Likewise in Margot’s kitchen: Ibises strolled across her back yard. Cockatiels swooped from tree to tree, gossiping as they went. We heard budgies and Willie Wagtails and whathaveyou as we
trekked/toured/traversed the beaches and vineyards of West Australia. In general it didn’t strike me as a loud country. The kangaroos I passed during some wonderful morning runs didn’t make a sound. But the birds kept up a racket. What must the place have sounded like before the Aussies turned all the prime habitat into housing tracts and shopping malls?For Perth does have a Californian vibe. Surfboards and sandals rule. Brand names are big. No need to tuck in that shirt. The glare of the sun is similar in both places. Cars in Fremantle and Mandurah glide and hum, always well muffled, just as they do in the San Fernando Valley.
And nobody sweats! Coming from the humidity of Bangkok, I couldn’t get over my lack of perspiration. According to the thermometer, temperatures in the two places were identical. But according to my skin, I was in a new world. Even an hour’s worth of exercise didn’t produce a sweat.
The California comparison doesn’t hold up across the board: Perth people don’t seem to build too many swimming pools behind their homes (perhaps because, like Californians, they’ve got water supply issues). But we did take a drive through the thriving Margaret River wine country (“exceptional Cabernets”) and a boat cruise through some exclusive canal neighborhoods (the local equivalent of movie stars home tours in Hollywood).
Both outings would have left many Californians feeling right at home. Until they turned on the evening news sports report, that is. Australians love their footy. As one of those helps-if-you-grow-up-with-it sports like baseball and cricket, Australian rules football’s appeal seems partly based on exclusivity. Nobody else in the world can understand it.
