Die Autobahn hat kein tempo limit

Ich höre, aber ich spreche nicht
Ich fahre, aber ich sehe nicht
Die Autobahn hat kein tempo limit

Hier, kann ich nicht fliegen, aber ich bin frei
Da ist kein rechts, und kein links
Nur geradeaus, immer geradeaus

Ich tanze Bilder
Ich spreche mit einem Lied
Meine Kunst hat auch kein tempo limit!

Das Bett ist kaputt, aber die Matratze ist in Ordnung
Die Tür ist auch kaputt, aber ich kann sie reparieren
Räder können gewechselt werden, Windschutzscheiben können geputzt werden

Ich habe viele Dinge kaputt gemacht
Und ich habe geweint
Aber fahre ich jetzt, fahren, nur fahren…

Croatian Spaceships

L's World Portugal

My Entire life flashes before my eyes, not.
OK so I peeled off my L plates in Australia for automatic vehicles just over two months ago and now I find myself driving on the right side of the road in a rented manual not in my name in a very narrow (we're talking like South European standard narrow) street in a country town in Portugal. I take out the windscreen wiper of a parked car, the entire rubbish content festering in the curb and narrowly miss the two old ladies in cute little aprins sitting at the end of the curb selling lottery and scratchy tickets. My travel buddy screams '' LEFT! LEFT!'' , I say '' ops'' quite calmly cos I do that a lot at home. The plastic shield on the front right wheel is nicely scratched like the ticket I could have bought from the little old ladies, and looks slightly munted like my Form Two metal work assignment. That's all... like, the tire is still on. I'm fucked. Or my credit card is.

How I got myself into the situation at the first place
So I went halves with this Mad American Alcoholic who wears Aviators who is very Delightful (MAAAD) staying at the same hostel in Porto on this rental car so we could go check out the vineyards, cute little towns and beautiful bush and wildlife and so forth in Douro Valley, along the Douro River, which stretched about 200km from the sea from the merchant town of Porto all the way to the Spanish boarder eastwards. We set off very happily into the unknown in the chirpy little car we rented.

So lets distract myself a bit
Porto is of course famous for its port and the Douro Valley region is the worlds premiere port growing region because of the landscape, climate, and special soil. The shist is a rock which exists uniquely in Douro Valley. It absorbs heat from sunlight during the day and gives out heat during the night, so it keeps the vines warm at night and keeps the grapes happy with producing sugar. Port is basically wine which isn't fully fermented, ie a lot of the sugar hasn't converted to alcohol yet, so its really sweet, and natural alcohol is added to stop the fermenting process.

Douro Valley is one gorgeously amazing spot. The valley cradling the river is lush, fertile and gets plenty of sun. There are hundreds of pretty little old towns all along the river and the view is magnificent, there are heaps of castles and ruins along the way. Having grown grapes for centuries, the terraces looked almost as if they are naturally that way. Traditionally the Portuguese transport the port in barrels in small boats down the river and into Porto for trading.

It was bloody annoying finding Pinhao, a small town where the vineyards another person at the hostel suggested we go check out, mainly cos the sign posts were confusing and irregular, and the speed signs kept on changing every 10 meters, so we had no idea whether we were speeding or not...

We were kept entertained by lots of interesting locals that carries axes on their shoulders and bundles of hay on their heads. There were also lots of tiny shrines devoted to Virgin Mary along these old roads, which the locals believe to protect travelers, so many ppl leave flowers and rosaries etc on the small statues or shrines to ask for blessing etc.

Yep, the port was fantastic, the portuguese chicken lathered in chili oi against the sunset at the beach was even better.

How I got myself out of the situation
All I'll say is that the woman serving us at the car rental place on the return appears to be really really hung over. We just walked out. HEH!! More port for me and the MAAAD!

Maiden (Bon) Voyage

Apparently its one of the top twenty things a person will never forget in their life - the first time they drove solo.

To cut a long story short I haven't been able to get hold of a vehicle my "licence class" could drive till yesterday, that's why I have been putting off my Maiden Voyage. But special thanks to Claire - my almost housemate and definitely friend, I have a little Mitzy till Tuesday night.

Apart from the fact that I left the hand breaks on till about 2 blocks down the road (I have to say its a pretty shit car so it was moving and all I thought was that the wheels felt like they were falling off) it was smooth as into Civic. And apart from failing to parallel park twice it wasn't really a big deal getting the shopping done - something I would have had to do on the bus or the bike before, and taken 3 times as long!!

I sat there in the car not having to ask the person next to me where they'd like to go, thinking, gosh, this is soooo amazing! Me and the world and off we go. Since I was in the area I thought I'd drop into my old neighbourhoods in the inner north for the last time.

So the Maiden Voyage was also a bit of a Bon Voyage. I knew these streets back to front, each tree and the colour they'd turn into each time this year. The same pot plants and deck chairs on people's patios, same cars parked outside, same art works on the same letterboxes.

