Things I Notice

New Year’s barely registered as a holiday for me this year, though I’ve never been one for New Year’s Eve anyhow. I think it’s an over-priced, over-hyped night. After having an extremely filling Indian dinner with Rose and Chris at a great restaurant in town, I laid down to digest and only peeled myself off the bed at 11:15 to watch the Sydney fireworks on T.V. They were beautiful, but I’m always disappointed that second after the fireworks have ended. Your eyes strain and wait for that intense glow again. Except where once the sky was alight with bright colors, it is now replaced with darkness, darkness so pervasive when juxtaposed with the exploding light show. Since Chris and Rose retired early, I brought in the New Year alone in front of the T.V. and strained to hear the sounds of pots banging – a tradition my father and sisters were surely upholding halfway around the world when New York’s midnight finally approached. I went to bed soon after.

As I waited for my bus from Brisbane to Noosa yesterday, I noticed the girl sitting across from me had a tattoo on the inside of her ankle. I always liked that spot especially when it’s not too high on the leg like hers. I looked from her ankle to mine and tried to figure out where on my ankle the tattoo would fall. I examined the area above my anklebone but decided that was too high and the area below the bone was too low. I couldn’t figure out why hers fell in a perfect spot until I realized she didn’t have an anklebone – at least not a protruding one. In fact she had cankles, a word that I find hilarious but fitting, and that’s why her tattoo looked neither too high nor low. I sighed and realized a tattoo wouldn’t work for me in that area because my anklebone would be in the way. Intrigued by this notion, I started looking around at other people’s ankles and noticed a lot of people don’t have prominent anklebones. I’ve had bony feet all my life, skeletal even, but I never really gave it much thought before now. I’d thought that girl had strange ankles, but maybe I’m the one who’s abnormal. Maybe like doctors do with other prominent bone structures, I should have my anklebones shaved down. Is that even an actual procedure?

I arrived in Noosa yesterday and I have to admit I am none too impressed. I didn’t even enjoy the bus ride to Noosa because the bus had assigned seats. Assigned seats on a bus is practically unheard of. At first, I thought I was lucky enough that my designated seat had an empty next to it, but a latecomer entered the bus, heading straight for me, and dashed that dream.

I’m currently staying in Noosaville, the western cousin of the main area, Noosa Heads. My hostel is very out of the way and the first word that came to mind when I saw my room was penitentiary. It was quite a difference from the roomy double bed and cheerful yellow walls I’d gotten used to in Brisbane. The rest of the hostel seems decent enough so I’ve been trying to stay out of my room as much as possible. However, I did notice that the hostel requires a deposit for any dishes and utensils you use – that’s even worse than prison. I liked my accommodation even less after I got lost on the way back from my trek to Woolworth’s. Granted it was my fault that I didn’t look at the street name as I left, but the hostel should at least have a sign pointing you in the right direction. All of the streets look the same; surely I can’t be the only one who passes it by without a second glance. I was originally going to stay in Noosa for 5 days because friends had raved about it, but I decided to only stay 3 and move on from there. If I hadn’t prepaid and received a discounted rate for a 3-night stay, I might have even considered staying only 2 and hightailing it to Rainbow Beach, my next destination.

There’s something that I noticed from my time in Australia, and in New Zealand as well, that I didn’t really think about until my fish and chip dinner last night. After placing and receiving my order sans any kind of dip, I went to the counter to ask for ketchup and tartar sauce and saw a sign that read “All Sauces $1.00.” I had seen it before in other fish and chip shops but this time it really annoyed me. Is there a dearth of ketchup or tartar sauce in these countries that they feel the need to deter its use by actually charging people for it? Is it fair for people to suffer through dry fish and chips because these establishments are too cheap to give out sauces that obviously enhance the meals? It amazes me that they have the audacity to charge you for something that shouldn’t even have to be asked for. It’s standard practice in the U.S. to provide patrons with whatever dipping sauces suite their tastes. It probably won’t happen before I leave the country, but I sincerely hope that Australia catches wind of the trend: Don’t deprive your customers of basic accoutrements.