island living

Elcho Island is extremely hot. This is our third day here, and I’ve taken probably 4 naps since arriving, because the humidity is so tiring. Matty laughs at how much sleep we’ve needed since being here. He’s such a local. It’s been good to be here, with Matty, to see why he is so passionate about what goes on in this somewhat Third World piece of Australia. We’ve taken several walks along the tired, hot streets, waving or saying hello to the natives as they pass us by, and there is so much garbage covering almost every inch of this place. I sometimes want to bring a bag with us so that I can pick the trash up as we walk. Despite the litter, it is still beautiful.

I have to admit, I had no idea what to expect on arriving here. I woke up this past Monday without even thinking about where I was going that night. Steve and I finished our packing and I even included a hair dryer…to bring to the Northern Territory…where it’s hotter than I’ve ever been in my life…this is how little I thought about where I was going. We lazed about with Katherine and Lewis before they dropped us off at the airport sometime around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Our plane was scheduled to leave at 5:45 for Melbourne, which is actually an hour and a half south of Sydney – completely the opposite direction of where we wanted to go, but we couldn’t pass up the cheaper ticket. We were to arrive in Melbourne sometime around 7 pm, and catch a plane for Darwin at 9:05. We would meet Westy at the Darwin airport around midnight, Darwin time (which is an hour and a half behind Sydney and Melbourne time), and spend the night at the airport. Our flight from Darwin to Elcho Island was scheduled for 8:45 the next morning.

The plan sounded fool proof, but the only issue was that Clint was on a direct flight from Sydney to Darwin, meaning we wouldn’t be able to travel with him until after our long journey to the Territory. To remedy this, we went straight to the Qantas ticket sales after arriving at the airport to see if we could switch our flight to the same one as Clint’s. The nice Aussie Qantas agent informed us that we couldn’t, because JetStar serviced the second leg of our trip from Melbourne to Darwin. We weren’t too fazed by this news, and went to check in for our first flight. We used one of those easy check-in machines, and when we entered our flight details, the machine informed us that there was an earlier flight we could take from Sydney to Melbourne if we wanted. Steve reckoned we should take the opportunity, but I reasoned with him that we already had a 2-hour layover in Melbourne, and I really didn’t want to spend another hour sitting in an airport.

We checked our bags, and the ticket agent printed out our tickets. As she was handing our passports back to us, she told us that due to a huge thunderstorm over Sydney, all flights were delayed until further notice. I had a bit of a panic, thinking we wouldn’t make it to Melbourne in time to make our JetStar flight, but I shrugged it off, because our layover was a good 2 hours long. I calculated in my mind how long it would take to claim our luggage from the Qantas flight, check in for our JetStar flight, and rush through security to our gate. Everything still seemed all right, and we decided to deal with the delay the Australian way: “No worries.”

I discovered how different American domestic travel is to Australian domestic travel. As Steve and I approached the security section of the airport, I tried to figure out what the system was. There were 2 x-ray belts, and 2 metal detectors to walk through, but there was no queue line for either one of them. I walked up to the security guard who was leaning over the first x-ray belt, with slits for eyes as he looked like he could have been half asleep. I asked as I approached, “Should I just put my bag here on the belt now?” to which he replied, “Well I don’t really see why not,” in his friendly Aussie accent. I felt a bit silly as I placed my backpack onto the belt and sheepishly made my way through the metal detector…with my shoes still on! While this was not an issue they seemed to care about, I did still manage to get pulled aside for a random search of explosive material. I don’t know how random it is, as I’ve been chosen at least 5 times in my life for these checks.

We wandered around the airport, looking for coffee and food, but found only cheap, gross coffee and snacks. We decided that one of our flights must be planning on giving us food, so we opted to wait for the free airline grub. We sat for about a half hour longer, and finally boarded our plane as the thunderstorm passed from black ominous clouds to a more light grey fluff. After boarding the plane, we waited at the gate for about 20 minutes, and then lined up on the tarmac for another 15 minutes. With each passing second, I became more and more certain that we’d miss our connecting flight. After we finally took off, I requested one of the complimentary small bottles of Malbec that they were offering with the crackers and dip that they were passing out, and I marveled at yet another difference in the travel industries between our two countries. I enjoyed my snack, thankful that it was more filling and more relaxing than the honey roasted peanuts and coke I would have been given had I been traveling in my native land.

We arrived in Melbourne with 40 minutes to spare before our next flight was scheduled to take off. Our determination to run and to be the first people waiting at baggage claim was rewarded with a long wait for our bags to finally show up on the carousel. As soon as they appeared, we grabbed them and ran for the JetStar check in. As we approached the counter, the lady told us not to worry, because our next flight had been delayed half an hour as well. We breathed a deep sigh of relief, and set out through another mellow security check, this time avoiding the random check for explosives. We searched for food, but being Australia, and since it was already 8 o’clock at night, all of their food stores had already been closed up for the night.

We waited another long hour and a bit, and finally boarded our plane. This one went faster on the take off, and we were soon perusing the menu, discovering that we would have to pay for a meal on this cheaper JetStar flight. We didn’t care, we were so hungry. I bought a nice pasta and veggie dish with a lemonade (we would have called it a Sprite), and Steve asked for a meat pie and a Victoria Bitter. We ate and drank as we watched Hot Pursuit on our laptop, which by the way is probably John Cusack’s worse film to date.

Our stomachs were full, and we had a good 3 hours of a flight left. Steve fell asleep instantly, as I struggled next to him to find a position that even slightly resembled comfortable. I was finally able to snooze on Steve’s lap, without causing him to wake up too completely.

