#4 (Disneyland, Home)

Well, here we are home again. We flew back into Canberra on a glorious spring day. Over in the distance I could see the swamps where our house resides.

Our friend Jason was there waiting for us. He'd been house-sitting in our absence, feeding the pets, mowing the lawn, and even tending to the fire that had started in the overhead power cable to our house. No, there was no damage, and it doesn't sound likely that it would have spread to the house itself.

When you return home after being away for a reasonable length of time, everything looks strange. The size, the colours, everything doesn't seem to gel with your memory of the place. It seems that if you spend enough time somewhere, you cease to really look at it, and miss the detail that is otherwise apparent

An unmistakable, iron landmark. Also the Eiffel Tower.

I forgot to mention earlier, the scene as we flew over the islands to the north of Australia. At night the ground is dotted with the lights of many fires. This is very saddening because it signals the destruction of so much forest land, and marks what is likely to be the demise of humanity's nearest living relative, the orangutan.

So, after Scotland, oh yes...did I mention that we had haggis there? I have to admit I wasn't sure I wanted to, having learned what goes into them. Suprisingly, they were actually really good. We had one traditional, and one vegetarian.

Anyway, after Scotland, we went to York where it was cool and rainy. Then to Stratford to do the Shakespeare bit, and visit some friends who used to live near us in Canberra. Next stop brought us full-circle back to Lilla and Tony's house to complete our UK journey. I think Lilla's forgiven me for referring to her as an 'Nth-removed relative'.

We then did the short flight over to Paris, where we promptly tried to kill ourselves by A) believing that cars stop for pedestrians at crossings; and B) forgetting that you must first look LEFT for cars approaching.

I think we were getting a bid jaded with the travel bit by this time, but we enjoyed it anyway. We had no trouble at all with the French, who are renowned for not liking tourists. Especially ENGLISH tourists. Of course we're not, but how are they to tell?

 

From the Arch de thingo. They pour the cars in from half a dozen points, then go around and around, and eventually come out somewhere else. Sometimes there's not even a scratch on them.

Aaaarg! This is me, reeling under the onslaught of plasticised reality, struggling for sanity.

On a couple of occasions I was forced to wait and listen to the music, which left me with nothing better to do than fantasise about means of silencing it. These mostly involved powerful weapons and clouds of twinkling plastic speaker housings. Of course, I can't blame Disney for the rain, but it did have the beneficial affect of reducing the size of the crowds

At the Rodin museum (which was every bit as good as were told it would be), they had a suggestion book which contained many references to rude behaviour by the staff. Maybe they actually read the book, because we didn't find them so.

Disney World was exactly what I imagined it to be. Fantastic rides, but everything else being contrived, concocted. It had me so that I started examining the rock walls to see if they were really made of plastic (I think they were).

One ride has a wild-west desert mining theme. In the queuing area are many old (genuine!) relics - shovels, scales, steam engines and so on. What a curious fate, I thought, if their creators could imagine them turning up here.

There three things I really lamented about my visit to Disney: 1) the piped, eternally cheerful music seeping from every bush, every lamp post, nearly drove me insane; 2) it rained a lot; 3) the piped music.

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The rides/attractions, as I say, were pretty amazing. My favourite was a 3-D movie which had me jumping out of my seat. The other was the less violent of two roller coaster rides.

The more violent ride was probably a bit extreme for most people. It included going backwards through a 360 degree loop. Although it was fairly short, I was punch drunk by the time I got off.

Back in Paris, we were starting to become proficient with the Metro, which is excellent. I even managed to toss-off a few phrases of French, fooling the locals into thinking I knew what I was saying. This is a mistake. It usually results in them blabbering something back at you in the hopeless misapprehension that you'll understand them. A couple of times I was addressed by someone in French, but I think my moronic blank expression quickly gave the game away that I didn't have a clue that I was supposed to present my ticket, or whatever.

 

Would you believe this is a Macca's. On the Champs-e-wassaname. Count the Beemers, Rollers, Mercs outside. Is this the cool street to be in, or what.

 

About this time we're thinking about how nice it'll be to be back home, and the looong journey there.

Anne's pack is about 6,304.24 Kilos. Honest.

You see a few beggars around the place, which is a shock for a cosseted Canberran like me. One woman I saw was cradling a 5-6 year old child. So sad looking, that I went back and gave her 5 Francs, which I immediately regretted for the heart-wrenchingly pitiful look she gave me. Not much for someone taking their family on a European holiday.

So the whole trip went off without any serious hitch. What really made it all worth while was the royal treatment we received from everyone we visited. My sincerest gratitude to everyone who looked after us. Thanks. I hope we can return the favour one day.

Bye from me
- Rod (& Anne, Katie, & Claire)

 

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