I really thought the Bubonic Plague was a relic of the past, something that had run its course and disappeared back in the Middle Ages.

How wrong I was. Turns out The Plague, which killed one third of Europe’s population in the 14th and 15th centuries, is still alive and well, and making people unalive and unwell, in Madagascar. Yes, the same Madagascar we visited a mere thirty-three days ago.

Good Lord Almighty.

The Los Angeles Times tells the woeful tale:

Madagascar sees cases of plague nearly every year in the rainy season.

This year is different. Instead of cases in the hinterlands where plague is endemic, the disease — which is initially spread by flea bites and was known as the Black Death in medieval times — has spread to the capital, Antananarivo, and other densely populated cities for the first time, killing 45 people and sparking panic.

By Monday, 387 cases had been reported, including 167 in the densely populated capital…

The mayor of Toamasina, Elysee Ratsiraka, said last week that the outbreak had overwhelmed the state and called on the government to seek more international help.

“Let’s be pragmatic. Let’s be realistic. We are defeated by the plague. You can leave your house today and catch the plague tomorrow,” Ratsiraka said.

Holy crap. We were not the biggest fans of Madagascar, and have already said we would never go back, but…but…but…Bubonic Freakin’ Plague?

There’s a website called AFloridaMan.com that calls itself “A celebration of weird news from the Sunshine State” and features newspaper articles that include the phrase “A Florida man….” But I guarantee you that weird Florida news pales in comparison to weird news from the land down under.

Just consider three of my all-time favourite Aussie headlines.

“Spider bites Australian man on penis. Again.”

I would guess that the odds against being bitten once by a deadly red back spider are pretty high. The odds against being bitten on the penis must be insanely high. But, c’mon, the odds against being bitten on the penis TWICE by a deadly red back spider must be absolutely astronomical.

I’m not sure if this is a sign of how dangerous the animals are here in Australia or how careless Aussie men are. Maybe both.

Here’s another one of those crazy headlines:

”Woman kills husband and cooks him for his children.”

To her credit, she cooked a well-balanced meal that included a hearty helping of healthy veggies. She may have hated her mate, but was, in a very odd way, looking out for his orphaned children’s welfare.

And, finally, my all-time great Aussie headline is the world-famous:

”A dingo ate my baby.”

This true story went on for 32 years and was even turned into a major film starring Meryl Streep. The mother was convicted of murder and served time in prison before they finally found her baby’s blanket chewed up out in the middle of the outback.

Every time I run across one of these very odd stories, I send them to my Aussie friend Hamish with a note that says, “What is wrong with you people?”

He never responds.

No wonder.

Angaston, South Australia, which sits in the beautiful Barossa Valley, is our home away from home. This is our third extended stay in this idyllic little village and it won’t be our last.

When we arrived at our hundred year old stone cottage on French Street, there was a note awaiting us on the back door. Our good friends, Drs John and Margaret Rutter, who live just a few doors up the hill, had invited us to tea on Sunday morning. What a wonderful way to be greeted.

After a good night’s sleep, we drove to Tanunda, the neighboring village, for coffee at a cool little shop named Darling’s. The barista, a young woman named Amy, looked at us a bit quizzically, then her face lit up in recognition and she said, “Welcome back.” We laughed and talked to her about our mutual friend Lisa.

Another customer got his take-out order and left the cafe without saying a word. Unbeknownst to us, he works with Lisa and when he got back to work he said, “Hey, there are a couple Americans across the street at Darling’s and they’re talking about you.” Lisa ran across the street, entered Darling’s wide-eyed, and screamed, “You’re back!” as she came through the door.

After finishing our coffee and our conversation, we walked to the Barossa Tourism office a couple doors down the street. We asked the young woman behind the counter if our friend Carmel still worked there. After answering in the affirmative, she said, “Hey, I know you two. I was your waitress at Novotel a couple years ago.”

Angaston is a very small (just 1900 people) village obviously filled with very friendly people.

But as wonderful as Angaston and the Barossa Valley may be, they are places people visit for weekend getaways, not for multi-month stays. Except for the deYongs.

The first time we came to town, word spread quickly that two Americans were making Angaston their home for several months. We later learned that this was considered unusual behavior. It seemed like every time we met someone new, their faces eventually lit up and they’d ask, “Are you the Americans?”

