After the storm

Living here in Darwin turns you into a climatologist and an aspiring architect: Here is the rainfall report for Leanyer (12.3784°S 130.9057°E)

• Tuesday 15/2/2011 = 178.4 mm
• Wednesday 16/2/2011 = 344.2 mm
• Total rainfall to date for February 2011  = 661.8 mm (over 11 days or rain)

(Who wrote that? Was that the really boring fellow who was interested in rainfall – Eric Oldthwaite from Ripping Yarns?)

Here’s evidence that we really did have storms this week –>

Enough about rainfall. Now architecture. The flat I’m renting  stood up well to the cyclonic conditions. It’s built on a little blimp of a hill, so above any backwash or storm surge. Good depth in the overhanging eaves, leaving distance between me and the persistent weather, but room for the breezes to move in and out and cool the place down at other times. Housing is a constant topic of conversation in Darwin – it is, believe me.

It’ll be difficult when I  do move south again. Imagine not talking all the time about weather, water and wind speed – and that is about 30-40kph today.

How life changes with the geography. Which leads us nicely on to the latitude of Leanyer, part of the tropical northern city of Darwin . . . Isn’t it lunch time you say. Prefer to change the topic? Ok, time to raid the cyclone kit  – but there’s just heaps of tinned fish in there, and litres of  UHT soy milk . . .well those are supplies for an emergency event, not for My Kitchen Rules.

Wet season – frogs, rain and fish

More and more rain. Cooler now: 32-33 C, rather than 34-35 C. Much more bearable. The skies are grey most of the time and the waves at Casuarina are pounding the beach. There are guys and gals surfing out there, no worries about the jellyfish and the crocks. Box jellyfish come when the days are overcast, but jellies prefer a flat sea, so the lifeguard tells me. Those surfers are flirting with death out there on their boards – I guess crossing the road is a risk too.

The beach has now turned brown with all the silt and muck that’s churned around, and the tide aggressively comes right up to the edge of the dunes. Well it did last night. It rolled in and said ‘SLAP – get out of the way, it’s after 7pm, get off the beach’. Sometimes the water is so lacking in oxygen that fish float on the surface of the water  - dead.

Rain brings the frogs of course. Like this one that a clever photographer clicked at Leanyer, right near me. Great photo – wish I had the lens to take such good shots. Look at the suckers on those toes – cling onto any wall nearby while your having a BBQ.

By:Bidgee; [CC-BY-3.0 www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Riding in the rain

Yesterday morning was glorious! Rode around the foreshore of Nightcliff and the Dripstone Cliffs, enjoying the early sunrise, humming away, and then the rain – wow, it tapped and spat and bit and then whoosh, the clouds turned it on full throttle. I’d relax more if I knew my phone wasn’t going to get wet – having put two phones through the washing machine I know the damage a wee bit of water can do to my digital friend. It is soooo exhilarating to ride in the rain. Everyone just takes the rain in their stride here – the ipodded runners, the dog walkers, the Aboriginal families who sleep out (they have such a light ecological footprint – why do we need so many things when it is clear some get by with so little baggage). I probably look a right dork with my fogged up glasses, saturated shorts and dripping hair, and I can feel my feet sloshing around in the swimming pool that’s collected in each shoe. But it’s glorious, simply glorious! (to quote Toad, Wind in the Willows).

Riding in the rain, just riding in the rain, what a glorious feeling, I’m happy again . . .

Singin in the Rain

Well now that Esther has put me in mind of Hollywood with her comment about singing in the lifeboat, here is Gene Kelly singing and dancing in the rain, in the 1952 musical. This is what we do in Darwin all the time, jump up and down the gutters, tapping away. We are a pretty happy bunch up here, really . . .

What’s keeping me amused in Darwin

What’s keeping me amused in Darwin? Well, the frogs are quieter now (mating over?), but bug problems again. The crawling things in the jar of dried basil rather surprised me yesterday. I opened the jar and am I glad I looked inside first. I’m learning. Surveillance is very necessary in the Territory before making a foray into the unknown. Anyway, thought it was a little dark in there for dried basil, should have been green not brown, and still, not moving, and yes I had my glasses on. After a double blink I realised I was looking at a cockroach nursery and creche! Fortunately that lot found their way into the bin rather than my lentil soup bubbling on the gas burner.

And what else is fun up here? Well tracking progress on the Australian Open down south is an excelelnt diversion. Tennis is fantastic to watch – the drama, the tension – as long as you haven’t listened to the news and know the score of the match in progress. Being an hour and a half behind eastern states’ time clocks is a bugger. But, I’m blessed with the internet and a big TV screen, so the excitement is there. Kim Clijsters has gone (how did that happen?), the pocket rocket Justine Henin goes with amazing surety, Roger Federer is the master and breath-taking-ly excellent, and Andy Roddick, the boy next door, still with the baseball cap, still in there. Oh I miss playing tennis and my lessons with excellent coach and fun classmates. Do you think the knee is up to it, Carol?

