Fremantle is a quiet little town facing the Indian Ocean from the Southwest corner of Australia. The air is clean and crime rate is low. There is always something to do during the day and as night falls couples will stroll through the numerous parks or along the quiet streets.

I spent much of the first day wandering around downtown Fremantle, where I picked up a beautifully crafted didgeridoo. This is the name Aboriginals have given a long hollow piece of wood which is played much like a trumpet. It fortunately sounds nothing like a trumpet and is considerably more interesting to look at. The paintings on it are extremely eye consuming and the deep tones produced from it are comfortably tranquil. The kind Dr. Diane Mossenson, proprietor of the shop that I bought the didgeridoo at, will play an important role later in this story, so watch carefully. She recommended many of the same things that Loz (Pattie's Australian friend originally from Perth) did and also filled in the name of the white building on the corner at Cottlesloe beach. That story is still a day away though.

Perth is best compared to a convenient San Diego in size and environment. Locals wander about in board shorts, t-shirts, and sandals. The transportation within the city is superb, not to mention free. There is always something going on, provided you know where to find it.

Since my first day off the ship was a Saturday, it was imperative that I get to Northbridge, the nightlife district of Perth, while things were pumping. So I grabbed one of my buddies (which I lost later) and took the nearest cab to the flesh capital of Western Australia. My buddy didn't drink heavily and was married, so to humor him I found a great bar called the Brass Monkey where they make a large variety of their own beer and sell just about any other kind you can imagine along with fine wines and spirits. As I slurped through three lagers and leaving one pilsner behind to ferment a little longer we made our way around and around the numerous rooms that made up the bar. This gave my buddy the opportunity to eat up the eye candy and rub umm... shoulders with the social elite (no comment). I promised him that I would take him to a strip club, (he's a guy, right?) so we found a place that was charging eleven smackers at the door which is a disgrace to my wallet and my ego. I told him that he would get more action at a dance club anyway, so off we went. The first couple of places we tried we couldn't talk ourselves into, but the third place was a success and jumping (literally) with women of all sizes. I started off with an electric lemonade (vodka, blue caracao, and sprite) and hit the dance floor trying to pull my buddy along into the crowd. He lingered in the corners trying to get his jollies in where he could by occasionally coming over to ask if we could go somewhere else. I eventually agreed.

As we made our way back up the main strip in search of more adventure we were handed a free pass into one of the newer clubs to grace the streets of Northbridge, Rise. We made our way to the door and could feel the beats pouring out of the darkened entry. Up the stairs we went and where we found flesh gyrating only as a human machine could. By estimation I would say that there were 400 people there, but I'm probably short by a long shot. The beats were great and the light-tech was hard a work setting the mood. Drinks were a little pricey with 5 dollar shots, but I wasn't complaining since entry was free. After a few minutes my buddy bailed and went back to his hotel. Over the course of the night I danced with countless numbers of beautiful women, most of which seemed to have come with friends, male or female, but I still had my integrity on my side. I left alone, but I didn't leave until 5am, exhausted, reeking of sweaty bodies, stale smoke, and the spirit of a few hundred bodies in motion. A short cab ride left me at my hotel, barely able to stand on my own two feet. Sleep was good, but short.

The next day started much to early, only three hours after my head met a soft white pillow. Dr. Diane Mossenson had called to tell me that something was wrong with my didgeridoo. I'm still not sure what exactly was wrong with it, but after apologizing for waking me up after so little sleep she explained that I could stop by to pick out a new one or she could pick one out for me. In my delusional state of mind I chose the least intensive and asked her to pick one out for me. I figured that spending two hours with her the day before discussing each design and sound would have left some sort of idea in her mind. She was more than happy to oblige. For the next half hour I tossed and turned and finally gave up attempting to go back to sleep.

The day was still young enough to get a late breakfast and do some shopping. After a quick shower and some poses in front of the mirror I verified another night at the hotel and pushed out the front door, sun glaring at me from high overhead. The radio said something about 29 degrees, but who can figure out Celsius anyway? Outside the entrance of my ten story temporary home away from home I took a right and headed for the water, not realizing at the time that it was the Swan River.

I was starving and in search of food. The riverfront seemed like the right place to locate some café, so, I turned to what appeared to be the busier direction and headed down the river taking in everything my mind could fathom. It was too late for breakfast and maybe a little early for lunch, but with my stomach grumbling like an angry old man what could I possibly do? I found the Perth Rowing Club settled down on the river in a quaint little boat house. If they ever did any rowing out of it I would have been surprised, but they could cook up a great batch of fish and chips which prepared me to meet my day.

I noticed that the path I had been walking on appeared to go on down the river for some way and considering the dashed white stripe down the middle it probably went somewhere interesting. I set out to find out where that interesting place was. As I did the sun kept reeling higher into the sky raising temperatures at the same time. After about two hours of walking I needed a change, I couldn't figure out where it was that I was headed (I found out later that I was basically walking to Fremantle), but my trusty map of Perth told me that I wasn't too terribly far from the shopping district.

