University
Chapter 30

Copyright© 2011 by Peter H. Salus

Like Rikki-Tikki-Tavi we had to "Run and find out." So we spent most of Friday going into hotels around the opera house as talking to event managers and catering agents. Some were very brief (e.g. "No, we don't cater to groups of that size.") but most took 20 minutes or half an hour. By about 1300 we were both tired and hungry. We had just emerged from the Marriott, so we went for lunch nearby.

"I hate to say it," Rachel began, "but the Marriott we were just in appears to be the most convenient of the bunch."

"I liked the Winten Room at the Four Seasons. It seemed more welcoming, the fact that it's designed for about 50 seemed right. And we'll most likely have about three dozen."

"Well, that makes things simple. What about dates?"

I had to go through the sheaf of paper and brochures we'd collected. My notes revealed that neither could accommodate us on the 27 or 28 of February, but the 21, 22, 23 were available at the Four Seasons and the 19, 20, 21, 22 at the Marriott.

"The Shangri-La was nice, too," Rachel said.

"Yes. But very business-like. I thought the other two were somehow warmer, less formal."

We ate for a few minutes.

"What about costs?"

"Pretty much a wash. $90-110 per capita. Plus extras."

"Extras?"

"Flowers, music, gratuities." I wrote. "I get $3200 to 4000 plus."

"Sigh. You said $5K. You were right."

"Okay. Here's my suggestion. We'll toss all the paper except the Marriott and the Four Seasons. Tomorrow, let's go for a drive in the hills. Sunday we'll talk about it and Monday we'll call and get them to write up a contract."

"Contract?"

"Or agreement. Whatever they call it. We can go there later in the week, sign and give them a cheque."

"Deal!"


"Do you really want to go for a drive?" Rachel asked at breakfast.

"Yes. Seeing Allison reminded me. We can get to the Blue Hills National Park easily. I've never seen the Red Hands. We'll just head for Penrith and then get a pamphlet or a map. I just read about the local history."

[Prior to the arrival of the Europeans, the Penrith area was home to the Mulgoa tribe of the Darug people. They lived in makeshift huts called gunyahs, hunted native animals such as kangaroos, fished in the Nepean River, and gathered local fruits and vegetables such as yams. They lived under an elaborate system of Law which had its origins in the Dreamtime. Most of the Mulgoa were killed by smallpox shortly after the arrival of the First Fleet in 1788.]

We started out on the Great Western Highway, but I stopped for petrol almost immediately. Even though it's under two hours' drive, running low in a national park is a poor idea. I bought a map and handed it to Rachel.

"You tell me where to go."

She did, ending us up in a car park with a 'Red Hands Cave' sign pointing to a track. The track wound through a few rocky outcrops, tending left. The track then continued across the rocky surface, slowly descending through the bush and leading towards a rock outcrop and then down a set of stairs.

Red Hands Cave is in the Glenbrook precinct of Blue Mountains National Park. Access to the cave is via Red Hands Cave track (6km) that leaves from the southern side of the Glenbrook causeway. The Red Hands Cave site is one of the best examples of Aboriginal art in the Blue Mountains National Park. The cave is a gallery of fine hand stencils and hand prints, created between 500 and 1600 years ago. Many of the stencils and prints overlap, making it difficult to see how many hands there are.

The feeling from the hands was very strong. Even the metal lattice protecting them did nothing to diffuse the feeling.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked.

"I will be. I hadn't expected the power to be so great."

"It's the power of many, many hands over many centuries. Do you know Auden's 'September 1, 1939'?

"I don't think so."

"It's about the beginning of World War II. Germany invaded Poland. It ends:

But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.

This is the dream. The Mulgoa stare from the cave wall. Those who came on the First Fleet were 'Imperialism's face' to them."

 
There is more of this chapter...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.