My plan is to write one post about each day in Australia, since I had so many days there. When I recall all we did on just my second day, I’m doubtful. Here goes.
Day Two was a work day for Heidi. Classes had ended at St. Patrick’s College, where she is a teacher, but there was some kind of assembly she wanted to attend. I jumped at the chance to go along for the ride. I love doing things like this when I travel—things off the usual tourist menu.
“College” in Australia doesn’t mean higher education. St. Pat’s, which is Catholic, is a boys school with grades five through 12. Heidi works in the “diverse learning” department, which is a combination of what, in the US, we would call “special ed” and “gifted and talented.” She works three days a week but will go up to four next year. She loves the boys at St. Pat’s, especially after chaperoning a group of them on a 10-day trip to remote Papua New Guinea this summer, where they had no internet, phone signals, or hot water for showering.
Heidi was dressed smartly in a grey skirt, blazer, and heels. She looked at me appraisingly. “Do you have any close-toed shoes?” she asked delicately. I did look pretty scruffy. My clothes had been shmushed up in a suitcase for 72 hours and I didn’t have anything formal. I put on the battered but closed-toed sandals I’d brought for camping in the desert the following week. I realized I was wearing the same loud, flowery top I’d worn to an awkward meeting in London last summer where well-dressed attorneys had sneered down their noses at me.
We walked to the train station, uphill about five blocks. We caught the train to Central Station, where I noticed the entertaining mix of names that were English (Epping, Richmond), Aboriginal (Katoomba, Bullaburra), and just funny sounding (Emu Plains, Rooty Hill).
We took another train to Strathfield, then caught a cab to the school. I had begun to appreciate how long it takes to get around in Sydney. Heidi stays with a cousin in Strathfield some nights, which helps cut down on commuting time. She doesn’t have her own apartment or car. She always looks remarkably put together for someone who lives out of a suitcase.
The cab driver appeared to be Somali. We have about 80,000 Somalis in Minnesota so I feel pretty confident about that. He was on speaker phone talking to the dispatcher and carrying on a diatribe against the police. He didn’t know where the school was and wasn’t paying attention to where he was going.
“They stop me because my passengers were not wearing seat belts and mark me down three points!” he complained. Apparently this would involve a sizable fine and go on his driving record. The dispatcher asked, “Do you have passengers right now?” When he answered in the affirmative, she suggested they continue the conversation later.
“They only want money!” he said to us over his shoulder as he rubbed his thumb and fingers together to insinuate that the police would personally benefit from his citation.
“I don’t think police in Australia take bribes or get a cut of fines,” I replied, irritated. I didn’t know for sure in the moment, but I just looked it up and Australia ranks 13th out of 180 countries on Transparency International’s Corruption Index (with 1 being least corrupt). Somalia is 180th (the US is 16th). I guess if you come of age in the most corrupt country on earth, it’s hard to imagine a country that isn’t.
He went on for the duration of the ride about how it should be the passengers’ responsibility to put on their seat belts, even while acknowledging that the law says taxi drivers hold this responsibility.
“They were Chinese,” he declared, as if that explained everything.
St. Pat’s has a lovely, serene campus.
“Look! What are those birds!?” I exclaimed excitedly.
It took Heidi a moment to understand what I was excited about. “Oh those? Those are ibises. They’re real pests.” Well they were exotic to me.
And that was the first two hours of the day.