May, 2012

In the second of the three parts of a the traditional Spanish bullfight – known as the tercio de banderillas (“the third of banderillas”), three banderilleros each attempt to stab two banderillas – sharply barbed sticks – into the bull’s shoulders. This is one of the most dangerous – and spectacular – parts of the bullfight, and one where the bull definitely has opportunities to exact some measure of revenge upon the banderilleros.

I was half way though my last beer when two young buskers set up in front of the cafe, he with a squeezebox and all of the brass, class and front of a seasoned performer, his younger sister hesitant and less assured. They rattled off a few tunes for the passing parade and received a few donations. As I finished my beer and wandered over to drop a Euro in their paper cup an old man stopped by and told them: “Vous êtes de vrais artistes …”

Rue Cremieux is lovely in the pre-dawn, and not too bad later in the day when two old men strolled along the pave playing along on their trumpets … looking for well-earned tips for their Saturday tipple.

Basil is a kind and attentive host, particularly when evening scraps are his due. He might be ugly, scarred and with a bad case of bung-eye (I forgot to get some Golden Eye ointment for his conjunctivitis from the local clinic) that hopefully should be cleared up in a few days. He isn’t riddled with ticks and is obviously reasonably healthy – in mind and body. In all he is just a normal dog – except that he is (technically) homeless.

The falcon was gone. A hundred birds were before me in the sky and on the ground. Here two Whistling Kites cruised downwind effortlessly away from the risen sun, doubling back with obvious efforts into the freshening breeze. Singleton Great Egrets rowed upstream against the morning breeze, all Omo white body and neck and black legs and beak. Torresian Crows – all beak and croaking caws – wandered in from their night roosts. Silver Gulls cruised downwind along the shoreline and Crested and other terns cruised offshore. There at ground level irregular ranks of Magpie Larks picked their way across the open grass in a score-strong horde, all black and white flutters and jumps as they grazed. Where one bird had dominated the morning landscape five minutes before, now everywhere was birds.

Arandic languages have a spelling system which takes a lot of getting used to – but the introduction to the dictionary is a real winner. It explains the system, demonstrates how sounds are made, gives respellings that will help English speakers, and even fuzzy spelling search clues. One thing I really like is the cross reference to words that sound similar arerre ‘collarbone’ and ararre ‘white bread’ are cross-referenced to help you distinguish between them.

Warlock Ponds is just a few kilometres south of Mataranka and locals will tell you that on certain nights a ghost rider on a horse can be seen on the old bridge. If ever there was a night for the ghost rider it was last night that saw a blood-orange perigee moon rising over the [...]