Mining for Gold and Hangovers

27.3.08

So, Easter Sunday then. Spent the day as guest to Chris, Marie and family (whose kindness knows no bounds - yes, I know they’re reading this) in the old gold-mining town of Ballarat, Victoria. We spent the majority of the day at Sovereign Hill, a mock 1850’s town that mimics life during the time of the gold rush, serving as a tourist attraction. Though I’m a few thousand miles out, it had the feel of a wild west town, from the wooden houses, swing-door saloon and mud-filled streets, to the people dressed in period costume and the active horses and carts. I half expected a showdown or pub brawl to breakout. All Sovereign Hill was missing was a sheriff’s office, which I’m told is because Australia had the army and then its police, never a sheriff. The main street had a hotel, playhouse, bank, post office, candle makers and a clothes shop amongst others, each run by informed persons in costume, some selling suitably thematic (and expensive) items - such as personalised horseshoes at the blacksmith’s - whilst others put on displays at specified times of the day. Erin and Bridget pretty much planned our whole day’s itinerary within minutes of arrival (mainly according to Erin’s approval: it was her birthday, after all), so us adults (yes, guess I am one now too) followed their lead. It was a pretty action packed and busy timetable as it turned out; my request at one point to stop for a toilet break caused much scowling and disgruntlement, such was the tightness of the schedule!

Highlights of the day included a trip down a replica mine shaft, where we were guided along by the pre-recorded, floating voices of invisible miners, through an elaborate set of narrow, dimly-lit passageways running thirty-odd metres underground, eventually to where a huge plastic lump of gold sat in a safe, a replica of one of the biggest nuggets ever found (at this point I heard an American tourist remark whether it was real or not). We also dropped in on demonstrations of candle making and gold smelting, the latter where we witnessed the production of a bar of solid gold, using melting, distillation and cooling techniques. The biggest gasp from the crowd came when the value of the gold bar was given, a cool one hundred and thirteen thousand dollars. Erin and Bridget took part in a Victorian school recreation, whilst I had a go at getting my feet wet, panning for gold in a very busy stream.

The park closed at 5PM but we weren’t done yet - Chris had booked us evening tickets to the Eureka Stockade show, which would require us back at 8PM. This packed out event turned out to be a pretty spectacular mixture of light, sound and pyrotechnics, using the town as a backdrop to recreate a famous piece of Australian Gold Mining history: the story of how a group of miners rebelled against the tax heavy authority and ultimately won. The scene was set by a short film in the beginning, followed by a walk to an audio show down by the creek (a similar production to what we saw down the mine, though this time with coloured spotlighting thrown into the mix) and then ultimately a tram ride to a building in a formerly closed off part of the park. We were lead to seats facing a screen wall in what turned out to be an auditorium; once everyone had arrived the wall lifted, revealing the outdoors, containing a large, tent covered landscape that spread out in all directions in front of us: the recreation of an old mining camp. There, using a mixture of - at times shockingly loud - sound effects, voiceovers, specially positioned lighting, smoke, fire (at one point a whole house set alight, another a burning wheel passed rolling just metres from the front row) and water (creating a very convincing rainstorm: no water restriction problems here). It certainly gave MGM studios a run for their money, very impressive considering the lack of actual actors or animatronics, and definitely the best part of the whole day.

Coming a close second, during the break in between we visited a nearby ‘Pancake Parlour’ restaurant, one of several which seem to be very popular in Victoria at least, if not Australia. After filling to bursting point with sumptuous mexican cheese and chilli crepes, followed by birthday pancakes and my first, not to mention very memorable, malt chocolate, pint-sized glass of milkshake (it was a meal by itself), I could see why. Quite the fantastic feast, it was only thanks to how interesting the show was afterwards that I mentioned to steal myself awake. We did have a bit more time to kill in the town of Ballarat, during which we took a trip to an enormous dried-up lake - the surrounding disused piers and yachting clubs were a real eye-opener - and drove through streets stacked to the brim with nothing but beautiful, ornate 19th century buildings - illustrative of just how much money there was flittering about back during the gold boom.

Monday and Tuesday were spent killing time, first at Chris and Marie’s, followed by staying at Alvary’s, right up until today. In the interim, I’ve been to the shops, picking up some warmer clothes to suit the currently much cooler climate, including new jeans and some tops. Since the thundershowers on Monday, the temperature has been significantly colder, hovering around twenty and dipping into the low teens in the evening. It’s got me worried about New Zealand, which is further south too! On Wednesday, Katie and I took a trip into the city to check out the Melbourne Comedy Festival. It was so cold I had to borrow a coat from James (now the next item on the shopping list). We took in just the one show, an English comic called John Moloney, who had been advertised on the Foxtel’s (Australia’s Sky TV, something I’ve been watching far too much of lately) Comedy Channel. Taking place in a function room in the basement of the Victoria Hotel, it wasn’t quite the venue I had imagined, lacking a dark, dingy, drink fueled vibe, instead representing a clean and small theatre. Soon the comedy came thick and fast, making up for the lack of presentation. Though it was clearly very rehearsed and dry humour, it was an the whole very funny. We were just glad we didn’t sit on the front row, its occupants a constant source of humiliation.

Katie and I went for a good meal and several exorbitantly priced drinks in one of only a couple of pubs we were able to find in the centre (as much as $20 for a couple of pints and some peanuts in one place, nonetheless very popular as it was filled to the rafters with Aussies catching the Australia-China World Cup qualifier). Turns out Katie’s quite the pint meister! We played catchup too, which kept us busy, having about a ten year gap to catch up on. The only downer to the evening was, having caught the last (and achingly slow) train at 12.05 (AM), we had to walk back in the pouring rain, sans umbrella. Won’t be making that mistake again tonight, when we head out again. Was hoping to catch Ross Noble live, but it seems each and every one of his shows is fully booked up. Hoping it’s a ‘Ticketmaster’ website issue, otherwise we’ll have to make do with something else.

Other pieces of news. Have finally sorted out by future itinerary. Leaving Melbourne a little earlier than originally planned, spurred on by the bad weather, mainly. Will be flying to Sydney a week on Monday (the 7th April), then onto Auckland, New Zealand the following day. Spending four weeks in NZ, then onto Fiji for a week, then Hawaii for another week. Landing in San Francisco late on May 20th, where I’ll hopefully be meeting Lucie Day. A couple of weeks traveling with her should take me up to Dad’s arrival. Looking a bit closer to now, I’m planning a possible vineyard trip with Marie and Chris on Saturday - weather allowing - following by a visit to Tim’s at St. Kilda’s on Sunday. Also, Tuesday night has been set aside for another night of comedy in the centre, this time also with Bridget and possibly James, if he can be bothered.

Got to take a quick power nap now, as exhausted. Probably all the copious amounts of good food and tea relatives keep on giving me ;)

29.3.08

Quality night out with Katie last night. Though we planned to hit the comedy circuit, we found and subsequently spent the whole evening in a wonderfully atmospheric bar just off a dark and spooky back alley. Drinking several enormous ‘long neck’, 750ml bottles of ‘Melbourne Bitter’ (like VB, fizzy and not really bitter, but tasty) and ‘Cooper’s Pale Ale’, we killed time sitting and chatting at a cramped high table in the tiny, very student-like front section of the bar (i.e. not too trendy, laid back, fairly messy, full of educated, jeans and t-shirt wearing folk), that got increasingly to ridiculously busy as the night wore on. Despite the number of people spilling in and out of the room, everybody was in high spirits, the good vibe being catchy - no doubt thanks to the playlist which, whilst a bit small, included lots of good music (everything from ‘The Smiths’ to ‘TV on the Radio’). The rear of the establishment was the most popular, playing host to several more bars, a few DJs on mixing desks and being outdoors a lot of dancing, drinking smokers (my clothes were not smelling so good this morning, let me tell you). We did some more reminiscing whilst trying to drink ourselves under the table, not getting back until the wee hours of the morning (unintentionally missing our last train by only minutes, so forced to splash out on a ludicrously expensive taxi, sadly).

Nothing happening with me today. Somehow Katie managed to drag herself out of bed before 9AM to go on a shopping trip with her mum, an invitation to which I politely bowed out from on account of a not inconsiderable hangover. The extents to which women will shop! James has gone to watch another AFL game. I also turned down an offer from Chris and Marie to go wine tasting - no doubt I’ll regret it but somehow alcohol has lost its appeal today. Plus it’s very cold and wet today, the coldest day yet I reckon. Could this be the official end of summer?!

More on Melbourne

22.3.08

Sat in my room at Alvary’s and James is talking in my ear with a voice distorting megaphone, to be annoying, for a change. (Argh!) Just got back from a trip to the shops with Alvary, James and Katie, where I finally picked up some new tops (not the best, but they’ll do as I can’t seem to find anything better this side of $80), they bought some clothes and cosmetics, and we all gorged on coffee and muffins. It’s great to finally meet Katie - she’s really nice, cool, very chatty and friendly. The complete opposite to her brother, in fact! She arrived very early in the morning at Melbourne airport, where Alvary was there to pick her up. I didn’t go on account of feeling shattered and a wee bit ill - had way too much of Alvary’s delicious homemade chocolate cake yesterday! She seems to be planning to not spend all her time here working on revision for her upcoming exams, so fingers crossed we’ll fit in some socialising while I’m here (such as the ongoing Melbourne Comedy Festival).

