5-8-2002

Of Biker Babes and Couch Potatoes

Two months into my Australian adventure and I've finally lost that feeling that I have to spend every free afternoon going out sightseeing, although there are plenty of places left for me to see. I haven't seen Manly or Coogee or been to the Blue Mountains yet, but the regular hot spots around town are losing their lustre. Even the Darling Harbour that used to so excite me now just rates a "meh" on my enthusiasm scale.

I think those two weeks with Luke mellowed out the tourist in me, and turned me into more of a traveler. Thanks for that, babe. It's as though I'm finally enjoying the experience of just being in another culture, without having to actively search it out, photograph it and take notes. I'm appreciating the little things, like grocery shopping and picking up a new bus pass; things that I would do back home, but that are slightly different here.

So this Sunday full of lounging was self-indulgent and lazy, but it was also a necessity after a Saturday that was full of new, frightening, and slightly deadly experiences. My friend Paulo called to say he had been given free passes to a wine tasting expo at Fox Studios. It's the largest wine tasting event in Australia and import/export types from all over the world come to try out the hundreds of labels available.

I'm not much of a wine drinker, (I couldn't tell you a sav blanc from a pinot) but it was free and I figured there had to be some pretty good cheese as well, so I agreed to join him. Just before he hung up he said, "I'm taking the bike, so wear something windproof."

Bike? Windproof? Meh.

I've never ridden a motorcycle. Well, once when I was really little I rode with my cousin, Steve, but that was in the country, not in the busy city streets where there are plenty of other vehicles to smash into. I wasn't even sure if I could ride on a bike. I'm not the most agile person (as demonstrated by my fall down the stairs a couple of weeks ago), and I wasn't sure how you stayed on a bike. Was it just a matter of gravity doing its thing? There's no seat belt to hold you in, so what's to keep you from being blown right off in a heavy wind? It all seemed a little suspect to me.

I didn't want to look like a wussy girl and say that I didn't want to ride on the bike though, so I put on jeans, black boots, and my leather jacket, figuring that I could at least look like someone who knew how to ride a motorcycle. Paulo did say that I was dressed for the part, even if I had no idea what I was doing.

This evening was not a date, but guys, if you think that taking a girl on a motorcycle is a great way to get a little closer, think again. Some girls might get a thrill out of swooshing between cars, knees occasionally brushing a side-view mirror, but in the end you wind up with flat helmet hair, a runny nose from the wind, a sore butt if you're going any distance at all, and you can't even talk to each other. I don't think I'm very high maintenance when it comes to dating, but I at least like to be able to turn on a radio, talk about my day, and look my man in the eye for more effective flirting. Also, in a car you can make out at red lights. It's a definite perk.

At first it was a very weird sensation not to be belted in to anything, or have anything around me but air. No windows, no dashboard, no seatback to lean into. After I got the hang of the turns, and felt more confident that the bike wasn't going to topple over just by changing lanes, I felt a little calmer. I almost started to enjoy the whole freedom of being able to cruise ahead of the lines of cars waiting at a long light. Still, I couldn't completely shake the feeling that with the wrong move, I would die a horribly violent and splattery death.

The wine expo offered great people watching, some tasty wine (we stuck to the ports), and sure enough, various exotic cheeses. Leaving the expo, we sped through the streets like greased lightening because the traffic was much lighter. My life flashed before my eyes in the moments that they weren't squeezed shut, and I knew that at these speeds I wouldn't even be a splatter so much as a bloody skid mark on the pavement. We made it safely to the party where I was meeting Lori though, and I wasn't disappointed to split a cab home with her at the end of the night.

After a night of extreme transportation, my quiet Sunday afternoon was perfect. The winter chill finally left the air and our house was cozy and bright. I sat in the living room, typing on my borrowed laptop and listening to Beth Orton, Ben and Melissa's favorite new CD. Ben was in the back garden with a friend, working on Melissa's Vespa, and a gorgeous roast dinner was steaming and simmering away in the kitchen.

That evening we gathered around the living room coffee table, a makeshift little family. On my scale of enjoyment and happiness, having a quiet evening in with my flatmates rates far above "meh." Too bad you can't put it in a travel guide.