Category: Reminiscences

We were watching an edition of the British quiz, ‘Tipping Point’, when the host, Ben Shepherd, told the contestant, Ian, that the shirt he was wearing was ‘hip’.

This led me to comment, “I’m glad he thinks so. I wouldn’t be seen dead in that!”

“What if someone were to offer you ten million dollars, to do so?”, Tiki exclaimed.

“Where’s the nearest morgue?”, I retorted.

Tiki and I were watching television, when she queried for what did ‘Q1’ on its ticker stand.

“The first quarter of the new financial year,” I informed her.

“Well, what do they call it when they shorten everything?”, she persisted.

“Illiteracy!”, I replied with a smile.

We don’t know whether it is still possible to do so, but if it is we highly recommend that one swims with the stingrays when visiting the French Polynesian island of Moorea.

The organisers of the experience had the stingrays gather in waist-deep water and we spent perhaps half to three-quarters of an hour with them. They seemed to take it in turns to come up behind us and wrap their ‘wings’ around our respective shoulders. The skin on their undersides felt like silk and when we’d turn our heads their countenances appeared to be smiling at us.

They were accompanied by black-tipped reef sharks, however, these kept their distance and just when one would turn to swim towards us, it would dart away just as swiftly.

Tiki enjoyed herself so much that she didn’t want to leave when it was time to return to the shore.

Naturally, interacting with any animal in its own environment, can come with an inherent risk and, therefore, this should be at the forefront of one’s mind, before undertaking such a venture.

We were warned, prior to entering the water, not to lift our feet, but rather to shuffle them.

Tiki was perusing the guide for viewers of television when she noted that one of the programmes on offer was the film, ‘How To Murder Your Wife’, from circa 1965. As I was seated nearby, I was immediately warned of how it was not to provide me with such motivation.

“Only fools would contemplate such an idea, for to do so would mean they’d have to do everything themselves!”, I quipped.

When we visited Mauritius, we paid to stroke a cheetah, as well as walk with the lions. We were the only ones in our party to opt to do both.

We were taken to an open field where we met with two men and two untethered cheetahs. Both animals lay on their sides with their heads raised. One of the men informed us that they had listened to the animals’ breathing in order to determine the mood of each and, therefore, we were only allowed to stroke the side of the one immediately in front of us.

If I were to say I was not somewhat hesitant, I would be lying! Especially, when I found it difficult to take my eyes off the proximity and length of the animal’s teeth.

Having reunited with those in our party, we were introduced to a lioness of two years, as well as a somewhat mischievous male of one. We set off, as a group, to walk with the pair and, individually, each person was encouraged to hold the lioness’s tail, as we proceeded.

When we did stop, we were encouraged not to simply stroke the ever so patient lioness, but to literally slap her! The head guide told us that to stroke such an animal would be tantamount to the feeling a human might experience should a fly land on their skin.

The mischievous cub must have felt he wasn’t receiving the attention he deserved and proceeded to climb up a tall stump and, for a time, refused to descend.

We were given ample time to take photographs and the filming of events was not restricted in any way.

I must say that the lioness’s patience and tolerance was exceptional! She patiently lay on her left side, as any number of those who wished to partake in vigorously slapping her right side, queued behind her. Neither Tiki nor I, felt any trepidation in repeatedly slapping her when it was our respective turn to do so.

As we were relatively close to the French department of Reunion, we decided to fly there too. Alas! The day we had booked to fly over the island’s volcano our flight encountered dense cloud and the female pilot of the helicopter rightly deemed that it was too dangerous to continue. At least, we were partially refunded for the non-completion of our flight.

During our stay, we did, however, get to peruse the church that had been the victim of a prior eruption’s flow of lava.

We had been unable to fly directly to Mauritius, from Sydney. Instead, we were required to change aeroplanes in Perth. Therefore, we took advantage of this on our way home by spending three days in Perth to witness how it had changed since the early 1970s.