Five blocks later I was surrounded by the delicious smells and sights of a market in full swing. It is very hard to locate so many shops in such a great area anywhere that I have been in the United States. Row after row of arcades cut off the streets deep into caverns that I felt lured into somehow. While not a big shopper, I do like to look around, so, one haircut, one pair of shorts, a tee-shirt, sunblock, and a couple books and I was a happy camper. I remembered that it was Sunday and I needed to get to the beach for a little beer with the locals. I left my new found shopping extravaganza for my hotel, which was closer (thankfully) than I thought.

I was running late for happy hour when I left the hotel so I hired a cab for the trip to the train station so I could zoom my way to Cottlesloe Beach for some suds. My legs reminded me how much I had been using them when I got off the train, but I was not going to let that stop me. Just a few blocks from the train station was what I assumed was the white building on the corner described by Loz. The Ocean Beach Hotel sat comfortably on the corner, the bar facing the beautiful, blue Indian Ocean. I started with a nice dark lager, then had another. I had a little bit of everything in fact, all the while hopping from group to group trying to make conversation. I have a problem with introductions that I can't seem to get over. After the formalities are over I am in for good. Happily sloshed I walked up the street and ate an entire large pizza before returning for a beer for the road. I tested one of the beers that one of my co-workers recommended. The vile piss that is called Victoria Bitter made me want to hurl more than anything I have ever laid my lips on in my life. A quick getaway was in order, so, I scrammed before even finishing the beer.

That night at my hotel, after sobering up a bit and taking a shower, I made my way back to Northbridge for another night of fun and enjoyment. I met up with some of the guys I work with at the Brass Monkey and was hurried through a spicy stout before they closed for the night. I was afraid that the ten bucks I had spent getting there would be a waste, but not before I wasted another five at a cheesy dance club right next door. There is fair warning when a debut says they are open every night the US Navy is in town. Pathetic as it was the bartenders were still pretty attractive, but I needed excitement and mayhem. Rise saved me once again with another free entrance, expensive shots, and dancing till two. I doubt my body will never forgive me for what I did it that day, but my mind always will. Bodies in motion will remain in motion and I never stopped; not until I got back to the hotel and let my head crash into the pillow. It was a day to remember, and one to repeat...

I started off my third day well rested and in a terrible need of a good stretch. I was going to the beach for both, all that shopping needed to be seen and used. I packed up my sunblock, threw on a T-shirt and board shorts, and walked to the train station for a ride back to Cottlesloe. I arrived just in time for lunch, but deciding on a nice walk down the sand instead. Australia has wonderful sand, hot on top, cool underneath, and free of most of the debris you find on American beaches (rocks, needles, corpses). At the end of my walk I found a castle of a showerhouse and a point of rocks jutting out into the water.

Impressed by both I started out on the point. From the end of the point I could see the mighty warship that I hoped I could ignore for four days blowing where the wind would take it still attached to it's anchor chain. Facing the beach I could absorb the full magnificence of the fortress that was the bathhouse. Terraces of grass bled out from either side covered with sun seeking bathers and their belongings. The soft sand reaching out below them, the sun bathers and swimmers thinning out as my vision faded into the distance. I took up post on one of the green terraces overlooking the water and relaxed only as a true slacker can. Occasionally I rolled over or applied a bit of sunblock when I felt a bit of irritation. I could have stayed there forever.

I enjoyed a casual Greek salad by the sea before returning to my hotel for the evening. My body was exhausted and told me I needed a nap. It was a little late for naps and I didn't wake up until almost ten that night. Everything was pretty much closed up, but the bar across the street was still serving. I had a delicious Crown lager and returned for a good nights sleep, my last for a while.

The next morning I packed everything I owned into a single backpack, paid my charges at the desk and hovered outside the hotel for a moment. I decided that another day in Fremantle would be nice, so I set out for the train station, stopping by the arcades for breakfast before leaving Perth behind. On the train I seriously considered going back to the beach, but I was already pretty toasted from the day before. Fremantle was a welcome enough sight.

I spent much of the morning walking around, taking in the sites that I missed the first day and enjoying the cool shade of many of the local parks. I stopped in for a visit with the good Dr. Mossenson who gave me a huge hug as if we a had been life long friends. It was a welcome gesture. I told her what I had been up to and she recommended a couple of local things that I had missed. My didgeridoo was taken care of and already on its way to my parents house, hopefully not forever. I used the afternoon to wander from bookstore to bookstore trying to find some Australian classics and some American classics as well. If you are looking for Burroughs, Kerouac, or Vonnegut in Australia you have your hands full; trust me.

I finished my day with a kangaroo dinner and a Redback beer at the Sail and Anchor in downtown Fremantle. Redback is an amber lager served with a slice of lemon. While you don't taste the lemon until the last few pulls, it is an excellent complement to the tough kangaroo meat. Although flavorful, kangaroo requires a good deal of chewing; I suspect it would make a very nice jerky.