◉ 030 | Welcome to Straya, mate!

Perth, Australia—late October 2013.

Two days after landing from Croatia.

Maja and the kids still in Zagreb.

Staying with friends, Alana and Budi,

until I got us settled.

Spring heat biting at noon.

I was sitting on the couch

thinking about what comes next:

job, paperwork, renting—

new life.

They were at work.

Their son Surya at school.

The house quiet,

doors open to the backyard.

Then came Poppy—

their cat,

tail up, proud,

carrying something in her mouth.

She walked straight to me

and dropped it at my feet.

A half-metre snake,

a trophy for the guest.

Fuck.

I froze for a beat.

My welcome gift.

No panic,

no racing heart—

just that boy scout alertness

you don’t forget.

The snake, shaken but alive,

went straight for the corner

and disappeared behind the curtain.

I looked around the room,

found a monopod holding a lamp,

unclamped the lamp,

and used the pole to lift the curtain.

The snake—

brown-grey,

small but not small enough—

coiled in the corner.

I spotted Surya’s Lego box,

tiny—maybe 20 × 15 × 5 centimetres.

Ridiculous.

But it was the only thing at hand.

I threw it on the ground

and pressed it against the wall.

From a safe distance

I nudged the snake inside

and closed the flaps with the monopod.

Now came the hardest part—

picking up the box

with the snake inside.

I did it somehow

and sealed it with sticky tape.

Placed the box outside on the verandah.

Then waited.

No phone.

No Australian number yet.

Just me,

a taped Lego box,

and something alive inside it

for the next few hours.

When Alana came home,

I told her.

She stared at the box,

laughed,

and said they’d been there eight years

and not once seen a snake.

She called a snake catcher.

“I’ll come after work,” he said.

“Pay what you like.”

He arrived after five,

wearing a thick glove,

carrying a hook and a hoop bag.

He shook the Lego box;

the snake dropped in.

A baby dugite, he said.

Venomous.

Same venom strength as a mamma snake—

just less of it.

Enough to kill ya.

“What now?”

He nodded towards the bush.

“You’ll drop it round the corner?”

He nodded again.

Twelve years on—

one more snake

at the Twelve Apostles.

A redback spider back in Perth.

That’s it.

Still—that first week was enough.

Cat, snake, new job.

New everything—really.

It was a reminder:

stay vigilant,

stay humble,

adapt fast.

Welcome to Straya, mate!

PS: Alana and Budi—we are forever grateful.