After three days in Sydney, we have made our way out to the rural Kangaroo Valley, and are staying for a few days at a farm house owned by my wife’s uncle. The sights are rather breathtaking, I can attest to as I stare out the window at a low-lying bed of fog over a pond. Climate and surroundings-wise, it’s not all that unlike Northern California, though this is the winter. The meteorologists on the radio are bemoaning the “cold” weather, which is approximately 60 degrees Fahrenheit, which causes us Chicagoans to laugh bitterly in the same way that I do when my mother calls from the depths of a California winter and talks about the frigid sub-70s temperatures she is enduring.

We’re attempting to relax out here, which is something that neither of us have much experience in; fortunately we have Scrabble and plenty of books as diversion. My wife’s uncle owns a phenomenal, well-appointed house on countless acres of land, with many amenities, stocked with fancy bottles of Scottish whiskey that I don’t dare to touch. It’s a welcome contrast to our dingy apartment in the heart of urban Chicago, with few amenities and a empty bottle of whiskey I’ve touched far too often.

Yesterday, we took a walk of the grounds, and saw a ton of wild animals novel to us urban Americans roaming in the wilds, including a family of kangaroos, a wombat in its hole, and countless vibrantly-colored birds swooping into a watering hole for grubs and worms. There were also, to my chagrin, human foot-sized piles of cow dung everywhere. My wife, far more athletic and rugged than myself, says that I’m getting even more prissy in my old age, which is absolutely true.

My patience threshold for nature is about two hours; fortunately, there are many electronic diversions on site, including (thank the gods) Internet and television. Australian television is a gift. Much of the fare is the same as in the States, but the advertisements are a wonder. The low-budget ones are charming: Australian cowboys uncomfortably offering product testimonials into a single digital camera, but the big-budget ones are the best. One highlight is an ad for Cadbury’s Chocolate that portrays the Mayans as cartoonish, warring savages and ends with playing the destruction of their civilization at the hand of the Europeans for laughs. If nothing else, it’s a lot more entertaining that American TV’s litany of richly-intoned “hey! you! your cock is tiny!” ads for pickup trucks and SUV’s.

One more day in Kangaroo Valley. We may go kayaking today, if so I will attempt to calm my mind for an hour or two and endeavor to “take in” the “beauty of nature”, as people have scolded me to do since childhood. It really is a calming thing, though, spending a handful of days in the center of rural Southern Australia, on the other end of the world from home. A couple more weeks here and I might actually learn how to relax.