And what else is keeping me out of mischief? The rain – I love it when it buckets down. You know it will be cooler. You know it doesn’t matter if you get wet. It’s just that mobile phone in the pocket that’s is a nuisance – don’t want that wet, so RUN! Get out of the rain. Damn -there goes another pair of sandals, they’ll be rotting soon.

Sleepless in Darwin

Well that was a sleepless night! And I say that as I squash ants that crawl across my trusty Mac laptop, writing my journal. It wasn’t the heat or the rain that kept me awake last night, or dreams of crocodiles (which happened the night before), no it was the frogs carrying on all night in the backyard. They are quiet now of course, now that the day is here and I am supposed to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed leaping out of bed for work.

But on the positive side, I think I have won the battle with the ants and giant cockroaches that partied in my pantry while I was away for a month. Had to throw out half the contents of the cupboard. Everything that wasn’t in a really really really tightly sealed plastic container went into the bin. Those cockroaches, I tell you, they lean on the sides of a jar of mango chutney or a tin of beetroot, their arrogant wavy feelers pointing at me, and say, well, what you going to do about me, eh? They even crunched holes in some of the plastic bags to find what they wanted. So out it all went: rice, cornflour, cereal, chips, biscuits, pasta. You name it, they munched it, pooed in it or bred in it. There are still some cockroaches and a colony of Daddy Long Legs in the bathroom to be dealt with, but they can wait.

The mildew removal is another matter. I have four pairs of shoes to either clean up or send to the tip: they are no good as they are, all furry with green organisms. And I had to throw out one mildew coatedpillow from the bedroom, the other three remaining ones will probably be okay with a turn in the washing machine. Two survived the process last night anyway; let’s see if the third makes it today. (Go AWAY ants. . . creeping over my screen while I type . . . they are a real nuisance . . there’s no food in there, only zeros and ones – 0101010101010101010101000001111.) Ah well, off to work in my thongs, through the puddles . . .

Captain’s Log

My journey continues in the Territory. The end of the rainy season beckons, retreats and returns, like waves surging onto the beach. Soon the vacillation will be over and the rain completely gone, and I will be sad. The rain is like a welcome but turbulent friend.

Observed three accidents in Bagot Road yesterday. Driving south, on course from the learning factory to my residence, I was astounded to see pairs and trios of cars, grounded on the nature strip of the six-lane arterial road, their front ends miserably crumpled, only recently separated one from another. Risking my own contribution to this serial misadventure, I slowed to watch marooned spectators and passengers clumped by their vehicles. Police lights flashed, and the lines of north-bound traffic continued to shuffle by.

What caused this mayhem?

The weather rules.

The end of the Wet season.

But it’s changing. Some days the sky reverts to blue, the clouds disappear, the nights breathe easier, and I declare the Wet over. But the next morning I wake, bleary-eyed and sticky after a heated night, and wonder why I steered a course to this sauna. Then the clouds gather and finally, a day or two later, the rain dumps. The smell of wet earth returns, and for a moment it’s cool. Then the cycle continues, wet, dry, wet, dry.

In addition to the road situation, there is further disruption to communications to report. The phones are out this morning. Also due to weather disturbance? The lines between South Australia and Western Australia are apparently faulty. I don’t know when I will be able to send this latest wireless message. I am considering importing pigeons to help with the delivery of all missives as the birds may be more reliable than current technology.

Jane’s wisdom 1

‘What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance.’
Jane Austen

Rain

I’ve decided I really like rain. I swam in the monsoonal rain today. Bloody hell it was good. You know you are alive. Huge grey clouds overhead, you feel the sky is going to fall, they get closer and closer, like a drum roll they warn you that #$%* is going to happen, but you ignore it, you get into the pool, up and down you go, 3, 4, 5 laps, and then – you didn’t listen – it’s on, and I’m loving it, like running in the rain, wow, thankyou thankyou thankyou. That freedom. More laps, and then the thunder and the loudspeaker tells me to get out and shelter till the lightning stops. Damn. Waiting under the shelter- dull dull dull. But the rain pours like dysentery through the down pipes – like God is up there flushing out the system. Then when its stopped there’s this eerie red sunset light, apocalyptic, calling you to follow – to the horizon . . . the music of the spheres . . . No I’m not on drugs. There’s a cool breeze through my windows at home – and I never want to leave. Ah – the excitement of the tropics. Just when you thought every day was the same – withhold the rain for a few days and you are panting for it.