In Brisbane -- Day One

When we arrived at BNE in Brisbane we made our way through immigration with no problems to take our place next to our flight-mates by the luggage carousel. We waited nearly forty-five minutes before it became clear that Chris and I, along with a host of others from Qantas Flight 176, weren’t getting our bags. One of the helpful Aussie Customs Agents told me that this sort of thing happens all the time with 176 out of LA. Imagine that, LAX mucks up the bags every time.

We went from waiting by the carousel to standing in line for the baggage services counter for another hour. The woman was cheerful and pretty much told us we could expect our bags the next day, and they would send them to our hotel. She gave us a file number we could track online and a phone number to call to check up on things. To make a long story short—the tracking number didn't work and every time I called the phone has gone straight to an answering machine.

We left the airport a bit bummed, but hopeful and excited. Just from the airport alone, looking out on the country, you could really feel the immensity and beauty of Australia. We were in another country, on another continent, about as far away from home as possible. From the airport we hopped aboard a spotlessly clean train that took into the center of the city. The Central station where we de-trained had a McDonalds and a Starbucks right in the middle. More on the ubiquity of McDonalds later.

From the station we walked out into downtown Brisbane which has the look of a big city, with a handful of sky scraper and people crowding the sidewalks (it was around 8 in the morning), but it isn’t overwhelming. In fact, with all of the exotic trees and greenery everywhere, it’s quite charming. And everywhere feels clean, like it was freshly painted. The place we were staying, a backpackers called the Tin Billy (named for a type of Outback tea traditionally brewed in a tin pail), was just a short walk down from the station and we made our way inside to be greeted by girl about our age who asked “Are you alright?” I didn’t know at the time that is the Aussie way of asking if you need help, so I fumbled a response about being just fine. She must have picked up on my Americaness so she went straight into help mode and got us booked into a two bed room for four nights. We couldn’t get into the room until noon, however, so Chris and I lit back out into Downtown Brisbane to have a poke around.

We passed many old British looking buildings the color of sandstone mixed in with ridiculously modern office complexes and some place called the “Law Courts.” We noted where the Brisbane museum was (free admission) and then moseyed over towards the river where the city comes to a point with the vast, riverside Brisbane Botanical Gardens.

The gardens are on a peninsula in the Brisbane River, and across the way you can see the cliffs of Kangaroo point. It’s a fantastic view and the whole park was just one stunning ecological wonder after another, from native plants to transplanted oddities, to the very edge on the river where a mangrove swamp has sprung up in mud that smells just like the marshes at home. We spent probably about two hours in the gardens, saw plenty of Australian trees, a load of local birds (ibises are everywhere), one of the campuses of the Queensland University, and the Parliament.

About halfway through the park, these two old women wave us over to look at an abandoned baby possum of some sort on the footpath. They were nominally concerned, but wanted Chris to find help while I watched it, because they were tired and had to be getting on. Chris agreed and went off to “find” someone (the only people working out there were contractors) and I stayed to "watch over" the ugly thing. One of the women asked me where I was from and I told her the states. She replied, “Oh wonderful, you really must take a photo of it then. Get close ups and all.” So I did. Then they left. Then I left. We bumped into the same two old women in the Queen’s Street Mall later on and they inquired as to how we “got on, with the creature and all.” I told them we had left it in the care of someone else, passed the torch so to speak. “Oh, that’s good,” came the reply.

Before heading back to the Tin Billy, we spent some time in the mall and wondered through an Australian Target. We got back sometime after one o’clock and got the key cards to our room. We were provided with much welcomed (since our bags were MIA) complimentary soaps, shampoos, and tea (complete with electric kettle.) Outside the window we could see the city and a very helpful giant, digital clock atop one of the city’s tallest skyscrapers.

We got settled in, then went next store to the hotel’s pub to grab some grub. I had a decent plate off fish and chips (with plenty of HP sauce) and Chris had a hearty bowl of traditional Irish stew. By the time we were finished eating the sun was already setting, and it was only around four o’clock, and the place became packed with blue collar types that had been working downtown all day from the looks of it. We retired to our room, and passed out until 4:30 or so the next morning.

Chris has finally got his bag the next night, which was delivered with tags saying it had been through Auckland. I had no such luck.