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(CAIRNS, Seen Dimly By Judy Tudor) The fact that Australian External Minister Casey had returned from SEATO talks through New Guinea, and took

the Saturday Qantas plane South

through Cairns was of consider able interest to this weary pilgrim who voyaged along that via dolorosa two weeks before.

I SHOULD like to know what was done for the Ministerial comfort for the lh hours stop-over at that so-called port-of-entry which in the Southern summer is a minia ture hell. Nothing short of a re frigerated trailer towed to the spot would have done much good.

At this time of year Cairns has two varieties of climate—pouring monsoonal rain; or stifling, still heat blaring down from a cloudless sky. When we stopped off there between 3.30 and 5 on the after noon of March 8 it was the latter.

The terminal is a two-bit sized fibro erection about as big as a 2-car garage containing one toilet for each of the sexes; a small sec tion for air-line business; a 3 ft. verandah along the front; and a middle section as waiting room.

This waiting-room contains half a dozen cane chairs (with the nails sticking out sufficiently to catch in your clothes) to serve the needs of anything up to 30 or 40 travellers: a water cooler that works overtime producing luke-warm water; and two milk-can arrangements full of orange cordial.

No effort is made to shade the place from the glaring sun which beats in from the west and fiercely reflects back from the acres of asphalt.

No electric fan is provided to agitate the still air. Of all the hot places I’ve been on this earth— Cairo, Khatoum, Nadi, Bangkok, the worst that P-NG can do—l have never felt heat like Cairns produced on that afternoon—or seen less effort made to prevent people having a heat apoplexy.

We're Tough

OK, we’re in Australia and we’re tough. What is a whistle-stop, any way?

But this is no whistle-stop; this is where someone in his wisdom

-although there is absolutely no lace to perform the function— ects to have a Customs inspection.

So every bit of luggage on that lane is laboriously hauled off and ned up out there on the open tar ,ac, and in due course your name called by one of the two Customs en, and there on the asphalt you st down on your knees with him, te some sort of pagan rite, struggle ith locks and straps and reveal all.

And there in full view view of le company, he rifles through lur goods, scattering panties and at-hangers and odd shoes around ; he pushes and prods into the r reaches of suitcases.

He’s polite enough—if any search personal belongings can be called at—and finally he is finished and ,sses on to the next in line, leav g you to push the mess together mehow, sit on the lid and get e locks pushed home.

Stagger Off

Hot, perspiring, red in the face, u stagger to the edge of the randah and sit—someone has iched your cane-chair, nails and —pant slightly, and curse, rhis is Saturday afternoon and ese Customs men are working ertime —and they are only work l overtime here, no doubt, in ler -to save higher rates of the ne, if the inspection were to take ice in Bribane later that night, [ncoming travellers are permitted bring into Australia up to £3O rth of dutiable articles for “gifts”, iw much then do they ever collect Cairns from P-NG travellers — in Bribane, either, for that mat ? If the total amount is more m a fraction of the salaries of ise Customs inspectors, I shall be tazed.

Why there should be an inspec n of travellers from Papua— ich when it pleases them, Auth ty regards as an integral part of i Commonwealth has always m beyond comprehension, even >ugh I have been reminded 'kly of “gold or opium”. low much of either has been dis ced in the suitcases of leave ng Territorians decanted at Aus lian ports of entry? Little enough bet to be the excuse for the mass comfort and indignity of tarmac pections at Cairns.

Own a Butter-Knife

lut from my observations I can this: If you want to throw these ows into a tizzy, write “nil” in space left on the Customs de ration for non-personal effects, tie of these guys can believe that >erson can spend a whole month the Territory and not come back hout at least one EPNS butter fe.

And, by the same token, if you are up to no good, see that you come armed with at least half a dozen native mats and baskets— unfumigated if possible so they will suspect a source of foot-and-mouth disease: a couple of pieces of Chinese silk; and 14 souvenir tea spoons. All together they won’t tot up to £30 —but officialdom will be so busy breathing hard over these, it will overlook entirely that big lump of opium you have in the toe of your sock.

TAILPIECE: And while on the subject of Cairns airport’s short comings—what about getting rid of all that chain draped between posts.

In the 11 hours we endured there.

three of the smallest tots in the contingent sat and swung on it, and before you could say smuggler, went head-over-turkey down on their heads on the asphalt. All squealed like stuck-pigs but fortunately there seemed to be no permanent injury.

But someone could crack a skull.

Just think of the damages.