I will admit, I was nervous.  Very nervous.

My family, my brother, sister-in-law, and my nieces were due into town in a couple of hours, and I was contemplating what could possibly go wrong.  I will admit, the planning had not been smooth, my style and my brother’s style of planning vacations, especially a vacation like this - one that would mark their first stop outside of the United States, was probably a little nerve wracking for them.

They had anxiously gotten their passports months ago, they had carefully booked their flights to Australia, they carefully weighed their luggage and prepared to set off into the bright blue yonder.

My nieces admitted to being nervous.  My Dad, their Grandfather, didn’t help things when one of them asked him, “What happens if the plane crashes?”

And he replied, “You probably won’t even know when it happens.”

I think that Dad laughed heartily.  Tom, Mary, Abby and Sarah laughed a little nervously.

But one way or another, by hook or by crook, they were winging their way across the south Pacific, past Hawaii and Fiji, on their way to Sydney, then down to Melbourne.

I will admit, I wanted them to see the positive side of Australia.  I had been telling stories of the glories of the country, the flora and fauna, and above all else, the people.  This would be the first test of my honesty.

And while I have been honest, there is also no doubt that things are, well, different.  The roads are different, the cars are different, the food is different, the language (while still English…the Australian’s would argue American’s haven’t spoken English in years), the way of life is different, the culture, the fabric of society is very different.

But I hoped that they would be able to see that despite all of those differences, the same basic goodness of people, the same basic values of humans, the genuineness of the people still reigned supreme.

But I was nervous…it is easy to get bogged down in the differences.

I hurriedly prepared their apartment (loaned from a friend) and left for the airport.

Only to receive the call…they had missed their flight from Sydney to Melbourne and would be showing up a couple of hours late….They were calling me from a pay phone, so no worries, they were all fine and would see me in a couple of hours.

As I hung up the phone, the relief on the my face from the thought of having a little extra time to get their apartment ready was replaced with a little look of horror…what was their flight number again?

 Melvin had arrived in Australia back the end of February.  He was here for a sixty day assignment.  That first weekend, we saw some of the sights around Melbourne.  The second weekend, we took off into the countryside.

Over the course of the next six months (of his sixty day assignment), we drive hundreds of miles through the Australian countryside, make trips to Tasmania and New Zealand, and see dozens of Australian animals in their native habitat.

We had dozens of meals.  Trying Greek, Italian, steak, and a lot of pub grub.  We drank hundreds of beers (never at one sitting) and toured more than two dozen wineries.  We talked sports, women, life, careers, and compared and contrasted life in Australia versus back home.

He became a trusted friend and advisor, and a great traveling companion.  It is always better to explore with someone else, and Melvin and I had a lot in common.  Both country boys from the Midwest.  Both attended Big 10 schools.  Both still love the outdoors.  Usually on each adventure, we’d each pick some spots.  I usually insisted on a hike or two, Melvin would insist on a winery or two.  Melvin could also talk to anyone about anything, something that an introvert like me at awe…and it usually ended up in some pretty entertaining conversations.

Traveling with Melvin, I did things I wouldn’t have ordinarily have done.  Jumping off a bridge, hitting on a few girls at a bar in rural Gippsland, stopping at a winery that had sheep grazing on the driveway, body surfing in the Pacific, eating in some dodgy places where we always got a great meal.

His sixty day assignment (about six months in) was coming to an end.  He needed to make it back to his wife and home back in the US.  In celebration, we ate Greek one last time.  Enjoying the delicacies that I didn’t know existed prior to the culinary education that Melvin provided, especially saganaki.  We ordered a bottle of Greek wine (it is cheap…but not so good), and topped the grilled platter off with some of the best baklava that I’ve ever had (hand made by the owners mother who was ninety years old).

I will admit, I was going to miss Melvin, but I was happy that he was making it back to his wife and home.  He didn’t leave me empty handed either, the time and experience had changed me, I was a little bolder, a little more outspoken, and a little more likely to try some place that I normally wouldn’t.

Happy trails Melvin - and thanks for the memories!

 Melvin and I had met Rob soon after we both arrived in Australia.  He was a good bloke who invited us out for a visit.  It seemed like every weekend that worked for him, didn’t work for Melvin or I.  Finally, with Melvin’s time in Australia winding down, we had to take him up on it.  Two farm boys can’t pass up an opportunity to view cattle and open fields.  Given the choice between visiting an exotic location (Adelaide?  Tasmania?  Bisbane?  Sydney?) or a farm, there was just no choice, you had to visit the local farm.  To see the cattle, to inspect the fields, to view the countryside, to smell the earth.

