Village Voice October/November 2012 | Page 21

A SURFEIT OF LANGUAGES After I retired, Jill and I took a chunk of my retirement fund and went on the trip that she had always desired, to Australia and New Zealand. Of all the many things that happened and all the things we saw, one still causes me to smile – and that is the visit to Uluru, or Ayers Rock. The rock is a fascinating place, sacred to the aborigine people, and is a World Heritage Site. Made of a single piece of sandstone, it rises about 1,150 feet above the surrounding desert. It's about two miles long and three-quarters of a mile wide. The only allowed route to the top has an average slope of 45 degrees. A safety chain has been installed above about 150 feet. This is not there to assist climbing but for people to grab hold of if anyone higher up should fall. We were given the chance to climb it, but only if we got up at some ungodly hour, as no-one is allowed to start the climb after 08:00; this due to the ambient temperature being too high later in the day. Jill decided to turn down this offer, she liked her sleep too much, and elected to remain in bed in order to enjoy a more leisurely breakfast. I finished up with a packed breakfast, and a two-litre bottle of water. I had already bought a two-litre bottle, and taken another litre out of the mini-bar, making five in all – so I had plenty! I took about 25 minutes to get to the top. (As an aside, John Walker, the New Zealand distance runner, is reputed to have gone up and down in 7 minutes!) The top of the rock is not so much a plateau, more a series of 30-foot undulations with the preferred route indicated by splashes of white paint. There are rock pools up there containing fish! The fish are called Shield Shrimps, and are believed to be unchanged since the Triassic period. Whilst wandering around up there I came across a man of about 35, and his son of about 5. What drew my attention to them was that the father was speaking to the son in German – and the son was replying in English! At the time I could get by quite well in German, having worked in Germany for a number of years, so I asked the father, in German, how this came about. He replied 'Because my Malaysian is not good enough!' He then went on to explain that they were a German family living in Malaysia, and the son went to an English school. As a result the son was already trilingual, and they wanted to keep it that way. Coming down about three-quarters of an hour later, and still about 500 feet up, I came across them again; this time sitting a few feet off the path. So I asked if they were all right and was told that the son was dehydrated. As I still had about half my water I was more than happy to supply him with a drink, and asked the father if he was O.K. He was feeling de-hydrated as well. It was just as well that I had started with five litres! As I sat there I watched the next tour bus arrive – and leave! I knew that I was supposed to be on it because Jill had caught that one for a tour around the base of the rock with an aborigine guide. She was a bit worried because I should have had plenty of time to catch it. In the event I didn't get back to the hotel until mid- afternoon, much to the relief (I think) of my wife. I hope you can see why this was one of the more memorable moments from the trip. Brian Davis 19