Back to life, back to reality...or is it?

2012 began at the airport in Denpasar being told I was not permitted to board a plane to Australia, I lacked the relevant visa. Calmly I explained this had all be sorted out on the Friday and the airline, and embassy, had agreed that my 'in process' status would be sufficient. I was then made to repeat the entire scenario again, not just repetitive but challenging as this was New Year's Day at 8 am.... Before too long, thankfully a very cross sounding man in Canberra gave me an ETA, which I think is an emergency/express travel authority and I was able to board the plane. Still nervous I would be turned back at the gate or worse it was with relief that I took back my passport at Darwin Immigration and was allowed to enter the country I had for many years considered my home, seems they do not think the same. After a run into the supermarket I boarded a ferry to Mandorah, which, and I repeat as it was oft repeated to me, is NOT an island. It is just quicker to cross the water than drive the two and a half hours around the bay by land to reach it. Mandorah, and more specifically Wagaitt Beach is now the home of Ian Crawshaw, famed travel writer and host of many a glittering night in Soho, Hong Kong, Bangkok and Sydney. These days Ian is to be found in a beach house amongst the trees living a successful life in the bush and holding down a very smart job for the Northern Territory Department of Tourism. The only clue as to his former life is that his produce garden is designed around cocktails, you have the daquiri garden with a mango tree, the pina colada patch and the lemons, kaffir limes , galangals and gingers required for the sophisticated cocktails he serves at sundown on the verandah. Chickens are soon to come providing the eggs that will be whipped into concoctions like La Suissette, a favorite of Oscar Wilde's that we enjoyed at sunset after a marvelous walk on the almost empty beach. It was a brief stay but one that displayed, by coincidence rather than design, Ian's ability to end up in the right place. Here off the shore of Australia's remote capital's one can meet playwrights and poets, avant garde and roots musicians as well as a bloke Ian went to LSE with back in London. We visited Two Fella Creek and the wreck of an American Air Force plane from WW2, took walks on the beach and had a great day and a half entering 2012.

The flight from Darwin to Brisbane on Virgin began with a violent thunderstorm that illuminated the sky, shook the plane and caused me to curse Ian's expressed wish for a 'really big storm" for his visual pleasure. It was at Brisbane I was due to meet Severen so I settled in for the wait only to receive a message that thanks to JetStar's incompetence and lack of empathy she would not be arriving as planned but some many hours later. With no other choice I headed out to Ocean Shores alone and was happily met by Jenny and Mungo, my godparents and whisked out to my old home town of Mullumbimby for a lunch at the Poinciana Cafe. There was a sense of being back, but undercover, everything looked the same, faces were recognisable but not the people I knew, little in the town has changed, although Mallams did sell out to a Woolies that is now at the end Station Road,and buildings that were banks are now Health Food shops, which I think is telling. Severen did arrive eventually and after a nervous moment of driving to meet her and being intimidated by hoons in a ute who were having fun with shopping carts in the shopping centre car park we finally fell into a deep sleep breathing in fresh air laced with eucalyptus and salt. The following day began with a walk on the beach of Ocean Shores, dogs gamboling along, fresh air, crystal clear sea, foaming surf and a brisk pace. Nicholas who appeared in this blog in June when I was in LA was visiting his father near by and we engineered a quick reunion, with Severen and Nicholas meeting for the first time in 23 years, and she being the gregarious girl she is returned his favour of their previous meeting and lifted him up for a photograph. A parent, two god parents a daughter and a sister, two friends and two dogs congregated on the verandah and made all sorts of connections before going off in different direction.

Our direction was Mount Jerusalem and the home of Elizabeth and Delf. Elizabeth and I have a long story together that starts around the time I began living with a boy she had been seeing, moves through similarly timed pregnancies, the bonding for life of our kids, moving into the same street and then, our last meeting, sharing a farm house in the rural lands around Poitier eight years previously. Three days of conversation and cooking, interspersed with bush walks, painting, drawing and dogs..natural harmony and the perfect way to infuse the spirit of being back in the place that meant so much to me for so long. An impromptu visit from Nicholas took us on a trek to Hells Holes which was not reached but gave us a walk in the forest that contrasted well with the walk through the suburban streets of Encino. Saturday we headed out, said our goodbyes and returned to Mullumbimby to meet Stuart and Miranda. Then it was off to the stunning hills of Coolamon Scenic Drive and the home of Giovanni and Miranda, Coorabella. Coorabel was my first home in the country side and the house of Coorabella share many aspects of the house I once lived in the scenery around that area is bucolic, with gently sloping hills, that my ex partner constantly reminded me, sardonically, were once naturally forested before pastural land manicured it into the wooded copses and sweeping farmlands we see today. An elegant evening ensued. Romantic stories were exchanged over afternoon tea, followed by cooking, wine and laughter followed by the more serious stories of the trials of life. I have known Giovanni for almost 24 years, I have worked for him, briefly, and now on the verandah of his home he declares his love for my friend Miranda, my house mate and co-adventurer in Bali bringing the world of people I love closer together. Kismet, Karma, what ever it is it is ...Kai Sera Amy had left us after afternoon tea so it was important to see her again and reestablish our devotion to our friendship. This we did on the beach at Wategos on a sunny perfect Byron Bay Sunday, jumping through waves, tumbled in surf, kissed by sun and scratched by sand. We finished the day with bento box lunches and on disliking the fast paced of the electronic music decided I would inform the staff, very sweetly, that my companion had a 'condition' that was triggered by the music and they needed to change it before 'something' happened. She'll never be able to go back to that cafe! Aladdin and Emily picked us up to return us to Mount Jerusalem, our loose plan with Stu having not been realised to its optimum, and now here I sit, with Cooda on the couch facing a never ending horizon, corridored by forest, accompanied by the operatic arias of birds, on a very comfortable sofa in the sun. Byron, Bali, are these really magic places, are the people who are drawn to living in them somehow gifted with the ability to open their hearts, does the geography support the ability to be both introspective and available to others? Or am I just enjoying the time out of my routine and more open to the tides and rhythms because of it?