At first, the biggest challenge was trying to find some things to do in Australia that didn't include being in the water. Then, while reading about activities on land, I stumbled across some information that alerted me to the ten thousand species of Australian spiders! And whilst researching, came across an informative video about the huntsman spider that has psychologically damaged me.
I know that the fear of spiders might seem completely ridiculous to most people. But I have an experience to legitimately back it up. Three years ago, we took our daughters to France and Italy for a long-planned vacation. We had finally saved up enough airline points to claim four tickets from Air Canada, cost-free (of course this is now impossible with the current, completely unreasonable structure of the aeroplan point system, but that is another blog-rant!).
It was mid-July when we set off to Paris. We spent a glorious week there, and then took the train to Avignon. Another week was spent touring the countryside of Provence, and then we caught the overnight train to Rome. From there, we rented a car to get us to where we would meet up with some dear friends in the Tuscan countryside.
We arrived and were greeted by captivating views of pastures and vineyards. Cows wandered freely about, with giant cowbells around their necks (and I thought this only happened in cartoons!). Ourselves and around twenty others had rented the country-house for the week. Each family had its own apartment, but there was a wonderful common area and swimming pool where we held our "happy hours" daily (http://www.borgopoggiolo.com/).
The "happening" occurred on the second last morning. Though our wonderful hosts had warned us of the poisonous snakes and scorpions, no one said anything about spiders. Long days around the pool had resulted in many wet pieces of clothing, which I lay out on our brick railing each evening. After the girls were in bed, Jeff and I would go sit on our stoop, have a glass of grappa, and chat quietly while I put out our clothes. Admittedly, there were a few times where I noticed something scrambling behind Jeff's head as he leaned against the brink wall, but I couldn't see well enough to be thoroughly convinced of its identity.
There was also a couple of occasions where we had to shake a couple of spiders out of our curtains, but that didn't really traumatize me too badly. Yet one morning, as I stepped out onto our lovely little terrace to shake out our clothes, I met my nemesis. It was a large, brown spider about the size of my palm, and it was nestled like a baby in the folds of my daughter's robe (http://www.thais.it/entomologia/ragni/schede/sc_00009.htm).
Instead of hollering or bravely shooing it away, I completely froze. Sophia came waltzing out, ready to grab her suit and begin the day swimming (she also ended the day swimming), and noticed that I was paralyzed and unable to speak. She followed my gaze and went inside, screaming for her father.
Jeff came scrambling onto our porch, and saw "the beast." He muttered a series of profanities under his breath, and I instructed him to get a broom, pronto. He complied, and proceeded to flick the spider down the stairs with the broom, in an aggressive, sweeping motion. It flew through the air and landed at the bottom of the stairs, and then proceeded to run back up towards us. Of course, this sent us into a dancing terror-frenzy that included a lot of non-sensical screaming. As it got to the top of the stairs, Jeff flicked it again, and this time, it flew further and landed on the grass. We stood motionless for a few seconds, awaiting its return. All was calm and quiet, until I realized the spider had to die. And as an aside, I never kill bugs or spiders at home. In fact, I regularly develop close relationships with the beautiful jewel spiders that spin orb webs in my garden every year. But this spider was the king-kong of spiders, and it had to die in order to preserve my mental health.
Jeff agreed, begrudgingly, and descended the stairs to find "the beast." I stood on the stoop, anxious and frightened as I watched him look for the spider. He eventually found it, and it took both feet to kill it. I had a giant shot of grappa to calm my nerves, and we carried on with our day.
Now somehow, I managed to convince myself that this was a lone, rogue spider, that had escaped a Venezuelan produce delivery truck or something, and now we would all live in arachnid-free peace. Though I didn't sleep a wink the last two nights in Italy, and I emptied and re-packed our suitcases about 100 times, I didn't see another spider. As we drove away from the Tuscan paradise, I mentioned to Jeff how strange it was that we had the misfortune to encounter that spider, as no one else had mentioned seeing any. I suggested that it was some kind of random bad luck, and Jeff just kind of agreed, and made a Jeff-grimace-face. I inhaled sharply, and asked him if he saw another one. He nodded. And told me it was BIGGER than the last one. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
So this happy tale doesn't end here. Only months ago, I had a sleep-walking episode. As a child, I used to sleep walk a lot, particularly after my parents divorced, so I suspect it's induced by stress. And though I can't remember what I might have been stressed over, I do know that I saw that spider again, and this time, it was in my bedroom. I was sleeping, and I opened my eyes, only to see it on my the side of my wardrobe. I watched in utter terror, as it then slipped behind the wardrobe, and stayed there. I screamed for Jeff, who came running upstairs in concern, and relayed what I saw. He told me that it was impossible that the spider was here in our bedroom. But I was insistent, and made him look behind the wardrobe, under the wardrobe, and nearly everywhere else in the house. He finally convinced me that I had imagined it.
I think this experience is important because it illustrates how sincerely disturbed I am. The incident has imprinted itself into my subconscious, to the point that I can actually conjure spiders! And it is also truly at the crux of my resistance to go to Australia. I am just plain terrified.
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