COVID Disenbarks

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A cruise ship with 800 COVID-19 infected passengers docked in Sydney, Australia. The Majestic Princess cruise ship was about half way through the scheduled cruise when the infection spread among the passengers and crew like a wildfire. There were 4,600 passengers and crew passengers and crew on board. Infected guests were isolated in their staterooms being separated from non-infected guests.

The infected passengers were escorted off the ship and “advised” to isolate for five days. What passenger will self isolate when they are on vacation? You can bet the infected are rushing out to every restaurant and crowded venue in Sydney. They will justify their mindless and violent, act saying they are only mildly infectious.

This seems to be the new normal, knowing that you will likely be infected when you book your dream horror cruise. The New South Wales Ministry of Health has recorded 19,800 new cases of Covid-19 and 22 deaths in the past week. In America, the new normal is over 300 deaths due to COVID every day.

At least three other ships within the company’s Princess fleet, the Ruby Princess, Diamond Princess, and Grand Princess – experienced outbreaks earlier in the pandemic. A spokesman for Carnival Cruises said, Fuck the health of the passengers, they are mindless brain eating zombies, give us your god damn money.

Why don’t airports have recliners for everyone?

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Our final leg in Australia was a long drive from Ballerat to Sydney. The large highways offer as boring a view as any highway in America. Australians however have signs warning motorists to take breaks to stay safe. In America we just stress “click it or ticket” for our safety. We decided to stay at a Sydney Airport hotel. The hotel was right next to a junk yard. I still wish I had sketched the rusty mountains of auto parts as my final view from down under.

Sydney has a very modern airport and Terry decided to go shopping before we boarded. That of course gave me time for one final sketch. When I sketch I become invisible and she wasn’t able to locate me in the waiting area. We fired texts back and forth to find each other as the plane boarded.  The woman seated right in front of me looked quite uncomfortable trying to take a nap. This is how I felt for the entire twenty hour flight back to Orlando. I just can’t sleep on planes, so I watched movies non-stop.

In Australia they drive on the wrong side of the road, water swirls down a drain backwards and the sun moves backwards across the sky. They have gun control, offer a free higher education and have an amazing health care system. Melbourne is infectiously welcoming to artists. I consider it my home away from home.

Ballerat’s sprawling botanical garden is a beauty mate.

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The last town Terry and I drove to was Ballerat. In Australia it was springtime while back in Orlando it was Winter, not that there is much of a difference. We stopped at the Ballerat Botanical Gardens (Gillies Street North, N Ballarat VIC 3355, Australia) so Terry could enjoy the flowers and birds and I could sketch. I suppose I should have wanted to capture the gorgeous vibrant colored flower beds, but instead, I walked straight into a sculpture pavilion. The pavilion felt like it came from a Victorian era Worlds Fair.

The Pavilion and its statues were unveiled in 1888 by Premier Duncan Gillies, a former colleague of James Russell Thompson
whose bequest to the City enabled the purchase, in Italy, of the
statues. The Flight from Pompeii and the four accompanying statues are
housed in the Statuary Pavilion in the Ballarat Botanical Gardens. The
Flight from Pompeii, in the center, was designed by Professor Carlo
Benzoni and carved by Charles Francis Summers while the four
accompanying statues were all designed and carved by Charles Francis
Summers. The octagonal Pavilion was specially designed by T.E. Molloy in
1887 to house the statuary. 

I left out the guard rails since they blocked my view of certain details. Families and couples would come in briefly to view the statues. Parents would explain the sculptures significance to their children. I wondered why the couple only had time to throw towels over their loins as the ran down the streets of Pompeii trying to escape the lava and ash erupting from the volcano. He thought ahead enough to also bring a bed sheet which billowed above them to hopefully stop any red hot rocks from burning their backs. Had they just been in bed, or did they run from a bath house?

