The Bittersweet Escape

Ever had a gut feeling that you shouldn’t do something, but did it anyway?

I’m blaming it on cabin fever, because the forecast really wasn’t any good for a day trip.

It was Sunday morning, and I was doing my little “need to get me outta this joint” routine, so before long, Ms and I were sailing away to greener pastures…

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Meet Noojee. An Aboriginal word that means ‘place of rest’ or ‘contentment’.

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Just say it. Noo-jee.

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Doesn’t that make you feel all warm and fuzzy?

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The stares we got when we reached our destination were less than warm and fuzzy, just like the bartender’s polite suggestion that we dine down at the bistro.

But I wasn’t in the mood for subtle messages that day, so I put my cider down and prepared to soak up the atmosphere.

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The table next to us was having a conversation.

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“Saw these poofters down the street the other day. They were all over each other – holdin’ hands an’ everythin’!!”

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“For real?! Aw, I wouldn’t come here if I were them…”

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It slowly dawned on me that the bartender’s gentle suggestion was probably for our own protection…

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Too late. Our meals arrived.

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The place is noted for its Chicken Parma’s (Aussie speak for chicken schnitzel with tomato sauce and cheese, usually served with chips, vegies and beer).

The food really was as good as all the hype. Even the Veggie Parma was delicious.

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We rolled out of there a few hours later, perfectly contented in the belly, and took a look around the sights.

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By the end of the day, we could hear the wind between our ears and agreed that we got just what we came for.

Driving back, I had zoned out to a bit of Aussie trance music

…when I spotted a policeman pointing from the window of his parked car.

“Was he pointing at us?” I wondered, barely registering that the 2.5 buildings we just drove past were probably meant to be a town.

Sure enough, the lights came flashing behind us. I pulled over and was informed I’d been driving 79 km/h in a 60 zone.

“There goes my overtime,” says Ms.

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All $289 worth of it.

We re-traced our steps through the ‘drop-in-the-dirt town’, as Ms likes to call them. Found the 100m stretch of 60 zone I’d overlooked. And drove on home, subdued.

I learned many things that day. Well, a few.

  • Don’t listen to trance music on a Sunday drive in the country.
  • Do listen to the forecast your gut instinct.
  • The price of contentment is, sometimes, staying home where you belong.

When was the last time you ignored your gut instinct? Was there a lesson to be learned?