The Dog Who Chased Rainbows and The Astrologer From Down

ThirdAge Blogger Jed Diamond provides another glimpse from his trip Down Under.

I must tell you about Bella, the canine mistress of the house where we've been staying in Sydney.  Chris, the human mistress of the house, claims Bella is neurotic, which may be quite true, but there is something quite wonderful about a dog who chases rainbows.

To get a feel for Bella and Chris you have to get a picture of where we have been staying.  Up until now, all our contacts in Australia have been through the men's network that have been helping promote my work here.  My wife, Carlin, met Chris on-line through their mutual interest and practice of Astrology. Carlin had expected they might meet to talk shop over a cup of tea, but when Chris invited us to stay at her home, we couldn't refuse.  I must say, though, that I was more than a bit apprehensive when we arrived.  I have trouble relaxing in my own home in the middle of the forrest.  I worried about how I would feel staying here.

When we walked into Chris' house we were greeted by two barking dogs (the black one, we learned was Bella; the white one was Tucker.)  As I'm writing this Bella is fast asleep on her back, hind legs spread, front legs pulled up in prayer, head thrown back, as only a dog can sleep.  Most of the time Bella spends her time dancing through the house chasing rainbows made by the Crystals that are hanging in the living room.

This place is a throwback to my childhood.  Chris reminds me of my Jewish Mom (or Mum, as they refer to her here).  She smokes cigarettes and enjoys them, inspite of the huge warning on the pack proclaiming that they cause cancer.  She is boisterous and full of energy, sharp tongued with a laconic sense of humor.

She took us in and treated us as part of the family from the moment we stepped through the door.  Sitting down to dinner the first night, I was surprised that the tele remained on while we ate.  I was back in the San Fernando Valley of the 50s.  Dogs barked, cats came and went, the pet bird squacked in her cage, her housemates babbled loudly (mostly John, an exapat from New Jersey.  His partner Gail is much more quiet, though just as intense).

It was so remarkably familiar I didn't have time to remember I'm allergic to dogs and cats, I hate T.V. (but easily get hooked on staring blankly at the screen), crystalls are ugly hanging from strings, I'm overwhelmed by too much talk, and the air was so thick with animal hair and dander I was having trouble catching my breath.

Like my Mom, Chris is generous to a fault and has spent the week taking us to all the places she loves in Sydney.  We've seen the opera house inside and out, we've viewed the city from the water and the land, we've gazed at the beauty and serenity of the Blue Mountains, we've sung old Simon and Garfunkle songs while listening to the sound of Bell Birds in the forrest, we found it was true that "its all happening at the zoo," why Kangaroos can jump so far, and Koalas are not bears and look cute, but are really mean and ornry (at least when they're awake), but not why the Platypus is so incredibly small and you don't want to get to close to the Tasmanian Devil. She even set me up to watch the complete version of Lord of the Rings (along with all the extra stuff) in preparation for our trip to New Zealand.

Just when I'm sure she can't wait to get rid of us, she starts talking about the places we will have to visit the next time we come to stay with her.  Damn, these people are wonderful.  I don't know what we've done to deserve such loving kindness, but we'll just have to keep taking it in.  Chris told me to tell you   how
wonderful Australia really is.  If you should be lucky enough to get here, I wouldn't be surprised if Chris offers to take you in.