Arrived back at Alvary’s late Thursday afternoon, after a day trip to Healesville Sanctuary with Marie. The open air exhibition contained entirely Australian indigenous animals, including kangaroos, wallabies, koalas, dingoes (cross between a dog and fox, that howls like a wolf), platypuses, several parrot/budgerigar varieties of bird, owls, echidnas (confirming it was one I saw by the roadside whilst driving with Peter and Marie; turns out there aren’t any hedgehogs in Australia), reptiles (saw a couple of lizards over 2m long) and all kinds of marsupials of many different shapes and sizes. The koalas were exceptionally cute: when we arrived, one of them appeared to be really active, patrolling up and down the gate between its pen and the next. Such behaviour is very unusual for a koala, which needs to spend nineteen hours a day sleeping, in order for it to digest the low-in-nutrients eucalyptus leaves that it lives off. The reason for this soon became apparent when a keeper turned up and let him into the neighbouring pen, where she picked him up and stood cuddling him whilst introducing him to the crowd. He was nothing short of a small, fuzzy, furry-eared, beady-eyed, cuddly teddy bear, hand-reared from birth and therefore quite uninhibited in front of humans. So damn cute!

In another part of the sanctuary was a hands-on display where I was able to touch several stuffed animals, including the koala (furry), platypus (coarse hair, brushlike tail) and echidna (seriously spikey), amongst others. Later on, we crossed a small river in a creek, where Marie told me many platypuses were originally found (and still live) there, the discovery of which lead to the setting up of the sanctuary. Marie proved to be a wealth of information about both the place and the animals. Her family have a zoo/sanctuary annual pass and she’s seriously considering volunteering as a zoo guide, much to her credit.

On getting back to Alvary’s, James and I caught a train into the city, in order to watch Richmond play Carlton at the MCG, the very first AFL game of the season. The game was pretty exciting - it was split into four quarters of twenty minutes each, but they tended to last around thirty as the clock was stopped every time a player stood still with the ball in his hands - a time during which the opposition are unable to attack him - which occurred often. However, the flow of the game barely ever seemed interrupted, as the ball constantly being kicked or hit from one player to the next. Even when the game’s only injury happened, the play continued, the action never letting up. Such momentum really stirred the enormous crowd, spread out but not quite filling the 100,000 seats of the humongous stadium. The pitch was a massive green oval - much bigger than a football pitch - and filled with dozens of people: players, referees, instruction deliverers and drink carriers. Every roar that went up was spine-tinglingly awesome, reminding me of the stadium crowd cheers in the film ‘Gladiator’. 

It was a pretty cold night, the weather having turned with the onset of a rain shower - Melbourne’s first in weeks. It’s been relatively cool ever since, getting downright cold at night and making getting up in the morning difficult! I must try harder tomorrow as I’m off fairly early with Marie, Chris and family to Ballarat, home of the gold field and living museum. Plus it’s Easter, so lots of choccy to look forward to there. Speaking of chocolate, I was delighted to receive an Easter Egg from Great Auntie Elsie, after finally meeting her on Friday. James, Alvary and I were invited to an Easter lunch at Peter and Gwyneth’s on Friday afternoon, prompting Alvary to bake the aforementioned chocolate cake (the one I stuffed my face with). There, as well as receiving multiple chocolate goodies, plus a very tasty salmon steak and potato and egg souffle (courtesy of Gwyneth), I got to have a nice chat with Elsie, who was as wonderful as I imagined her to be. She really reminded me of Gran, in fact, even more so when Gwyneth put her glasses on her and pointed out her similar they both looked. She asked after you, Gran, and I told her just how well you were doing, plus how you are still putting the rest of us to shame by being so active! Elsie seemed very well and healthy too, very much enjoying our company and dinner, especially Alvary’s chocolate cake (she didn’t leave a crumb). I was regaled with some stories of Gran and Granddad living in Middleton, plus some more embarrassing ones involving Dad. Before I knew it, it was time to go, Auntie Elsie having to get back to her home and Peter and Gwyneth wanting to get ready for their small trip away for the long weekend. Gwyneth is organising another family get-together for the weekend of the 5/6th April. Really hope I get to see Elsie again once too, before I leave Oz.

26.3.08

Been a slow few days, much cooler of late since a tremendous rain shower and storm on Monday night, quite uneventful otherwise. Easter passed with much chomping of chocolate, plus a couple of cakes baked by Alvary, not to mention a banquet of crepes, pancakes, ice-cream and sumptuous malt chocolate milkshake on Easter Sunday, also in honour of Erin’s birthday. More on this later, when I get time...

J

Kangaroo Kontingency

19.3.08 - 11.55 PM

Driving today was so liberating! It felt wonderful being able to pick a place on the map and just go straight to it. That place was the Mornington Peninsular, the vehicle, Chris’ nippy five-door saloon car. I was a bit nervy at first, taking the alien feeling roads nice and slow, getting used to driving my first petrol-based car (very sensitive clutch too) and keeping a steady speed. Got lost a few times but I had the world’s biggest Melbourne map to help me (a 300+ page roadmap book dedicated entirely to Melbourne and its suburbs). There’s quite a few distinctive differences between the road systems in Australia and England, all of which helped me to make daft mistakes, but never twice! The nasty ones were:-

Left-hand lanes that merge into the right-hand lane

When two cars in opposing directions proceed to turn right at the centre of a carraigeway, they cross in front of one another, instead of going around each other

Strange speed limits, such as 100kph on a single carriage lane, as well as special school zones where different speeds apply at certain times of the day

Cars driving in any lanes, irrespective of speed or whether they’re overtaking anybody (although there was the odd sign suggesting drivers keep to the left lane, they mainly went ignored)

The drive down to the north part of the south peninsular took almost a couple of hours, the longest stretch being the almost endless Highway 9, parts of which crossed through such barren, flat, dry, empty landscape, I could have sworn I was alone in the desert and not just a few miles away from both coast and big city. Passing through the town of Mornington  (where a streetside market was in full swing) onto a coast hugging escapade that ran east to west, I caught stunning views of the sunlit, sparkly bay and golden sands, right next to the roadside. On the other side, collections of shopping parades and houses were dotted about, beginning just metres from the beach.

A pretty funky thing happened to me that afternoon. Stopping for lunch at a roadside cafe in a small town - with beach, water and sea breeze separated from it by the road and only a thin layer bushes opposite - I was engaged in conversation by a couple. (I ordered a sandwich and ice coffee, by the way, thinking that sounded small; it wasn’t - the sandwich was family sized and the coffee came with two chunks of ice-CREAM in it!) The husband had a bit of a Yorkshire twang in his accent and he picked up on mine too. Turns out he was from Doncaster! Of all the places! He’d emigrated from England in the sixties, coming to Melbourne to start his own car engineering business, and hadn’t looked back since. He was full of friendly advice, telling me about all the great things this country had to offer (great salaries, very little theft, being able to leave your doors unlocked, great weather all year round), practically imploring me to make it my home (even mentioned he could get me a job). I’ve got to say, his enthusiasm was catching; looking out at the gorgeous sea, I certainly felt I could settle there!

One cool thing that came out of the conversation was that he told me of a certain dirt track leading to a privately owned farm, where if I were to enter it and climb to a certain water tower when it was dusk, I’d be guaranteed to see some wild kangaroos. The destination was on a small road (which turned out to be fairly big, as are all roads in Australia) that cut south a little further along the peninsular, traversing it from the north side to the south and ultimately ending up at a seaside town of Flinders. Using the map, I found out I could skirt round that town, head north back up the peninsular and do a loop, getting back home in time for tea! I headed down there, passing under hot skies, A/C turned up making life much easier, in-car radio turned up too, making it everything good. I drove past countless, massive stretches of brown and yellow, dead looking pastures and water-forsaken trees, before finding the turn off. Felt a bit cheeky crossing into the farmer’s field, but screw it. Boy am I glad I did! There must have been four or five HERDS of kangaroos - there were literally dozens of them. They must have been red kangaroos too, being that they were massive: easily man sized. I climbed up to the water tower to get close to them, but unfortunately they bounded away, all in unison, always keeping a safe distance. Still, thanks to my camera’s zoom, I got some great shots, plus a video, not to mention some serious satisfaction at having seen them.

So fancy that - meeting a man from Doncaster in one town of many (just picked randomly) in a place about as far from Yorkshire as one can get, which lead to me finding the favourite jumping spot of Melbourne’s kangaroo contingency. Is that fate or what?

Stopped by at Flinders for a few coastline shots and a soft drink, before heading back to Lilydale (near to Chris and Marie’s). Arrived back shortly after 7 PM. Went for a nice dinner at a local Indian/Nepalese restaurant, where I chatted with Indian the owner about the wide, landscape photos of Annapurna, Pokara and Everest on the walls (her husband comes from Nepal). Food was great - very tasty - really impressed by the presence of Kingfisher Lager, not so with the keema naan (was like pizza; also informed that naan breads in Australia tend to be tiny, chapatti sized). Found out Bridget can’t make the AFL game tomorrow, so looks like it’s just going to be me and Jolly James. Actually, he’s not really that bad - saw some of the nicer side to him this week, occasionally. I’m really just hoping the game itself doesn’t turn out to be a snore-fest.

Oh, we all like to be beside the seaside!

14.3.08

Finally dragged my lazy ass out of the house today, returning once more to Melbourne’s busy centre. The day began as a scorchingly hot one - on the way up to the train station, there wasn’t a cloud to be seen in the bright blue sky and I felt pretty sweaty before I even got there. Having sussed out the most direct route as well as the times that the train departs, I made it in record time and had little time to wait. Saw a man wearing a luminescent orange workers uniform, riding on an old motorcycle - side-car equipped - along the side of the pavement, delivering pamphlets. I guess he’d need that to think about getting around in this heat. He gave me a nod and I gave him one back. At the train station, despite it being daytime on a weekday, I was able to purchase and use an ‘off-peak’ ticket for travel into Melbourne (covers trains, trams and buses within zones 1+2, which is everywhere on the transport network, basically), saving me a dollar on the normal, day ticket price. Even more strangely, the ticket barrier accepted my ticket on the way back, right in the middle of the heavy rush hour! Could the Melbournian’s have missed the concept of what ‘peak’ is, altogether?

