Tell-tale Signs

So, I'm not much of a photographer. I don't like having my picture taken, and traveling solo, I find it awkward to ask a stranger to take my picture in front of a building. Whenever I am around someone, I make them take my photo just so I can send something to my mother and show her I'm alive.

However, I do really enjoy taking photographs of random humorous things. Luckily, Australia is chock full of them! Take, for instance, the snapshots below.

This sign, which I saw while driving through Kiama with my Aussie mum, means Brake for Wombats.

This sign was spotted in Surry Hills, where I was crashing with BCB. Remember all the ladies of the night I was telling you about? Well, apparently, they've got a union!
(What do you think I'd have to do to become part of the $carlet Alliance? Could I transfer credits from my NYC escapades?)

This sign was spotted in the Hunter Valley. I mean, I don't know who this Lindeman character is, but he's a doctor, so I don't doubt him.

"Children Left Unattended Will be Sold as Slaves"
This was in the beer garden at a pub in a town called Jamberoo.

Okay y'all, this next one isn't a sign-- it's actually the cover and a single page from a book I found while wandering through the Rozelle Markets this afternoon. Sydney neighborhoods are big on flea markets, where people mostly sell clothing and used books and dvds. I wandered over to one woman's table and lost my mind when I saw this:

I kid you not, gentle readers. This is for real!!! It basically teaches kids to count to 10 and learn the alphabet using the shenanigans of 10 black children. I really wanted to take pictures of each page--hell, I wanted to buy the book!--but the $20 price tag and the woman's growing suspicion of me meant I could only take one more snapshot. After learning to count to 10 ("ONE went to Africa and then there were NONE") it went on to teach the alphabet.

Does this make your heart hurt a little bit? This book was published in London, by a British company. Who do you think was the target audience?

The Three-Day Grape Escape - aka - the Blacktress Goes Sideways

I'm writing on location from the Hunter Valley, the nearest wine country outside of Sydney. The HV (not to be confused with the HPV) is magical, and every vineyard has a "cellar door," where they conduct free tastings. I got up at about 8:30 this morning and arrived at the HV at 11:30, and had about 10 minutes to use the loo and apply lipgloss (you know it's got to be poppin'!) before heading off on the afternoon wine tour.

The itinerary: 2 wineries, break for lunch, 2 more wineries, and then a cheese tasting.

My buzz is just wearing off.

I came solo, but connected through the IEP program's many hook-ups. I'm loving the fact that they let me come to their offices, dominate their internet, ask them endless questions, and haven't kicked me out yet. I also appreciate their willingness to get drunk with me without judgments (more on their "Canada party" later).

There were 4 other people on the tour, 2 pairs of pals who were all.... FRENCH CANADIAN!!! As they spoke their native French-Canadian tongue, my pulse began to quicken, for me all know how I feel about Canadians. I wasn't sure how to interact, and was already feeling awkward and lonesome.

Luckily, this changed after the first winery.

We headed to Drayton's, where the shopgirl was working her first day, and seemed to be quite generous. We tried, like, 7 wines and 2 ports, and were already giggly and tripping after 30 minutes, and our love of liquor acted as a cross-cultural bond that could not be broken. I was on the hunt for some Pinot Noir for BCB as a thank-you gift, so I tried to stay focused--which was nearly impossible considering I hadn't eaten breakfast and we were on to the ports before 12:15pm.

Our tour guide was Mike, a fair dinkum Aussie bloke who wore a loud Hawaiian shirt partially buttoned, allowing his tufts to gray chest hair to have some air. He and I chatted alot, seeing as I wasn't French Canadian and didn't have anyone else to talk to. He pointed out fun facts and cool locations, adding a hint of color and class to the tour.
"Oi, guys," he said as the FCs chatted, "over there is the Broken Back Range--that's where the gay cowboys hang out."
Oh, Mike, you're hilarious!!

At the second vineyard, we tried about 5 wines, but this lady was a pro, so we couldn't coax more tastings out of her. However, I did get a sample of the Aleatico, a wine so old that it's known to be Napoleon's favorite.
I think this makes me a dictator.

Over lunch, Mike and I chatted about the election, and about how I'm "not a normal American" because I'm traveling for so long by myself. "Most Americans come for a few months, over vacation, then head back. You're breaking the ice, Sojourner!" I'm all about the old weathery Aussie blokes, cause they are really friendly and random. Take, for instance, our trip to the third winery, the Bimbadgen Estate...

As we drove up, Mike told us about the concerts and events they often hold on the grounds, such as the upcoming concert with "Alicia Keys and that girl from American Idol--you know, 'No air, No air.'" Mike then proceeds to sing snippets from Jordin Sparks' "No air" for the rest of the afternoon in this really high-pitched voice, and for some reason, it never ceases to make me laugh.

Graham, the host of Bimbadgen, is another bloke, and as he gives us tastes he chats us up and ends up taking quite a shine to the blacktress. I tell him I'm staying for a year and he says, "I think you'll be all right here," after I make him chuckle with some one-liners. I reveal that I'm a blacktress, which he dubs a "very clever" term, and tells me their opening up a new theater in Cessnock--a town of about 5,000 just next to the wineries. He suggest I be their opening act.
As we head out (I unfortunately buy no bottles because I already picked up bottles at Draytons), Graham shakes my hand and says, "Blacktress, it was a pleasure meeting you. When you take over Australia, remember you started here first."

I think Graham is going to be president of my fan club.

I now write from the YHA common room, where I fight the urge to open a bottle of port--after all, I have been drinking for 4 hours already and it's just now 6:30.

Um, who am I kidding? I have an addiction.