From Flat White to Flat Cushions: Musings from Australia While Missing Kolkata

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“From Flat Whites to Flat Cushions: Musings from Australia While Missing Kolkata

My IIT batchmate Himanshu, always the practical voice of reason, reminded me recently: “Enjoy the pollution-free air and blue sky of Australia while you can—once you return to Kolkata, it’ll be muggy skies and auto exhaust.”
That comment stuck with me.
And so, instead of getting offended, I got inspired. I sat down with a flat white in hand, stared out at the impossibly blue Queensland sky—and penned this little tribute to the chaos I love, the mess I miss, and the madness that makes Kolkata feel like home.

It’s 7:15 a.m. in Upper Coomera, Australia. The kookaburras are laughing outside my window, the sky is perfectly blue, the traffic is polite, and the air smells faintly of eucalyptus and organic floor cleaner.

And me?
I’m sitting on a Scandinavian-designed ergonomic chair with lumbar support, sipping a flat white, and missing my old, rusty bed in Kolkata like it’s a long-lost friend.

Not the memory foam mattress here that judges me for every turn—but my creaky, no-nonsense wooden bed with a hump in the middle. The kind that doubles up as a musical instrument when you shift position. You don’t sleep on that bed—you negotiate.

And oh, my high-cushioned sofa, positioned like a throne in front of the TV back home. The kind of sofa that swallows you whole, along with any plans of being productive. It's probably still bearing the exact imprint of my body, slightly concave, slightly wise.

I miss my worn-out clothes—those once-black now-gray T-shirts that have retired from public service and live full-time in my cupboard. They smell faintly of naphthalene, childhood, and a vague trace of aftershave from the 90s.

Out here, every third person looks like they’ve stepped out of a wellness brochure. Back in Kolkata, my neighbourhood uncle in a faded banyan and lungi still commands more respect than a CEO in Crocs.

And yes, let me not forget the sky.

Out here in Australia, the sky is blue. Not metaphorically—actually blue.
It’s unsettling.
In Kolkata, the sky has character. Layers. Drama. Suspense. A mysterious greyish hue that changes based on how many autos, bikes, and unlicensed buses have passed in the last ten minutes.

The sounds—I miss those too.
The soundscape of Kolkata isn’t just noise. It’s a symphony of survival.

A sharp horn, a shouted “O Dada!”, the soulful wheeze of a rickety rickshaw, a sudden “Inquilab Zindabad!” from a protest procession, and somewhere in the distance, a vendor’s “Dimpoooriiiii!” stretching longer than an autorickshaw’s brake line.

And then there’s the smell—oh, the smell. Not eucalyptus and lavender-scented laundry. No sir.
I mean the shifting aroma kaleidoscope that is Kolkata.
Step out and it begins: car exhaust, old newspaper ink, then suddenly—a whiff of frying fish or someone’s magical chicken roll in progress.
Walk ten steps further and it's someone brewing coffee in an ancient steel kettle with dents that have witnessed history.

Out here, people walk by in silence, holding hands like elegant wallpaper ads.
And then, I see a couple doing the same in Kolkata! On a footpath! In the chaos! I smile.
Maybe we aren’t that different after all.
But yes, every single one of them is looking down at a mobile phone.
That’s one thing humanity has agreed on, like gravity.

Of course, I miss my adda.
Those long, entirely pointless, extremely essential conversations at Tolly Club, with Sikka, Anantada and Jaggi over sada dosa and cappuccino after a round of golf. We never solved world hunger or climate change, but we certainly discussed it, between bites.

I miss my walks around the lake, bumping into Ashok Ghose or Santanu Sur, exchanging two-line conversations about rain, politics, or cricket—followed by warm smiles and tiny nods that said, “We’ve seen things, haven’t we?” or listening to Ashok Ghose ' s soulful vouce " woh sham kuch ajeeb thi... ".

Back in Kolkata, I go to office—not just to work, but to pass on what I know to the juniors, while sneakily learning what's new from them. It’s a fair exchange. They get war stories, I get WhatsApp tips.