Whilst there, amongst other things, we visited Kings Park, boarded a ferry to travel down the Swan River to the port of Fremantle. Another ferry conveyed us offshore to Rottnest Island, the home of the quokkas. These small wallabies reminded the early Dutch explorers of rats and they consequently named the island with this in mind.

We weren’t sure just how safe southern Italy would be and for that reason we decided to book a tour of five days, prior to our Australian departure.

Our bus happened to seat just eight passengers, a guide and of course, a driver. The tour departed from Rome and after, shall I say, an exhilarative ride along a narrow highway with a precipitous drop to our immediate right, we arrived in the coastal town of Sorrento.

That evening, we were treated to traditional Italian dishes. The waiters just kept coming, as we were served food of a high quality. It almost reached that stage when we felt as though we could not eat another bite.

The following day we travelled across the Bay Of Naples to the famed Isle Of Capri. There we had the privilege of entering the breath-taking Blue Grotto. Something, judging by the seemingly endless queue of those who were hoping to gain access, I felt we would not have achieved had we not been on a tour.

The Grotto to us was the highlight of the tour! This, in spite of us having to lie prone in a rowing boat as our oarsman guided us about. The cavern’s ceiling appeared to be quite high and when, I would occasionally lift my head, I could observe that its waters were, indeed, a magnificent deep blue. The oarsman told us that they possessed a depth of sixty feet.

There was a chairlift on the island and while Tiki decided against riding on it, I did. Each of its seats was for a solo person, with each seat being some ten to fifteen metres distant. It was the serenity of the experience more than any feeling of exhilaration, that I really enjoyed.

Our tour took us as far south as the town of Lecce, which is in the ‘heel’ of Italy. We headed north from there to the town of Alberobello, best known for its unique houses, known as Trullis. The tiny structures possess conical roofs of local stone. One lady gave us permission to enter her home.

Our next stop was the historic town of Matera. It was constructed on a hilltop and our guide allowed us the opportunity to view it from a lookout, prior to us entering one of the town’s ancient houses. I remember her stating that Mel Gibson had select the town in which to film scenes for one of his movies.

Prior to our return to Rome, we visited the ancient site of Pompeii. It was in nearby Naples, that, for the first time, we and our fellow passengers perceived the need to stay relatively close to our guide.

One of my sister-in-laws once received a call from her father at six o’clock in the morning. He had mislaid his bifocal glasses and needed her to search for them, with immediacy.

Having driven for half an hour, she arrived at his front door only to espy them sitting atop his head!

Much more recently than my previous post, ‘Lengthy Dementia?’, we were watching an old British comedic film, displayed on our television in ‘glorious’ black and white.

“When this film was produced, I was in ‘5th Class’. I was infatuated by atlases, at that time, so the teacher called upon me to leave my seat and trace the course of the Amazon River on a large outline of the world, that was affixed to one of the walls,” I reminisced.

“If he were to see you today! He’d ask you to outline the course of the ‘See-Nile’!”, Tiki retorted.

Touche!

I had prepared our post-lunch mugs of coffee and as I presented Tiki with hers, I asked of her if it were a sign of dementia that I had just opened the door to our fridge and motioned to place the still steaming kettle inside of it.

“No. I remember asking you, just months after we were married, to place your dirty socks in the laundry basket, only to find them in the toilet!”

A few years ago a gentleman informed me that, “Greeks don’t sell houses. They buy them!”

This took my mind back some four decades to when we owned a home on a cliff, that overlooked the ocean, in a somewhat remote town. Instead of getting in tenants to rent the property and use our collateral in that home, to buy another property in another area where there was greater employment, we chose to sit out the year and a half that it took to sell, as we wanted to remain free from debt; in order that we might resume our real passion, which was to continue our travels.

A retired doctor walked into that house and, within seconds, announced that he was going to purchase it – as it turned out for $110,000.

That same property today would fetch around six million dollars!

Mind you! Tiki and I still own a home and it’s in an area that we really love! Besides, we’ve set foot in forty different countries and four different territories or dependencies. A number, more than once.