Day Seven

This is a young magpie who sits on the front fence or picks his way around the backyard eating worms and insects. He's quite brave and will let us get close to him, only legging it out the way at the last minute. May asked me to post his picture, so here it is.




















Today Mum and I drove to The Channon, an hour and a half away over the rainforest covered hills and rolling cow pasture valleys.















I just sat in the passenger seat and watched it all go by - the mist sitting on the hilltops, the stands of ghost gums, the farmlets tucked behind stands of banana palms.















The Channon market is like a big Hessler Street fair. Lots of good organic food, hippies and music.
Right away Mum got us some amazing Samosas fom this little place, and while I waited I looked around.




















We were there sort of early - ten am, but there were already a lot of people and kids there. The remarkable thing was that it was really quiet, except for the piping of a little boy playing Amazing Grace on his recorder.




















Later it picked up, and this amazing Samba band rocked through. Even us uptight Australians bopped around smiling, they were that good.















There were street musicians, hemp stalls and handcrafts.




















This old Aboriginal man orated wildly, nonsensically and completely harmlessly, amusing the crowd even as they steered clear of him.




















We were told at The Channon general store that this was falafel not to miss, but we were still full of samosa, and did in fact miss it.




















I think this picture describes well the folks who were drawn to the market there - it was very free, alternative and open.









































Not surprisingly this is one of the nearest towns, Nimbin, and we stopped here on our way home to peruse the galleries, have a cuppa, and attempted to avoid breathing any sweet smelling smoke, which was thick and pungent along all the storefronts. Mum had to drive and I didn't want her addled.















Nimbin is known for its artsy head shop culture all over Australia.




















Here I am enjoying an Australian latte at the Choices Cafe.

















































































On our way home I had to get this shot of the traditional Australian hotel. I know exactly what it smells like in there too - stale beer, old smoke and something else undefinable, but even just thinking about it gives me the best image of my Grandpa. One of his mottos was 'One before eleven, and eleven before one.'