I sit with my cup of chai soaking in the morning sun. Vitamin D. Pure bliss. There is a stillness in the air. Not a sound, not a leaf out of place. It is the quiet I crave at 4:30 am and this is how my typical day starts – soaking in the summer sun in tropical Queensland.  I still cannot believe it dawns so early. Let me not forget the sunsets – summer’s setting sun has never shed such beautiful light ever. I wish my pictures could capture the glory unfortunately they don’t.

Some mornings I am blank. The morning time is my meditation. Ode to nature. Secret getaway. Spa time. All rolled in one. But today is not someday. I sit back and think about my first 3 months in Gladstone. Has it been 3 months? Yes and I keep track. I love postmortems. I love looking back. I love keeping track. I love lists. In fact, my blog is filled with such posts.

Most of my perspective comes from living in Gladstone, a small town. It is not Sydney or Melbourne. The vibe is quite different.

The first thing that struck me about Gladstone (and Australia in general) is the quietness. Wide open landscapes with a stillness that could be mistaken for a painting was how I saw it. I saw it different ways on different days. I loved the quietness and then I screamed to break it.

One of those serene sights right outside home

The dry grasslands dotted generously with trees of many kinds, blue skies, white puffy clouds, hilly terrain were all contradictory to each other but they meshed together here. Let us not forget that we are minutes from perfect blue waters and the most beautiful coral reefs. It confused me (it still does). My daughter calls the grasslands “Africa”.

The dry grasslands of Gladstone

The miles and miles of eucalyptus trees brought me back to the summers spent in Ooty shivering. The air smelling of eucalyptus is a memory I carry within but the air here does not have that. Even after rains. The air smells of nothing. There is no lingering smells to kindle my senses. It is strange just like the eucalyptus trees themselves. The trees stand in the rain and sun, their barks peeling and fragile like the skin of an old woman. Layers after layers. Their green elongated leaves droop as if they carry the weight of the world. I often look at the trees and wonder what stories they can tell.

Should I go on trying to describe the land in words? I am sure I am failing but I will keep writing.

It has been a dry year. Drought conditions declared around the state. It shows. The air is hot and oppressive but without the humid stickiness of Singapore, Chennai or Houston. I always thought humidity was a given in any coastal town. Gladstone proved me wrong. Oh it did rain and I didn’t even realize it rained. It rained buckets softly. No loud thunder and drama. Just plain rain, drop after drop hitting the parched earth. I saw a rainbow.

I drive down perfectly laid roads with clear demarkations amongst patient drivers. I rarely hear a honk or feel the need to do it. Like everything else I find Gladstone drivers laid-back. I share the road with trucks – humongous monsters, bicyclists, pedestrians, moms with bubs in prams, fitness Gods, school kids in bicycles, the lone shirtless skater and more. All on a freeway/highway equivalent.  I see cars and trucks of every color imaginable – they bring a smile.  Cars pulling boats, hauling kayaks, and bicycles stacked behind are common sights. So are camper vans and RVs.

Coming back, as I drive I tune into the Australian radio stations. I hear the same ole news. Politics is dirty anywhere in the world. The first time I heard the sports coverage I thought it was a special edition – it was long and they talk about every sport including horse racing and American Football. I realized later that length of the sports coverage I heard was normal. The Aussies love sport of any kind. I was pleasantly surprised when I heard Indian names ramble off with ease from the tongues of the reporters and later realized they were names Indian cricketers. Ofcourse how did I forget that Australians loved cricket?

On sunny summer Saturdays I see kids in all white outfits batting and bowling away to glory. Parents sporting SLRs on camp chairs, hydrating themselves, slathering sun screen and cheering. A pretty regular sight. The Sun God is paid obeisance in different ways in different parts of the world. The Aussies do it by understanding his wrath and protecting themselves. It is rare to see a kid without a sun hat on all the time. Sunscreen too.

What about the kangaroos, koalas and people you ask? Well that is bound to be another post. This has already become too long. I will write more.