Rob had confessed that he had a few horses and a couple of cattle when he told me he lived on a farm out in the country.

After church, with a slightly sore head from the night before, and with the help of my trusty GPS, we made our way through the Australian countryside.

It was a great drive, through the hills, valley’s and trees of rural Australia.  The countryside was lush and green.

We had a bit of a challenge tracking the place down, finally making a call and getting the directions again (we had missed the part about having to open up the gate) and found ourselves next to a nice house on top of a hill that commanded a view of the valley below.  Small groups of horses grazed in the paddocks surrounding the house.  A big passel of canines rushed up to greet us.

In some ways, it was just like going home!

“G’day!” Rob shouted at us as we made our way out of the car. “You found it!”

Soon we were engaged in deep conversation about cattle, horses, and the surrounding countryside.  We got a walking tour of the property, looking at horses, at the grazing cattle way down in the valley, Rob standing at the crest of the hill, between his house and barn, pointing out the places of interest - the pastures, the neighbors, the dams, the wild woods, the places where the bush fires burst over the horizon.

We made the way to his barn where his daughter and a foreign exchange student where riding horses.  Rob’s daughter gave us a top notch demonstration is jumping and riding, then we inspected the barn - more of a first rate cabin (they had lived in the barn on the weekends before buying the neighboring house).

Then we hopped in our car and drove the surrounding countryside.  Through the trees, following the canals, and through the pastures and past the farmsteads.  Take away the trees and the hills and add a little polka music, it would have been just like one of our Sunday afternoon crop tours back home.

We were getting near supper time, so with a quick stop at the house to pick up his daughter and the exchange student, we headed to a local winery for a bit to eat and glass of wine.

The winery was busy.  We grabbed a bottle, a platter of cheese, and some soft drinks for the kids, we went out onto the back patio in the chilly winter air.  It was a brilliant day, almost like a nice fall day back home, with intermittent sunshine and temps around 50F.

We ate and drank and visited.  Sharing stories and tales until a table inside was ready (and just before the rain hit).

Over a meal of pizza and wine, our conversation continued, and ironically enough, Rob’s son was our waiter, which added not only great service, but a little bit of family antics as well (all very professional).

Soon, we were on our way out the door, both because Melvin and I had to get back, but also because Rob’s son had to get to his second job.  So we were off crammed into our car…four of us smushed into the back.

It is under times of duress that you learn the true character of people, and I’m not sure that a fifteen minute car ride rammed in the back seat of a car can be called a time of duress, but let me tell you, riding with Rob’s kids leaves me secure in the thought that our world is in good hands with the next generation.  They were friendly, cheerful, respectful, and pretty obviously hard working (the daughter had to get home for chores, the son needed to get to the second job).

Dropping Rob off at home, his wife and other daughter were now home, so we stopped for a chat before finally heading back to Melbourne.

Another good weekend with great people.

 There was a small pack of us on the nice winter afternoon in Melbourne that were going to go and enjoy a game of local footy.  This would be my third local game, my tenth footy game period.

It was good to go with company.  Melvin, my fellow American traveler, and Mick, a New South Waler originally, more of a rugby man then footy, but we were hoping to see fellow friend Tom play on his teams home turf.

We weren’t disappointed.

Fashionably late as per normal, we showed at the footy field about five minutes into the first quarter.  The field was impressive - set in a grass bowl next with mature trees and a hill on one side and the Yarra River on the other, the field, while slightly muddy, was in good condition.  A big two story club house (lockers on the bottom, big club room with balcony and bar) on the second.

It was good to watch it was a native Australian, even though Mick claimed to be a footy novice, he knew a lot more about the game then Melvin or I, so we managed to learn a lot sitting on the hillside, looking over the game.

Tom and team played well the first half, though they were down on the scoreboard, it was a hotly contested game.  It was about the end of the second quarter that Tom limped off the field.  A pulled hamstring was the diagnosis.  It would leave Tom hobbled for the rest of the game.

We grabbed a meat pie and a coke at half time and looked over the field where the kids played as the teams were getting their pep talk in the locker room.

We hoped our teams coach was more motivating then the other guy.

Tom joined us on the balcony for the second half, limping around, as we watched his team play the other neck and neck.  But in the end, a victory was just not to be.  Our team once again walked off the field with their head held high, but just a couple of points shy of a victory.

“You guys might as well stick around for a beer or two.” Tom offered.

