Venturing into Brisbane.

I don't like Brisbane. I keep saying this & I keep landing in this dullest of cities. Brisbane lovers say how livable it is (if you like being slowly simmered in a humidifier), how cosmoploitan it's become (where have they travelled?), How pretty (Hmmm...). The river is as brown & sluggish as the Yarra (Melbourne's river) & the place is a maze of one way streets. OK, you have the picture. I just don't like the place, being a Sydney girl myself & having absolutely no sense of direction.


So Thursday we were on our way into Newstead. I did consider driving in ~ briefly! A passing moment of madness. Instead we opted for the train. Now Sydney gripes about its public transport fully as much as Brisbane does but I have never been thrown of a train that said it was going my way as often or as regularly as when I travel Brisbane rail! One stop short of our destination we were racing up stairs & down stairs to make our connection. Moving at speed is not Ditz's thing but panic is. Not a good combination! I was getting rattled having opted for a mud map instead of dragging the refedex with us. Why do I do these things?

Now I know so little about my own capital city (I know. I know. Please, no lectures.) That I didn't even know that Brunswick street is the wineing & dining centre of Brisbane. It was simply the street that was going to get me to where I was going. On the map it looked about a 10 minute walk. Half an hour later Ditz was convinced I'd lost her in the middle of Brisbane beyond all hope of redemption. 'How can I be lost,' I snapped, 'when we're walking a grid?' Blank look from my beloved child. I explained grids & why I was walking one; so that we wouldn't get lost!

All this for a 2 hour master class with David Kidd. When I recover my equilibrium & get over the migraine I may consider it worth it. At present what looms large in my mind is the class running overtime & me with one eye on the clock knowing it's an hour on the train, 20 minutes in the car & if I am lucky enough to get a 9pm train heading south that will barely get us on the last boat home. There are days when living on an island is sooo much fun!

I hurtled out the door at a brisk trot my reluctant child trailing in my wake but sharing how tight out time restrictions were was definitely not advisable. I had a full head of steam up & was hooting along, Ditz huffing & puffing in my wake. Every set of lights she caught up as we wove our way through the city's night life revellers. Ditz had her big boots on so I could hear her clumping along behind me.

There were, with Anzac day & dawn services the following morning, police everywhere, which was reassuring despite mobs of inebriated young men milling about aimlessly & Ditz, who doesn't like Brisbane either, was keeping me close. Just the same, we were waiting at the last set of lights when glancing at Ditz I noticed a little white haired old man trying to hit on my daughter. Now I know Ditz is tall & well developed & carries herself like a queen but for crying out loud she is 12 years old! She dresses like she's 12. She dresses modestly. She's not allowed make~up. She was a kid wearing a back~pack & carrying a flute! Ditz moved a little closer & I put a hand protectively on her shoulder & the creep took one horrifed look at my *mummy tiger* face & hurridly backed off. I was looking round for one of the prolific coppers.

There were hordes of them at the train station nabbing fare evaders & under age binge drinkers & the rail guard hearded everyone into the first 3 carriages & patroled those 3 carriages constantly, which made me feel a whole lot better as the rails don't have a particularly good reputation.

We arrived at the jetty to find the boats were 1/2 an hour behind schedule & we finally arrived home about midnight 14 hours after we left. Given how awful I felt last night I feel pretty good this morning. Another day & I might actually feel like it was worth it.