And let’s not forget my housing society.
Where fixing a water pump is a crisis worthy of national news, and keeping the old lift running requires the diplomacy of the UN, the patience of Gandhi, and the electrical knowledge of Tesla.
But it works. Somehow. Through jugaad, prayers, and the magic touch of Ramesh, our part-time electrician, full-time philosopher.

And then there's Maa’s Kitchen.

Ah, that glorious mess of flavors, smells, and raised voices. Where every table is a theatre stage and every waiter deserves an honorary psychology degree. Where I once sat, quietly enjoying my kosha mangsho, and watched the Chatterjee family wage war over chili chicken vs. ilish bhapa, while Bapi the bearer scribbled down everyone’s conflicting orders like he was decoding a treasure map.

Maa’s Kitchen, with its wobbling fan, peeling cinema posters, and menu older than some ministers, is still my favorite restaurant in the world.

Not because of the food alone—but because it is noisy, chaotic, alive.

Just like Kolkata.
Just like home.

And so, as I look out this morning across the manicured lawns, watching another kangaroo hop past like it’s late for a meeting, I remind myself:
Next week, I fly back.
Back to my messy, magical, magnificent city,
where the dosa is crisp, the beds squeak, the roads yell, and the heart is always full

Chasing dreams Catching vibes

**A Rip Van Winkle in Australia: Juggling Time, Food, Grandkids, and Dreams with a Dash of Nostalgia**

When I touchdown in Australia to visit my son’s family, I slip into a peculiar state—a modern-day Rip Van Winkle, caught between time zones, cultures, and the whirlwind of my grandchildren’s antics. It’s a charming disarray, like waking up in a new era with Ameen Sayani’s voice still echoing in my ears. Life Down Under calls for flexibility, and I embrace it with a book in hand, a quirky vowel game, and Google Home as my nostalgic lifeline. Here’s how I navigate this Australian adventure, sprinkled with humor and a hearty dose of reminiscence.

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Food: Sadhguru’s Wisdom and Tasmanian Simplicity

The first challenge is food. In India, my kitchen hums with Bengali delights—ilish maach, cholar dal, and mishti that could seduce a monk. But in Australia, I channel Sadhguru’s advice: “Indians eat like it’s their final feast. One-third is plenty!” He’s not wrong. During a biting Tasmanian winter, I thrived on bread, butter, and eggs—a minimalist meal that felt like a culinary sonnet. So, I skip the craving for elaborate curries and settle for rustle-up fare: avocado toast, a quick pasta, or whatever my daughter-in-law tosses together. It’s freeing, like swapping a woolen shawl for a light summer scarf.

As Mark Twain quipped, “Too much of anything is bad, but too much of good whiskey is barely enough.” I’d say the same to food—too much weighs you down, but just enough leaves space for life’s sweeter moments.

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 Time: Books, Grandkids, and a Game of Vowels

If food fuels the body, time is my canvas. In Australia, managing it is the real task, but my books are a trusty ally. Reading is my time machine, making hours dissolve like sugar in tea. Reading is my time machine—whether it’s a tattered classic or a fresh thriller. But my immersion is often hijacked by Isha, my four-year-old granddaughter, a pint-sized attention seeker. With her impish smirk, she insists on “horsey” rides or tales of chatty kangaroos. I cave, because resisting a toddler tyrant is futile.

Then there’s Veer, my eight-year-old grandson, as restless as a cricket fan during a rain delay. To keep him occupied, I devised the Vowel Game. I throw him a letter—say, A—and he responds with a word containing two vowels, like “apple” or “aura.” I give him B, he fires back “bubble.” By Z, he’s tossing out “zebra” and “zombie” with the zeal of a quiz show champ. It’s a hoot, sharpening my English and his quick thinking. As Oscar Wilde noted, “Many lack the originality to lack originality.” Veer, bless him, is brimming with it.

