Australians have a neat thing, for a country that is threatened with drought. They have designed toilets that are significantly more efficient than our water-guzzling monstrosities.
It took me a couple of days, wondering how you flushed anything with that little amount of water, to figure out that on the tank there are two buttons. Obviously the two buttons are for #1 or for #2. For little middle of the night piddles, button #1 does nicely. A little trickle of water and it's all gone. But for the heavy duty stuff, punch in #2 and away go troubles (and everything else) down the drain.
Why didn't we think of that?
While I have not traveled extensively, I have had occasion to visit a few other countries and it's the little differences that I find fascinating. It becomes a "why didn't we think of that" sort of thing.
Every time I go to plug anything in here, for example, I think of trying to vacuum or iron (yes, iron) at home, having to stop every so often to replug the machine into the socket--somehow nothing ever fits snugly and if you are using an appliance which tends to move around as you use it, the chance of the plug falling out of the socket is great. Here, no problem. The added safety feature is that the socket itself can be turned on or off.
Why didn't we think of that?
And then there's money. What color is our $1 bill? Green. And the $5? Green. And the $10? Green. And so on. Not so here. The money is all different colors (I didn't have a $10 bill when I took this picture, but it's a bright blue).
Not only is it different colors (making it easier for tourists to figure out what denomination they are handing over to pay for their faux aboriginal art work), but they are different sizes, which must make things easier for blind people to deal with. And the little plastic inserts which are imbedded into the paper portion of the money certainly cuts down on counterfeiting.
Why didn't we think of that?
Why am I thinking about cultural differences today? Well, basically this is the reason:
I crashed last night and couldn't keep my eyes open by 7:30. "Why don't you go to sleep," Peggy said, in exasperation after listening to me yawn over and over again. I went into the lounge and sat down to watch "Antiques Roadshow" and never got past the discussion about the value of boxes that used to be used to store tea in the colonies in the 1700s. Next thing I knew, Peggy was there asking if I always slept with my glasses on, and after she took them off of me, I didn't know anything until 1:30 when I woke to piddle (I knew you'd want to know--it was the #1 button) and check e-mail, and then didn't wake again until 6:15--latest I've slept here.
When I woke up, it was pouring rain. Pouring. The dogs wanted to go for a walk, but there just was no way. We sat here until about 9 until there was a break in the storm and then ran them off to the little park, until Keno pooped out and it started to rain again.
Since we are leaving tomorrow to head south, it's just as well that the weather is so bad today because it gave Peggy a chance to clean house and get ready. I felt like a real sloth, sitting in the lounge in the recliner, reading my John Grisham novel, but I knew that I would be more of a hinderance than a help to her and just sensed that she'd be more grateful for my sitting in a corner out of the way than actually trying to pitch in and help. ("I definitely don't want you dusting," she said over our plastic cheese-and-ham sandwiches. I shuddered, picturing me, a dustcoth, and her collection of ceramic zebras and other bric-a-brac. Not a good combination. I crept back to the recliner until it was all finished.)
But all that inactivity made me wonder what I would write about in my journal tonight (especially after Sue called and mentioned how much she enjoys reading it. Oh swell...the pressure to create something from nothing!)
So I started thinking about the things that I have found which are different here than at home. Like England, there seem to be more postal stations than actual post offices. We used to have postal stations in Davis, where you could buy your stamps or mail your packages at a local small shop, but no more. Now you have to stand in line with 3 dozen other frustrated Davisites. But here you get your stamps at the stationery store, or at the news vendor or other local shops. I really like that.
Australians also apparently invented the revolving clothesline. Now that might not mean much to Americans who are in love with their dryers, but I have to admit that in the past three weeks I've developed a grudging appreciation of the clothesline. There is something really...nice...about the smell of clothes fresh off the line (and, surprisingly, they seem to dry faster, in the breezes here, than they would in my dryer). The rotating cothesline means that you can stand in one place and hang clothes on all sides of it, rotating the line as you go (I didn't think of this at first and was convinced I would back up and fall off the wall of the level on which Peggy has her clothesline--but I think I've gotten past that). It also is great on a really windy day to sit here and watch the clothes line go spinning around and around. I have visions of it taking off like Mary Poppins some day.
(I may actually give some serious thought into erecting a clothesline when I get home. But then I might also have to learn how to iron....)
And while there may somewhere be a big supermarket comparable to Safeway or Albertson's, I haven't seen one. Peggy goes to the local shop, which is small, cramped, but seems adequately stocked (even with kangaroo bones, which she bought for the dogs the other day). The difference is that here you bag your own groceries. I remember when we were in Ireland and I went to the store with Nora, who was surprised when I just STOOD there waiting for my groceries to be put into a bag for me. No baggers. No person to take your bags to the car for you. You do it all yourself.
Well, not all cultual differences are an improvement.
