Uluru: A Twist of Beauty and New Dimension of Hell all of Its Own (Part 3)

     At around 5:30AM Friday I heard my dad get up and go outside to see if the Sun was peeking it's face above the horizon. Alas, it was playing bashful again and would not be seen that day. I set my alarm too...for 7:30AM forgetting that, unable to connect to a strong wifi signal, my clock was still an hour and a half forward. So, I lay in bed for another half hour and arose to get breakfast.

     Yes, it was another one of my mother's breakfast cookies and a banana. My sisters eventually followed suit. While I was content with my proportionate breakfast, my little sisters seemed to think all the English muffins and raspberry jam (and most of the Nutella) needed be devoured before we flew home.

     My morning was just as simple as the day before, and I was bored watching them eat their breakfast, so I grabbed my camera (okay, my itouch) and walked outside to try and get close enough to take a picture of a peculiar-looking bird I'd seen on far too many occasions these past few days.

Look at him. Just chillin' like it's cool.

     Walking down the dirt stretch I found my new friends with their puffy chests and their hipster feather-cuts popping their little beaks into the dirt for the morning meal. It turns out the bird I encountered is the Australian crested pigeon, your modern-day troubled adolescent version of the ordinary American pigeon. I say this because the crested pigeon sports a black mohawk feather-do starch off the top of it's head and sounds like a dying quail (nice one, Australia). It's a good laugh.

     It was now time to head to the airport, which I was already dreading, because of the eight flights I've been on in the past four months not one of them was without great hassle or delay. Whether that be having to lose a large bottle of lotion because it turned up in the wrong suitcase (or in my most recent encounter my all too multifunctional Leatherman utility knife), or an hour or more flight delay because of weather conditions there has ALWAYS been a hassle.

Doesn't he look troubled? Rebel, if I ever saw one.

     You know, I think they should have you check your luggage AFTER security. That way you have more than just a skim and vain hope that you have a relative standing on the other end of the tape to take whatever it is back home for you, with your only other option left for them to toss your possession.
When I realized all too late as we walked through security (this was going TO Uluru) that I'd forgotten to take my utility knife off my keychain, my brain took that along with all the other emotional memories of my past flight experience of months previous and mashed it all together in one big, livid flame on top of my head. Great. Just great! I thought I checked that. One of the few most multifunctional and purposeful items I own(ed), my human error, and my only option is to toss it! What a perfect way start to this get-away!

     To say that I was frustrated is an understatement. What makes it even more frustrating is that the security folk look at you like they're completely indifferent and don't care that they're about to throw your things away, and that money doesn't go on trees. I get that they have to do this all day, but come on, guys! You're not making it easier! When I travel I don't start packing and think, "Hmmm...now, what would I be okay throwing out on a whim? ", and only pack those things. No, I pack what I need and plan on bring it all with me and back with me with the exception that it's edible.

See those hairs sticking straight out of my head? Remember my surgery? Yeah, seven months later
they're taking a little bit of forever to grow out.

     Oh, don't get me wrong, I love traveling! It's the getting there I hate. Unlike trains, trams, and buses I can't just say Don't worry, I'll catch the next one in 20 minutes. You miss a flight, it's hours layover time. Ugh.

     I guess you could say at this point I'd about lost my patience with commercial flying. In terms of flying, I'm overdue ready to be back in Utah and stay put for awhile. I think it's a new peeve of mine. I hate flying.

     I was praying with everything I had left in me that somehow, by some miracle things would go smoothly. Thankfully they did. I finished my book, and the landing was safe.

Now, to land that internship.

Cheers,

Jess

 

Uluru: A Twist of Beauty and New Dimension of Hell all of Its Own (Part 2)

     In the interest of trying to beat the heat we arose at 6:30AM. The sky was not much to look at, because the Sun was still hiding under its blanket of clouds.

     To avoid the hideousness of the toilets (common Australian for 'restrooms') I cleaned my face with a makeup wipe, groomed my brows, slapped on some mascara and sunscreen, gobbled down another one of my mom's yummy breakfast cookies (seriously, it's just a cookie with "filling" ingredients) and a banana, and then flashed it through the toilets to brush my teeth.
Fear ye not, Americans. I did not use toilet water to brush my teeth. Note in my before mentioned comment that 'toilets' is the common term for 'restrooms' here.

     A nice element to this lodge complex was a 'Camp Kitchen'. I popped in there to fill my water bottle only to find that the "cold" water was still very hot (okay, rather warm). Whatever, its hydration functions serve the same purpose, nonetheless. After arriving at the base of Kings Canyon we crowded the parking lot along with seven other tour buses. I was never more thankful for our little, rented, white Mitsubishi Lancer.

A gorgeous view along the Kings Canyon Rim hike.
All that red rock makes me happy!

     Red rocks EVERYWHERE! It was so beautiful! So began our journey. By this point all five of us (My dad, Karly, Millie, Madeline, and me) had become all too familiar with the prosperity of the Diptera.      Unlike the common housefly in the U.S., out here the don't stay away when you wave or swat them away, they come back. You wave, they fly off, and come back, wave, come back, wave, come back, etc., etc. At any given moment I may have had five or six on my back. They fly into your eyes, nose, ears, whatever. They don't care.

Kings Canyon

     Dad was carrying a pack with all the water bottles and every time he took it off to let us all have a break, without fail, there were about 17 flies swarming all over it. Let's put it like this: American flies are smarter than Australian flies. You may ask if by this observation am I also assuming American humans are smarter their Australian comrades? Of course not, but my little siblings are dying to have their American classrooms and teachers back.

Look one way it's the tortoise, the other way it's the hare. Get it?