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 Dreams and Drives: Bonding with Shuddy

And then there’s Shuddy, our eldest grandson, teetering on the brink of adulthood. At 17, he’s a dreamer with his eyes on the horizon, eager to slide behind the wheel of a jalopy he’s saving for with his weekend gig as a salesperson. Over cups of tea, he shares his ambitions—plans for uni, career ideas, and the thrill of owning his first car. I listen, marveling at his drive (pun intended), though I secretly worry about that jalopy’s reliability. “Shuddy,” I tease, “make sure it’s got more horsepower than my old bicycle back in Kharagpur!”

I try peeking into his iPad to grasp his school subjects, but it’s like deciphering an alien script. The education system has leapfrogged since my 1950s schooling—another Rip Van Winkle moment. Back then, calculus was the peak of academic peril; now, Shuddy’s juggling coding, AI ethics, and quantum something-or-other. I nod sagely, but it’s clear I’m out of my depth. Still, these chats with him are precious, a bridge between my past and his future. As Kahlil Gibran said, “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.” Shuddy’s longing is loud and clear, and I’m cheering him on.

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 Nostalgia: Ameen Sayani’s Timeless Spell

When jet lag or homesickness nudges me, and my brain flips between Indian and Australian clocks, I turn to Google Home, my digital djinn. “Play Binaca Geetmala by Ameen Sayani,” I command, and suddenly, the room glows with the golden voice of the legendary host, spinning Bollywood hits from the 1950s. It’s more than music—it’s a portal. I’m back in my school days, glued to the radio every Wednesday at 8 PM, soaking in Sayani’s charm.

The nostalgia peaks when I recall my IIT Kharagpur years (1960–65). My friend Y.C. Puri, the proud owner of a transistor in Patel Hall, was the Wednesday king. I’d invade his room, sprawl on his bed, and let Binaca Geetmala’s melodies—“Yeh Raat Bheegi Bheegi” or “Mera Joota Hai Japani”—carry me away. In Australia, I shut my eyes, and for a fleeting second, I’m that 20-year-old again, dreaming big in a hostel room. This is my Rip Van Winkle spell—waking in a new land, a new age, yet cradling the past. As Washington Irving wrote, “He had been sleeping for twenty years, and the world had changed around him.” My slumber is brief, but the shift feels just as profound.

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The Invisible Sphere: My Portable Sanctuary

Unlike some who seek out old friends or recreate Little Indias abroad, I don’t chase what was. I carry an invisible sphere—a cocoon of habits, memories, and joys that makes any place home. Books, the Vowel Game, Isha’s giggles, Veer’s wit, Shuddy’s dreams, and Ameen Sayani’s voice are all tucked inside. This sphere is my compass, proof that a change of geography doesn’t rattle the heart. Pico Iyer put it best: “We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next, to find ourselves.” In Australia, I find myself in the familiar, even amid the new.

So here I am, a Bengali Rip Van Winkle, juggling time zones, grandkids, and nostalgia with a chuckle. Life in Australia is a whimsical ride, and I’m all in—whether it’s cheering Shuddy’s jalopy dreams, dodging Isha’s mischief, or outsmarting Veer at vowels. Now, if you’ll pardon me, Isha’s demanding a kangaroo tale, and Shuddy’s probably eyeing another car ad. Somewhere, Ameen Sayani waits to whisk me back to the 1960s.

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Footnote: Binaca Geetmala

Binaca Geetmala was an iconic Indian radio program broadcast on Radio Ceylon (later All India Radio) from 1952 to 1994, hosted by the legendary Ameen Sayani. Aired every Wednesday at 8 PM, it featured a countdown of the week’s top Bollywood songs, chosen based on record sales and listener requests. Sponsored by Binaca toothpaste, the show became a cultural touchstone, enchanting millions with Sayani’s warm, engaging style and hits like “Awara Hoon” (1951) and “Chaudhvin Ka Chand” (1960). At its zenith in the 1950s and 60s, it was a household ritual, uniting families around radios and shaping India’s musical legacy.

