Friday, August 26, 2011

Aboriginal gangstas

Rented a car to get to Cairns, where the airport is. Driving on the left is easy, but remembering which rod is for the turn signal and which is for the wipers is totally impossible.

We spent the morning at Tjapukai, the Aboriginal Cultural Center, which is meant to be a kind of theme park but in the off-season is basically a master class. The team of young Aboriginal interpreters gave us personal tutorials on didgeridoo playing (C. was the only one who made the correct deep sound instead of an elephantine howl)...

boomerang throwing...

and Aboriginal dancing.

We also saw a show on mythology featuring computer graphics that interacted with the performers, got to paint our own rocks that we now have to carry around in our luggage, and had ourselves decorated pretty awesomely.

It was like Plimoth Plantation as redone by Disney. Ever since, T. has been occasionally refusing to put on a shirt or shoes on the grounds that he is an Aborigine.

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