Who were we to pass up a beer or two.

Soon, we were meeting Tom’s parents and girlfriend.  Then some of his footy team mates, most of them good farm boys like Mick, Melvin and myself.  We talked farming, dairy cattle, wheat prices, commodity funds, and differencing in farming practices.

The club president stood up to say that all proceeds from beer sales would go right into the footy club’s coffers.  And there would be free food.

That’s it, we had to drink for the footy club.

Soon, we were in a shout (a round of drinks) that just didn’t seem to end.  But that was ok, we were drinking for the club.

And the food, the food was fantastic.  Pizza, sausage rolls, meat pies - seemingly mountains of food.  And quite frankly, we were a bit amazed as Melvin continued to downed the food, seemingly with little regard for the grease that made them taste so darn good.

Finally, with the promised women never showing up, and firmly beyond our limits…we left for a bar…

Mick being the smart one of the bunch, headed for home.

I will admit, my rum and coke poured very well…right into Melvin’s glass…

I had it.

We were ready to head home.  Saying a firm and sincere thank you to Tom, Melvin and I grabbed a cab.  Looking out the window, while we were feeling no pain, we were not as bad as the girl squatting on the sidewalk…taking care of her full bladder.

The next morning, a little sore, Melvin and I met up for our next adventure.

“I’m moving a little slow today.” I commented.

“Really?  I’m fine!” Melvin commented, annoyingly perky. “With all that food that I ate, I didn’t feel a thing!”

Next time…I need to have more food.

 Driving through the Australian countryside and listening to the radio on election day, a Saturday, I had the opportunity to listen to interviews with each of the candidates.  Generally light hearted affairs.  But what was amazing is that one of the radio personalities was able to rattle of the Liberal’s agenda by heart during the interview.

Watching the results come in on Saturday night, the nation seemed dumbfounded.  The Liberals were not only doing well, they were closing the gap.  The Labor Party, while winning in some marginal areas, were losing some seats that they believed safe.

The anchor people, the ones that had been mocking Tony Abbott only months (or days) earlier, were show a mix of confusion, anxiety, and pure old fashioned shock.

The interviews of people at each respective party’s election party were extreme. 

At the Labor Party in Melbourne, there was shock, there was open criticism of the leadership, people felt hurt that the voters would do what they did, but also that the leadership let them swing in the wind…sending money to the wrong places, focusing on the wrong things.

At the Liberal Party in Sydney, it was the exact opposite.  While they weren’t expected to win, at the time, they knew they were going to put a serious dent in the Labor Party’s power.  People were ecstatic.  They complimented their leaders.  They repeated their message.

When the smoke cleared on Sunday morning, Australia had a caretaker government.  With seventy-six members to claim victory, the Labor Party had seventy-two to the Liberal Party’s seventy-three.  There is one Green Party member, and the rest Independents.

The country is in shock.  They don’t have a government that can churn out policy.  Only one that

For an American, it is both interesting and humorous to see the process take place - to see the peaks and troughs over the last ten months on the ground.  To see, with objective eyes, how the process works, to see how the candidates fared, to see where they did well, and where they fell down.

How did Abbott shake the Australian political world?

First, he made sure that the Liberal Party messages were clear, concise, and consistent.  He used simple language effectively.  He made their policies clear so that everyone could understand.

Second, he was consistent in what he said.  His campaign had four points.  You might not like them, but you knew what you were going - there were four very clear points on what they were targeting.

Finally, he knew that all the campaigns were local.  Yes, he was out and about as much as Julia, but while there needed to be a unifying message, there were very few ‘Tony Abbott’ signs through the country, for the most part, he let the candidates run with their pictures, their names.

I’m sure that people in Australia will talk about this election for years to come, much as we in the states talk about our exciting campaigns.  But it is exciting to view it from the lens of a third party foreigner who remembers when the man who ran the campaign was only recently written off as the ‘Mad Monk.’  Maybe a little mad, a little crazy…just like fox.

 Tony Abbott and Liberal Party stayed on message.  In addition to attacking the Labor government for their failings, they had a four point plan on what they would do if they were elected.

Not that the Liberal Party stood a snowballs chance in Queensland.  They were still the laughingstock of the political process.  Abbott was still the Mad Monk.

Prime Minister Gillard came out of the box roaring.  It was time to get all of the nastiest of the prior business behind them.  It was time to move forward.  And she meant it.  So much so that she said ‘Moving Forward’ forty-nine times in her election announcement and additional twenty-nine times in the question and answer period.

