thumbnail history of the US/Indian relations, starting with the early treaties and culminating in the Nez Perce wars (and ending with the successful whaling of the Makah over the objections of our local Greenies). Then we got to the extermination of the native Tasmanians and the way the ‘modern’ Abos live, and so forth.
See, I didn’t need to read up on the places at all...

We ended up in Wagga Wagga, NSW. This is the first actual city I’ve seen since leaving Dandenong. Turns out, it’s not only a major ground transit hub, but the location of a fairly major Australian army training center. Here, we met with the owner of the Shepparton, Albury, and Wagga (as well as two others) dealerships. We’ll be taking him out to dinner and drinks (of course) on The Company dime in just a few moments.

By the by, I phoned the Dandenong hotel, and they found my shave-and-toothbrush pack in my room. It should get to me by Monday. Yay.

My plans for the weekend at this point are to drive out to Charleville, the beginning of where pretty much all agree the Outback has fully set in. I’ll be sure to get photos.

3/2 23:42 Shepparton time

Out of the Melbourne area, over the mountains, into the northern valley. This was about a 3-hour drive, extended somewhat as we got pulled over for speeding out in the middle of nowhere. Our trip took us through Victoria’s wine country, which looks strikingly like Portland or California’s wine country, except, of course, for the gum trees, and the fact that the hills look somehow abnormally steep. Still, what a nice drive.

Now, in Shepparton, I find it much too late for much typing. We met with some big dealers and had a quite productive time today, and had dinner with the gents from the local shop this evening. We’ll be quite busy tomorrow, and intend to spend the night in Wagga Wagga. Silly Aussie place names...

I appear to have left my toothbrush-and-soap bag behind in Danendong. I should be able to survive the next couple days till Brisbane, but what a pain in the ass. I really liked that particular kit, and had given my old one to A. Stupid carelessness; I left it hanging in the shower stall when I packed up to leave. Unbelievable.

To wrap this one up, I took a peek at the night sky, found the Southern Cross and Alpha Centauri. Most impressive, now that I’m looking to details, was the fact that Orion was there, but decidedly upside-down. I commented on this to SB, and he told me that they call it down here the Saucepan (using a silly Aussie pronunciation, so it took like five repetitions before I understood what he was calling it). Crazy. No moon out tonight; I’ll hopefully get to check on that rumor before I leave Oz this time around.

3/1 21:52 Dandenong time

Oh crap.

Chatting with SB over drinks, we got to discussing the recent sale of trucks by The Company into coal mining areas in middle-of-nowhere Indonesia. As far as I knew, up till two hours ago, there was a guy in Singapore, working for our Australian distributor, who was going to in-service all eleven of the vehicles we just sold them on site in the jungle. Come to find out, the guy in Singapore quit a week ago. The sale contract commits The Company to providing the in-service. It’s technically my area. No one else at the distributor seems to be able to do this for us.

Oh crap.

So, for the second day in a row, of the two days I’ve been here, I will have to wake up in the morning and immediately place a semi-frantic call to my boss in the States. Worst-case (well, okay, not absolute worst, but worst likely) I will be voyaging to the Kalimantan region of Indonesia in mid-April for a week.
Thank goodness this is all back-dated. I can’t have A reading this on the Internet before I tell her in person tomorrow morning (local time).

Can’t really think tonight. I promise to get to the reflections on Melbourne before too long.