One aspect of this scene is that large quarter sized flies would enter the pavilion and they would buzz and pound themselves against the windows trying to escape back out to the vibrant garden. They would start their frantic escape by smacking high against the glass. With each successive blow, they would grow tired and ultimately rest against the windows bottom ledge.  In my head a devised an obvious fly trap that would easily catch every fly allowing them to be removed and released into someone else s garden. How many times would flies stop to rest on the smooth granite semi nude skin of these statues and they couldn’t slap the flies away. As it was, I had to smack a few persistent flies with my sketchbook when the distracted me too much from the sketch. This pavilion was Pompeii for every fly that entered. The were doomed to see the glorious freedom just beyond the glass and die from exhaustion  or the slap of my sketchbook as they struggled to reach it.

We stopped to rest while hiking McKenzie Falls.

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Pam Anderson and her husband took us to hike in Grampians National Park which was a short drive from their home on several one lane dirt roads. We stopped at an abandoned gold mine but unfortunately we didn’t see any gold flakes in the soil. The drive up to Mckenzie Falls involved a twisting, winding road with hundreds of switch backs. We took the hill at an aggressive speed with constant acceleration and hard breaking in the curves. I started feeling motion sick in the back seat so I fixed my gaze out the front window trying to anticipate each new curve.

Mckenzee Falls had just reopened after being ravaged by an out of control wildfire. All the barren tree trunks were charcoal black. One plant thrives after a fire. Fires release nutrients to the soil and create rich seedbeds for newly dropped seed. The first rains after fires bring the landscape to life; a cycle of regrowth, competition and maturation starts all over again.The Australian Grass Tree thrives after a wildfire.  It sends up a four foot inch thick rod that thrusts up from the grassy base. This phallic seed bearing appendage earned it’s un-politically correct nickname, “Black Boy” from it’s charred appearance. Life always finds away.

Reed’s Outlook gave us a stunning view of the entire valley. There is a rock that juts out over the cliffs edge and it used to be possible  to stand at it’s tip, “Lion King” style for photo opportunities. Unfortunately it is now fenced off. One too many people must have fallen off after being asked to “step back” for a photo. Terry kept her back plastered to the rock wall standing clear of the railing.


The parking lot at the Mckenzie Falls trail was full of cars. A Japanese double-decker tourist bus pulled into the lot and it seemed like hundreds of people piled out. I’ve never seen a bus like this before. It was set up as a sleeper and each person must get a coffin-like compartment that comes with a curtained window. I really wanted to look inside. The parks department office was burnt to the ground and surrounded by a fence for our protection. Only a single brick chimney marked the site. Pam and her husband are avid hikers and they planned to hike all the way to the base of the waterfall and back up. Once we got near the river, the flies started buzzing in our ears. Pam explained that “The Australian Salute” is the gesture of swiping flies from your face. Thankfully, Terry and I had head nets that kept the flies from getting on our faces. The second watercolor hit my sketch, dozens of flies would land on the page to drink it up. Either they liked the color or the moisture. I stuffed pencil end erasers in my ears to dull the annoying buzzing around my head. Terry and I stopped because she felt the hike down was too steep. This sketch was done at the top of the falls. I was glad for the chance to sketch. If this sketch seems rushed, that is because it was rushed. I decided to consider the sketch done when Pam and her husband hiked their way back to us.


When we drove down out of the park, we stopped at a Cricket field as the sun set. Dozens of Kangaroos were foraging in the field. Terry kept walking up to the kangaroos I suppose with the intent to pet one. I’ve seen videos of kangaroos boxing and using their tail and hind legs as very effective weapons. I kept my distance and watched. The kangaroos knew to hop away and keep a safe distance.

Friends gather at Barney’s Bar Bistro in Australia.

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Another of Terry’s high school friends, Pam Anderson, invited us to her home and it involved a long drive through Victoria to the town of Ararat. The home was surrounded by a gorgeous garden situated on many acres. From the back yard we could see young colts following their thoroughbred moms. The couple were both teachers and their sons had just left home to forge their own lives. One son was a civil engineer and he was making good money out west for a mining company. The mine is in the middle of nowhere so the pay tried to compensate for the isolation. Their other son had moved to New York City. Apparently this trip to America is quite common for Australian youths.

