Travels with Charlie in… Beers in Pacific Cities that Start with “D” for 200, Alex: Part 3
Travels with Charlie | Charles Rudish
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The beer was great (if even less “local,” this time; as I recall, it was an ale from somewhere outside Adelaide) and accompanied by Irish-pub-style live music. The sunset, threatening for what felt like hours, finally gave up his ghost and exploded across every pioneer storefront, a rangoli of oranges and reds and steel-boned blues. I paid in coins (I was the only person I saw in Australia who used cash; call me old fashioned) nodded to the security guard (thinking little of his presence,) and walked across the street in search of my Thai dinner. Upon entry, it seemed as though the kitchen was staffed by children and, thus, while ignorant of Australian child labo(u?)r law, I assumed the food would be scrumptious. Alas, maybe children shouldn’t be working in hot kitchens: the pad see ew was forgettable. It was time to walk back “home.”
But first: a final stop! My friend, aforementioned and easily impressed by travel to random cities, had remarked just how much she enjoyed the photos I shared from various McDonalds around the world. That’s right, oh lovely and kind, oh forgiving reader, I’m effortlessly cool. This being my last night Down Under (I hate myself for, 900 words into this missive, using that ridiculous and overused colloquialism), the time was nigh. My stomach was but an orb of child-cooked sticky flat noodles, like snakes or parasites swimming around a fatty globe, but the allure for and the taste of something ice cold was too strong: I stopped along the way for a McFlurry.
Ice cream in hand, I had but three blocks to walk to the hotel. I heard a voice shout out. “I’m going to kill all the white people. I don’t care.” I saw the source, a man, shadowed under those quintessential Australian awnings that block the sun and rain, across the street. I walked faster. He was inebriated, I imagined, presumed. I saw him again, saw that he was Aboriginal. I walked, trotted, to the corner, towards the flashing police car lights. A man, Aboriginal as well, was being arrested. His friend sat on the curb: “Will he be out tomorrow?” “Maybe,” the cop replied. “We’ll see.”
The following afternoon, after sleeping in and a sober brunch, I left for Dili.
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About Travels with Charlie
Name a country, city, island, restaurant or ballet performance and you can bet Charles Rudish has been there. Follow along as he documents his adventures around the world with this ongoing series. Charles offers a humorous and insightful perspective on travel, culture and exploring the world around you.
