Tag 40: The Dodl with the Rodl in Cairns

08.08.2016

For once, it's me who can't sleep on our flight to Australia and keeps dreaming of crashing planes. It looks like Gudi and I are getting so close on this trip that we internalize and adopt each other's fears. Well then, dear Gudi - start worrying about what you would look like with a bald head.

But enough joking, we are now in Australia and already at the airport we realize that everything is completely different. Although we are separated by five hours of flying from the chaotic conditions of the Asian continent, we are still amazed at the clean and coordinated conditions in this country. After passing through immigration control (which was not so easy with my new hairstyle) and customs control, an officer asks us to join a line with several other people and lets a dog sniff us. A very strange welcome ritual - in Hawaii they give you flower necklaces, here you get sniffed by dogs instead.

After we have also passed this, we enter the small but inviting reception hall of Cairns Airport. It fills me with great joy to finally set foot on Australian territory, a wish that I believe was not only in my child's mind years ago. Somewhat controversial is the fact that at the moment when I enter Australia, my internal mental radio (some call it an earworm) plays Georg Danzer's "Dodl mit der Rodl", a really inappropriate song that I still don't know where I heard it.

Soon we realize that we wish we were back with Balinese prices. Australia is obviously much more expensive and so we secretly say goodbye to the Asian sale prices. Due to a planning mishap, we are allowed to pick up the rented vehicle from the nearby Car Rent Station early in the morning - unfortunately only tomorrow. So we have no choice but to take an overpriced taxi to the even more expensive hostel. On the way, I realize that despite my lack of sleep and resulting acute fatigue, I feel a sense of underchallenge. I attribute this to the fact that my senses are hardly challenged in this country compared to the previous weeks. So my brain has no smells to process, furthermore the impressions on the street are in a ratio of 1:100000 compared to Asia, and even the constantly active survival reflex seems no longer necessary. When we arrive at the hostel, we both fall into a deep sleep nonetheless.

When I wake up from my beauty sleep, I realize, just like Gudi, that I have no idea what time it is. Somehow, in our - to put it in Viennese terms - "damischheit" (confusion), we are unable to determine the time. At this point, it should be mentioned that we once again have no electricity, as apparently every country uses a different plug. The only plugs that we have never needed so far are those combination plugs (probably still paid with schillings or even crowns) that I was allowed to borrow from my grandma - thanks anyway, at least the power donors get some exercise again.

A first sniffing marathon through the city confirms what Gudi (who already knows Cairns) prophesied: it's awesome! You can't go into the sea (unless you want to be targeted by box jellyfish), but instead there is a huge, clean and public pool right on the beach promenade. Next to it, several BBQ stations have been set up, which can even be operated with gas and are also free of charge. All in all, Australia is a cozy place at first glance - which also has to do with the pavement itself. It is remarkable that it becomes worth mentioning to finally have solid ground under your feet again.

The Australians themselves are incredibly friendly, although I already refrain from answering the apparently obligatory question "how is it going" - two or three times I see this as an invitation to disclose my life story, which is perceived as confusing by supermarket cashiers as well as bus drivers.

Except for a small shopping trip to a large supermarket and booking a tour to the Great Barrier Reef (I better not talk about the costs), not much happens today. On the way back, I buy a plug adapter so that not only we but also all cameras and laptops can recharge their batteries overnight.

Gudi's glorious laws:

Never stroke a dog at the airport, especially if it is being led by a police officer!

An incredibly wise advice, as it turns out that the aforementioned ceremony at the airport is neither a welcome ritual nor a party game, but a drug control. In such situations, one hopes that the dog won't stop in front of one's own feet, which apparently can be achieved through petting as well as through drug possession - something learned again!