Once a week a group of friends gathers at Barney’s Bar Bistro (Ararat – Halls Gap Rd,, Pomonal, Halls Gap, Victoria) for a bite, some drinks and plenty of conversation. The building is a converted woolshed barn and is has an open layout with exposed wooden beams. We sat out back waiting for a table to open up. In the field behind the bar, kangaroos by the dozens gathered to forage as the sun set. Terry and I were ecstatic at the sight but this was a common sight for everyone else.

Having been behind the wheel of the car all day, I was itching to do a sketch and I started to sketch the second we were seated. Terry apologized for my behavior but no one seemed to mind. By the time our food arrived the sketch was done. Most of the people in the group were teachers, so I got to learn a bit about the inner politics inside the High School. The boys had their mom for one class and their dad for another, so it was almost like being home schooled. A college education is paid for by the government, so youths are highly educated and they don’t start their adult lives deep in debt. American politicians could learn a thing or two from Australia’s example.

A Lorne Australia residential sculpture garden has plenty of surprises.

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Josie Browne, a high school classmate of Terry’s told me that I had to check out the front yard of a neighbor of hers named Deborah. She gave me directions and I set off with my art supplies in hand. Her neighbor is a well known sculptor in Melbourne. When I got to her property, I was met by “Big Dik” and “Tits“, a bull and cow whose sexuality was bright red. A ram named “Baby Tart” negotiated the space between them as they faced off. A bright pink sheep was covered in plastic forks and spoons which created a rich texture to her coat. A nude blue couple stood in the background near the entrance to the home-studio. Even the trees were alive with faces and covered in giant lady bugs.Unfortunately Josie couldn’t recall Deborah’s last name. My online research lead me to a Deborah Halpern, but her work has much more of a Picassoesque feel to it. My online search for “Big Dik” and “Tits” didn’t result in any bovine sculptures.

Josie told me of the time she visited the sculptor for tea. She was a bit terrified at first to see the inside of the sculptor’s studio. They became immediate friends and keep in touch. Awkwardly, I planted myself in the corner of Deborah’s front yard to sketch. If she was home, I would just have to hope that she wouldn’t mind me sketching her quirky work. Lorne Australia has a Sculpture Biennal where sculptors place their work along the long stretch of beach.  There were exciting and unexpected arts scenes like this throughout Australia.

Ravenwood is a quaint Bed and Breakfast perched high up a hill in Lorne Australia.

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The day started out with a leisurely walk on the beach with Josie and her sheep herding dog. Large sheets of volcanic rock  on the beach had solidified with the positive and negative shapes of un-popped lava bubbles. The inverted cups filled with ocean water as the tide went out and became mini aquariums. All forms of life from algae to crabs thrived in the tide pools. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated by tide pools. I love any kind of self contained ecosystem.

Half way up the hill to Josie Browne‘s house, I stopped to sketch Ravenwood. First, I liked the name of this Bed and Breakfast thinking it might be occupied by Edgar Allan Poe, but also the building reminded me of paintings done by Edward Hopper. As I sketched, Terry and Josie continued walking up the hill. I remember as I walked up this steep hill alone once, I saw an old man coming down the hill. I thought to myself that I should control my breath a bit so I wasn’t huffing and puffing as we passed each other. He remarked, “Darn, I’m more winded than you just going downhill.” I laughed and began huffing and puffing again.

There is so much of this old Victorian architecture in Australia. I wondered if there was a way up to the widow’s nest. Metal roofs reflect the sun like mirrors. And the front yard of this home had a vibrant garden filled with pink roses.

Lorne’s Swinging Bridge becomes a backdrop for a wedding photographer.

