It was a long train ride. That was Jim’s primary impression, and it did not wane for over an hour. Which, he supposed, proved the point. But it was an enjoyable hour when you didn’t have anywhere else to be, and he definitely didn’t. In fact, he was currently finding it difficult to imagine there being a justification for not being in the same place as Pam Beesly at any point in the future, which meant a vehement denialism about the fact that when they got back home he was supposed to be moving to Stamford, Connecticut.

But for now, with Pam resting her head on his shoulder and then staring out the window at the passing scenery, he was content. No, beyond content. Actually happy, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in longer than he could truly remember.

Even resting and watching palled eventually, though, so he and Pam started playing little games along the way, starting with “I Spy” and working their way up to a game he invented on the spot that involved whispering “That’s not a…” whatever, “THAT is a…” whatever it was whenever they saw something that looked particularly Australian. It had started with yelling that, but an elderly couple had glared at them and he and Pam had wilted.

“That’s not a house. THAT is a house,” Pam whispered to him as she pointed at a sprawling ranch they were passing by.

“That’s not a car. THAT is a car,” he whispered back, gesturing at the clearly used Jeep sitting in front of it.

“Jim, we have Jeeps in Scranton.” Pam stuck her tongue out at him.

“That dusty though?” The train had swept on, but he still knew what he’d seen.

“Then you should have said ‘That’s not dust. THAT is dust,’” she harrumphed, and he melted a little internally at how seriously she was taking this silly little game he’d made up to pass the time.

“Well I will next time.” They exchanged smiles as the train pulled into Macarthur Station and his one remaining brain cell not focused on her face remembered that that was their stop. “But now it’s time to get off.”

“That’s what she said.” But Pam was already running towards the train doors and he didn’t have time to laugh at that properly.

They giggled to each other as they waited for the next piece of transit, the bus down the street towards the botanic garden. Or at least they started out giggling. Enough waiting will turn even giggles into eye rolls. Fortunately, they were still rolling their eyes together at the situation, and not at each other yet.

**

Pam enjoyed the bus ride, although it was disappointingly normal in a sense: it turned out that pavement in one country was much like pavement in another, and Narellan Road was just another road. There was even a shopping mall at the station, which had excitingly different stores in it, but still, you know, stores, in a mall. Like home.

But the scenery was different and the company was excellent so she enjoyed it.

What she did not enjoy was trying to figure out when to get off, or how to get to the gardens from there.

“A short ride,” she huffed in Jim’s ear. “A short walk. How short, Jim? How short?”

“I have no idea.” He whispered back. Maybe we should ask the driver? Or…” he glanced out the window. “SHIT.” He looked around frantically and found the signal for a stop. “That was it.”

“How do you know?” She looked around frantically.

“There’s a brown sign that says ‘The Australian Botanic Garden’ on a post.” He swore under his breath, and she realized she rarely saw him hot and bothered. “I’m sorry, Pam, I should have been paying more attention. I have no idea where the next stop is. It could be miles.”

“Kilometers.” She couldn’t resist.

“What?”

“We’re in Australia, Jim, I think they call them kilometers here.”

Before Jim could respond to her, she thought quite witty, repartee, the bus had pulled to a stop. “Apparently the next stop wasn’t far.” She hurried to the doors and threw a hasty “thank you” at the driver before stepping off. “Do you remember which way it was?” The bus had turned after Jim signaled the stop, so she was disoriented again.

“I think so.” He held out a hand and she grabbed it. He led her back down the street and hesitated for a moment at the intersection before decisively turning one way. “This way.”

“Fifty-fifty, right?” She liked this opportunity to tease him.

“Come on, Pam, it’s at least sixty-forty.” He glanced ahead. “Maybe even seventy-thirty.”

“Oh, seventy-thirty. I bow before your superior navigational skills.” She sketched as good a bow as she could without letting go of his hand.

“As well you should.” He pointed at a series of flags on poles and, yes, a brown sign. “One hundred-zero.”

“Well done.” They came up to the entrance and she noticed something distressing. “Uh, Jim?”

“Yes?”

“The sidewalk doesn’t continue into the park. I don’t think this is the entrance.”

“Shit. Well…it’s definitely not on this road then. But this is definitely the park.” He scratched his head, and she tapped her fingers on her lips until an idea appeared to both of them at once.

“It must be on the other road.”

“Jinx.” She blurted it out before she thought. “I think you can skip buying me the Coke though—we have a long walk ahead of us and it’s going to suck if you can’t talk.”

“But I thought the rules of jinx were unfailingly rigid?”

“Only the American rules, Jim. This is Australia. Live a little.”

“Oh I intend to.” He dipped her down into a quick kiss. “But before I let myself get carried away, let’s go find the entrance. We have some kangaroos to see.”

They traced back their steps to the intersection between Narellan and Mount Annan and turned left down the latter road. Then they walked. And walked. And walked some more.

Eventually Jim leaned over and whispered in her ear. “That isn’t a walk. THAT is a walk.”

It was probably for the best she’d let him talk, but she was reconsidering.