Days Like This by Nicky Taylor
It was four thirty am. I could hear the crickets twittering; I could hear the silent sounds of the desert. Still half asleep, we drove approximately 17 km to our destination a little east of Uluru for breakfast at sunrise. It was not quite sunny, yet the colours on Uluru had changed so much during the fifteen minute drive from the hotel. It had started off being a dark, almost black purple then changed to a complete orange by ten o’clock. As we gathered around the fire to hide from the freezing desert temperatures, we noticed footprints in the sand dunes that we could not identify. I was not sure if it was just because we were not from Australia or even that area, or if in actual fact they were rare. The tour guides who made the journey every day knew exactly what they were yet had not seen any for many years.
We saw the dreaded creature of the footprints, the dingo. We were told gruesome stories which were all true but hard to believe of such an adorable animal. The tour came to a stop at the only place you can climb the world famous rock. I was very shocked at the size because I had only ever seen it in photographs or from kilometres away. There were only three of us who were brave enough to attempt the height, but unfortunately, we did not have time to climb to the top, however, reached the 45 meter point: a triumph. The aboriginal county was absolutely fascinating: life was captured as it has been lived for centuries. They had a little museum to show the little things that had changed but what caught my eye most was the way the people did their art work. Unlike us, who paint with lines and blend colours, they just do dots, and have different symbols to mark different things.
Later, as I looked out my balcony window, I could see a mob of kangaroos hopping across the dazzling red orange sand in front of Uluru. A helicopter would take us on a tour over Uluru and Kata Tjuta, and the 45 minutes in the air seemed so much longer. The colours and shapes of both rocks were phenomenal and, as I looked out the window all I could see were Uluru, Kata Tjuta and sand all the way to the horizon. Now that it was the afternoon, Ayres Rock had changed colour again. It was now a definite brown compared to the purple red colour it was at sunrise. On landing, I realised how hot it actually was in the middle of the desert.
Later we were privileged to hear an aboriginal playing the didgeridoo. It was fascinating to hear because after my uncle died I inherited his precious possession. I had never heard someone play it properly, so to hear that opened my eyes so much to the difference between our two cultures. The sun was starting to set as we made our way across the giant red sand dunes to where we were eating. It was a candle lit platform with a buffet to the front and a walkway to the left. While everyone was getting seated and watched the completely dazzling sunset, my sister and I scampered like terrified toddlers in twos up the walkway because we were too scared that we would run into a snake or a cockroach.
Once the sun had gone down, a special speaker told us about our star signs and explained the mystery of the northern lights and the Southern Cross in a magical way. We had a traditional aboriginal dinner but it seemed to be more appetising. After all the excitement of the stories of the stars we saw something I never dreamed of experiencing: we saw Jupiter and its moons, it was absolutely mind boggling because I did something I never thought possible. We managed to see everything so clearly in complete darkness because there was no moon.
I fell into bed completely exhausted but my eyes had been totally opened by what I had seen. It truly was one of the best days of my life.
