I spend a fair bit of time travelling in cold climate countries.  The coldest I’ve ever been was in Oslo (Norway) in mid-January, when one night the temperature dipped to -18 C.  I learned that at that temperature it doesn’t matter how many layers you have on, how fast you walk to warm up or how much hot coffee you drink, you’re still cold.  In fact it was so cold in Oslo that when we left and arrived in Bergen (on the west coast of Norway) we actually started stripping off the layers.  It was still -2 C.

Last December Rob and I went to Prague, and whilst it certainly wasn’t as cold as it had been in Oslo I still remember getting to the point where I was fed up with shivering and not being able to feel my feet.  One day, on a particularly long walk to the Bohemians football ground, I threw my toys out of the pram and had a tantrum.  I’m an Aussie, and December is meant to be filled with trips to the beach and sunbathing on the grass in the back yard, not wandering around post-Communist Prague trying to figure out whether my feet are suffering from frost-bite.

Now that I’m back from the UK again, patiently awaiting a letter from the British Consulate to tell me whether or not they will give me a student visa to study at Edinburgh, I’ve realized that Australian winters can be just as nasty as their European counterparts.  I know, I know - Australian winters, cold?  Laughable!  A frosty morning in Queensland, the ’sunshine state’?  I must be joking!  Unfortunately for the ice-blocks that have now replaced my toes, it turns out that winter in Australia can feel as cold as it does in European countries, and it’s our sunny climate that’s to blame.  You see, the majority of Australian buildings aren’t constructed for cold weather, they’re built to be cool, to let in breezes, to make the most of whatever shade is provided by nearby trees, to turn away from hot sunlight instead of towards it.  Our windows are single glaze, we tend to have shutters and blinds instead of curtains, and many of our floors are tiled or wood instead of carpet.  The covers on our beds are summer-weight not winter-weight, and many of our homes have air-conditioners instead of heaters.  The radiators that are so common in each room in every house in Britain simply don’t exist here.  In winter our houses feel cold because they are cold - often they’re only a few degrees warmer than the outside temperature, which in Brisbane can dip below freezing on some nights.  Whilst European countries may have much colder winters in terms of temperatures, when you’re inside with central heating, double glazing, fluffy bed covers and soft carpets you simply don’t notice it.

So next time you come across a hapless Aussie in a northern-hemisphere winter, wading through drifts of snow or chipping icicles of their hair, don’t pity them.  They have serious cold weather experience.

They might look cute and cuddly, and people may flock to Australian wildlife parks and zoos to see them, but did you know that the platypus can actually give you a poisonous sting?

The platypus is immortalized on the Australian twenty cent piece, has been a mascot for Australian cultural and sporting events (such as the Sydney Olympics in 2000 and the Brisbane Expo in 1988), and is drawn to look all cute and cuddly in cartoons such as Blinky Bill, but in actual fact, this little animal is quite nifty with it’s hind legs. This is where the poisonous spur is located, but only on the male platypus - I guess the females can ward of enemies with a simple glare of their beady eyes.

By the way, there is also no agreed upon plural for the word Platypus - some people call them ‘Platypi’, while others refer to them as ‘Platypusses’, but there isn’t any official term. A few years ago it was suggested a competition should be held Australia wide to come up with a plural for the animal, but the event never went ahead. Shame - ‘Platyplural’ would have been my entry.

I’m fascinated by old wives’ tales and superstitions, to the point that I guess you could say I collect them mentally whenever I hear a good one.  I’m actually thinking about writing a book about them, their historical origins, and their grounding in fact - in part because it would really annoy Rob the Realist, and in part because I’d really enjoy it.

One old wives’ tale that I live by is that cats can forecast rain.  My mother told me this when I was very young, just as she had been told by her mother, and so forth.  The theory is that when cats clean behind their ears, which they don’t do often, rain is on the way.  Living in a drought inflicted area must thereby mean that our cats have very dirty ears! Read the rest of this entry »