I drove into MacArthur Place where I had my first flat in Canberra when I started Masters at ANU (interviewed over the phone, they were amused at the accent). Where I learnt the words "chunder" and "booner". Where I chewed Swedish tobacco and had that random-as one night stand. Where I got my kiwi accent beaten out of me and where I learnt how to make soychinococktail. And where I learnt to appreicate Fat Pizza and The Chaser's War on Everything, and CNNNN. And listened to George and The Waifs for the first time. The backyard's been dug up and the crop-circles we made is long gone; but the vege patch at the top of the road is still going strong. Same old lady came out and waved.

It still sends chills down my spine thinkng of those days biking through O'Connor on my $40 bike in the dry bleak cold with my lips bleeding and those giant parrots scooping down at me. Those really lost times where I wish I wasn't here alone in this ghostly flat and brown town. Biking around and around to houses in the dead heat of February begging for a room to rent, and Sunday mornings wishing I hadn't had that last mojito at Trinity. Pollies striding pass down the corridor all with the same expression when they see an Asian constituent, and dropping off releases at the Press Gallery on Budget night; running up Mt Ainsley out of breath around giant Kangaroos and the jet planes overhead at the War Memorial. Or the kid who fell into the Pool of Reflection at the War Memorial!!! Same spot where Templeton turned up with a red rose one Valentines day next to the Menin Gate Lions. Now I could see Shiner and Milly sitting there purring instead: Eyes closed, whiskers drawn back, contented in the sun; Girl Guides, not soldiers, marching by.

Canberra Canbeera - how did I ever think leaving would be so hard?

BREAKING NEWS: I got my P's!

Yes ladies and gentelmen - 24 hours before marking the 27th year on earth, I PASSED MY LEARNER'S FINAL ASSESSMENT, AND NOW HAVE MY PROVISIONAL DRIVER'S LISCENCE.

Looking at this bright red piece of plastic, i think all this blood tears sweat swearing kicking screaming and drama with the instructors all completely paid off. To think I fired two on the spot, gave one a heart attack and the other a very big L sign for his forehead via text message - yay for little old me!! (hey no bad feelings -)

- The Driving Baroness

L's World: my new best friend

Meet A Aaron, my ACT accredited driving instrucor. Actually he's just Ron. He put three "A"s infront of his name and turns himself into A Aaron so that he's the first man to be listed on the yellow pages under "driving instructor". Except other companies have ways and money to get much further ahead than him and he was in fact the 21st company I rang.

I gave up on the original company after the instructor's car happened to burn out three times right before my lesson, and failed to nominate any one else. Plus I still have a grudge against the wanker that gave me the first lesson in September. This is one of those moments when you've gotta bless the free market. Ron turns out to be 5% cheaper than every one else and he could fix me a lesson in less than 12 hours. * bleeuuurrrrpppp ***!! This car burn out thing turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

Ron is like AliG. He wears a tracksuit, basketball shoes, blingblings on his fingers and more bling blings on the side of his sunnies. He chain smokes and sounds like donald duck. He makes a cross infront of his chest after completing the lesson just for the effect. Against all odds he is actually a bloody fantastic teacher. He drills me and doesn't give up on me just cos I've just almost killed three old ladies on the foot path. I already know how to chase baddies on the high way like the UK police and I know which embassy buys which kind of cars. He has an instruction stick and a brain so sharp that every time I cut a corner I know to laugh awkwardly. And I am doing perfect right angle parks like there's no tomorrow. I know this sounds crazy, and Templeton is bracing himself, but I am now rendered competent in 12 out of 22 competencies - woo hoo!!

Ron - my new best friend.

L's World: Tragedy Always Strikes Twice

In actual fact my driving is going fantastically well. I think anyway. Nevermind the occasional gasps of my passengers when I change lanes without REALLY looking behind me. On 28 December 2006 I officially passed the six month, mark of retaining an L's plate, and can formally attempt for my Ps.

Things went pear shaped with the 1973 VW Beetle I was suppose to purchase from Brother-Out-Law, and I have decided that the best way to rush this P thing through is to go for it in automatic. Anyway Templeton has been taking me out in his auto quite a lot just whenever we go out, and I have been doing up to 110kph and finding most maneouver a lot easier than before, um, except for parking.

Upon returning from NZ, I took the auto out again and during a long parking practice session in a small carpark on Tuesday. After not having enough airing by being on the road with proper speed, the poor old thing over heated (in disgust). Smoke was coming out and Templeton and I had to flee the car (in a blockbuster movie kinda manner) just in case it really blows up. It proceeded to gush disparingly and spew green absenth colour liquid from the bottom. End of Auto.

This morning I was meant to have my first lesson in the auto with a registered instructor so I could get my fricking Ps out the way. Unfortunately her car broke down as well due to overheating (las september same company's manual instructor's one also broke down and I got a replacement one in the form of the most patronising wanker I know). Fan-bloody-tastic. Though the local rag did report yesterday being the 3rd hottest day in January recorded in Canberra, apparently 40.2 c at around 3pm. Sheesh. The poor cat has his belly against the floor and all fours spread like a frog, and not meowed since 11am.

p.s. Templeton's trusty machenic fixed his auto but it is now in Queensland with his parents. Still no Ps.