Australia diaries..part 3

When my 10 yrs old grandson asked me how much do I earn then I could not reply in real terms of purchasing power of currency in their respective countries. The same question often my driver has asked about what would have been his salary in Australia.
Often I have heard parents in India boasting about how much  their off springs earning by converting dollar to rupees.
This has been the real issue,the value of money.
Coming back to my grandson I explained that when he goes for haircut he pays 10 dollars which in Indian rupees would be 500, remember it is the cheapest cut by Chinese hair dressers here in Australia. Whereas I get my haircut done at 50 rupees in Kolkata, the shop where for the last 25 yrs I have been going.
The other day we had a plate of aloo chat at 10 dollars or for 500 rupees here in Australia which in India would have costed me about 60 or so.
If you want to engage a driver for your car in Australia then you may have to pay anything between 30 to 50 dollllar an hour,so no wonder one drives his own car even in their old age. There are some old scoots here who are adventurous enough to divorce their old wives and marrying younger Filipinoes who not only give them company but also drive them around. As far as I am concerned I don't drive car any more,last time I drove was in 2000,my driver's license expired in2009 so for going long distance we are dependent on our son or daughter in law,of course sometime get picked up by DrTan,Keith, Tiare,Sharon etc.
Getting any work done by others one has to pay that 50 dollar or so per hour. So better do the cooking, house cleaning,dish washing,lawn mowing etc yourselves. Again I am unfit in this manual work department,back home we have masis for cleaning, washing etc and of course Gopal drives me around, it's company's car,I sold of my car in 2000,I don't own any car now. Whenever I am in Delhi I use battery rickshaw to move around of course mostly I walk.
I remember first time while I was playing golf here after tee off I started walking off when Amer my son's friend who was playing with us shouted at me," Baba,you left your golf trolley!" I turned back and started dragging my trolley,back home in Kolkata my golf bag is carried by my caddy who even locates my golf ball. While we were playing tennis here we had to pick our balls,no picker like what we have in Tolly Club.
In short it's do it yourself to survive with the salary what you get. Any service cost money.
So I really could not fully explain my grandson the purchase power of currency in respective countries. The services in US is comparatively cheaper than Australia because of parallel economy run my illegal immigrants mostly from Mexico.
In Kolkata where I stay there mostly NRIs stay,after retirement mostly have come back for this reason,here they get cheaper medical,driver,masis and the works.

Australia diaries..part 2

This year we came to Brisbane via Delhi unlike every year when we come from Kolkata. The lady sitting on the isle seat next to me was a young Indian woman and my wife was in the widow seat. During the course of the flight I gathered that she was flying to New Zealand via Singapore. She was having lot of Mehandi on her hands,she informed me that she was newly married since 3 months, went for honeymoon to Rome so it was not her first flight. I found her to be inadequate in speaking English.
I asked her,"What does your husband do?"
"A cab driver," was her reply.
"Have you taken any English lesson back home before proceeding for New Zealand?"
She nodded her head and found that she knows how to use knife and fork during on flight lunch.
I helped her at Singapore to get her luggage down from the overhead bin.
Both me and my wife wished her all the best in her new venture.
Everyday in the library after 12pm we find this group sitting around a table where either an old white man or white lady teaching conversation in English to a group of individuals from China,Philipine,Korea, Japan, Slovakian etc countries. Mostly old people and like children they are lapping up the words.
The old man pointed to his body and said ," This is called knee, down there this is called big toe, this is called ankle!" People sitting around him excitedly repeated those words.
He informed them that ," Today is the State of Origin match of rugby between Queensland and New South Wales,rugby is the most popular game of Australia!"
While all these were going on I would occasionally look up from the  newspaper which I was reading.
The old gentleman sauntered to me and said,"It's all voluntary if you two want you too can join!"
I thanked him and informed him that  I knew a bit of English  same goes for my wife and I have my own English blog page.
He got excited and said, " Oh; that is excellent then you can join me in teaching!"
I informed that it will be difficult for me to maintain regular hours and our stay is also short.
With a polite smile he left.
Then we noticed this chubby lady in typical Indian dress of Salwar
and Kameez walking in and joining that group of eager learner. After sometime she noticed us ,got up and walked to us.
She inquired whether we speak Hindi,was happy to note that we do speak.
She informed that she was from Uttarakhand and was in Australia since last 3 yrs,her husband an owner of an Indian restaurant is here since 1996. We have noticed she was hardly speaking in the group and was replying through gestures. She smilingly told us instead of getting bored in the house she comes here and sits with that group.
I asked did she learn how to speak English,she informed that she understands a bit.
She further informed us that there are some neighbors of her who are from Punjab have brought their parents who are illeterate and do all household chores and baby sit. As they can't speak so they don't even go out.
Yes, speaking English by the immigrant has become one of the biggest national issues. The immigration minister other day informed that about 1 million immigrants don't speak English and hence cannot join the work force. Australia allows yearly 1,90,000 immigrants. How have these English not knowing people come? Mostly foreigners come here with student visa or skill visa,over the time they get citizenship and then they bring their parents under parental visa or spouses under spouse visa, most of those coming under these dependent visa are from remote villages or from a country where English is not taught.
These people have sold of everything back home to be with their kids without having an iota of idea of what is stored for them in this country. Is it the lure of  first world,a better life or an Eldorado?

