Life in the tropics

Yesterday it was 13 degrees in Melbourne.  It was 33 degrees in Darwin.  It is much the same story today, except three degrees cooler in Melbourne.  Yesterday I sat outside a cafe on the edge of the Smith Street Mall  and ate lunch.  Nearby a man dressed in a collared shirt talked too loudly on his mobile phone.  I wonder if he's a minder for a politician as the conversation moves to management of Twitter, Facebook and media dates.  The name "Warren" is mentioned, so it's either Warren Snowden, Member for Lingiari (ALP) or Warren Truss, leader of the National Party.  I shudder as I realise that I was him a few years ago.

Politics seems a long way away as I enjoy a day off, even though Darwin is synonymous with politics for me.  As I move around the city I recall the long days of campaigning in the 2007 election.  Streets are familiar and I know I must have door knocked particular houses.

I restrain my attraction to brightly coloured clothes in tropical prints and Balinese batik, reminding myself that I live in Melbourne.  

Yarnbomb! Darwin
© divacultura 2013

I noticed a tree in the Smith Street Mall has been yarn bombed, including a cheeky caterpillar and reflect that you'd have to do something with your knitting up here - too hot to wear it!

It's a beautiful time of year up here.  The air is dry and warm.  The skies endlessly blue.  The mornings and evenings are gorgeous.  This morning, I woke just before dawn with a breeze blowing through the wall of louvers in my bed room.  Palm trees planted close to the house combined with the sound of unfamiliar birds give the feeling of being somewhere in the jungle.  What a beautiful environment in which to surface to consciousness. 

I took my friend for dinner at Stokes Hill Wharf to take in my final night in Darwin.  The boats out in the harbour shone their lights and the water changed colour as the sun set.  We ate oysters so fresh they tasted of the sea, barramundi and prawns.  It was dark when we left and the place was still crowded with people.

Whenever I come to Darwin I find the place so appealing.  The lifestyle feels more laid back and the tropical weather lends an air of permanent holidays.  Thinking about winter back home in Melbourne, I feel the lure.  Then I hear about rents and remember the cost of living and the distance from everywhere and remember what the build up to the wet season is like.  I wonder whether I can find a way to work here during the dry season and be in Melbourne for the rest of the year?  That would be ideal.

Night sky from Stokes Hill Wharf, Darwin
© divacultura 2013

Hot night in the city

Twenty-eight degrees Celsius at 10:05pm.  It's going to be one of those long sleepless nights that feels like day with the curtains drawn.  The sheets on the bed will be hot.  I'll put some spearmint oil into the diffuser to cool things down and read my book until I fall asleep, which will be god-knows-when.

The hot cup  of tea I'm drinking is surprisingly refreshing.  They say that about tea.  I can drink it and drink it and drink it, regardless of the weather.  A bit like a good hot Indian curry - the best thing of all to eat in really hot weather.

It feels like the tropics tonight. A few things are missing.  The sound of air conditioners providing the bass drone to accompany the chirruping of the crickets.  The smell of jasmine hanging in the air.  It wasn't even there earlier, at dusk.  A translucent gecko running up the wall to decorate the area just below the architrave.  The dentist's drill whirr of mosquitoes. I don't mind about that one missing.

To escape the heat I went to a 5pm movie.  (Also justified by the lack of a television at the moment and it's cheap Tuesday.)  I love the lingering coolness of my skin after I being held in refrigeration for a couple of hours.  It's not lingering anymore.

My ears feel hot.  My skin feels tacky. My eyes feel squinty.  My feet feel swollen. My eye lids are sweaty.

I'm going to have an icy cold shower and lie in front of the fan.  Like a line of toothpaste squeezed onto the brush.  Inert. Waiting...

The Bureau says (I love that term, "the Bureau", sounds terribly official) there are storms coming and temperature will drop when they arrive.  I expect that I will have just succumbed to sleep when they hit.  I may not notice.  I received a telephone call on my mobile the other morning at 3am and didn't notice a thing.

Hope I didn't answer.