Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Tasmania Goodbye

White wild wings came a-callin' ...

Entrance to MONA 

I felt assured, in the wake of the forest giants, that the revelations had run their course.  I was wrong. We returned to Hobart for a rip-roaring 24 hours that included MONA art gallery -- a dip into the outrageous borders of the creative mind ---

Velocity of Death=Fate over Will

Women Thru Time

Travel and MONA converged into exhaustion. Too tired to eat out, we checked into our sweet hilltop cottage. I ran a deep, hot bubble bath (yes, I'd brought my own and still had some left!) and we ordered up a fresh prawn/oregano/garlic pizza that took its place as a ten out of ten on the delicious scale. We fell dead tired into bed ... the most comfortable bed I'd ever slept in. No exaggeration. That night I dreamed I walked into that very room and Greg was in the bed reading my journal. I yelled and grabbed it out of his hands. The dream woke me, a shocking image that needed further scrutiny.

The final morning in Tas was fresh and glorious. I gazed through heart-shaped branches at parrots and a view of the harbor. Leaving the island was wrenching. I placed my traveling flower bouquet in the room as we packed for the flight to the mainland. We arrived at the famous Salamanca street market with only an hour to sample what easily could have taken a day ... an impressive array of foods, beers, hand woven and hand crafted goods. I selected a handwoven wool hat from one of the countless Tas sheep on the island. We returned the van; no discount for the leak that had drenched the bed. We slept on the short flight to Sydney and Uber-ed to the original bed and breakfast. Full circle.

Three days until departure. We ferried to downtown Sydney to see a Broadway version of The Wizard of Oz, tickets Greg purchased weeks before. What fun! Little kids decked out in costumes. Poignant to revisit the metaphorical journey of Dorothy, her three sidekicks and the delusional Oz. A reminder that the wisdom one seeks outside oneself is found within. The hero's spiritual journey.

With one day to go we headed to famous Taronga Zoo to photograph the elusive Tasmanian Devil who had shown up unexpectedly that magical eclipse night. An early start was desired; the universe had other plans. First, we waited over an hour in pouring rain for a ferry that did not come. We hopped a couple of buses, a ferry and landed at the zoo near noon.  I hurried uphill to find the Devils and Koalas but the zoo was under construction with poor signage, a difficult combination for an already-rough day. We missed the last ferry back and had to re-route once more with hurried runs to buses.  I'd hoped for a short nap before we walked to dinner but that didn't happen. Exhausted. Hungry. Ready for a rest, meal and a gin and tonic, we headed for one final seafood dinner.

I sprinkled malt vinegar over crispy fish n chips; watched the sun set over the waters and downtown Sydney as Greg appeared on the beach to photograph. I let go into the tangerine world as I recalled the recent dream and hectic day; sought balance in the wake of challenges and then ...

Large and black, it resembled a raven as it dipped and landed in a nearby tree.  Then, another. And dozens. Fruit bats! I never imagined bats so large and there they were, filling the twilight sky, landing in nearby fruit trees. Flying Foxes transformed the landscape, wiped the energetic slate clean; revitalized the air. (Click on the link!) It may have been nightfall but it was a new day.

I departed for the US the next morning and Greg headed back to his Australian home. I watched Greg get smaller and smaller as the Slovakian Uber driver asked about my trip. Where to begin? When the subject came down to the wild he smiled wide. You must go to Slovakia, he said, for the wild. His enthusiasm for his home country was infectious.

Tasmania memories flood my soul. As with many past journeys, a part of me can not believe I was there. Photos verify. Parallel universes abound. What portal did I slip through?

Greg did go to Guanjuato MX to finish his book. He continues the project while I savor memories of the jaw-dropping island journey. In retrospect, the eclipses exaggerated energies already set into motion. As the trip progressed we headed in different directions. Prominent events were not experienced together, like my Bay of Fire walk when I met the aboriginal couple; the full moon eclipse and seeing the Tas Devil. And, many magical moments were shared -- the Fairy Penguin night! The wallaby's, kangaroos and cuolls! Wombat encounters, platypus, echidnas. Sydney theatre nights. Hikes to unforgettable views. Spirit puts us where we need to be, together or apart.

Our over-the-rainbow is a precious friendship.
Thank you, Dear Man "Mario," for the wild ride. Now get that book done!

Thank you, Tasmania and your soul-sparking wild ones.

Slovakia, eh? The High Tatras ...

Tasmania ... forever in my soul

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