Aim and I went for an Adelaide walkabout. Strictly speaking, this is a bit of an oxymoron, as walkabouts are a rite of passage that tend to involve a) wilderness, and b) 6 months. Three hours, unfortunately, all the time we had. If it makes any difference, I did a LOT of soul searching out there, particularly over a good, cold Cooper's Pale Ale on West Terrace where I discovered that a) I like cold beer, b) I like to enumerate things, and c) McCainPalin spelled backwards is Nilapniaccm. Three epiphanies. Not a bad run. My second beer resulted in epiphanies d), e), and f), but my ability to remember them declined.
We started walkingabout (not an authentic Australian usage) by cutting through the park by our apartment on our way to the Adelaide market. We stopped by the Botanic Gardens on our way there (and our way back for good measure, because you can never spend too much time watching plants grow). We discovered a log dating back 1500 years - but the whole day was ruined when we read that we weren't allowed to climb on, break pieces off of, or cut our initials into the log. What is the point of having an ancient log if you aren't allowed to deface it with pithy statements like A&L '08 or America Rulez. We also came upon a monument that had been erected in honor of the combined efforts of the Australian and American armies during World War II. We happened upon this monument at approximately the same time as an older Australian couple. The man stared at the plaque and 
said, "Hmm. The Americans helped us in a war. Hard to believe. I've only seen them in pubs." Now, I'm not normally the kind of person who shouts at strangers, but there had been enough America bashing that day. I poked him in the back and said "Watch it buddy! That's what we do NOW. But we used to do all sorts of different things." It was kind of hard to read his reaction while we were running away, but I was pretty sure I'd put him in his place.We walked along Rundle Mall and communed with the spirit of commerce and credit until realizing that several Australians blame the US citizenry for the current economic downturn. Suddenly, 'where are you from?' took on a sinister meaning. It meant "are you personally responsible for the 90% decline in my retirement portfolio's value?" My only recourse was to admit that Amy was an American but that I was an Independent.
Amy decided to pursue culture and went to an aboriginal museum where she was cornered by a bored museum attendant who told her that she narrowly missed a spiritual presence with body odor who lingered around the museum the day before. I narrowly missed being part of that conversation.
I spent that twenty minutes of my life deciding that I had to have a meal at the Stag (for obvious reasons). Rump roast never seemed so savory. And lamb cubes on a bed of risotto? Unfortunately, the only thing on the menu that I could have was beer. 
Damn my luck. Damn it to hell.