When I hit the central rail loop, I decided to get off at a stop right next to the Queen Victoria Market, which I mentioned in my last blog posting. This time I was early enough for it to still be open - I entered the undercover, outdoor market with a self-congratulatory pat on the back, before realising that on Fridays it remains open all day long. Nevermind, the thought was there. I was a bit disappointed with the market at first - it felt like no more than a large car-boot sale, consisting of several rows of adjoining stalls selling all sorts of ‘bric-a-brac’ under the cover of a long, open-ended warehouse. Delving deeper, however, I found the real heart of the market: very popular fresh fruit and veg. stalls, followed by a large meat and fish section. So far, so British - could have been at Doncaster Market, albeit cleaner - but for the last section which was devoted to all kinds of delicatessens, bakeries, cheese shops, sweet stands, plus a whole number of food stalls, ranging from those selling German sausages (Bratwurst, or whatever they’re called) to anti-pasta (such sweet smelling olives, you can’t imagine) to spicy noodles to great pizza slices. All looked seriously delicious and tempting; I was in seventh heaven, spoilt for choice! :)

After lunch, I took a much needed bit of exercise and strolled down to find the ‘Immigration Museum’, a place I decided I must go after reading the gushings of Bill Bryson. Despite it being a weekday, Melbourne’s streets were very much business as usual, the pavements packed out with businessmen, shoppers and tourists alike, and roads busy with cars and trams. In the afternoon, the sky clouded over, spoiling the forty degree prediction of the weather forecast but still keeping the high heat trapped and giving the air a sultry, stormy feel. The museum was set in Melbourne’s old Customs House, a great, three floor, white, stone building, dating from the mid-19th century. The main exhibition that I took in covered the first floor, dedicated to the history of Australia’s - particularly Victoria’s - immigrants, funnily enough. The biggest display concerned a detailed timeline dating back from today to when us Brits first came over on ships in the late 18th century, half populated with convicts sentenced to ‘transportation’ (to Australia) as their punishment. As I’d discovered back in the Convicts Museum in Sydney, some of these crimes were surprisingly petty - something as insignificant as the stealing of a horse could see you shipped away to the other side of the world, which back then meant for life. It was very informative and some of it fascinating, particular the changes to foreign policy (such as the ‘White Australia Policy’, which was employed over many years and at multiple times since Australia’s inception - as late as the 1970s - though not always under so unsubtle a title nor via obvious methods). Many posters dating back decades were on display, which really helped to capture the essence of the time: some depicted anti-Asian propaganda, others advertised the post-WWII, subsidised, £10 trip to Australia. Inventive, beguiling (deceitful?) adverts lured potential emigrants to help repopulate the land of forever sunshine and endless prosperity. There was also some mention of past anti-semitism - like with the Chinese, European occupiers of this gold enriched country didn’t like the idea of other races becoming successful on their turf, especially not Russian Jews, which was ironic as one story told of two such men who arrived at the beginning of the 20th century and went on to form what is today one of Australia’s biggest department stores, ‘Myers’.

After taking all (well, some) of this in, plus a wander through an modeled, cutout subsection of a ship - recreated in the centre of a great, column-filled (Roman style), central atrium, replicating life as it used to be, traversing the ocean waves from England to Australia - I headed to a Borders like bookshop (‘Dymocks’) to check out the contents of some New Zealand travel books and to get a coffee. There, my plans to stick to a slightly healthier (at least, compared to recent times) regime were unknowingly foiled: I ordered an ice-coffee and received something reminiscent of a coffee ‘float’ (like the old ‘coke float’ drink, it came with ice-cream AND cream). I also popped into an original looking shop, dedicated to magazine publications only. I dipped in to have a look for my favourites from back home, skimmed through a few, but decided against paying for them thanks to their extortionate costs (Australia imports most of its magazines it seems, as well as its books, leading to high prices and many second-hand book shops) and out of date-ed-ness.

Had a night to myself tonight as Alvary went off to a ballet with a friend from work and James ditched me at the last minute for a party with some friends. I received a text from a friend back home, Lucie Day, to tell me she’d allotted herself some holiday time from mid-May until the first week of June and wanted to join me for then. I already knew something about this, but didn’t realise it’d be quite that far ahead. Now I’ve got to really do some thinking and organise the next few months, nevermind the next few weeks. Saturday tomorrow, so should be heading to Marie’s soon (by Sunday or Monday, at least). Then I’m going to arrange to see Tim O’Hara for a day or so, then Katie should be due back for Easter. Hopefully I’ll get to catch up with her, then onwards and upwards.

Need to get up before the sun does (or thereabouts) tomorrow to do some running. I’m feeling glutinous and flabby and my lack of exertion is getting ridiculous. I’m stuck in a lazy rut. Bet those Timtam biscuits I had for pudding tonight didn’t help, either. Bah.

19.3.08

Time is once again racing on and the blog lays dormant. I’m now staying at the house of Liam’s sister Marie, along with her husband Chris and children Erin (15 on Easter Sunday) and Bridget (18). Since I arrived on Sunday, I’ve felt like one of the family: there’s a real buzzing family atmosphere to the house that’s delightful and catching. The hub of the action is also the busiest room, the kitchen and living area, which opens onto the living room through some always open double doors (to-be-ironed clothes seem to live in this gap), a couple of corridors (one leading to the bathroom, girls’ bedrooms and bushy but dry back garden - patrolled daily by an egg-laying chicken - and the other leading to the front bedrooms and door). During the first couple of days, I wasn’t aware of how open-plan and light and airy the house could be, since the curtains remained closed during the day and the air-conditioner was on full assault, keeping the aggressive heat at bay. Marie’s house is further out into the outback than Alvary’s and thus even hotter: at the start of the week, after a relatively cool Saturday, temperature’s were soaring again at forty degrees! The land out here is on the whole much drier: grass and shrubs are a mixture of browns and yellows, no thanks to the strict water bans in place.

On Saturday, before I left Alvary and James, we took a drive up to the Dandenong Mountain area - just east of where Chris and Marie live, as it happens, as well as at the southern tip of the Dividing Range - in order to catch a famous steam train known as ‘Puffing Billy’. Stopping at Sassafras on route, we took a beautiful, green, shady mountain route to get there. Surrounded on all sides by tall pines, the gaps between the trees provided tantalising glimpses of the enormous valley Melbourne sits in to the west, leading out to see. The village of Sassafras was another old, quaint settlement whose only reason for existence is to provide tourists with refreshments and craft shops. Its location was fantastic however, being high up and in a forest clearing, and the tea room we stopped at sublime. ‘Miss Marples’ stood out as a large, old, two storey cottage - like an English country pub. It was packed to the rafters, so we booked a table, visited the nearby speciality teas shop and art gallery, then returned later to dine on Yorkshire Tea (!!!) and the biggest ice-cream, fudge, chocolate sundae I’ve ever seen, much less eaten (the cream alone allowed it to stand as tall as a foot off the table). Nor were Alvary’s chocolate cake (sitting on a bed of whipped cream) and James’ side-splitting banana split any less indulgent.

We missed the departure of the Puffing Billy, but being so full I wasn’t too fussed. We made a detour to take in some views of both the valleys to the east and west - the former showed a massive lake, hills and trees leading to an expanding horizon, the latter the city and on the edges of vision the skyscrapers of the CBD, but sadly it was too hazy to see the sea. On the way back we made a stop at a sculpture park, dedicated to a recently deceased eccentric, whose artistic talent was making creepy statues of Aboriginals, sculpted from clay. The exhibition had the feel of a darker Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale, reminiscent of the film ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’, though I’m sure that wasn’t the desired effect.

Marie picked me up on Sunday and drove me to her house in her big, white 4x4 monster truck (ish), possibly the largest I’ve ever been in. It turns out Chris and her are quite the fans of off-road adventures, though the kids aren’t so keen. Sunday ‘arvo’, I was given the grand tour around the nearest shops and train stations (a good 30 minute walk I reckon, though I haven’t tackled it yet), as well as a drink at one local pubs (the one we visited had a pretty dire mish-mash of old pub and new bar styles, hosting a band so bad I figured it to be karaoke night) followed up by an enormous and satisfying meal at the other, fancier one. Gave me a chance to get to know everyone and see just how well the family gets on together.

Monday, I lazed around in the morning, did some web-browsing using Chris’ wifi (yippee!) and playing with the dog, a cute King Charles Spaniel, whose name I still can’t remember. The only thing he seems to like more than being played with is sneezing all over your ankles! :) Marie got back from her morning shift inoculating kids - she’s a part-time nurse - at a relatively local school - several miles away - before we went shopping for meats for the barbeque. When Chris got home in the evening, he showed me how a true Australian BBQ is cooked, using the rudimentary big, gas powered grill in the outside yard running down the side of the house, he claimed sole ownership of the cooking, not letting his beer leave his hand throughout.

Tuesday, I caught a lift with Bridget to a nearby train station before heading into town. She’s studying both IT and the arts at one of Melbourne’s universities; her commute takes over an hour there and back, using car, bus and train. Before she got off at Blackburn Station, she pointed out Chris’ work: a bright, monster green eyesore of a building, off to one side of the newly constructed and soon to be opened (finger’s crossed, hey Chris?) Eastern Freeway. He’s involved in the IT side of things for the company building said road. There's a lot riding on this new road and the council haven't helped by announcing it's running six months ahead of schedule and so should open 'very soon'. Needless to say, it's a busy time for Chris.