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I asked Josie Browne advice on picturesque places to sketch in Lorne Australia. She drove me to the swinging bride, which is a small footbridge that crosses a quiet stream right before it trickles into the ocean. At the beach, the stream breaks apart into a series of tiny deltas. On the far side of the bridge is the Swinging Bridge Boat house and Cafe (30 Great Ocean Road, Lorne VIC 3232, Australia).  Terry, Josie and I ate lunch here after a long walk on the beach. The food tasted great after so much fresh air and exercise.

The  bridge reminds me of a painting Vincent Van Gogh did in Provence of a small yellow bridge. In his painting, women stone washed their laundry at the river’s shore. I had no such luck, darn washing machines. I did notice an oriental couple posing repeatedly on the far shore.

A wedding photographer was shooting photos of the couple. They moved out onto the bridge and the photographer coached them to get ever sillier with each shot. The soon to be bride was quite a ham. Soon all three of them were standing behind me. The photographer asked if it was alright if he took a few shots of me. I said it was fine. After what seamed like an eternity of constant, persistent clicking they wandered away.  So now in some couples wedding album there is a photo of this couple acting stunned and amazed as they look over my shoulder.

Remeniscing about senior year at Melbourne’s Lauriston Girl’s School.

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At Terry’s high school reunion for Lauriston Girl’s School in Melbourne, she met Josie Browne who offered us a chance to stay in her Lourne, Australia beach house. The house was designed by an architect for himself and it has unique panoramic windows that give the sleek modern interior a feeling of being open to the environment. Josie was incredibly open and sincere, we both liked her immediately. Apparently her husband is her polar opposite, being loud and always seeking to close the next big deal. The family dog is an incredibly intelligent sheep herding dog. His greatest joy in life is retrieving a tennis ball that Josie tosses down the beach using a plastic sling. The house isn’t right on the beach but up a steep hill. The second floor balcony allows a sweeping view of the ocean over the neighboring roofs.

Josie’s daughter was back home and working long shifts at the restaurant in a hotel at the bottom of the hill. Her love is animal husbandry and someday she may fulfill her dream of living on a farm with plenty of horses. As Terry and Josie talked about Lauriston, a Sydney horse race was on the telly. Horse racing is huge in Australia. It became a national past time right after the gold rush and money from the races helped build the city infrastructure.

At the restaurant at the bottom of the hill there was outdoor seating. Signs of the railing around the dining area said, “Don’t Feed the Cockatoos”. The entire trip Terry had been looking for cockatoos because she missed our pet cockatoo named Zorro. As we ate dinner, cockatoos landed on the railing to watch us eat. If you turned your back for a moment they would swoop down and grab some of your food. At a trash can by the beach, cockatoos had pried the lid off and were rummaging in the garbage. I put some of the trash back and scolded a cockatoo as if I were talking to Zorro.  A few minutes later, trash was once again being thrown to the ground. Come to think of it, Zorro never obeys either. The cockatoos also chew and destroy any wooden surfaces on buildings. To say the least, cockatoos are considered a pest in Lourne.

The Ferry to Manly offers great views of Sydney.

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As a day trip from Sydney, Terry and I decided to take a ferry to Manly Beach in Australia. The Ferry docks are right near the Opera House and that whole area is tourist central with street performers fighting for tourists attention and tips. Several aboriginals sat playing their didgeridoos. One guy had a high wire act where he balanced above the crows riding his bicycle on a wire. Terry and I didn’t stop to watch the chaos. Our ferry was leaving in a few minutes so we rushed through the terminal.

The hour or so ferry ride was very pleasant. It was early spring in Australia so a few people were still bundled up. Sail boats dotted the entire harbor. When we docked in Manly, we walked a quarter mile or so down the main street which lead to the beach. We both ordered a frozen yogurt cone with plenty of fixings and then we found a shady spot on a ledge that overlooked the beach. There was a large group of school children learning how to surf. Others tossed Frisbees or just lay in the sun like harbor seals.

On the ferry ride back to Sydney, I put the sketchbook away and just enjoyed the ever changing view. These ferry rides are a real deal and it is a great way to discover Sydney very much the way British explorers did hundreds of years ago.