Needless to say, it both quite funny, as well as panned by the critics.

Tony Abbott on the other hand, was underwhelming as well.  He said nothing new.  Just the same criticisms and the same four points.

The Labor Party put their Prime Minister front and center.  During the five weeks of the campaign, I traveled through Victoria, New South Wales, and Queensland.  Everywhere you went, there were pictures of Julia.  Everywhere.  Where there was a local Liberal Party candidate’s picture on a sign, next to it was a sign with Julia.

The Labor Party seemed intent on making the campaign about national politics.  The Liberal Party was running their local candidates with a consistent message.  Melbourne was the perfect example - on one building was a big picture of Julia Gillard with a Labor slogan…on another building, overlooking Federation Square, was a simple message, “Today, Labor Will Spend Another $100,000,000.”

Two weeks before the election, the polls, surprisingly, were neck and neck.  While the papers like to look at the fact that more people would like Julia for their Prime Minister, fewer brought up the fact that they were behind in many of the swing districts.

At the debate, neither candidate clearly won or lost, which means it had a bigger boost for the candidate that had the most to prove.  Abbott was looking better and better.

In the few days running up into the election, many people expected the Liberal Party to do well.  While they were starting seventeen seats behind, the prevailing wisdom was that they would be able to close the gap to as few as ten.  Gaining seven seats in an election where only eight months before you were a laughingstock would be seen as quite an achievement.

The day before the election, no one was laughing.  There was an outside chance, a slim chance, that with the Independent candidates expected to win, the margin might be so thin that neither side would win.  The markets discounted it.  The media speculated in some amusement about it.

Australia headed to the polls.

 It was after the Cap and Trade defeat that something strange started to happen in Australian politics….people listened.

The opinion polls started to show a shift.  The people started to look at the proposals, the pro’s and the con’s.  Within two months, the Cap and Trade legislation was on the back burner.

The Liberals found their voice.

Then Abbott suggested paid parental leave for fathers.  The press had field day.  The Liberal party lambasted it.  People laughed at the proposal.  Who would pay for it?  The policy was dead…but it got people’s attention…it was a fresh idea.

The Liberal Party started hitting, and pulling the curtain back on some of the policy items that the Labor Party would rather have less hidden.  The stimulus package that the Labor government instituted to help lift the country out of recession had items like school buildings…which were proved to be extremely wasteful (like building subpar buildings at three times the normal cost) or dangerous (home insulation to help curb global warming…but that burst into flame instead).

Then came the mining tax.  The Labor Party thought it best to impose a 40% tax on mining company revenues.  They were, after all, mining the people’s resources (even though they had already paid for the mineral rights).  And they could afford to pay.

But when most of the job growth, most of the wealth, most of the employment in large parts of the country is based on mining, is it right to bit the hand that feeds you?  Soon, most major mining companies where pulling out of projects and looking to spend their investment money elsewhere.

The country was looking at losing billions and billions of dollars in investments.

The Labor Party went on the defensive, while the Liberal Party continued to stay on message.  The opinion polls started to shift.  The Labor Party started to splinter.

Two months ago, in a midnight meeting, Kevin Rudd, the Prime Minister, almost monarch of Australia, the man that had lead the Labor Party out of the proverbial wilderness, the man orchestrated the Labors return to power only three years in power…was knifed in the back by his cabinet and party leaders.

The Mad Monk had them on the run.

While Kevin was shown the door and thanked for his time of service…the second in command, and one of the people that helped show Kevin the door was sworn in as the new Labor Party head, and the new Prime Minister - Julia Gillard.

The press loved her.  The first female Prime Minister.  The second red head.  One of the few to take over from a party coup.  And it seemed that she could do no wrong.

In short order, she cleared up the mining tax issue.  She ticked the box on a couple of other key issues.

She called an election.

 I’m no political novice.  When living in the states, I attended most of the local caucuses, more than a few county conventions, a district convention or two, and even made it to a state party convention back in my home state of Minnesota.  I belong to a couple of political lobbying groups, a few social political groups, and still send money back to candidates in the states.

It is interesting to have witnessed the political process that has gripped Australia over the last ten months that I’ve been here.

A bit of a primer - the Australian government is set up like the British government (heck, they share a queen).  It consists of a Parliament with an upper and a lower house.  The upper house, the Senate, has few members and must approve all legislation.  The lower house of Parliament is not only bigger, but is also where the Prime Minister resides.  Whoever is the leader of the party in charge is the Prime Minister.