Once I hit the city, I was undecided what to do next, but a tram heading to St. Kilda’s Beach that stopped feet from my nose soon made my mind up for me. This was my first tram ride: it was slow and rickety but novel, feeling much like sitting on a train in the middle of the road. On a side note, I have managed to organise to see Tim towards the end of next week thanks to Marie, but couldn’t lay off checking out his neighbourhood in the meantime. St Kilda’s sports a beautiful long stretch of beach, a happening cafe-bar filled sea-front, a very big pier and a Luna fairground (with a giant clown’s mouth forming the entrance, just like in Sydney). I took a long walk out to the end of the pier, where the ferocious winds took the bite out of the scolding sun’s rays. From the tip, there’s a magnificent view of central Melbourne’s towers, preceded by St Kilda’s suburbs, its palm tree laden, sandy stretches of beach, parachuters sporting vividly coloured parachutes criss-crossing the sky, towed by speed boats in the waters, and right next to the pier, dozens of docked ships. Looking out towards the western horizon, I felt I was on the sea, such is the size of Port Phillip Bay.

Started my lunch at a Rough Guide recommended bakery, but wasn’t enamoured with the cheese danish I ordered, so then proceeded to order nachos next door, for some real nourishment. Unfortunately, I hadn’t counted on a serving for two, but me being me I conquered it, plate and all. Thoroughly stuffed, I waddled back to the tram, to the city and home, picking up some easter eggs for the Erin and Bridget on the way. On the subject of Easter, I’ve been invited to join the family on a trip to Ballarat, home to one of Melbourne’s famous gold mines and ‘Sovereign Hill’, an interactive museum (see link here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sovereign_Hill).

Today, with much thanks to Chris, I’m being let out on Melbourne’s roads. Have to admit I’m a tad nervous - driving here is probably less risky than in Thailand, but no less different. So far there doesn’t appear to be a strict rule about keeping to the left unless overtaking, with cars sticking to any lane they feel like, though I’m told it depends on the road. Also, there’s junctions where a green light indicates you can drive straight on, but a red arrow forces you to wait to turn right. A green left arrow may mean you can turn left, but not if pedestrians are crossing (same in Hong Kong, Thailand and Malaysia, if I recall). Not to mention the bizarre pull-into-the-left-hand-lane-to-turn-right system, operating in places to avoid holding up eager trams. Let’s just say I’m planning on avoiding tram routes today. Marie suggested a trip down to Mornington Peninsular, on the south head of the entrance (the forebodingly entitled ‘Rip’) to Port Phillip. Best set off soon if I’m to make it.

J

p.s. Future plans are forming. Going to stay in Oz until the end of the second week of April, visiting Tim and Elsie, taking in the comedy festival (which starts today), an AFL game (tomorrow) and whatever else life throws at me. Then I’ll head over to New Zealand for five weeks, followed by a couple of weeks in Fiji (where I’m meeting my friend Lucie, who’s flying all the way from England to join me for a break), a week in Hawaii and then finally onto California. That’ll bring me up to the second week of June, when I’ll meet Dad.

Melbourne Mellow

10.3.08

Am about to set off into the city to witness the last day of the Melbourne Moomba Festival 2008. From what I can gather, it takes place around the River Yarra and involves plenty of watersports. Of this I’m thankful, as it’s a teeming thirty-seven degrees today. Phew! There’s some sort of parade scheduled for today, which I’m told by Marie (Liam’s sister) involves her daughter. Unfortunately, having laid in for the first time in several days - having kept very active over the weekend, staying with Peter and Gwyneth - I’m guessing I may have missed it.

Will do a recap of the last few days’ exciting events soon as I get back, IF I have the energy! For now, the heat...

11.3.08

As usually happens, the more stuff I do, the less time I have to update my blog. This is annoying, as I want to get down all the details of my three trips into Melbourne city centre (or the CBD: ‘Central Business District’), taking in the Melbourne Gaol, ‘Game On’ at Federation Square, the cafes, restaurants and street-life, plus finally the Moomba Festival James and I caught the end of yesterday. Alvary and I are heading off on a long-awaited and much delayed trip to the zoo any moment now, so hopefully there will be time to get down these details once we return.

13.3.08

My tardiness of late when it has come to my blog or doing anything has become ridiculous, so I’m going to try and start afresh, updating every day or two. Since a very busy long weekend (Monday was a Labour Day in Victoria, plus Alvary had Tuesday off work), I’ve done little but sit on my backside, stay in the shade and eat lots of food. No change there, I hear my guilty conscience cry! Have tried to get into some jogging while I’ve been in Australia, but I’ve found even just a hint of sun to be near unbearable: it seems so concentrated here, though the shade is much more effective than in east Asia and thus a pleasurable and much sort after reprieve.

Speaking of the weather, it really has been barmy this last week or so, starting fairly cool and overcast at the beginning of last week, then hitting some soaring highs over the latter parts of the weekend (it was thirty five degrees centigrade on Sunday), before cooling ever-so-slightly by yesterday (Wednesday). It’s now on its way up to some extreme heights again: I’ve seen thirty seven and eight bandied about on some news websites. Definitely not the jogging/activity sort of weather.

So, an account of my last ten days or so. I spent last week enjoying the perks of European civilisation and culture, both in and out of the house. A couple of days were dedicated to exploring Melbourne’s city centre, reached by train from the nearish Heathmont Train Station (takes roughly 20-25 minutes walking uphill from Alvary’s house to reach, then there’s train every half hour, which takes about 45 minutes to get to ‘Flinders Street Station’, the beginning of four stations that form the rail loop of Melbourne’s Central Business District, CBD). It only takes so long thanks to the train having to stop at every little station along the way; I reckon the actual journey length is about twenty miles or so.

My first day alone in the centre, I took in the area around Flinders St, which comprises of several old Victorian style buildings (the actual station being one of the most impressive: an enormous yellow and red brick building, topped with several grand, but rusting, green domes, a large clock and a great archway forming its entrance). Inside, the station is fashioned very much like an old English railway station - say Kings Cross - though on a relatively small scale. The Australian pie shops and confusing ticket barrier system, which can be approached from either direction, leading to predictable and regular pileups, give the game away though.

Outside, wide roads (all roads in Australia are wide) form a busy crossroads, busily populated by cars, people and trams. Busy trams are a prevalent sight throughout Melbourne and sometimes they are the only mode of public transport. I’m planning on and looking forward to taking a trip to St Kilda’s on one, which is home to a thriving cafe scene, beachfront and Tim O’Hara et al. I just have to organise a visit to see him and his family, hopefully though Marie, whom I’ll be seeing next Monday (Marie and I had quite a long chat - over two hours in fact - over the phone a few days ago, when she told me I’d be welcome to stay for a few days if I wished, starting March 17th).

Opposite Flinders St Station, there’s a large square known as Federation Square, which houses a huge, underground and very flash tourist information centre, as well as a massive outdoor screen (useful for catching Australia lose to India in the latest ODI cricket series - brilliant) and an ugly, boxy, metallic monstrosity which is the ‘Alfred Deakin Building’, which houses ACMI (the ‘Australian Centre for the Moving Image’). ACMI stole my attention for most of Thursday, when ‘Game On’, an international, roaming videogames exhibition dedicated to the history and future of gaming, decided to set up there. What are the chances of that, eh? There were dozens of computers, consoles, arcade cabinets and ‘machines’ that predate them, all interactive and mine to play with for a measly sum of $15. I got my rosy fill of nostalgia playing Monkey Island and Frogger on giant screens, as well as some insight into modern game development. It’s interesting to see how gaming has gone from a huge investment to create one - i.e. back in the 1960s, a dedicated television computer had to be designed and purpose built for a game - to costless bedroom coding by lonely, never-see-daylight individuals, to ambitious, multi-million dollar, mammoth scale projects worked on by great teams of people, including designers (both visual and audio), programmers, advertisers, publishers, writers etc. Now it looks like the tide is turning again, as the ‘indie’ scene is attracting more attention, swapping imagination and innovation for big budgets and sequels.

The crossroads outside Federation Square still had more to offer. There’s tall skyscrapers on the skyline in most directions, including Melbourne’s biggest (whose name escapes me now). Across the road from the square and the train station, there’s an impressively tall and gothic St Paul’s Cathedral, on the corner of Swanston Street, the hubbub of the centre’s activity (containing cafes, restaurants, pubs, an old, stone State Library, part of the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology - RMIT - and the Melbourne Central Shopping Centre, impressive for not only its towering glass dome of a roof, but also for hosting an excellent food court!). Heading in the other direction, there’s the wide Yarra River, home to a thriving cafe scene along its banks, which runs past Yarra Park in one direction (home to the MCG and close to other smaller, yet no-less popular, stadiums such as the Vodafone Arena and Telstra Stadium) and merges into ‘Port Phillip Bay’ in the other.

