Like Singapore, Australia is one of the very few islands in the world that doubles up as a country. More impressively, Australia is also the only country in the world that is a continent in itself. Sure, having an entire land mass all to yourself seems like a needless extravagance, but when you consider that almost two-thirds of this continental country island is an inhabitable expanse of arid desert and that human settlement is concentrated almost exclusively along the coastal regions, then it doesn't seem like such a luxury after all. Besides, if the Aussies ever get lonely, there are always those pesky New Zealanders conveniently located a spear's throw away to provide some neighborly love *RME* Australia is one of the driest countries in the world, literally. Her skies are of an eternal blue which accounts for the intense heat from sunlight unhindered by any wisps of clouds, that when sighted usually hints of impending rain. Owing to the vast desert region that dominates the land mass, Australia is also one of the most sparsely populated countries in the world. In fact if you found six people together in the Bush area, you have probably either walked into a family reunion or stumbled across an Aum Shinrikyo planning session. Think of Australia and the koala bear and kangaroo will probably spring--- or boomerang, if you must--- to mind. If you are relatively well-informed, then the Great Barrier Reef and the Three Sisters should also sound familiar. Ditto for the Opera House if you happen to watch television a lot. In my opinion the Australian landmark has a lot to answer for. Costing fourteen times over the original budget in excess of a whooping A$100 million, the edifice took over 15 years of construction to be built and apparently inspired the design for our very own world-class seafront concert hall with her very own unique roof, the Esplanade, with exceeded budgets and all. But I miss the point. It is not about aesthetics; more about iconic status in attracting world-class tourists. The many people who dismiss Australia as a boring place are actually doing her quite a disservice, for there are interesting facts to discover wherever you look, though these are not often trumpeted by the tourism industry for obvious reasons. For instance, Australia had a shady colonial beginning as a Siberia-like outpost where British convicts were banished to in the past. Also, a great variety of exotic and potentially lethal wildlife roam the country, ranging from snakes and spiders to jellyfish and crocodiles (and bad drivers, some might add, though to be fair they are in the minority). Australia is also the only country where the meek and docile rabbit can turn into a killing machine, causing damage of epidemic proportions to the ecosystem. Apparently the 1800's epidemic had something to do with the animal's exponential birth rate i.e. its natural horniness. Somehow 24 rabbits had multiplied their numbers to a whooping 300 million in the span of only a few decades. If the number crunchers despairing at Singapore's declining rate of birth are crying out for a mascot to front yet another government campaign, they’ve found the perfect candidate. But enough of impersonal facts for now. I was in Sydney for one simple reason: to irritate the hell out of my brother again after spending eighteen months apart. It was a task I was looking forward to with relish.
Anzac Parade Intermittently for months I had been sending parcels to Kingsford, Anzac Parade. There was the big chest (it weighed like one anyway) containing all the miscellaneous stuff my brother couldn't carry over with him at one go, a small package with his Harry Potter and Star Wars magic cards, another one with the spoils from my Japan trip including "limited edition" Star Wars figurines that came free with every bottle of Pepsi over there (burp!), and most recently, envelopes holding PC games and music CDs. I had actually dreamt about my brother's abode in New South Wales once in the past even though I have absolutely no idea what it looked like prior to my visit. His home in my dream was a walk-up flat with narrow corridors, and in true bizarre dream fashion I had to crawl under some huge white bed sheets spread on clotheslines running across the corridors to get to his unit. Anyway it turned out his Australian home was on the top level of a two-level walk-up apartment just off a road. A few improvised parking lots were available just across the apartment on a dirt track linking both directions of the road in an H-shape, and every morning my brother will cart his unit's rubbish bin at the bottom of the stairway to the main road to leave it to be cleared as naturally as if he was taking a dog out for a walk before rolling it back to position when he returned later in the evening. [Correction: Brother would like to point out that "the garbage collectors only come around on early Monday mornings. Did you remember me wheeling the bin everyday? ^_^" and that "the bin with the red top is for rubbish while the yellow one is for recyclable stuff." And yes, they do get junk mail too, but not as often as in Singapore.] Some will be alarmed to learn that the mailboxes there have no lock whatsoever to speak of, but I'd happily settle for that if it means having no more junk mail to clutter up my mailbox. (I'm quite sure if those property agents back home could chase us out with a broom, they would.) Apparently, parcels are not delivered to residential addresses in Australia but you have to redeem them personally in the local post office using the "Unfortunately, you were not in when we dropped by earlier" card that the postman had slotted into your mailbox before slinking away inconspicuously. There is no proof of identification needed during collection, so theoretically anyone could just take any card to collect packages that do not belong to them at the post office, but thankfully nothing has been lost for us so far. I suppose the risk of ending up with a pet python from the Amazon far outweighs any petty gains to be derived from such a crime. After having not met my brother for over a year, we wasted no time in spending some quality moments together bonding back in his cosy one-bedroom apartment furnished with a counter to separate the kitchen from his living room space. "Have you washed your hands?" "Yeah." "With soap?" I nodded. "I can't smell the fragrance. Wash them again." The things I put up with to play Winning Eleven 6 on Game Cube. It was also the first time in a long while since we watched a football match together, catching Manchester United vs. Arsenal in the Community Shield together in his room at 11pm Sydney time. The actual spectacle was certainly less colorful than one of our sparring matches on the game console. "Take that!" (scythes down his player with a two-footed tackle) "You can't do that!(foul goes unpunished) What, is the referee blind?" (skies shot way over the crossbar) "ARGH! Stupid 15-button controller!" "Yeah, I don't like these new game pads. We only have 10 fingers, you know." "Maybe we're supposed to use our toes as well." (looks over, aghast) "HEY!"
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