Far northern musings.

I've been living in far north Queensland a little over a year now, and I must admit it already feels more like home than I'd ever dared to imagine in late 2010. How strange it feels to think back to the uncertainty of that time, making frantic organisations about where I'd live, wondering how I'd meet people, how'd I cope in a brand new job with no senior to look up to or keep me in line. Leaving the boy in Brisbane and scheduling in weekend flights back and forth. All made more complicated by the non-relenting rain and already swollen creeks threatening to imprison us at the farm the day before departure.

Fast forward a few weeks and I was plodding along in my new home, plodding along the riverfront on my afternoon jogs, picturing every distant log as a snoozing croc. I'd never seen so much rain, didn't even believe it possible before I encountered FNQ. The threat of cyclones hung ever present in the stifling air. "It'll be right", the locals assured me. Lulled into a false sense of security by Larry only 5 years prior, we watched stunned as a cloud the size of a European nation barrelled steadily towards us. 10 hours spent huddled in a makeshift hallway bunker as the wind masqueraded as low flying jumbo jets, the rain hammered horizontally onto the glass and the sound of screeching metal heralded the loss of another neighbour's roof was an eye opening introduction to the tropics. An introduction also though, to the genuine kindness and resourcefulness of my new colleagues, neighbours and and remarkably, cousins.

In the months since, I've really come to love and appreciate the north. I might even go so far as to suggest I've learnt a thing or two about it. Reflecting on the past year as I was driving to work yesterday, I thought I might share a few of these realisations.

Brisbane is not humid. People living in Brisbane cannot claim to have any real understanding of humidity. They may argue otherwise but they are mistaken.

Speed signs are less about road rules and more about providing suggestions for visiting drivers. Probably southerners. Anyone actually abiding by the speed limit (usually southerners) are merely inviting you to overtake them.

If overtaking is not a viable option, it's perfectly acceptable to tailgate, preferably combined with a meaningful glare in the rear view mirror.

10am does not always mean 10am. In fact it is more likely to mean anywhere in the general vicinity of morning.

Yes it can rain continuously for three months and yes, it probably will.

Venturing outside involves a carefully calculated risk. Any number of things are waiting to kill you. Even if you manage to avoid crocodiles, stingers, flash floods, snakes, mosquitos and local drivers, various tropical diseases are simply waiting to take their place.

The scenery is among the most beautiful in Australia, and tempts people to take calculated risks every day. Cloudless winter days are particularly alluring.

It's perfectly normal to be somewhat confused if you don't run into at least five people you know on any given outing in Cairns.

Backpackers proliferate during the summer months, and provide a welcome distraction for one with a penchant for eavesdropping on Germans in public places.

The crowds swarming Rusty's markets on any given weekend know what they're on about. Mangoes are simply better in the tropics.

No one's told the numerous hitch hikers that their luck probably died with the '70s.

Finally, if you find yourself dancing on the table at the Woolshed at 3am, it's an undoubtable sign you've had a very good night.

A nod to self-indulgence.

Blogging. The most 21st century of terms. Why have I decided to join the legions, sign up, jump on the proverbial band wagon you may ask? I certainly did. I suppose I have always considered blogging to be a relatively self-indulgent practice, one engaged in by those who believed the world simply needed to hear what they had to say. I must confess though, I was ill-informed. In recent months I have actually ventured into this world and spent many a Saturday afternoon occupied by the stories, recipes, ideas and photos of some people I know, and others I will most likely never meet. The blogs I enjoyed most were written by everyday people, about everyday events. Everyday events a little bit out of the ordinary perhaps, or bringing a smile to someone's face. Beautiful photos, delicious food, but yet ordinary people sharing their ordinary lives. The only conclusion I can draw here is that we, as humans, are an inherently curious bunch. Yes, these may be ordinary people but for reasons I cannot describe, I remain interested in what they saw, what they thought, what they cooked, drew and said. So perhaps blogs are, in fact, self-indulgent. But they're also an excellent way to while away a lazy afternoon.

The main attraction of blogging lies, for me, in the chance to write. I don't pretend to have a spectacularly exciting life. I enjoy travelling, reading, good food, good wine and good friends, but then, who doesn't? I have recently acquired a decent camera and intend to turn my love of good photography into an ability to actually produce good photography. What I don't have, is a creative outlet. Somewhere to record these adventures, memories, everyday events. Once upon a time I studied journalism in the mistaken belief it would allow me to indulge my love of words, a belief that was effortlessly quashed by our lecturers within the very first minutes. Needless to say, I never got around to completing that degree. So herein lies the beauty of blogging, I can write. 

Finally, "waffling, present participle of the verb 'waffle': to speak or write, especially at great length, without saying anything particularly important or useful." My senior English teacher was very fond of peppering compliments with requests to please reduce the amount of waffling, dear. Unfortunately, I don't believe I ever quite mastered that knack. I do believe, however, that my penchant for waffling may be quite the handy tool with which to enter the blogging world. That and I just really, really like waffles.