Melbourne is spread over many square miles, the centre of which stretches around the north-eastern part of the second largest bay in the world, ‘Port Phillip Bay’ (the city and its suburbs encapsulate all of it). The city centre’s roads are arranged in a grid shaped system, making getting around very easy, as I found. Equipped with my guidebook, I easily located Melbourne’s 1870 Queen Victoria Market, but was disappointed to find it closed. Am going to have to attempt an early morning to sample its delights. The Old Melbourne Gaol proved more accommodating, staying open till 5PM. One whole, ancient block, dating back to the early 19th century, has been kept open for the public, now acting as a museum. Of most interest were the death masks: impressions made of prisoners’ heads soon after their execution, kept for study in a once popular field of science known as ‘phrenology’. It was believed by some that the shape of one’s cranium could explain a person’s personality, including criminal tendencies. Several of these death masks were placed in glass cases in prisoner’s cells, next to accounts of their crimes, trials, details of incarceration and ultimately executions. The most infamous criminal to enter the old gaol’s doors was none other than Ned Kelly, Australia’s most notorious thieving, murderous bush ranger, and also, bizarrely, their number one folk hero. Guess when you’re a country without much of a history, you’ll grab onto anything! There was a whole section of the museum dedicated to him. One cabinet contained the last gun he had fired, with part of the handle dented where a bullet had clipped past and hit his hand. Right next to this, hanging from a couple of wooden racks, were some crude looking body armour plates, used by Kelly during his final showdown with the police. Tackily - and rather insensitively I thought - a sign nearby read that children were welcome to try the ‘suits’ on. Anything for the tourists!

Food-wise, I sampled a delicious falafel sandwich from a wide selection at an Italian restaurant/cafe from the aforementioned food court (the cafe was sort of a squashed oval bar which customers sat around on high stools, watching the staff dizzyingly run around its centre, from one end to the other). It was filled with many smartly dressed business men on their lunch hours, the food was excellent yet the price moderate. There was also a huge variety of different types of food on offer, all for good prices. As I had been prepped beforehand, Melbourne does not disappoint on the culinary front! (I was surprised to learn later that Alvary wasn’t aware of this.) To further reinforce this point, I stopped in on another day at Melbourne’s number one chocolate shop, ‘Koko Black Shop’. There, in a quaint little upstairs cafe, I had the most delicious hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted. It took real effort not to order everything from the entirely chocolate filled menu, let me tell you.

So, that was my week last week. Other than that, I basked in the joys of having a house to myself, a big TV and satellite, taking in several episodes of ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and ‘The Shield’. It’s amazing how quickly you can slip back into old routines. To add a bit of spice, I also did some jogging, though as I’ve hinted not enough, no thanks to that sun, and also took the Buddy and Amber for several walks (Alvary and James’ big dogs). There’s a popular, scenic walk just five mins away, some parkland, a track, gum trees and river, known as ‘Dandenong Creek’. The dogs are lovely, no trouble and very well behaved: they act pretty old and slow at times however, definitely unable to keep up with me if I break into a canter. I guess the heat gets to them too. I’ve been getting on very well with Alvary - she’s been very kind, allowing me a free run of the house, as much food as I want (dangerous) and helping me organise activities amongst her already busy schedule. She always seems to have a heck of a lot on her plate - as well as close to full time work, including long shifts, she has visa application forms, housecleaning worries, choir practice, keeping in touch with family and friends, issues with Chris’ will, tax troubles, church plus James, who has proven to be quite a handful for everybody. I’ve offered to help Alvary out as much as she’ll let me - with dishes, dog walks and so forth - but I’ve been struggling a bit with James. Not quite the introverted but nice person I had presumed he was, he’s a bit of a terror at times, refusing to do his school work, very rude on occasion (including to his mum), deliberately rebellious and generally ‘mopey’. A typical teenager I suppose, but I’m under the impression this has been going on longer than necessary. I feel for Alvary as she has enough on her plate as well as sorting out his future, which looks a bit bleak as of now, thanks to recent problems at his school.

Anyway, onto brighter things. The weekend was fun and very event filled, having spent it in the company of Peter and Gwyneth. I was driven several miles across to Doncaster, into a rural looking, hilly estate that houses many large, impressive mansions, each with several acres of land to spare. Gwyneth’s house was no exception: a long, winding driveway led back across a beautiful, large expanse of lawn to a wide, country manor like home. Inside, everything was nice, homely and spacious, not to mention impeccably clean. I felt like I was dirtying the place, just by being there!

I hadn’t really met Peter and Gywneth properly before, but they made me feel equally as welcome as Alvary did. However, I did feel like slightly more was expected of me - so I was on my best behaviour at all times and acted a proper as I could. For instance, when everyone made for bed at half past ten on Friday, I did likewise. James had forewarned me I might expect an early morning to be thrust on me during my stay and he was right: at 8.30AM, Peter entered my immaculate room, saying something about how if I was cold he could show me how to use the air conditioner/heater (no such things as radiators in this country, the a/c unit usually works both ways), then hastily retreating but leaving the main dazzling light on. I took this as my cue to get up, which is a good job, as Gwyneth was in full preparation mode, getting clothes and drinks bottles ready (one I was amused to find labelled with my name on it), then soon after shoeing us out of the house, into the large, triple garage beside it. 

Setting off this early - in order to beat the sun - there was a bit of confusion with the day’s organised itinerary: when to visit the infamous Yarra Valley Vineyards. If we went now, they’d no doubt be closed for tours, but then on the way back, it’d be too late. We settled on driving by several instead - and they were beautiful, acre upon acre of symmetrical lines of green grape vines, stretching up and down the sides of valleys as far as the eye could see. They reminded me of the tea plantations I’d seen in Malaysia. Also that morning, we stopped at a huge roadside cafe where I tasted my first ‘Beesting’, a custard and jam filled sponge, spotted with almonds, and one of Peter’s favourites. Delicious it was too!

We drove through several national parks, including one whose trees grew thick and tall, dozens of feet off the ground. Coming back this way later on, we stopped the car so I could take some photos of an echidna, a hedgehog like creature belonging to the same subspecies as the platypus. It was ambling along by the side of the road but rolled into a ball and wouldn’t show its head, sadly, when I came bumbling along with my camera. The main aim of Saturday’s drive was to get to Marysville, a small, rustic town home to a waterfall. The waterfall was quite pretty, the forest around it moreso thanks to the large variety of gum trees. The town was filled with small, wooden craft and clothing shops: at one that specialised in llama wool, I was accosted by its old Scottish owner, who wouldn’t let me go until she’d grilled me about my every little detail of my stay in Australia. She was ever so charming and friendly, but it was bizarre, especially as she took no interest in the actual potential customers in the shop.

We had a delightful lunch in a Greek-run, eat-in bakery in the town, which was a bit too soon after my morning cake, but thanks to its food being so damn good (I had the freshly made vegetable quiche followed by even more cake, this time chocolate and mousse), I didn’t have too much trouble dispatching it. Peter treated me to some New Zealand white wine, which was delicious. Unfortunately, he and Gwyneth stuck to soft drinks, as they’ve given up wine for lent (Alvary in the meantime has given up both wine and chocolate, though I’m told she allowed herself a glass or three of Champagne on her birthday recently, but that didn’t count as it was fizzy). As well as how kind, tidy and organised Peter and Gwyneth are, I also discovered over the course of the weekend that they are also dedicated bird and plant enthusiasts. I was introduced to more variants of birds than I can name, I’m sorry to say, but at least I learnt that parrots and budgerigars are indigenous to Australia, that they come in many colours, shapes and sizes, and that the oft-called magpies here are not actually magpies at all (they make beautiful birdsong, for one). 

I ended the day riding on Peter’s drivable, sit-on lawnmower, which was fantastic fun. Sporting five gears, you can turn cutting the grass into a speedy, dangerous adventure, pulling handbrake turns, yanking on the wheel at the last minute so as not to run headfirst into a tree at full speed, cheerfully spraying bemused spectators with waves of grass spewed up and out from the side of the vehicle. Who would have thought that a chore such as mowing the lawn could be turned into so much FUN!? After finishing, I went back over a second and third time, just to be sure. I never imagined I’d be looking for an excuse to spend longer grass cutting.

Saturday didn’t actually turn out to be all that hot, but Sunday was an absolute scorcher, rocketing to the mid thirties. We set off a bit later that day, to visit Hanging Rock, a site where a volcano had struck many hundreds (thousands?) of years ago. What was left was a large, irregular bulge of rock issuing straight out of a very flat landscape, to form a small but striking rock covered mountain. There’s also a famous story written at the turn of the 19th century about it, concerning a disastrous school trip to it where several school girls went missing, never to be seen again. The views from the top were stupendous, well worth the very sweaty climb. On the way up, Gwyneth spotted a wild wallaby! These are basically the midget version of a kangaroo; it can’t have been more than a foot and a half off the floor. Against the red clay and grey gum tree backdrop, and at a distance, it was easy to miss, practically blending in when it wasn’t hopping about.

The top was filled with a maze of closely congregated grey, craggy rocks, jutting out an all sorts of extreme angles. Some stood perched precariously on top of much smaller pinnacles, looking for all the world like they’d take a tumble at any moment. I shouldn’t have liked to have been anywhere near there during an earthquake. Interestingly, despite the presence of several manmade paths, there were many unprotected sheer drops dotted about the edges of the mountain. It was both easy to see how the schoolgirls in the story could take a critical tumble from one of them and surprising there hadn’t been many more accidents, considering the number of visiting families. I insisted on climbing to the very top of the highest rock - just about, a couple of Ozzies were sat on the tallest perch, refusing to budge - before retreating to the safety of the shade.

For lunch we had a picnic at the bottom of Hanging Rock and off to one side, next to a cricket pitch where a game was in full flow, despite the unrelenting heat. We dined on a foldout, blue, plastic table and chairs unit Peter brought with him, right in the middle of a section of track belonging to a (currently) disused horse racing course. Bizarre. The game was fun to watch, plus we weren’t the only ones indulging in picnics. Seems that these are still going strong in Australia, another old, quaint, British tradition that has fallen by the wayside back home but continues unabated here.

