On Saturday I went adventuring. I really enjoyed my spontaneous road trip to Fairbridge a few weeks back and I’ve been wanting to go hiking by Serpentine Falls. This was not that trip. This was the recci. I stopped off in Mundijong for a Mrs Macs ricotta and spinach roll, two sauces. Then got back on the road for Serpentine Falls. Entering the park, friendly kangaroos grazed and scratched while we recorded them.
Time to find out how to hike. I found the path, one Kitty’s Trail, and thought I was following it, then realised I was on top of a boulder, fell into some bushes, and later realised I’d ripped my favourite tracksuit pants. I made it back to the falls, met an orange-turbaned Indian man, en famille, and sat by the water to appreciate the views and observe the people, of course. What is one to do?
After coming upon a group in hiking shoes I asked them about the trail and the directed me towards the right one, this time. Found it! Walked along for a bit till I found a lovely rock by the water to sit with my back to the sun and meditate. When the sun sank behind the hill, 27 minutes in, I decided to do a walking meditation for the rest of the hour. Once back, I ate a pomegranate, two mejool dates and walnuts on the grass and filmed a mother with joey in pouch, one arm out.
Driving home, I felt to go via Victoria Park for dinner. I had a hankering for Japanese but also salad. My phone had been on 1% since 3pm when I’d turned it to flight mode so as I drove I sang (loudly, badly). I felt to drive all the way down South West Highway and onto Great Eastern, down the Armadale line, passing those well-known Perth places I haven’t been to for so long or at all. Kelmscott. Gosnells. Carousel. Marvellous!
Victoria Park crystallised like Las Vegas in the dessert. I drove leisurely up the strip, looking for Japanese, but not seeing any, I took a turn down a backstreet and continued on till I found a big IGA carpark. Walking into the main street, one Yuma Japanese fusion place sat across the road. The waitress seated me in the window and brought hot tea. It was so cold out. I ordered a silken tofu salad of mesculin, cherry tomatoes, lotus chips, black sesame and edamame and a shitake mushroom dish that had grilled cos lettuce and leek. With rice. Exactly what I’d felt like.
A Korean guy sat seated in the window too, ordering just a steak dish but no rice because he was on a diet. He left the capsicum and went across the road to the sushi train. I drank my tea and sat in the window. Later I went for a walk up the strip, clenching my glutes so the insulin wouldn’t flow round my bloodstream but be drawn into my muscles a la How To Starve Cancer. I passed a homeless guy sitting by the IGA and gave him the 35c I had on me, apologising for not having more. Looking in his cup It was clear that no one else did either. I joked that he needed a swipe machine.
I felt bad that he had to sit out in the cold while I went into the warmth of a café. It was called The Imp and I stayed there for hours in a corner, reading magazines and drinking lemongrass tea. Gourmet Traveller. The Italian Edition. Ragu. Melbourne restaurants. The Aeolian Islands off Sicily. Lipari. GQ. Men’s Fashion. Dior’s Japan collection. Liam Hemsworth on losing his home in the Malibu fires. Miley. At ten when I left, I passed the guy again, now chatting with a guy, “Back again?” he said, like the last time. He’d told me I had a nice smile. “I’m going home now,” I said.
I’d wanted to ask, “How did this happen?” but I was afraid I suppose. “Wish I could go home with her!” he said to the guy as I walked away. I went home to the warmth of my heated car and warm bed, feeling awful. How can they survive the winter? I must do something.
How can I help? How can I help?
How can I help?
Volunteering? Transformational Coaching? Swags. I hope I remember this.