Australia diaries

We have been visiting Australia since 2005 and so far including this visit will be our 15th visit. Our son with family is located near Gold Coast so we camp here. Initial few years we took round of the amusement parks,zoos,museums etc and of course the sea and mountains. Australia is an open country full of nature's bounty so just walking on the streets gives the feeling that one is in some sort of  tourist spot in a remote place. We frequently come across various exotic birds like parrots,kakatuya,pigeons, magpie,ibis and host of other birds. This place is a nature lovers paradise. Though we drop in those numerous shopping arcades but love walking by the sides of woods.
Coming from India this country looks barren devoid of people. This country of 7 times the size of India with a population of yearly increase of population of India and that is about 25 million or so. The economy is latched with China,China imports ores, natural gas,wool ,chilled beef,dairy product etc from this country, practically the swing of Chinese economy very much effects this country.10 yrs back maximum immigrants were from New Zealand now it is from China,there was one flight to China 10yrs back to Shanghai and now there are 20 flights to Chinese cities.

Now the price of petrol is same as in India though this country does not refine. Driving car is a must and every household owns minimum a car as otherwise travelling by bus or train is pretty costly. The meridian salary per year is about 45000 dollar a year. If one does not get job gets dole from the government.
I have hardly seen anyone playing cricket in schools or in common play grounds and which are in plenty. The national game is rugby and people are mad about this game,a team game with brutal body contact.
I just tried to give some highlights of the country of friendly people. The moment we approached the lady behind the counter for coffee in Cuppa Coomera Cafe at Community Centre she gave us a broad friendly welcome smile and asked how we are and then with a twinkle in her eyes said, " Oh! You are back!The same cappuccino?" Mind it she is seeing us after a year. Later we found her name to be Heaven.
Then we have our extended families like Khan's,Sharon's,Eltons,Vishal, Tans,Dejan,Keith and Maureen whom we make it a point to meet every time we come.
I have heard from my friends whose kids have settled in US that their lives very much dependent on their kids, nothing much to do.
As such we don't have such issues as I am following my same routine as I do back home. Morning starts with yoga,breakfast,do cycling , visit social networking sites,walk down to the community centre spend hour or 2 in the library with my wife,have coffee and then walk back. By the time we are back it is 1.30pm,my wife had prepared the lunch before heading for community centre. Then have lunch,read novel,start painting at 3 pm and continue till 5pm, this routine is like spending time in office. In between check email to know about daily generation of Windmills as this is the high wind season in India. Reply to official mails or send queries about O and M of Windmills. We have our own close WhatsApp group of Techno windmill where I get the live input. As India is 4 and half hours behind so after 2pm here it becomes office time of India. My wife after lunch keeps watching TV,she loves English movies ,BBC ,Fox ,CNN news and there are plenty of choice .
By evening time my son and daughter in law are back.
Weekends are for visiting shopping malls,sea,watch rugby match of my grandson,biking with him.
We come across Indian youths mostly pushing trolley in shopping centres,the visibility of others are in restaurants. Yesterday while having breakfast in a restaurant found two youngsters Priya and Sunil in the restaurant. While Priya was serving English breakfast I mischievously asked, " Can I get aloo paratha?" She was happy that I spoke in Hindi,Sunil heard and said in Hindi pointing at Priya, " She prepares very good aloo paratha!" Priya said in Hindi ," initially I was bringing paratha for breakfast!" On further inquiry Sunil informed that he is from Ludhiana.
