Adriel’s placement in Alice Springs put her within striking distance of one of Australia’s icons and, thanks to the generosity of the Northern Territory Government and Tourism Commission, she was “shouted” (as in “my shout,” when you buy your mates a round of drinks) to a backpacker adventure to Uluru, a.k.a.“The Rock.” While her “Dear Diary” will give you a chance to hear her musings about that experience, her visit gives us a chance to write about something other than food for a moment.

While we were in Australia a news piece carried a story about newly discovered flint knives, dated as about 70,000 years old. It’s been clear to a lot of people for a long time that Australia was not empty when the Europeans arrived. But despite the fact that the Aboriginals were already here, the British stayed (many had no choice, of course, being convicts deported to a country about as far away from Mother England as possible). The descendants of those people and of the free settlers (many of whom came for gold in 1852) now number about 20 million. The total number of Aboriginals and persons with some Aboriginal heritage is under 500,000.

The Rock is known as Uluru, the name given it by the Anangu Aboriginal people who have lived in its precinct for centuries, and as Ayers Rock, the name given it in 1872, when European Australian, Ernest Giles “discovered it.” Since the Australian government “gave” ownership of the Rock back to the Aboriginals some years ago, Uluru is the more widely used of the two names. But the whole giving-taking, ownership thing is really causing a lot of consternation these days. Recent legislation makes it illegal to use images of Uluru for commercial purposes without a permit. Retroactively. However, Australian government seems to be taking a schizophrenic approach to the laws enforcement. On the one hand, a current exhibit of Wim Wenders’ photography displayed in a prominent Australian Art Gallery is now minus one photograph of the Rock. The photo was taken in the 1980s, but it is now considered to be illegal to include it in the exhibition. At the same time, there is a popular photo of Uluru for sale at the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park gift shop. Though it is also illegal to sell that photo now, it remains available to visitors of the gift shop.

Consider the children’s book that has a photo of a toy bear on top of Uluru. In the story, the little bear climbs the Rock. That is also now something of a no-no. Old names, new names, the right to make money from images of Uluru (amateur photography is not a problem), the right to have access to one of the earth’s great natural wonders versus sensitivity to the sacredness of certain areas of Uluru, these are the issues that are as much a part of the Australian landscape as the Rock itself.

Adriel went to Uluru and she climbed up to the top of it. Many of the people she was traveling with did the same thing given that it is one of Australia’s most recognizable tourist destinations. By the same token, given that the Rock is considered to be one of the Aboriginal peoples’ most significance religious sites, they (now considered the legal “owners") would prefer that she and others didn’t. While climbing the Rock is not yet specifically illegal, it is not to be encouraged. The situation serves as a potent metaphor.

We thought about not mentioning Adriel’s visit to the Rock as a sort of “Australian political correctness” and just stay with the theme of food and fun. In the end, we thought anyone who reads this newsletter could probably handle the fact that Australia, as with pretty much every other country on the planet where there is a heterogeneous population, has issues with race, ethnicity, and cultural identity. Truth to tell if you travel to Australia (it may not seem like it in Sydney but Alice Springs is an entirely different “kettle of fish”) you will get a sense of poverty and of people (Aboriginal people) at the fringe. You will also, hopefully, get a sense of the vast tradition of a people who trace their origins to the “dreamtime,” and who feel pride in those traditions and in their connection to the land, and to the ways in which they contribute to that land.

So, as we often say, what is the takeaway message? Go to the Center of Australia (the Centre), see Uluru or see the Olgas or Kakadu in the Northern Territory. But while you’re doing that, be aware. Having been there, you will absolutely know how the land of Australia connects itself to you. Give some thought to how it connects to those who come before you. Think a little about how European Australians and Aboriginal Australians are very much working to understand each other and their respective connections to the land. Depending on whom you talk to and what you might see or hear, you might feel hopeful, resentful or cynical. The glory of Australia is that it is big enough to absorb all of those feelings and give you, in return, inspiration, honesty, and possibility.