L's World "i stopped counting": Bare feet driving

Last night I drove from Warramanga to Narrabundah through Hindmarsh Drive (80k) in pitch darkness in Templeton's giant automatic, in bare feet. Call me the stig.

L's World 2: My first driving lesson

My lovely mate Helen has been waiting forever to put me in the drivers seat and I have been procrastinating forever to avoid it.

But 2 July 2006, aged 26 years, 3 months and two days, just over 11 years from the time I passed my learner's licence test in New Zealand, I am behind the wheel. Earlier in the week the cheesiest smile I've had in years was firmly implanted into a piece of green plastic, and I am licenced (again). Herrahhh. I know its lame but I just can't help but pulling it out of my wallet at parties.

2pm came and I had to seriously kiss templeton goodbye properly before we left the house just in case its the last time I'll ever see him and the cats ever again... I was prepared to reck the shit out of Helen's car either by underestimating myself or over estimating myself.

The first time the car moved all happend too quickly for me. We were in a driveway of a factory (closed on sunday ofcourse) and there were two walls on either side which looked like they were running into me rather than the other way round. My shyness and brashness collided between my feet and the pedals. What the hell am I suppose to do? I press to light and the car doesn't move, and I press to hard it gets grumpy and as if it would shoot out of the driveway 200 Ks an hour... Stalling the car is like having a pretty violent hickup and I was told promptly that it would be a fact of life for the next few months. And what the fuck is with the crazy handbreaks - its like having too many veto powers in a democracy. Hearing my heart pound and my own fast panting while being completely stationary reminded me of the last time I was in an operating theatre on local anasthetics - using up fat stores without moving an inch. Finally upgrading from the laneway to the open road was a mixture of feeling daunted yet eager. Not sure if its an Asian thing or not but keeping to the left is actually quite difficult... and crossing paths with another L driver was a bit of hoot - neither of us were mentally or physically capable of acknowledging one another with eye contact or a friendly jesture to say "hey man, we rock."

It was like losing my religion. Full of uncertainty, letting go of the comforts I knew all my life up till today, grasping that bit of courage, forgetting the shame. So assuring, liberating, bursting through. Not ever going back.

L's World 1: The Edge of Reason

The rain has dried and the crops are dying. Then the snow fell. She wept as they took her horses to the next farm as she could no longer afford to keep them. She feels trapped in her winter wonderland, the servants and chauffers sent off to work elsewhere. The frost under her feet has stretched for more miles than her delicate feet could cope. The time has come for the Baroness to find another mode of transport.

I just spent $130 and a weekend with 15 year old pimply boys stuck in a run down smokey room in Woden having speed-kills-don't-drink-don't-this-don't-that drummed into my head. I know its not drummed in their heads cos most of them spent the weekend doodling pictures of Ren and Stimpy - or whatever they watch these days - on the course book.

Apparently we are the most priviledged state in the entire Australian federation to be chosen to go on a pilot program of compulsory road safety course before we can get our L's. Sure I can understand that you should know this stuff before you go on the roads, but a whole weekend?? and with that GIT with the handlebar mustache that is so patronising and so annoying to be have to listen to hour after hour, using ridiculous metaphors like driving is a lottery that is full of black tickets with names - like death, permanent brain damage, jail, etc etc, and we are about to fill in more names on those black tickets (fine, if you use it once, but for every subject??); if those tax payers dollars to fund the recouperation of Melanie's injuries would be transferred onto one dollar bank notes and pile up, you know how high? as high as Mount Everest, you know how high Mount Everest is? that's how many bank notes it takes to look after her for the rest of her life. You want that? Do you think your mum, your dad and brothers and sisters, your cousins and the dog next door would want that? No, no, no. Not an Everest worth of bank notes. What the fuck?

All I am glad for is that there are actually a few other people who have left their Ls as late or if not later than I have. There's a 30 year old from Melbourne that has taken trams her entire life till she joined the public service here, and a 45 yo star wars fan that's never had a problem taking buses for 20 years from Isabella Plains. I remember how annoying those adult students were during my undergrad years who would sit at the very front of the class and answer all the questions (and get them right) and ask all the questions (and get them right as well). Fuck I feel like one of them when the kiddies on my table glanced up from their doodling at me as if I was a WEIRDOOO when I questioned the gender analysis of road fatalities in Australia 2001 - 2005. Well at least I'm not starting a carpet-laying apprenticeship next week cos I DROPPED OUT OF YEAR 10!!!!

I politely let the younger ones through the knowledge test before me. The computer that I was going to use for my knowledge test breaks down, and so does the next one and the next one. The entire system shuts down and the GIT has a bit of a breakdown (does he do this when he drives too?). I repeat what I always knew in my head. To err is human; to fuck things up big time requires a computer. And bureaucracy is a mistake of a mutant produced by the struggle between humans yearning to become computers.

I start to write another letter to Jon Stanhope in my head (NB: international readers - he's the fearless leader of our magnificent Territory/minor kareoke celebrity who sports a crew cut), and find myself doodling a picture of a snow flake in the course book.

How rediculous, she thought. The Driving Baroness!?