Ten months ago, when my plane touched down, the Labor Party, politically, the left leaning party in Australia, was firmly in control.  The Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, seemed to be ruling from a position of strength, seemingly looking down from his throne and making his political will come to life.

In short, since their election in 2007 (”Kevin in ‘07) the Labor Party seemed to be firmly in control of the political process.

And the Liberals (the right leaning political party) was in shambles.  They were in fighting, backstabbing, and trying to decide if they should support some of the Labor Party policies.  It was then that the Liberal leader decided that he was going to support Labor’s Cap and Trade system - a program devised to curb global warming, but that in truth, did little to help the core problem, except add additional costs onto the average citizens.

The Liberal Party, not willing to go so far against their roots, dumped their leader and in their place, elected Tony Abbott.

The press had a field day.

The Liberal Party was in disarray as it was, just when they were coming to their senses about Cap and Trade (the press was overwhelming in favor of it), they dumped their leader and put this man in charge?  Tony Abbott was pillared for his views and parodied for, first, wearing a Speedo at the beach, and second, going to church on Sunday’s and expressing his faith (his nick name…the Mad Monk).

Kevin Rudd had to be happy.  The opinion polls showed the Labor Party firmly in command of the situation, the Cap and Trade scheme was extremely popular, the Mad Monk was in charge of the opposition.

That was eight months ago.

The press had a field day with the whole situation.  But something strange started to happen.  The Liberal Party seemed to get much less fractured.  The newspapers continued to run their favorite pictures of Tony Abbott leaving church, or Tony Abbott in his Speedo at the beach, but next to his picture, they would print what he had to say.  The Liberal Party, the party that seemed so fractured and frayed, seemed to get a message.  They hit the streets, talking about the dangers of Cap and Trade, about the harm to the economy, about how no other country on the planet was considering what they were doing, because it would destroy the manufacturing base.

 I love home.  The flat land of northern Minnesota, right on the edge of Red River Valley.  There is something about the hot humid summers and the bitter cold, snowy winters.  It makes a man a man.  It makes you appreciate life.  It makes you appreciate the Blessing of family and friends.

My life, my personality, has been forged there.  The story of my life is woven in the land where I worked the land, herded cows, watched my mother and grandparents buried, held my godsons as they were baptized, where I scraped my knees.

But my life has also been forged in my travels.  In my youth, I checked out every book in the community library about other countries.  My folks had a bit of a traveling bug - my Dad spending time in the army during the Korean War and my mother being happy to tell us stories about her trip to Canada so long ago.

I’ve been lucky enough to travel too.  I can tell you the first time I rode an escalator.  The first time that I’ve seen the ocean.  The first time I left Minnesota or North Dakota.  Seeing the world is still a bit surreal.  My passport has the stamp of over a dozen countries, and sometimes I have to pinch myself when I realize that I’m living on the far side of the world.

Part of living overseas is the benefit of seeing and experiencing different things and different people.  Say what you will about Australia, but it is in many ways, not at all like home. The animals, the landscape, the cities and towns are very different then those that I grew up with.

But in many ways, it is also very similar.  Especially the people.  It consistently amazes me that regardless where I go in the world, the people are genuinely good.  The country changes, the politics change, the economy changes, but everywhere I’ve been, each place has their fair share of good people.  There are going to be people that don’t like you.  But for every one that hates you, there is a host that enjoy what you bring.

To be clear - there are very good people here.

Regardless where you go, the culture is going to be different, but different doesn’t mean bad.  It forces people to view the world, their lives, and their place in it in a different light.  It forces people to open their minds, open their views, and open their hearts…or to close them down and become bitter.

For the last ten months, I’ve lived in Australia.  I’ve enjoyed the experience.  For regular readers, they know that I’ve written volumes about the experience.  And that I’ve enjoyed it.

My time here is not done.  There is a host of things that I would like to accomplish personally and professionally.  As much as I miss my family and my friends, today, this is where I belong.

Recently, I had a very difficult choice to make - I had a host of options in front of me, most of which that would lead me closer to home…some that would, for a time, leave me far away.

I chose, for the time being, the one farther away.

For those that haven’t guessed, I’ve committed to staying here in Australia for the next year or two.  I’ve got a fair amount to grow, a fair amount to develop, a fair amount to learn.  I will miss my family and friends, but this isn’t permanent.  It is only one more step in this pilgrimage we call life.

 ”How would you blokes like to go up to the Pyrenees’ Wine Region tomorrow?” Ian asked Melvin and I.