We headed back to the ranch, stopping off at a cricket ground where the first Australia based Ashes game was played. On getting home, I had a quick dip in Peter and Gwyneth’s pool, which was absolutely freezing, despite the intense heat, before setting off again for church. There, after an upbeat, evangelical service run mainly by young adults - that went on for an uncomfortably long one hundred and five minutes - we met with Alvary and James and went off for dinner. In line with Melbourne’s fame for its good food, we arrived on a bustling street (it was a Labour Day on Monday, let’s not forget) lined with busy restaurants spilling out onto the pavements. This, Peter described to me, was the equivalent of Little Italy, though it could have been Little Europe as far as I was concerned, thanks to the mix of Greek, Italian, French, Turkish and many more western establishments. After spending an inordinate amount of time searching for a car parking space - thankfully, we only brought one car - we settled for an Italian restaurant with the most enthusiastic waiter that we could find, who had dragged us to a table and was serving us our food and bill before we could think of saying no. Thankfully, the food was excellent (lasagna for me, naturally), as was the complimentary red house wine, though I was the only one to sample the latter (damn lent). I’m not sure everyone was too chuffed by the conversation: I brought Peter into a bit of an existentialist debate on Jesus and religion, which got serious very quickly and pretty much excluded everyone else from discussion. I soon put all to rights, however, offering to buy everybody what turned out to be delicious double-helpings of gelato ice-cream from a vendor on the way back to the car. Mine was one part Snickers, one part Cherry Ripple, in case you’re wondering :)

On the Monday, James and I took a trip into Melbourne centre, which was waylaid - as always seems to happen when him and I travel together - so that we had to catch both train and cumbersome bus to get there. By the time we arrived, mid-afternoon on the last day of the Moomba Festival, everything was wrapping up, sadly. We’d even missed the parade, which took place at midday. Instead, we settled for a Mocha Java Chip Frappucino from Starbucks (think fancy ice-coffee) and a walk beside the Yarra River, taking a quick look at the fun fair, music stage (with beat-boxing female singer) and kids events (skate ramps, slides, soccer). It was too hot to do much else. On the way back, we got picked up by Alvary at Ringwood Train Station (one down from Heathmont) and we drove through my first ‘Bottle Shop Drive Thru’. This is exactly as it sounds: an off-licence where you can go to pick up enough booze to be a hundred times over the limit and they will bring it to you in your car. Mental. Good fun though - I picked up my first batch of ‘Cascade’, a Tasmanian Beer and supposedly Australian’s first. It’s a nice, quite sweet tasting, distinctive beer, reminds me a little of Becks. All the beers I’ve tasted in Australia have been good so far, bar the standard Toohey’s (a New South Wales Beer, though I do like the ‘Extra Dry’ version). Other good ones include Victoria Bitter (a tasty lager beverage that isn’t a bitter, also product of Foster’s, scarily) and Carlton’s Draught (a bit like Stella).

Tuesday, on Alvary’s day off, she and I took a trip to the zoo. It wasn’t too hot a day - a gentle breeze made it a suitably fine day, even cool when the sun went behind a cloud. As far as zoos went, it was fairly large, each enclosure separated by tall trees, plants and shrubs. I mainly used the visit as an excuse to have a nice catchup with Alvary, find out how she was and what she’s up to, discuss my potential next set of travel plans and talk about my trip so far. Whilst chatting, I saw the usual range of zoo animals - tigers, leopards, bears, giraffes, elephants - and more excitingly some of Australia’s indigenous ones. In particular, I was excited to finally see some wombats: thickset, lazy but powerful looking, furry pig-like creatures (like a dog sized gerbil), with pointy ears, furry snouts, small limbs and fat bodies. The red kangaroos were just as I imagined, as tall as a man, able to leap large distances and fast, using disproportionately big hind legs. One fatigued kangaroo intrigued me - it was using its tiny front legs and paws, in symphony, to drag its front body forward, then doing the same with its back legs, using its mammoth tail for balance, like a walking stick. Doing this, it gave the impression of being crippled, but I fancy it was just being lazy. What struck me as odd was how it used two of its legs together at a time, unlike how a quadruped would use each leg individually. The highlight of my zoo visit was the platypus. It was just how I imagined, a mish-mash of creature designs belonging to both reptiles and mammals, all under one hood. It was swimming about frantically in its dark tank, fur stuck to its back and glistening in the half-light, large, employing its frog-like webbed feet as flippers (also, these reminded me of small batwings), using its wide, flat duckbill to sniff around from side-to-side under rocks and pebbles, like a fish would look for algae. Disappointingly, it was too dark to get a decent picture, just like it had been at Singapore’s Night Safari.

Yesterday and today I’ve done very little: yesterday was all about polishing off Bill Bryson’s account of Australia - had me chuckling to myself all day - and today was all about the blog. Going to commit to keeping this up to date regularly now, as otherwise it can take hours (as I’ve just found out)! Tomorrow, I’m planning on heading into the centre to visit the Immigration Museum, as recommended by Mr. Bryson, then possibly onto the Aquarium. This weekend, Alvary has mentioned taking James and I down to Mornington Peninsula, the southern head of Port Phillip Bay. At last, I’ll get to see the bay! Next week, a stay at Marie’s is on the cards, plus Melbourne’s Comedy Festival is due to start, Katie is returning for Easter and I have to sort out my plans with Gina. I don’t think a flight to Perth is possible now I’m sorry to say, as it’s looking to be too expensive (a $600 round trip). However, on the upside, I’ve discovered a website that specialises in car deliveries, where they fund some of (sometimes all of) the trip so long as I do the driving. There’s a whole range of journeys on offer, it’s just up to me to choose one and cover the distance in the time allotted. Could be an excellent opportunity to travel on the cheap (so long as cheap, dorm accommodation is on offer). Of all the places left in Australia, Cairns and Uluru (home of the infamous Ayer’s Rock) take my fancy. I also think getting to New Zealand by mid-April at the latest would be ideal.

As always, you’ll be the first to know.

J

p.s. Sometimes, regretfully, I start writing this and it turns into a bit more of a column, rather than a commentary or diary, hence the finishing comment above. I really don’t like it when it turns out this way, as it feels a bit contrived. Hopefully, back to norm from now on!

Australia, Australia, We Love You...

23.2.08

Five days into the land where the water runs the wrong way down the plug hole and I’m starting to get a feel for the place. It’s been pretty unreal for me since getting here - first the shock of leaving cold, north hemisphere climes to arrive in a much warmer southern hemisphere, then that of being met by an eccentric but very welcoming distant relative (David Coles), who has planned with a fine tooth and comb every day’s events for me down to the tiniest detail. Thanks to our not stopping since touchdown, it’s all been a bit of a blur.

Australia is a very odd place; possibly the oddest that I’ve visited so far. Everyone here looks and acts as British as I am, though they’re not (both their friendly inquisitiveness and strong Aussie accents give the game away). The buildings are familiar, but they’re not (there’s skyscrapers and roads and pavements and houses, but many houses are single story affairs and a large number of the buildings date back to the art decor style of the 1930s). Somebody told me to expect Australia to be like England in the sixties: I have only film, TV and word of mouth as frames of reference, but the sheer amount of drab brown employed in workers’ clothing, furniture and architecture, plus the curb culture (I’ve witnessed multiple groups sitting on benches on the roadside during the daytime, idly chatting) and the unpleasant salesmen I encountered lurking around electronics shops whilst I hunted down a mobile sim card (reminding me of how Dixons used to be back in the late eighties/early nineties), make me feel like I’ve entered a time warp.

The weather is just about perfect: despite one very cloudy and slightly drizzly day, there’s been plenty of sunshine and blue skies, thrown in with a pleasant sea breeze (and smell) that keeps temperatures very pleasant in the mid to high twenties. Nights are cool but still warm enough to keep your shorts on. It’s very different to SE Asia, being very dry and a lot more like an English summer. David tells me it’s been one of Sydney’s coolest and wet summers in a long time, and its residents are all the more happier for it (bizarre, they actual like rain here).

So far, I’ve visited Sydney’s centre, via a public ferry (a ‘River-Cat’, an engine-powered, fast, modern catamaran) caught on the river just outside of David’s home (a flat, known as a unit, with a balcony looking out over the salt water Parramatta River, which comes inland directly from the sea, only a few km east of here). I leapt off at the Circular Quay, which offered beautiful views of the modern skyscrapers that formulate the business/shopping district, as well as the world famous Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge behind it. I spent Tuesday wandering around this area, also stopping to see Sydney’s oldest building plus tasting my first Australian Beer (in a bar with its own brewery, no less) in an area known as The Rocks - an area kept mainly for tourists where all the buildings date back to Victorian times and are immaculately kept. I’ve seen the outside of many of Sydney’s government buildings, been inside some of its old-fashioned shopping centres (where I sampled a tasty Chinese Satay Curry - eastern foods have become more and more common in the last couple of decades, thanks in part to Australia relaxing its immigration laws, though ‘pie and peas’ and steak are still considered the backbone of the staple Ozzy diet) and walked through its botanical gardens.

Thanks to David getting up early enough to pick up some tickets - he tends to get up around 6am he tells me, whereas the best I’ve managed is 9am - I’ve also seen my first opera at the Opera House: La Boheme. We had cheap-ish standing only tickets at the back, but the hall wasn’t too big and I had a good view of both the action and the ‘subtitler’.  It was an Italian opera, funny, romantic and tragic; though the words didn’t always match the emotion poured into the singing, the script was fairly strong, not hard to follow - even less so, as the setting was thoroughly modernised - and the song and music were touching. The Opera House itself was very impressive from the outside, but the hall was smaller inside than I had imagined, thanks to sharing the building with several other theatres and a cinema. I also felt positively underdressed for the first time on the evening of the opera; everybody appeared to be dressed up to the nines in smart suits and glamorous dresses, whereas I was wearing my shorts, sandals and - admittedly - ironed shirt (David was wearing shorts, shoes and socks pulled up to his knees, in stereotypical Australian fashion).