At Surfers paradise we see lot of Indian visitors.
Yes our life is pretty much like in India with the bonus of my son's family. We don't want to become load on anyone, I remember at my age my father would stay with me for 3 winter months,he would spend his time in his own way, occasionally will take the car for fetching medicine, in my absence my driver Gopal would take him to club, he never wanted anything extra from me, I gave my time to him, he had his pension and house to live in, I am pretty much following his footsteps.
We choose to come in May,June,July when it is summer in India but winter here in Australia. In Kolkata the winter is hardly a fortnight or so, we enjoy 6 weeks of winter as that is the length of our stay here. By the way don't try to keep in touch with all those political news of India though Google pushes some news on my dashboard or Twitter sends me alerts.
Well friends I am signing off as of now.,more next!

Seagull

Seagull

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The verdant sea beach of Pacific Ocean at Gold Coast

Seagulls on the beach at Surfers Paradise, Gold Coast,Australia

The sea was looking blue, the sun was about to set. The seagulls were circling over the sea at a distance from the beach. The surfers were returning, the air was salty; a fishy smell was hanging in the atmosphere. The entire ambiance and the smell of the sea beach at Gold Coast transported me back to Gangavaram sea beach in Vizag

.It was rightly said by Dian Ackerman that nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer besides a lake in the mountain: another moonlit beach. Smell detonates softly in our memory like poignant land mine hidden under weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of undergrowth.

Me with Raja and Bonny at Gangavaram sea beach, the captive sea beach of Vizag steel plant

Yes that particular moment reminded me of a similar sunset time by the side of Bay of Bengal on Gangavaram beach, which is kind of captive sea beach of Vizag Steel plant. I was relaxing on the beach, looking at the endless waves hitting the shore line, my son with his friend Raja swimming in the sea, the ladies were busy at a distance. From the corner of my eyes I could see the temple perched on a hillock, the last scene of the film Ek Duje Ke Liye was shot there.

Bonny with Madhuri in Gangavarm Sea beach temple

 The whole atmosphere was serene and tranquil. From a distance it would appear as though I was talking with the sea. Yes, I was communicating with the sea, I wanted the time to freeze so that I could go on reminiscing about the past. The sea was communicating back to me that it was not possible as the time could not wait and reminded me that I had much work to do before I could think of freezing myself to no work mode. It said, " look at those seagulls, they are relentlessly hunting for fish, look at me I have no time for rest, I have to go on creating waves." Those words of sea jerked me back to the present, I quickly got up and gathered my clothes and shouted to others that it was time to go back home, the sun was about to set.

I started thinking about the project for which I was posted at Vizag.The nightmare of grappling with the pressing problem at the project started staring hard at me.

I was posted there in steel plant from BHEL to construct their power plant. The plant was ready but was not stable. Those recurring problem used to haunt me, those trips to Gangavaram or Ramakrishna beach was to escape from the reality and look at the sea for a mental peace. I still remember my first rendezvous with the sea. It happened in 1963 when I with few of my friends from IIT, Kharagpur straightaway paddled our cycles to the sea before checking in any hotel. We were staggered; the endless water produced a numbing effect. It was beyond our imagination, in our own way we always imagine things in a limited way. Before that day the only unlimited thing with which we were familiar was the sky, since the sky we are seeing from our very birth so it does not create that kind of effect of the unseen. We felt very small and vulnerable on that day.