Yes, we are. We are the Americans who love this town and this state and this country.

We’re just so very happy to be back. And so happy that we’ve made so many friends who seem to be equally happy that we’re back.

Feels like home.

I readily admit that no one’s ever had much trouble getting into my pants — neither literally or figuratively — until we left for this trip. In case you don’t remember that embarrassing incident, you can read about it here.

This unfortunate situation has only been exacerbated during the first few weeks of our travels. We got too little exercise, ate too many rich meals, indulged in too much gelato and too many glasses of wine. And, although I hate to admit this, we ate too much bolo do cacao.

But during the two weeks we stayed in Broome, we changed our habits. I went bodysurfing at the beach or swimming in the pool every day, walking on the beach every evening, and most important, our hotel room came with a complete kitchen, so we ate sensible meals at home instead of dining out in restaurants.

So I wish to make a very important announcement. Perhaps the biggest announcement of the trip. An announcement of epic proportions. (Or more accurately, perhaps, less than epic proportions.)

Ladies and gentlemen, I can once again get into my own pants. In fact, they now hang about my waist like a yacht’s sails on a windless day. I may not have a six pack, but neither do I have a keg.

We have some photos we like that never made it into any blog posts. So here goes:

On one side of Port Louis’ main street sits a sparkling new shopping center. Directly across the street sits the city’s Central Market, which probably hasn’t changed in a hundred years or more. We found this fruit and vegetable vendor wearing a Baja California shirt.

These colorful umbrella shots were taken across the street at the sparkling new shopping center. Quite a contrast to the crowds, cacophony, and narrow aisles found at the old Central Market. Third world on that side of the street, first world on this side.

We found this sliver of a building in Barcelona’s El Gotic district during the first week of this trip. Must be interesting to live in a building so narrow that you can stand in the middle of the room and easily touch both walls.

Don’t know what this Valencia, Spain building was. Just another of the beautiful old buildings that line the historic district’s streets.

Someone left a comment on our South African elephant story asking if we had ridden an elephant. Here’s the answer.

What’s the deal with frogs at the Bali Hai Hotel in Broome? Last time we found one in our toilet. This time we found one in the sink.

I was sitting on the couch this morning when Jamie started screaming, “Snake!”

Sure enough, a snake about four feet long and as big around as a garden hose was sunning itself on our deck.

Of course, our so-called friends have emailed us many articles about the wide assortment of deadly creatures found Down Under, so we immediately assumed this one’s bite was capable of killing a bull elephant in about two minutes.

After all, as those friends have amply demonstrated, everything in this country can kill you. Australian Geographic once ran an article headlined “Australia’s Dangerous Animals: The Top 30.” The list included:

The Box Jellyfish – It’s venom immobilizes your central nervous system and can cause cardiac arrest and death within minutes.

The Eastern Brown Snake – Although its bite can be painless, its venom can result in eventual paralysis and uncontrollable bleeding.

The saltwater croc – Razor sharp teeth, death spiral, modern day dinosaur. What more do you need to know?

Sydney Funnel Web Spider – Its painful bite causes sweating, tingling, muscle spasms, and as if that weren’t bad enough, death.

Blue-ringed Octopus – Once bitten by this undersea assassin, your body starts to shut down and becomes increasingly paralysed. You eventually die because you stop breathing.

Coastal taipan snake – Pray that the coastal taipan doesn’t bite you. If it does, you’ll begin to bleed internally, suffer headaches, nausea and vomiting.

Common Death Adder – You know it’s bad news when a creature’s name includes the word “death.” Its venom causes loss of motor and sensory function. You go numb, your breathing starts to slow, you’ll become paralyzed and you’ll eventually die.

The list goes on and on and includes things like the Great White Shark, the Blue-Bellied Black Snake, the Yellow-Bellied Sea Snake, the Red-Bellied Black Snake, and much smaller killers like the Australian Paralysis Tick, the Bull Ant, and the Giant Centipede.

So it’s no wonder that Jamie ran to the lobby to tell the hotel manager that a green killer was sunning itself on our porch. They both ran back to our room, where the manager of the hotel took one look and said, “Oh, that’s just a garden snake. They can’t hurt anyone.”

Jamie and I aren’t buying it. We’re convinced that we stared down death and made it blink. Right after it posed for these photos.