Never one to pass up an experience to mix with the local culture, and always enjoying the time with Ian, it was an adventure we couldn’t pass up.

On that Sunday morning in July, that is how we ended up riding in Ian’s Holden, Melvin riding shotgun and myself with Ian’s dog Poncho riding in the back.  Heading for the area between Ballarat and Ararat, the area known as the Pyrenees’ wine region in the hill country, once better known for its gold then it wines.

It was a good trip up through the Victorian countryside, talking about the footy game from the night before, going through the latest in Australian politics, and getting a good dose of Australian knowledge from our local friend and guide.

Our first stop was at Ian’s brother’s to drop off the dog.  I will admit, like most things in Australia, looks are deceiving.  From the outside, the house looked, well, modest.  Single story, corrugated metal siding - with an extensive garage.  David, Ian’s brother, gave us a hearty welcome and invited us inside for a good cup of coffee - the house inside (designed and build by David) was impressive.  Wood floors, marble counters - but more importantly, the details were right, it was warm and inviting with an expansive view out over the hill country with cows grazing in the paddock.

After a good visit and a tour of the ‘shed’- the place the family called home while the house was being built (rustic, but also impressive - who would have guessed that you could finish off a home with the lumber from pallets…and make it look not just good, but great!).

Soon, we were off through the countryside, through the hills, valleys, pastures, and fields, making our way to a little bump in the road of a town, stopping at a local pub for the carvery…the carvery?  The carvery.

The pub served a full Sunday spread of roasted meats - beef and turkey, as well as a full assortment of vegetables.  Roast potatoes, pumpkins, corn, peas, and an assortment of other vittles.

It was great.

And for dessert - another new experience, the sticky date pudding.  I think both Melvin and Ian looked at me a little strange as I licked the plate…literally…clean (ok, I didn’t lick it, but there wasn’t a thing left on my plate when I was done).

Then, it was off to the wineries.

The first stop was Warrenmang Winery.  A great little winery - ok, not little, it was relatively big, with full accommodations.  We even got a personalized tour of the cellar (make sure you duck) and tasted some great wine.  Melvin and I indulged - we tried all that were offered and bought a couple of bottles.

Our second stop was the Summerfield Winery.  You could tell it was winter - with few people and a good fire in the little entry way.  We tried every wine offered and Ian and I took a punt (i.e. - a bet) on some clear skins…bottles with no labels, being offered cheap, and bought them untasted.

“Wine here is always good.” Ian explained (and he was proved right).

Our next stop…and the most interesting…was Eurabbie Estates…

Literally off the grids (the hum of a generator met us as we exited the car) and a huge enclosure housing some of Australia’s native dingo’s, you could already tell this place was, well eccentric.

The owner lumbered out to greet us and proceeded to pull out his best vintage for us to taste while regaling us with stories of puma’s (rumored to be set loose by American service men and now running wild through the hills), dingo’s (he is a worldwide expert in the field of wild canines), and wine.  The winery was simple, but appeared to be a place of a very literate man…books lined the walls, and the wine, especially the port, was very good.

The tasting was also very different….while most places put a little in the bottom of a glass and checked to make sure that you swirled and smelled and poked and prodded…here, the glass was filled to the brim and chugging seemed to be encouraged.

And the wine was very, very good.

As we were leaving, we were treated to a simple toot of a car horn…which promptly set the dingo’s off howling - a fascinating experience for someone that has heard the cry of both coyotes and wolves.

Finally, we were off to St. Ignatius, the last of the day - and perhaps the best wine of the day as well.  Australian wines tend to have a very bold taste…this did not…it had a very fine finish…

I’m from Argentina.” The owner explained, And like the classic European finish.”

With that (and with a good dose of wine in the truck) we were back to pick up Poncho and head for home.

David met us with another hearty welcome.  And it was clear; this wasn’t going to be a quick stop for Poncho and back on the road.  Melvin and I, having tasted wine all day were feeling no pain and were too polite to refuse the beers when offered, soon found ourselves surrounded by Ian, David, and their family…eating supper, harassing each other about our respective footy teams, commenting on the respective wines (three bottles down) and the joys of the Australian countryside and sharing stories from back home.

 I slept on the way back to Melbourne.  It was a good sleep.  Part of it was the wine, but a bigger part was the satisfaction of spending time with good people.  I continue to tell folks back home that where ever you go in the world, good people can be found.  It was once again proven over a bottle of wine a good home cooked meal in the country outside of Ballarat.