I took a trip to David’s sister Angela’s ‘unit’ yesterday, up on a peninsula a few miles north of Sydney’s centre, right on the coast. We took a drive to a beautiful bay home to many anchored ships and a grassy picnic and beach area, right next to a quiet town - where we picked up traditional ‘Australian’ (ahem) fish and chips - built on a hillside sprawling with New Zealand pine trees. There’s woodland all over this part of Australia, likely making up for the miles of nothing in its centre, and everything is enviously spread out, leaving plenty of area for parkland, long empty streets, big yards and natural parks. After a quick paddle in the sea and feeding the ducks, we drove a few miles round to the other side of the peninsula, leading to Sydney’s Palm Beach. I got plenty of pictures of this beautiful, long stretch of sandy beach, surrounded by multi-million dollar holiday homes and sporting an impressively violent surf, especially after the stillness of Thailand’s oceans. There were beach closed signs present, but it didn’t appear to bother keen surfers, and Angela and I had a dip in the surprisingly cold sea. Before calling it a day, David and I drove up to a point where he lived decades ago: the top of a tall cliff providing a breath-taking view of several long, sandy beaches stretching in both directions along the eastern coast. Many miles to the south I could just make out the rounding of a cliff edge which led onto the entrance to the Sydney Harbour. The city’s skyline ran around behind us, its houses starting right on the shoreline and spreading out as far as the eye could see. The sky was decorated with a stunning, red sunset, the Pacific a deep blue speckled with white surf, the beaches a dark yellow and the streets a good blend of houses and greenery. It had a look of the idyllic about it, and the good weather lent its hand in proving this place was far from the same as England.

25.2.08

My blog entries are really taking a hit right now thanks to my oh-so-busy itinerary. David is like a man on a mission, trying to fill up every day with as many activities as possible! During the last couple of days, I’ve been on a 100 km+ trip to Sydney’s infamous Blue Mountains followed up by visiting the city’s enormous - compared to Headingley, at least - cricket ground (a stunning oval shaped affair with original pavilion, unlike, so I’m told, Melbourne’s own ground) to witness the Ozzies take on India in a one-day international. Though the ‘Sydney Morning Herald’ would have you believe otherwise, Australia didn’t ‘thrash’ India, but put on a good performance beating them with almost 330 runs, but only with a difference of around 20. The stadium was brimming, the atmosphere electric and running off lots of booze (‘lights’ and ‘mids’ were available; I ‘skulled’ a few of the more manly sounding latter), and we were sat right in the middle of the action, in what could have been Little India. Indian flags, faces painted with orange, white and green, blue Indian shirts and loud chanting in Hindi surrounded us, the people brimming with enthusiasm for eight hours straight. It was pretty catching and all the more boisterous when the occasional Australian might turn up challenge them with shouts of ‘Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy...’, plus any time the cameras were turned on them the Indians went crazy. The stand we were in was the only uncovered one - known as the concourse - and I was subjected to the hottest weather down under yet. Angela had given me a genuine cow skin, wide brimmed hat which came in handy - hats are really common in this country, thanks to how close it is to the hole in the ozone layer, so I didn’t feel too daft wearing it (though maybe just a little). It was a great game anyway, with an atmosphere far less formal than what I’d seen in Headingley: most spectators could happily have had a place in the Barmy Army, apart from the few conservatives in the members’ stand (every time there was a mexican wave - of which there were many - these people were subjected to a huge chorus of boos, thanks to their non-participation). The natives only reinforced the rough, ‘rug-ah-bugger’ attitude that I’m starting to suspect Australians of, right down to their cockney like rhyming words and names (like the ice-cream van named ‘Wozza Whippy’ I passed on the way out west to the Blue Mountains). They’re all originally convicts, after all ;)

Speaking of convicts, having persuaded David to allow me a morning off to chill out a bit and do some blog-work - am beginning to suspect him of control-freakery - we’re off into Sydney centre to check out the Victoria Barracks, which is now a convict history museum. I figured this would be a suitable place to start learning about the history of Australia.

Lastly, I should mention how impressive the Blue Mountains were. Amidst taking a trip in the evening to an Imax-like cinema (where we watched a large but slightly blurred film about the discovery of the area) and having a go on the ‘Zig-Zag Railway’ (a wonderful little steam train that ran forwards, then backwards along a track in the shape of a ‘Z’, in order to traverse a tall mountain, as they used to in the early 20th century), we also took in the spectacular view of the mountains and its tree-filled gorge from the top of the Queen Elizabeth endorsed ‘Echo Point’. Though it wasn’t very echo-ey, the view was tremendous, offering a mini Grand Canyon like vista, though each valley was packed to the rafters with ‘gum trees’ (Australia’s most popular, indigenous eucalyptus trees). In the heat, these give off a blue mist, hence the name of the area. The sheer scale of the mountains combined with the startlingly clear, unadulterated and unspoiled view spanning off many miles into far distance, was really something.

Other than the scenery, I found the many quaint, hillside towns we passed along the way fascinating, thanks in the main to the wild-western designs belonging to street-side buildings. Many of the shops and hotels were crammed closely together, each with an outstretched awning, I’m guessing to help protect pedestrians from the sun. Above this, some of the said buildings had balconies, whilst all were decorated with fancy curved and rimmed tops, much in the style of the shops in so many American wild west towns. The fact that many of the properties were wooden also enhanced the effect. David put all this down to the date of construction - mid-to-late 19th century - but I was just excited to feel a bit like a cowboy. Now to find me some low down, no good, dusty varmints!

26.2.08

Am sat in the middle of the most tremendous thunderstorm. The thin, straight, steady stream of rain has been coming down for a good fifteen minutes, the sky thick with it and a low, grey haze of cloud. It started with a tremendous curling of overlapping clouds high up above in the hemisphere, which I witnessed from David’s balcony. For the past ten minutes I’ve been unable to see anything out of his window - not even the gardens or the river below - shuddering at the occasional crack of nearby, heavy thunder. I even spotted one jagged fork of white lightening, a shocking contrast to the smutty backdrop. Slowly the bright sun has begun to push its way through the fog and I can make out the bank across the water again. This sort of storm is far from what I’d expect back home - perhaps more like those you’d see in Spain - though I have to admit that the calm before it reminded me of early autumn/late summer in England, the smell of freshly mown grass in my nostrils and clouds in the sky. Ah nostalgia.

Today, David and I took a short ride by car around Sydney’s ‘South Head’: the southern part of headland that makes up the entrance to the great harbour. We had some fantastic beer-battered fish and chips at the lovely Watson’s Bay, made up of some well trimmed parkland - made all the more British for having a bandstand - a slither of beach, several fancy moored boats and an area known as ‘The Gap’. I had to walk up quite a stiff incline to reach this, but the incredible views of high, mountainous cliffs jutting straight into the sea with nothing but water and a worn away rock shelf to jump onto made it more than worth it. To be told that it was Sydney’s infamous suicide point underlined how steep the drop was.

Afterwards, we followed up with a drive to Bondi Beach. Apart from grabbing a disappointingly yucky ice-cream from a really grumpy seller - the brand was Gelati’s Italian, which seems fairly ubiquitous here - I wasn’t too impressed with the large, very busy (the busiest I’ve seen yet), semi-circular bay, which reminded me of a grander, cleaner version of Newcastle’s Tyneside beaches. It paled in comparison to Manly Bay, which David and I took a ferry out to from Circular Quay the day before. Manly is a very pretty, picturesque town, with a real seaside feel to it. It has a nice mixture of old and new buildings, the streets are all paved and clean, beautiful, tall ‘Norfolk Pines’ line the roads, as well as run alongside the promenade. One side of Manly faces the harbour, the other the Pacific; a swift walk of five minutes will transport you between the two. We got there fairly late in the day, after tying up some loose ends in Sydney’s centre, taking a quick look at the convict museum that comprises the Victoria Barracks, as well as the Botanic Gardens and a view of the QE2. The ferry trip to Manly is half of the fun: you have to catch an older than the ‘river-cats’ ferry, which unlike the hovercraft is sea-worthy, and the trip out there takes over half an hour, taking in the sights of the harbour entrance as well as many other coves along the way. Coming back provides a stunning, ever-expanding view of the Harbour Bridge, city centre skyline and Opera House, allowing for dozens of photos that I know will make a great desktop picture when I get home.

My views of Sydney have changed somewhat these last couple of days. It’s not quite caught in a time-warp: the heart of the city centre is as modern as any, wi-fi DOES appear to be available (in McDonald’s McCafe: their response to coffee culture, something which is incredibly popular in Australia - you can’t go a block without bumping into a cafe), open all hours off licences DO exist (usually as ‘Bottle Shops’, attached to ‘Hotels’, which generally means pub but due to ancient licensing laws has to have some sort of guest facility attached in order to sell alcohol), shops don’t just operate out of sixties style parades and anything - electronic or otherwise - is available, so long as you don’t mind paying the huge import fees. I’m a big fan of their muffins as they’re much bigger than our own, have built up a taste for VB (Victoria Bitter) but not Toohey’s (Sydney’s local) and like the fact that they tend to show lots of English TV dramas here. Everyone I’ve met and spoken to so far has been polite, interested in what I’m doing and on the whole friendly (apart from that ice-cream lady). If David’s generosity is anything to go by - letting me want for nothing, he’s barely allowed me to reach into my own pockets to pay for anything - then I should be in for a great time.