Our photo session completed, the deadly serpent slithered up a tree and onto the roof to finish his sunning session in peace and quiet.

Believe it or not, one of the all-time great jokes has a real life counterpart here in Broome. Here’s the joke:

A guy works in the circus, following the elephants with a pail and shovel. One day, his brother comes to see him. He says, “Sam, I have great news. I got you a job in my office. You can wear a suit and tie, work regular hours, and start at a nice salary. How about it?” Sam says, “What? And give up show business?

Yes, there’s a guy whose job is to follow the camel caravan in order to pick up camel poop on Broome’s Cable Beach. The only difference between the joke and real life is that instead of a pail and shovel, this guy scoops it up with his rubber-gloved hand and places it in a pretty blue bag.

All those stories you’ve read on the internet are true — Australia has a real problem with man-eating salt water crocodiles. Which explains why the local shopping mall here in Broome is highlighting this safety display.

Oddly enough, this display reminds me of the first ad I ever created. Perhaps it’s not so odd because as readers of JimandJamie.com know, everything in the present reminds me of something in the past.

I did my first professional ad for a Los Angeles chain of brake and tire stores called Big Brake. The headline of that first ad was “At Big Brake, we stand in front of our work.” Not a bad little headline for a first effort.

But there’s a backward gap of ten years or so between that first professional ad and my first amateur ad. That distinction goes to a safety poster I created in Mr. Richmond’s eighth grade art class.

The assignment was to create a safety poster that would warn people to avoid some sort of risky behavior. The choice of risky behavior was up the the individual student. And please keep in mind that the term “risky behavior” didn’t have the same connotation back then that it has now.

As you might expect, all the other kids did posters that said things like, “Don’t run with scissors” or “Don’t go swimming until an hour after you eat” or “Look both ways before crossing the street.”

Perhaps I was odd even as a kid. Or perhaps I somehow sensed that I was destined to have a lifelong love affair with Australia. Because instead of doing something expected like the other kids, I created a safety poster that looked something like this:

I thought it was genius. The design was simple and the headline was direct. As the ad agencies of the world now describe their work, it was edgy.

At least that was my opinion. Mr. Richmond begged to differ. He may have been the first person to utter the words I’ve heard repeated so many times in my life:

“What is wrong with you, deYong?”

Jamie says it to me at least once a week. (Who do I think I’m kidding? She says it far more often than that.)

But please note that while scores of Aussies are apparently consumed each year by these enormous amphibian assassins, I am now 68 years old and have managed all these years to avoid being even nipped by one.

If only the Aussie victims of those ravenous reptiles had been allowed to receive the words of wisdom I so eloquently expressed back in 1961:

Watch out for crocs.

ADDED NOTE: Thanks to my buddy Ray Sanford for putting together this quick version of my 8th grade croc safety poster.

We had to laugh when we saw two different brands of beer sitting side-by-side in a cooler in our local “bottle shop” (what Americans would call a liquor store).

Our godson is named Jack. His sister is named Stella. So we had to buy one bottle of Iron Jack and another bottle of Stella Artois, and take them down to Cable Beach to watch the sun go down.

So far we have not found any beers named after god daughters Tatum, Avery or Kendal, but we’ll keep our eyes open.

We’ve shown you other photos of beautiful Cable Beach, but here’s another handful.

It’s 14-mile stretch of white sand beach on the Indian Ocean just west of Broome. It was named after the telegraph cable that came ashore here in 1889 and finally connected Australia and the rest of the world.

It’s a wide, flat beach where white sands abut the red sands of the outback and the gentle blue waves of the Indian Ocean. On a busy day like today, in the middle of Australia’s spring school break, you may be be able to count about a hundred locals and tourists lazing the day away on Cable Beach. May is the key word.

Fourteen miles, one hundred people. Crazy, huh?

Looking one direction on Cable Beach. Where are all the people?

Looking the other direction. Believe it or not, this is Spring Break.

Cable Beach is wide and flat, so when the sun goes down it creates some very cool shadows.

How beautiful is this place?

Proof that geat clouds and great light can overcome mediocre photographic skills.

Hundreds of trucks, utes, and cars (including ours) crowd Cable Beach each evening. “Crowd” is probably the wrong word to use to describe a couple hundred vehicles spread out across 14 miles of beach.