Whenever I was having any mental trouble I would go to the beach, look at the sea. The vastness of the sea would make my problem look insignificant, my disturbed mind would calm down and I would start thinking rationally. My batteries would get recharged; I would be looking at the problem with a fresh mind.

The next day I would sit with my good friends like P Chakraborty, Jagannathan, Rana, Malhotra, TS etc and would run through the problems and work out a solution.

The Vizag posting of mine was a landmark posting as BHEL gave me bigger responsibility and I could see the South Indian culture from a close quarter. It was learning for my wife as well. She learnt the intricacies of South Indian cooking like Dosa, Idli, Sambar, Lemon rice etc.My son learnt scooter driving, car driving, swimming, playing tennis etc, the list is endless. That posting of mine transformed all of us to a different person and the sea played its role of mentor. We were like sea gulls circling round and round picking up bits and pieces here and there. It was Jagannathan who first introduced me to management books.Mr.Rath forced me to hone my badminton game.

Austin O'Malley said, "The memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food." Similarly I don't want to remember those technical problems and their solutions but I want to store those beautiful moments spent by the side of sea watching our kids playing, ladies laughing and seagulls circling at a distance and that symbolizes Vizag for me.

Shuddy with us in Surfers Paradise, Gold Coast

Shuddy and Bonny

Poonam

Me biking on sea beach at Surfers Paradise, Gold Coast

Australia is all about nature

The land area of Australia is 7 times of India and population is 2.5 crores roughly India produces Australian population every year. This country is in the Southern Hemisphere so weathers are just reverse, So we make it a point to visit our son in Australia during extreme summer months of India when it is deep winter there, thus for the last 12 years we are enjoying 2 winters every year.

The entry restriction in this country are many, we can not carry wood,plants,seeds, milk products etc...even soil stuck to the sole of an old shoe is barred.

Once you are in you are safe because people are disciplined and law abiding. Very rarely one comes across cheat or thieves. All malls having CCTVs and all movements are on record. We have seen them nabbing shop lifters through camera. All products are RIFD tagged so gets registered while taken unauthorized.

We go to our son who is in Gold Coast and for that we take flight to Brisbane. Gold Coast is among the top beaches of the world. 

Being so near to sea we make it a point to visit the sea beach by the side of South Pacific Ocean as frequently as possible.

The Australians are very much outdoorish and they love to bike,surf , head for family picnic etc. One has to be physically fit if one wants to keep pace with them. I have not seen any Indian adopting this life style though they have got citizenship. I love biking so i was merrily cycling around the suburb where my son stays, my 8 years old grandson was the motivator, he is a great biker.

During our stay we made couple of trip to Brisban which is the nearest biggest city and Gaba stadium of Brisbane is the venue for international cricket matches. The river front of Brisbane was spruced up during 1988 World Expo to make it look like the river front of Thames in London. Yes it has it's own Brisbane eye...a giant Ferris Wheel. One can take river cruise in Catamarans on river Brisbane.

We sampled international cuisine here as the authentic brand restaurant of those countries have opened shop.

Now i will let the pictures speak for itself.

South Pacific Ocean...Surfer's Paradise 

  

South Pacific Ocean ...Point Danger

Brisbane River front and Catamaran cruise..

The forest and mountain range of Mount Tamborine..

Sports and biking..

International cuisine...Italian,Mexican,Chinese,Thai etc...scientific toy  shops, vintage cars

We spent more than 100 days in Australia and i set a routine of every day biking and going to the community centre library where books,internet,DVDs,Wifi,newspapers everything is free..

We used to walk down 1 km to that library....also i had the fortune of watching full blown rainbow 3 times..

I have many sweet memories but will keep that for some other day..