Speaking of David, I’d like to thank him for being a great host, not only for allowing me to stay this last week and a half, but also for feeding me, showing me the sights, providing all the transport and never once grumbling. He’s a bit of an eccentric (self-confessed) and at times a little overly nervous and humble, but his kindness has shone through and I’ve definitely gained a bit of a soft spot for him. We’re off to Canberra tomorrow - he’s driving me there and putting us up for the night, at his insistence - then I’m catching a coach down to Melbourne on the Thursday, to join Alvary and James.

29.2.08

Bit of a change of both scene and pace during the last couple of days. Set off at about half past ten Wednesday morning with David in his car, heading on a long road trip south to the Australian capital. Managed to sneak in a quick breakfast followed by a shorter jog around a nearby bay; my first since Christmas. Dragging my heavy trainers and weighty shorts, I tired out pretty quickly, though I fear the real reason is I’m purely out of practice. Once out of Sydney - which took over an hour - we trundled through a national park, the road leading up and down steep hills and miles of deep, never ending forest. We barely passed more than ten cars over the hour or two it took us to traverse it, but this became a common theme the further into the ‘bush’ we got. Eventually, we broke through onto a coastal road, which wound its way south along the eastern seaboard for as far as I could see. With the impressive heights of the mountains and hills of the ‘Dividing Range’ to our right and the endless stretch of the Pacific Ocean to our left, I was at times pretty awestruck. We stopped so I could take some what I hope to turn out to be spectacular pictures from a cliff-top lookout north of the first major town of Wollongong. David had an ice-cream and I a crispy onion topped BBQ hotdog, having spied the people in front of me buying one.

The weather certainly played its part during the day. It started off fairly cool and cloudy, but then the sun finally broke through whilst we drove down the coast, bringing the feel of summer with it. However, the weather took a severe turn for the worse after we stopped at a quaint little seaside town of Kiama, bringing hard hitting, heavy thundershowers and making driving very difficult. Whilst in Kiama, I experienced my first Australian ‘club’ (very popular in this country - kind of like a bingo hall inside, but filled with fruit machines or ‘pokies’, and just as tacky), went to visit a blow-hole that sadly wasn’t performing and dropped off some souvenirs at an old fashioned, pink painted post office. Carrying on, we eventually road out the storm. It left behind a thick, grey, overcast sky and took away the day’s heat. I soon found us driving through green pastures and farmland, passing cows and sheep grazing in meadows, a smell of wet grass on the air. It all felt very reminiscent of England actually and nothing like I imagined Australia’s outback to feel like.

It wasn’t until almost 6pm that we turned inland, just north of a place called Bateman’s Bay (no relation to the bitter, sadly). What followed was miles of plains, most of it just shrubs and the occasional patch of gum trees, with not much traffic and very little else. It took a couple more hours to reach ACT (Australian Capital Territory) and the city of Canberra that it houses. We actually spent the night in a motel in a town just on the outskirts of the capital, where we chowed down on some Chinese takeaway and I caught a brand new, unseen episode of House on the telly. Hoorah, signs of civilisation at last!

Next day, up bright and early, we headed into the capital. The weather was disappointingly dreadful, the grey sky ominous and it was cold enough to force me to wear my jeans and jumper (the end of summer?). Canberra seemed like a fairly dull, drab city, with an uninspiring collection of tall buildings contributing to its business district, a large, manmade lake cutting the city in two (Lake Burley Griffin) and several museums dotted around the place. There didn’t appear to be much to lure tourists there at all, until I discovered the impressively long line of lawns, ponds and red paving (reminded me of the run-up to Buckingham Palace), connecting the New Parliament House (on Capital Hill), Old Parliament House and Australian War Memorial, which extended over several miles, dissecting the lake at its centre. Stood at either end, it provided some great views, though the best view of the city came from the top of a tall hill someway behind the Memorial, where I was able to appreciate what the city’s original designer was trying to create (at least, prior to his competition winning plans being disrupted by bureaucracy followed by the second World War). We were able to take in all of the above sights, plus a short trip to a war hero monument built by a distant relatives of David’s and some small time spent at the relatively new National Museum. Our time at the War Memorial - which turned out to be a sort of war museum, with many fascinating exhibitions - was disappointingly brief too, though I got the feeling David didn’t want to spend much time there (understandable if you’ve seen it before).

Caught the bus at 1.30PM and arrived roughly on time at 10PM in Melbourne, where within minutes Alvary and James turned up to whisk me away in their new estate car. Spent most of the journey on the bus chatting to a very talkative self-confessed nerd, Ayshah, who was far too paranoid about what people thought about her - her Indian background really bothered her - and sadly didn’t realise just her pretty she was. Sadly won’t see her again as she’s now back off to Canberra. Missed a bit of a trick by not observing much of what was going on outside the bus, but reckon I saw a sufficient share of the outback with David. Still no sign of any ‘roos, though I did see some suspicious kangaroo-shaped roadkill prior to arriving in Canberra. Nice.

4.3.08

March now and having had a sufficiently lazy start to the month at Alvary’s, it’s time to get back into the blog again. Arrived in Melbourne just about on time, lingered about wondering if Alvary would find me - the bus station was an indoor car park and its entrance wasn’t exactly obvious - but didn’t have to worry longer as James and her arrived to pick me up in their nice, new estate car, or ‘station wagon’ as they’re known here. Their house is on the outskirts of Melbourne; it’s only four years old, very modern looking and just the right size to house three people, with its three bedrooms, study, large central living-room and upstairs landing, couple of bathrooms and its piece de resistance, an open plan, white and lilac kitchen/dining area at the back, its whole back wall consisting of tall glass pane windows running from the floor to the ceiling. The dining area sticks out from the back of the house, fashioned into one half of a hexagonal shape, creating the look of a conservatory. A couple of these windows act as patio doors, leading onto the paved area at the back of the house, where a preserved giant eucalyptus tree sits, as well as several other trees and plants skirting its edges, a table and some chairs, and a large, gas run barbeque. I’ve already used the latter twice, in true blue Aussie style!

Alvary and James have made me feel completely at home, giving me my own bedroom to sleep in and offering the whole house at my disposal. I’ve tried to help out by washing up but there seems to be little else left for me to do! On their advise of making myself at home, I’ve certainly given it my best shot, spending a couple of days relaxing in front of the TV, catching up on the cricket and several shows I’ve missed from back home. Over the weekend, I caught Australia losing to Sri Lanka in a ODI cricket match on the telly with James, then he showed me round the local neighbourhood, pointing out where the nearest shop parade and shopping centre are (one being about twenty minutes walk beside a busy highway, the other a short bus-ride away). The nearest parade also has a train station beside it (‘Heathmont’), where we caught a train into the city centre on Sunday (takes about 30+ minutes), taking a short wonder round the shops and squares, also past the infamous Melbourne Cricket Ground (the ‘MCG’). I quite fancy catching a game of cricket there, or perhaps some Aussie Rules Football, so am keeping my eyes open for any forthcoming matches.

On Sunday, we drove to a church in a nearby neighbourhood called ‘Doncaster’ (ho-ho!), where after a service I met Peter and Gwyneth for the first time in ten or more years. The seemed pretty much as I remembered them, though Peter’s hair had turned from black to all-white. Gwyneth entertained with a few stories about my dad in his younger days and complimented me on looking thin (though privately I had to disagree - my food intake isn’t getting any leaner, thanks to Alvary’s well stocked larder!). Peter invited me over to their house next weekend, to take a trip to a place called ‘Hanging Rock’. From my brief impressions, they both seemed nice, welcoming and friendly, though I was a bit nervous not really knowing them that well. Later that evening, I had a chat on the phone with Liam’s sister Marie for the first time. She seemed really easy going and fun to talk to on the phone - she’s housebound at the moment, being unable to drive thanks to a recent operation of her thumb. Alvary’s planing a trip for us to the zoo on Friday - on her day off - and there’s a good chance Marie may come along too.

Monday I did very little, other than take an exhausting jog in the midday sun along a grassy verge beside a local creek (basically a stream-cum-river), under a dazzling blue sky. The weather here is very unusual - as it has been for most of my time in Australia - starting off with very cool, near chilly mornings, then slowly getting warmer until its hot by the evening, then turning the heat down again at night. Sunday and Monday, the temperature was up and above thirty degrees, yesterday being extremely hot for most of the day, then balmy at night. It’s forecast to continue this trend for this week, despite it being the start of autumn (it’s begins on the 1st March for Australians). Strangely though, it’s a overcast cool day today, very English spring-like.

I’m off into the centre on my tod today to take in some sights and hopefully some culture. About time I got out of the house!

J

p.s. Just a quick note. My quest to reach some sort of understanding of Australia has prompted me to make some more discoveries. I’ve noticed they’re just recently adopting Virgin Megastore/HMV type shops here. Combining this with their old fashioned laws on drinking, the old Dixons style electronics shops, the cheaper petrol (about $1.37 a litre) and the lack of channels on TV, and I’m convinced I’m living in England in the early nineties. Except that this time-warp involves sixties style shopping parades (fashioned similar to how Cherry Willingham’s parade used to be), a strange accent using an odd slang comprised of shortened words ending in ‘-o’, the occasional didgeridoo playing Aboriginal, a real yo-yo of climates (now I know what Crowded House were harping on about), a strange concept of how football barely involves feet and a very adherent metric system (no miles and stones here!).