     After walking by a couple tour groups, a tortoise and a hare, and the Garden of Eden (so it was named) gazing at some cute little tadpoles, we finally came round and completed the trail in just under three hours. It was the perfect temperature for a hike, the sky stay a healthy overcast with a warm breeze the entire day!
     We took a lunch break and were then on our jolly way back to Uluru.

     My favorite part was the Visitor's Center. Had I not walk through there I would not have gotten a wonderful glance into the looking glass of Anangu Aboriginee culture and how Uluru is so sacred to them.
     There were even parts of the trail that they did not want tourists to photograph. Places that were sacred 'men's' or 'women's' sites for certain rituals and ceremonies that are still performed by those people today.

I just thought that these were neat looking cavities in Uluru.
I personally thought this one kind of looked like
the profile of Darth Vadar.

     I came to understand it in this way: How would I feel if someone just waltzed into an LDS temple, all the way up to the celestial and sealing rooms and started snapping pictures? I'd feel pretty bad, because something that I viewed to sacredly and had such beautiful meaning to me was being mistreated by someone who didn't understand. Uluru is the Anangu Aboriginee's temple. I don't need to be fluent in their culture to respect something they hold sacred.

Just some neat markings on the side of Uluru.

     Unfortunately, not everyone took that request of the Anangu to heart. A trio of summer crazy Asians snapped some photos right in front of an area that had requested no such treatment. I didn't know if they didn't care or just didn't read. Either way, they ignored the plea for respect. It made me sad.

     Then it was time to make the exhilarating drive back to Yulara. 350 kilometers and there's only one turn in the entire route...so exciting! Basically, we were driving down a large, vast stretch of desert with nothing much to look at. Maddie, our camerawoman, was taking pictures and video (mostly video) anyway.
     When we checked into our next hotel we were relieved to see that it was a step UP from the last "resort" we'd been in the night previous. The lodge had it's own little, cozy kitchen set up. Complete with a sink, kitchen utensils, knives, forks, spoons, plates, and mugs! There was even a toaster!! Score!

     I still think Karly's favorite part was that there were no gaps under the door! It slid shut and sealed all around! Such a blessing, so we were more content with still having to share a public toilet/shower facility with the entire complex.

     We stopped by the IGA (Independent Grocers of Australia - in case you were curious) and picked out a few things for dinner. A cucumber, a basket of cherry tomatoes, a hot roasted and ready chicken, and a box of chocolate biscoff cookies. It was not a king's dinner, but very satisfying having something warm to eat for the first time in a couple days.

    After dinner I started into a book Karly had finished reading, and knowing the author was a familiar face of comedy I thought, "Why not?"

"Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and other concerns)" by Mindy Kaling. Tina Fey's little sister that you just have to meet. So funny! I couldn't put it down!

I ended the day on a good note.

Cheers,

Jess

Uluru: A Twist of Beauty and New Dimension of Hell all of Its Own (Part 1)

   

Distant view of Uluru - Ayers Rock.

I'm back from Uluru!! Being in the outbacks of Australia was very beautiful and very hot! Our first day there it went up to 105° Fahrenheit! The giant red rock and sacred landmark to the Anangu people was beautiful.

     Still it was too hot to take the Base Walk. It was definitely closed anyway. Anytime it gets above 36° Celsius (about 98° Fahrenheit) here all trails in the outback experience a shutdown, and for good reason. Hiking or walking in 105° weather without a cloud in the sky? Heat-stroke anyone? No thank you!

     It was onward to finish our two hour drive from the airport to Kings Canyon were we settled in the lovely little...hotel. Best way to start off the adventure is to have the door handle/lock mechanism too rusted to turn the key all the way. Perfect. Some maintenance guy drove up in his little outlander jeep, greased it down, we figured it out.

Our hotel accommodations for the night.
Not exactly what I would have called a resort...nice try, Australia.

     The inside of the lodge was okay. I mean, we already figured out that the bathroom was a public shared restroom/shower facility with the rest of the "hotel" lodges, but at least we had enough sleeping space! Karly, however, was less than thrilled about the two inch gap below the door. The variety of uninvited critters that could potentially slip under the poorly built blockade is all she could think about.

"'...and please bless that no spiders will crawl into our ears and lay eggs in our brains...'", Maddie quoted on cue. 

A daring "climb" that appears on the side of Uluru.
The Anangu are working to get it closed permanently.

     That put a smile on everyone's faces for a moment. When she wants to Maddie can raise the spirits of everyone in the room. Millie reminded everyone of her every intention to get her swimsuit on and head to the pool ASAP. Karly, Millie, and Maddie had already scoped it out, and it had passed inspection. So therefore it was now the only motive at hand. I was too tired to swim, so I followed in pursuit of the pool to wade my dirty little toe-sies.

     While the red sand of the canyon was breathtakingly gorgeous it didn't feel so pretty between my toes that had assumed a safe and dry haven within my socks and shoes for the day.

     When I entered the bathroom later in the evening, except for the luxury of electricity, it only concreted even further my feelings of being "right at home" at Girl's Camp. Whenever my fellow restroom mates are less or just as likely to be human beings and more likely to include a red-back spider (black widow) and a daddy-long leg by the hinge of the stall door - which, by the way, both those said critters were in fact my stallmates - it feels like the good ol' days of Girl's Camp.

     Of course this meant that not just Karly, but all of my sister's were hell-bent on speeding through all necessary night routines, sacrificing menial ones and considering for a moment's thought of holding it 'til morning, and getting the heck out of there!

     Maddie gladly volunteered her towel as tribute to shove underneath the door to stuff up nature's fast-track to its dinner.

     It took me awhile to fall asleep and I'm sure Karly eventually put her anxiety-ridden mind to rest.

Cheers,

Jess