I guess I’ve not been writing because, while we’ve continued to enjoy our tromp around the antipodes (more time in Hobart, then Melbourne and now Sydney, as we begin our long homeward arc) it hasn’t felt like anything has risen to the level of being blogworthy. Nothing of much interest to anyone who has better things to read about.

But I do owe y’all (all three or four of you?) a catch up, so here we go:

First, for those of you still on the last post’s cliffhanger: yes, I did get myself into the ocean at Orford. Figured that if our host Ann was going swimming (as she apparently does whenever she and Jack are in town), I had to “chicken in” to diving in as well. Not nearly as cold as it looked. One might even use the word “enjoyable” without too much of a stretch.

Then back down to Hobart the next morning to catch the ferry off to MONA, the Museum of Old and New Art. I wrote about visiting MONA last time around, so I won’t add anything here, other than mentioning a couple of new exhibits, including a trippy outdoor hall of mirrors, and one that made you feel like you were walking into a narrow dry channel amid a shoulder-high flood of motor oil. Yeah, MONA.

Then away and away and off to Adelaide (via flights seven and eight for this trip) to see in-law-in-laws Bob and Mim (sister’s husband’s parents) and catch a few evening performances at the start of the city’s Fringe Festival.

Adelaide is a delightful city, with a big wide ring of green space around its core, swathed in free museums, markets, art galleries and gardens – its (entirely free) Botanical Garden is home to an extensive collection of enormous outdoor Chihuly glass sculptures.

But the most enduring impression I have of Adelaide is one of winged peril. Throughout the city I kept encountering signs that warned swooping magpie larks, aggressive pelicans, masked lapwings and (drum roll, please) giant fruit bats – what to watch out for and how to respond if attacked by one. I kid you not.

I don’t think we encountered any lapwings or pelicans, and the few magpie larks I noticed were well-behaved, but I could see how anyone with chiroptophobia might be ill at ease. During the day, many of the trees around the city were heavy with ponderous sleeping fruit bats, and every evening they launched off in wave after wave of slow silhouetted flapping to who knows where against the dusky sky. As their name suggests, fruit bats (also known as “flying foxes”) pretty much only eat fruit and flowers. But they can apparently weigh upwards of two pounds and have wingspans of almost five feet when fully grown, so you can understand how a sky full of them might be…unnerving.

Fringe was, well, fringey. There were a dozen or so venues around the City, but we mostly stuck to one close to our hotel, the carnivalesque “Garden of Unearthly Delights,” set up in Rundle Park. The festival was just starting, and many shows were still in preview, so we were able to get tickets for pretty much anything our hearts desired, and popped for tickets for a couple of shows every night. Magic, stand up comedy, circus, cabaret, a surprisingly inspiring and moving Kate Bush tribute. Also something that, quite accurately, was billed as “Sh*t-Faced Shakespeare.” It was, as Brits say, pretty much what it said on the tin: a reduced cast of actors ostensibly trying to stage “Midsummer Night’s Dream” while one of them was genuinely sloshed. Some acts…worked better than others.

We’re in Sydney now, with two days to go. D’s got us a lovely room with a view of the Opera House, and we’ve got the loose semblance of plans for the Zoo, a couple of food walks, and spending a lot of time just cruising around the harbor on tour boats.

I don’t actually expect there to be much to post about before I’m back home. But if there is, well, I guess I’ll keep you posted!