But then, I woke up with a start. I tried to figure out what was wrong with me. It didn’t take long to realize that my right foot was completely numb and dead. I had been lying on Steve’s lap to the right of me, which apparently had put my foot to sleep. In my half asleep state, I panicked. I woke Steve up, franticly, and he drowsily asked me what was wrong. I don’t recall ever explaining to him what was ailing me. I just grabbed my foot and started to rub it, but I couldn’t feel a thing. “My foot’s asleep, I can’t feel it,” I groaned, trying not to wake up the people around me. Poor Steve tried to do his best to help, but there was nothing he could do. I began to bang my foot on the floor of the plane, trying to get it out of its stupor and back to the land of the living. Slowly it began to burn, and the burning was followed by feelings of tingling and heaviness. I kept banging it on the floor until the feeling was fully restored. Afterwards, I couldn’t sleep; I wiggled and squirmed, trying to find another spot that would allow me to fall into sleep, but nothing helped.

As we reached Darwin and began our descent, I looked out my window and could see fire. The Aboriginal people in the Northern Territory burn the brush every year to prevent the out of control fires that Australia gets in other areas of the country. I was expecting to see it, but it was still a little taken aback by the sight of it.

We landed in Darwin, walked to baggage claim, found our luggage, and searched for Westy. We found him near the bathrooms, asleep on his bags. He had been there for about an hour and a half already. He woke up, and we chatted about our trips until our eyes were too heavy to care that we were sleeping on the floor of an airport. Our sleep was on and off, and I seem to remember dreaming that someone was trying to kill me because of who my dad was…it had something to do with his being an air traffic controller. I woke up to a busy airport, even though it was only 3 in the morning. Darwin International Airport never sleeps.

We were able to check into our Air North flight at 6 am, and had a good 2 hours before we were to board our flight. We went through another security line, and made our way to the only café inside the terminal. We ordered 3 flat white coffees, and 3 toasted sandwiches for $30. We assumed that the sandwiches would be huge, since they were so expensive, but they were only about and inch thick, and very ordinary, made with cheap bread, fake cheese, and some sort of meat-like substance. We laughed at the traveling lessons we had learned as we ate our sandwiches, and waited for our flight.

After landing on Elcho, we waited as the security officials at the teeny tiny airport painstakingly searched through each piece of luggage on the hunt for alcohol, drugs, and porn, all of which are banned from the island. Matty arrived before our bags came out, and we hugged our greeting, grabbed our bags, and jumped into his Land Cruiser, happy to be done with our traveling and to be with a friendly face.

I was overwhelmed at the culture shock I was experiencing as we drove through the tiny village near the airport. People were everywhere, under trees, or walking along the street, and all were eager to wave a hello as we passed. Matty gave us a lesson on some of the differences we would find here. He told us that there were 2,000 inhabitants on the island. Some of the houses we were seeing were about the size of a mobile home, but sometimes housed 20 people at once. Because of the welfare system the government has set up as an apology to these natives, there is a lot of sitting around, doing nothing, and gambling at night. Several of the younger children run around naked, and most of the people walk on the hot and stony ground without shoes on. There had been a suicide recently, which could have been brought on by depression due to a lack of purpose; because of the uproar it had caused, there have been several other suicide attempts – an aching cry for attention.

It was such a sight, and I pointed out that this was probably the furthest away from American that I had ever been.

We dropped our stuff off at Matty’s and drove around the island. Our car soon overheated, and we laughed as the boys tried to see if we could make it to the barge that Matty wanted us to see. Luckily, we were able to drive the car long enough to get us to the ocean. We snapped some photos before heading to the store for a big shop, and then back to Matty’s for lunch. After eating, Matty pulled out his fishing pole, and we headed down to the beach and further to the rocks that were strewn about the beach. I found a nice one to sit on as the boys enjoyed the sun, water, and fishing pole. After taking some more photos and video, I sat down and wrote these words:

“I’m sitting in a sea of black rocks, staring out to where they become covered in the clearest water I’ve ever dipped my feet into. My husband is knee deep in this croc-infested water with a fishing pole in hand. I’ve been assured that the crocodiles don’t enjoy the places where the rocks are, since the rough surface scratches their soft bellies. It’s hot enough to dry our wet clothes in a few minutes, but the breeze off the warm water keeps the heat from becoming too intense. The sounds in the background are those of distant call of the cockatoos and the cheering of the Aboriginal people. We at first thought they were happy cheers, but when we stopped to listen, Matty informed us that it was actually a funeral ceremony.”

We soon grew tired of catching only seaweed, and we headed to the house again. The house next to Matty’s belongs to a lady who has translated the Bible’s New Testament into the language of the people on this island. She had left earlier in the day for a funeral on the mainland, and had told Matty to let us stay in her house while she was gone. Clint, Steve and I decided to nap in her house, after becoming exhausted from lack of sleep the night before and the intense heat we’d been sitting under for the past 3 hours.

After we woke up from our nap, we stopped in Matty’s house to grab some food and headed out to some dunes with a cliff beyond its sandy surface, the bright turquoise water below. We built a fire in the sand and cooked some steaks that we ate with bread and tomato sauce. We spent the next few hours eating, drinking (non-alcoholic) ginger beer, and catching up with Matty about the last year and a half. We laughed as we reminisced about the memories we’d had with each other, and looked forward to the new ones we’d make in the following days.