The real Australian experience

There are two types of travellers. The first are the postcard travellers, the ones that are out to cross as many cities and countries off the map as they can just to say that they've been there, like a family hopping out of their RV to take a picture of the Grand Canyon before rushing off to the next natural wonder (thanks Abbey). Then there are the more detail oriented travellers, the ones that pick one place and spend a significant amount of time there, days or even weeks, really trying to get to know a city and the people there intimately. In my life I have done both types of travelling, but found the later to be far more memorable. Thus, even though it was only an hour away and even though I still had a week left in Australia and even though I could afford it (sort of), I opted not to fly to Tasmania, or really anywhere else in Australia (I had briefly thrown around the idea of visiting Alice Springs or Broome). Instead, I decided to take that money and that time and really get to know where I was, and to find a real Australian experience.

Both Colin and Mary had to work on Monday, so I set out on foot to look for Australia, even though I wasn't sure what I was looking for. It didn't take long to realize that a beach town may not be the best place to find it, given that they are usually full of tourists. Still, I maintained a slim hope that the relative size and isolation of Dromana would mean that at the very least it would be full of Australian tourists, and while they may not be tossing boomerangs to dingos at least there might be a bit of local flavor. I elected to wander the beach for a bit first, relishing that I was somewhere with turquoise waters and 80 degree temperatures in the middle of February. Just off the beach were a series of colorful beach shacks, many of which had rather interesting (and sometimes creepy) paintings on their doors. Every now and then I would pass a small gelatinous blob which at first appeared to be some kind of jellyfish, but after employing the scientific method (vigorous stick poking) they appeared to be nothing but a roll of jelly. Curious, but not distinctly Australian. I wandered the beach for awhile longer, keeping my eyes peeled for spontaneous rugby scrums or a discarded jar of Vegemite, but found only sunburnt Irishmen. Time to venture into town.

Dromana is really just one main street with a few shops and houses running parallel to the beach, with the city limits marked on either end with a gas station. It quickly became evident there wasn't much Australia here either. I passed up on schnitzel (german) and instead sat down to a meat pie (english) and gelato (italian) before being chased out of the cafe so they could close at 3pm (spanish..or the entire Mediterranean really). Feeling distraught, I wandered into the local butcher shop. There, sitting next to cuts of lamb and still more schnitzel, I finally found what I was looking for. Kangaroo! Hard to get more Australian than that. Buying enough steaks for the house, I may have even tossed the butcher a "cheers mate" on my way out the door. After swinging by the grocery store to pick up some veggies and (ridiculously expensive) Australian beer, I headed back to throw some roo on the barbi.