Change In Plans

Greetings from the north shore of Kangaroo Island, Australia.  We arrived at our rented house late this afternoon, and the morale of everyone in the family (particularly me) went way up.  This place is truly off-the-hook amazing.  We aren’t able to load India’s photos yet, but here is the website, to give you an idea of how beautiful it is: http://www.life-time.com.au/cliff.html.  More on Kangaroo Island in a later post.

The trip from western Tasmania to Kangaroo Island was long, but relatively entertaining.  This post describes our adventures in the hamlet of Cape Jervis, where we stayed last night, before taking the ferry this morning.

We stayed at a quirky bed and breakfast about three kilometers from the ferry dock: a sheep farm with a jumble of four or five outbuildings converted into guest cottages.  Our outbuilding/cottage was actually a converted troop train railway car.  Strange, but not uncomfortable.  The B&B is advertised as having “Accommodation Ranging From 1 to 4.5 Stars.”  Not sure where the railway car was on that spectrum.

 The story of the B&B’s manageress could be the subject of a short novel, or of an overwrought Baz Luhrmann film. 

From what we could piece together, perhaps inaccurately:

• The manageress, an attractive woman in her late 50s named Bronwen, recently moved from Saudi Arabia back to the sheep farm where she grew up.  Bronwen is a great name for a strong female lead character.
• For the many years that Bronwen was working overseas, the farm (which includes the bed and breakfast) had been managed by her brother and her elderly father.  The brother passed away last year, and the father needed her help.
• In addition to sheep, the father has raised exotic birds (e.g., lorikeets, cockatoos) in aviaries all over the property.  One of the farm hands had been stealing the breeding pairs, and had essentially ruined the business.  The father let the remaining birds go free, but they nest picturesequely and noisily in the trees on the farm.
• Bronwen’s husband, British, originally moved to South Australia with her, but recently “decided to go back overseas for work.”  Bronwen no longer appears to wear a wedding ring.
• Now Bronwen and the elderly father try to maintain the farm and the B&B, while the freed birds sing in the tree tops, and the traffic going to/from the Kangaroo Island ferry passes the farm

The scenery around Cape Jervis is so beautiful -rolling hills of golden wheat, the blue ocean, the island looming in middle distance, all bathed in golden light- that Bronwen’s story deserves to be a movie rather than a book.  Sort of “Out of Africa” meets “Bridges of Madison County” meets “Sweet Home Alabama,” but all happening in South Australia.

As we found out, Cape Jervis has only one place to eat dinner: the utterly charmless local tavern/betting parlor.  The tavern is the sole tenant in a small 1970s strip mall, located off the narrow highway.  We walked in at about 7:55 last night, hurrying because we had been told that the kitchen closed at 8:00.  Literally all of the conversation in the bar stopped, and everyone stared.  Either they don’t get a lot of visitors, or no one brings kids to the pub, or both.  The young man playing billiards missed his shot and scowled at us.

It was probably a coincidence (or near closing time), but all of the elderly regulars soon started filing out, saying to the bartender, ” ‘Night, Murray” or “See you tomorrow, Murray” as they left.  Within minutes, the full bar was nearly empty.   The only noise was the huge TVs broadcasting greyhound racing behind us, and the electronic demo sounds of the slot machines in the tiny, dark casino.  We quickly ate our (truly awful) dinner, and left as well.  ‘Night, Murray.

We had only walked about 200 meters up the highway toward Bronwen’s B&B when an ancient LandCruiser made a u-turn and pulled up next to us.  The equally ancient driver, named John, offered to give us a lift.  We had been walking past his farm, and (as he told us), his dog let him know that strangers were around.  He went to investigate, and wanted to be sure we got home safely.  It was a very nice gesture, even if the B&B was only another 500 meters away.

Because they are such close neighbors, we were surprised to find that John and Bronwen did not know each other.  They met and shook hands for the first time when John dropped us off. 

In the movie version of life, their relationship (romantic or otherwise) would become a central part of the plot.  Unfortunately, in the life version of life, that seems unlikely.  Maybe we should check in on them in a year’s time.